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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Best Romantic Movies on Amazon Prime Right Now

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Some movies brave enough to tread where only pop songs and poems go, and try to capture all the drama, contradictions and happy, bubbly feelings that come along with romance and love. It’s high-time that we honor them and defend them against their unearned sappy reputations with the best romantic movies on Amazon Prime.

We’ve scoured Amazon Prime to find the best romantic movies available for your viewing pleasure. Here are the best romantic movies on Amazon Prime. Ok, some of them are perfectly sappy.

The Big Sick

Kumail Nanjiani and his wife Emily Gordon’s theatrical debut made big waves when it came out for the singularity of its vision and just how plain funny it is. Now Amazon gets to reap the benefits of producing a bonafide romantic indie hit by getting its exclusive streaming rights. The Big Sick is the real life story of comedian Kumail Nanjiani meeting and falling in love with his wife, Emily (who is played by Zoe Kazan in the film).

Kumail and Emily’s courtship process is difficult enough to begin with due to Kumail’s family pressuring him to find a nice Pakistani girl to settle down with. But soon things get even more difficult as Emily suffers a health scare and Kumail must suddenly contend with that situation and Emily’s eccentric parents who have just come to town. The Big Sick is a clear vision from talented people and tells a beautifully convincing love story while making plenty of room for laughter. Not only that but it’s a big win for our list of best romance movies on Amazon Prime.

Watch The Big Sick

What If

Canadian drama What If (originally known as The F Word before the MPAA got its greasy fingers all over it) is a fun romantic movie and a tremendous showcase for its two young stars Daniel Radcliffe (you know what he’s from) and Zoe Kazan (The Big Sick). Radcliffe stars as Wallace – a directionless young man living in Toronto who decides to become more social after his girlfriend cheats on him.

Enter Kylo Ren (Adam Driver playing a character who is unfortunately not named Kylo Ren) who takes Wallace to a party where he meets the alluring Chantry (Kazan). Wallace and Chantry immediately fall for each other. Unfortunately there’s the small matter of Chantry’s boyfriend. What If? is a sweet little Canadian flick that knows how to push its audiences romantic buttons.

Watch What If

Still Mine

Still Mine isn’t necessarily about romance. It’s about love – a deep prevailing love built up over decades. Craig Morrison (James Cromwell) is a farmer in rural New Brunswick, Canada. He intends to build a new house for his ailing wife Irene (Geneviève Bujold) but runs into trouble with the local municipality’s bureaucracy prevents him from doing so.

Still Mine is as romantic a movie about bureacratic development regulations as has ever existed. Cromwell and Bujold have wonderful chemistry and paint a portrait of profound, abiding love.

Watch Still Mine

Some Kind of Wonderful

Some Kind of Wonderful doesn’t have the same pop culture standing as other John Huges films like Sixteen Candles or Pretty in Pink. Still this remains a worthwhile entry into the Hughes canon on teenage love.

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Keith Nelson (Eric Stoltz) is a high school outcast who has his eyes set on popular girl Amanda Jones (Lea Thompson). Thankfully he has his tomboyish Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) to help court her. Based on that meager plot description, you may think you know where Some Kind of Wonderful is going to end up, and…you’re probably right. That doesn’t make the journey any less satisfying.

Watch Some Kind of Wonderful

To Catch a Thief

You know who would make a great romance film? The guy who did Psycho. Yes To Catch a Thief is a classic romance film from none other than Alfred Hitchcock. Of course, there’s a lot more going on in this heist thriller.

Cary Grant stars as retired cat burglar John Robie. When another burglar starts copying his act, Robie has to undergo One Last Job (TM) to catch…a thief. In the process John comes across the wealthy Frances (Grace Kelly) and the two strike up an unlikely romance for the ages.

Watch To Catch a Thief

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Hello, My Name is Doris

Between TBS’ Search Party and Hello, My Name is Doris, director Michael Showalter had a stellar 2016. Hello, My Name is Doris is a wonderfully sweet, equally tragic and completely hilarious romantic comedy. Sally Field stars as the titular Doris, a lively woman in her 60s who after the death of her mother becomes infatuated with a younger man.

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With the help of cliched self-help materials she does whatever she can to get his attention. Hello, My Name is Doris is an empathetic romantic comedy that will change how you view age.

Watch Hello, My Name is Doris

Sabrina (1995)

Let’s get one thing out of the way right now. Sabrina‘s theatrical poster is dope. When I was a kid and I would pass the VHS cover in Blockbuster, I couldn’t help but think “Wow, that is a real adult movie.” At a young age, the mere sight of a woman’s lascivious red lipstick (lascivious in my head at least) was enough to fry my brain. Poster aside, however, Sabrina is an excellent romance with some real star power. It’s a remake of the 1954 film of the same name starring Billy Wilder and Audrey Hepburn.

This version was directed by the great Sydney Pollack and stars Harrison Ford, Greg Kinnear, and Julia Ormond. Weirdly enough Greg Kinnear plays the ultimate rich playboy while Harrison Ford plays his studious older brother. Weird casting choices but it works out alright thanks to each actor’s chemistry with Ormond.

Watch Sabrina

Ghost

Ghost is much more than just the reason you can no longer attend a pottery class without giggling. It’s a legitimately great sci-fi romance yarn. Patrick Swayze stars as Sam a banker who is killed by a mugger. Immediately post-death he discovers that he has become a ghost and can no longer directly interact with his girlfriend Molly (Demi Moore).

Sam sets out to solve his own murder and somehow reconnect with the woman he loves. Ghostcomes along with all the corniness of an early ’90s blockbuster but its central theme of love trying to achieve the impossible plays in any decade.

Watch Ghost

Brokeback Mountain

Longing is a crucial part of the formula in any romance movie and Brokeback Mountain has it in spades. Ang Lee’s 2005 film played a crucial role in bringing queer cinema to the mainstream and it did so by presenting mostly straight audiences with a universal depiction of love and passion – the kind of love that supersedes the norms and expectations of everything in your life to that point.

Heath Ledger and Jake Gylllenhaal star as 1960s Wyoming cowboys Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist. While herding sheep on the Brokeback mountains, Jack makes a sexual pass at Ennis and the two begin a summer-long physical affair. The movie then follows the pair through the subsequent decades as they try to return to their “normal” lives, all the while unable to forget their time on Brokeback.

Watch Brokeback Mountain

Letter to Juliet

Somewhere along the way, Hollywood decided to let Amanda Seyfried become the queen of romantic comedies set in exotic locales…and that’s perfectly fine with us.

In Letters to Juliet, Seyfried stars as a New York fact checker Sophie on “pre-honeymoon” with her fiancé in Verona. There she learns of the phenomenon of “letters to Juliet” where women women bring love letters to Juliet Montague’s Verona courtyard. When Sophie answers a letter from 1957, she embarks on a decades-spanning journey of love and self-discover.y

Watch Letters to Juliet

What Men Want

Back in 2000, only one film had the distinction…nay, the courage of trying to figure out What Women Want. The answer, apparently, was Mel Gibson. We don’t talk about this movie that much.

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2019’s What Men Want is a loose remake of the earlier film. And it has something that the original never did: Taraji P. Henson! Henson stars as Ali Davis, a sports agent who gains the ability to read men’s minds after meeting a shaman. The movie puts Ali’s male-dominated profession to good use and in the process tells a nifty little romance story.

Watch What Men Want

There’s Something About Mary

More than two decades later, it’s still wild to see that above screenshot. Like, that ran in newspapers. It was on a poster! And if you don’t know why a photo of Cameron Diaz with a unique hairstyle is a big deal then you’ve likely not seen the Farrelly Brothers 1998 gross out classic There’s Something About Mary.

This is not so much a romance movie as it is an exploration of the pitfalls of attraction. Diaz stars as Mary Jensen…and there’s just something about her. Ben Stiller, Matt Dillon, Lee Evans, and Chris Elliott all play men who are helplessly in love with Mary and trying to win her affection. In the process, many injuries as sustained.

Watch There’s Something About Mary

Moulin Rouge!

If you like your romance with more than a dash of Baz Luhrmann saturated colors and big, sexy musical numbers then Moulin Rouge! is almost certainly the movie for you.

This 2001 film is set in 1900s Paris amid the Bohemian movement. When Christian (Ewan McGregor) falls in love with Moulin Rouge cabaret actress and courtesan Satine (Nicole Kidman), he must contend with her impending betrothal (or really sale) to the Duke of Montrose. As one might imagine, this is resolved with quite a bit of singing and dancing.

Watch Moulin Rouge!

Sylvie’s Love

Amazon Prime’s 2020 film Sylvie’s Love positively oozes jazz era atmosphere and tells a compelling, decades-spanning love story in the process.

Tessa Thompson stars as Sylvie Parker, a young woman who one day meets an aspiring saxophonist (played by Kerry Washington’s husband and former NFLer Nnamdi Asomugha) and in her father’s record shop in 1950s Harlem. This leads to sweeping romance that guides the pair through the era’s jazz music scene.

Watch Sylvie’s Love

The post Best Romantic Movies on Amazon Prime Right Now appeared first on Den of Geek.

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

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Heat Index

Grouping: Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 2700 exactly!

Warnings/Themes: use of toys, mutual masturbation?, tae has a sweat kink probably

Summary: The town being in a heat wave puts Tae’s in a bit of a love drought. But even still, he makes do and (kind of) does you.

Another drop of sweat rolls down Taehyung’s face. It makes his nose itch with the gentle grazing sensation and falls on the cardboard flap in his hands. The sweat darkens the area it lands on and he stops for a minute to take in the perfectly circular shape haloed from the way the drop burst on impact. Normally he wouldn’t be so interested in his own sweat, but he feels as though his thoughts are slowed and dulled by cotton. It’s the heat.

“I’m really sorry, Tae,” you apologize as soon as you return from your kitchen, a single plastic-wrapped treat in hand. “They’re not putting in the AC until tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” he says pleasantly while taking the popsicle from you. But it’s not really fine.

The heatwave terrorizing your town has been going on for almost 9 days at this point. He’d volunteered to help you move in, only for the weather to put a halt in your plans. But after the 4th day, you couldn’t put it off any longer and had to go meet the movers at your new place. Taehyung being the chivalrous boyfriend that he was—or that he wanted to be—kept his word despite the warnings from various weather people on his TV telling him not to leave his own air-conditioned apartment.

Though it might seem as though his priorities aren’t in place, Taehyung would honestly admit that the worst part about the heat wave was the lack of sex that came rolling in with it. With your new place being on the other side of the city and with the both of you relying primarily on public transport to see each other, your sex life seemed to be dwindling—no—frying in the sun. So, when you brought up the move yesterday he figured he’d just be helpful with unpacking until the AC installation finished and then suddenly become very helpful with packing you full of him. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

He bites at the popsicle forlornly with his back teeth. You have your own popsicle that’s a subtle pale green. It’s lime. Your favorite. Even if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you loved all things citrus, he’d still know you were enjoying the lime pop. The way you happily slurp around the cylinder while leaning on one of the larger boxes makes for quite the mirage in Taehyung’s sex desert. Your back is arched elegantly so you can peer out the window on the opposite wall and admire the much better view you have in your new space. And your skin looks iridescent with the sheen of sweat the weather has lovingly draped upon you. Then you catch a stray juice trail about to run onto your hand with the flat of your tongue and chase the flavor all the way to the top of the popsicle and Taehyung suddenly needs a plan B fast.

You jump with a shriek when your neck meets something shockingly cold and wet. Turning your head, you see that it’s just your boyfriend running the edge of his snack along the place where sweat was collecting like a pretty dew on your skin. His tongue follows the sticky path he just made, causing your eyes to flutter shut on their own before you fight them back open.

“What are you doing, that’s so...gross,” your breath hitches when he bites down at the intersection of neck and shoulder.

“Nothing.” The popsicle descends again to follow the same trail he made but, this time, you only flinch a little. “Just enjoying my snack.”

“Am I the snack?” You give him an unamused look.

“You’re always a snack, baby.”

“Sorry,” you’re not sorry but still remove his hand from your shorts with some care, “but I draw the line after 80 degrees.”

His hand only retreats a little and ends up sitting on your stomach, laying like a hot coal there. You can feel the arousal twisting your insides and raising your temperature like it does. The only problem is that this time you really can’t afford to get any warmer. You’re sure that you’ve already sweat out all the important things in your body and if you so much as look at Taehyung the wrong way, you’ll become a puddle that’s 20% you and 80% limesicle.

“But it’s been so long.”

The tip of his nose reacquaints itself with the shell of your ear. The heat of his front does the same with your back.

“You won’t die. Back off and help me with these other boxes. There might be a fan in here somewhere.”

The promise of a fan measures up fairly well against the promise of (sweaty) sex and he immediately hunts for the scissors he was using to open more of the boxes. With the blades in hand, he cuts through the tape holding yet another wardrobe box closed with hope as his only means of staying cool. The flaps reveal no spinning blade treasure—only kitchenware that you promptly scoop up and rush out the room with. Taehyung stares dumbly at your fleeing back, slick and bare besides a black sports bra, before cupping himself lightly. It’s just to take the edge off, his thinks to himself.

After the kitchenware layer, the box is rather oddly packed. There’s a bunch of hangers, which he promptly puts into your closet, and some knick knacks he knows you plan on putting on your bookshelves once they have books on them. There’s even some winter clothes that he’s fairly sure should have gone in a different box while you were packing them. Before he can dwell too much on your lack of packing skills, he reaches the bottom of the box, which contains yet another box. It’s a simple shoe box. Which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if you were a shoe fan like some people he knew. However, you aren’t a shoe fan. In fact, all of your other shoes were jammed into the bottom of another box that had been opened earlier. So why do you have this shoebox here?

Going solely off intuition and knowledge about you after nearly a year together, he’s guessing there’s just some random sentimental things inside that you didn’t know where to put. If that’s what’s inside, he knows he shouldn’t peek, but he’s curious to see if anything to do with him is in the box. He pulls the lid up daintily, like the secrets won’t escape if he’s gentle, only to slam it back down as soon as he eyes the contents.

Well, he supposes sex toys could have sentimental value. But they don’t have much to do with him.

He lifts the lid again now that he’s certain nothing in the box can tell on him. With the sounds of you organizing your kitchen as his personal soundtrack, his begins rifling through the box. There’s a few bullets, what he thinks is a dildo but it’s covered in scales and has a few unnatural bends in it, some beads of varying sizes, and a classic hitachi among other things. Some of them he’d seen before, and some he hadn’t. Perhaps some of them kept you company before he started to. After a few thoughtful moments, he grabs one of the toys before replacing the lid and stashing the shoe box.

You’re almost finished sorting through all the different families of silverware you’ve collected over the years, when two hands land on your unclothed waist. The feeling of his palms on your sweaty skin has you squirming a bit.

“On a scale of one to ten, how wet are you,” Taehyung whispers in your ear.

“Your romance never ceases to amaze me.”

“Sorry, but...is it really just me?”

His forehead bumps against the back of your head as he takes in the way you look in shorts and a sports bra. It’s an understated look, to say the least, but he’s always loved the way you look with sweat on your skin.

“No,” you groan when he presses an open mouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “But it’s just too hot to be doing cardio for no reason.”

His tongue darts out and flicks at your lobe, sending a quick blitz from your core out to your extremities. A small gush of arousal rushes down and you squeeze your thighs together in a stubborn effort to keep calm.

“What if I told you it’s not too hot?”

“You found the fan?” You turn around in his arms with shining eyes and he feels like an ass for not being able to say yes.

“No,” he grimaces. He attempts to wrap his arms around your waist placatingly, but you brush him off partly in anger and partly because you’re overheated. “But, if there’s no cardio needed, is it really too hot?”

“No cardio?”

You eye him suspiciously but let him drag you by the wrist back into the living room. Clearly he’s emptied out and flattened several other boxes since you took all your mismatched forks to the dining room for sorting. Only a few boxes remain unopened. The question of what he’s planning is still lingering when he pulls you over to a little setup that looks like he wrapped something in a pillowcase

“I don’t get it.”

“You will,” he grins boxy reassurance at you before sitting before the bundle on the ground. You follow suit while he unwraps it to reveal a vibrator you hadn’t used in a long while.

“What’s the joke, again?”

“It’s not a joke,” he whines, “This is how we can be lazy and get off.”

“I never really liked that one. I got it for free in a raffle in college and it was weirdly shaped so I couldn’t really get it to work.”

“Please? I swear I can make this work.”

You’re really tempted to say no. There are several drops of sweat actually rolling down your back as you ponder having an orgasm in your now-90-degree apartment. It seems ill-advised and like more work than Taehyung is marketing, but he also makes a convincing case. The convincing case being him and the fact that he still manages to look nearly edible in the middle of a heat wave.

His hair is flat and darkened against his forehead, heavy and saturated with sweat after brushing it back with his hands. The summer sun has darkened him slightly, making his skin appear more radiant in combination with the layer of his light sweat. The fact that he’s been shirtless and handsy all day only works in his favor. You sigh in defeat.

“Fine.”

His expression brightens considerably and he scrabbles up to rest his weight on his knees and heels to tug off his shorts to reveal the simple black briefs he had on underneath. He returns to a reclined position before snatching up the vibrator. You don’t get much warning and only barely get your own shorts hanging off one leg before he’s switching the toy on and nudging it between your thighs.

“So how did you—Oh!”

He has it angled differently than you did the times that you used it, and you wonder through the vibrations traveling over you if it's actually supposed to be for someone else to use on you. The thought dissipates quickly with the sudden wave of acute pleasure that creeps over you. It’s the type of feeling that has you almost smirking to yourself as you bite your lip, eyelids drooping closed as you hum to yourself. Taehyung lets out a sympathetic moan when you start rocking your hips against the device ever so slightly.

When your underwear is wet enough that he can feel it dampening the tips of his fingers near the toy, he removes it from your center. Your breath catches in your throat in a needy scoff that he ignores in favor of placing the still pulsating toy over his own crotch. There’s a small wet spot darkening the material of his briefs where his swollen head lays tucked up. He’s never really ever used a vibrator, but he figures it can’t be too different an experience. But when he touches it gingerly to the base of his clothed erection, the vibrations knock his breath out his lungs.

“Fuck, oh my...god,” he chokes out. Greedily, his finger twitches to kick the speed up a half unit. The increase has him nearly drooling within seconds and creates a steady dribble of pre-cum. “Shit, that feels good.”

“Share,” you snap at him after about 90 seconds of neglect to you dripping center.

“Make me,” he mumbles before massaging the toy up and down his length, ripping a gasp from his own lips.

You don’t take kindly to Taehyung hogging the vibrator. So you kick off your panties the rest of the way and decide to sit on the toy to get some action where you can. Before that, though, you do him the service of tugging his briefs down until they bunch around his knees. Once you’re settled, you’ve effectively trapped him where you want him. On the floor with the toy nestled between your folds and his shaft.

With your added weight and the return of your subtle hip rocking, the vibrations feel more intense for the both of you. You hiccup above him, hands coming out to brace your weight on his chest. It’s the only point of contact between you besides where your pelvises are slotted together. Naturally sweat begins to pool in the small spaces where you’re both joined, but it’s minimal and you don’t care. Especially not after Taehyung’s clumsy fingers knock the pulses into one of the different pattern modes. The steady buzz between your folds becomes a sudden tangle of tiny bursts. The pleasure hits you in matching percussive beats and you curl over Taehyung helplessly as the first wave of your first orgasm hits.

His eyes are squeezed shut because he’s not accustomed to the intense vibrations, but the sound of your moans let him know that you just came. He’s quick to follow with a few shallow thrusts that have you instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips to maintain your balance. The low, drawn out sound of his groans is accompanied by his large hands coming in to lock at your hips, grinding you down against him, soaking him further with your arousal. His holding you down has you squealing and squirming with oversensitivity at first. But when he doesn’t let go even after he spurts onto his own chest, you feel the familiar curls of pleasure behind the acidic overstimulation. Your nails scratch a fiery trail down his chest, somehow further raising his internal temperature as you both struggle in the silent endurance competition.

Who can last against the toy longer?

With gritted teeth and a river of sweat dripping down from his forehead, Taehyung taps out first. He switches the toy back down to its lowest setting before letting out a bark and squeeze at the flesh of your hip in a silent surrender. Your breathing is harsh and you’re so exhausted that you don’t even bother to use the muscles in your thighs to get off him. Instead, you nudge the toy out from in between you and let it clatter to the floor between Taehyung’s thighs while you recover still in his lap.

“That was fun,” you pant after a few minutes of silence. The sweat cooling in the space between you and Taehyung makes you finally scoot off him and onto the floor.

“I told you it would work. We didn’t even have to move that much.”

“That’s also true.” You watch him use the spare pillow case to wipe off the tacky cum on his stomach. “I never doubted you for a second.”

“You definitely did!”

“I whined about how hot it is. I didn’t say I thought your plan would fail.”

“I guess.” He lays star-fished out in the middle of your sparsely decorated living room before popping his head off the ground. “We really do need to find that fan, though.”

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Not Your (soul)Mate {7/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Hey, hi, hello! So as you can see, we have a chapter count, which means I’m finished writing the story (except for some edits I need to make in the final chapters), so I may post a little more often! I really appreciate the enthusiasm you guys have for this story, and I promise there’s going to be a payoff! 😉

Chapter 7 & 8 cover one day, and, well, that should tell you that something big may be happening soon!

Thank you to @captainsjedi for her always incredible artwork, and her all-around support💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @initiala @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @lifeinahole27 @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark@cssns

-/-

Sitting down on the bench on the balcony of his apartment, Killian props his feet up on the railing, crossing his right ankle over his left, and takes a long swing of his bottle of beer, letting the liquid trail down his throat while the rain pounds down around him, coating the edge of everything in a thin sheen of water. He’s thankful for the covering that he has to shield himself from it all because he loves watching storms happen from outside, getting to feel the thunder tremble through the air and hear the rain water mix in with the depths of the ocean as waves crash onto the shoreline and darken the sand. It’s weirdly soothing. The weather never gets bad enough up here for storms to make him nervous, for him to have to take shelter, so with the soothing sounds of the ocean roaring, he takes a few moments to relax and not feel any tenseness in his shoulders.

Summer has fully come into effect in Storybrooke, the sun heating up and the tourists rolling in with the summer storms, and he’s in the midst of most of his days being spent giving sailing lessons or simply taking families out sailing because he and Liam can’t seem to find anyone who is competent enough to work for them and not drink on the job or nearly cause a crash. He knew that this would be a part of his job when they decided on adding it as a service. He enjoys it, really, but it’s been especially busy for the last week of June and the first three days of July. Everything in the office seems to calm down as the peak of summer hits, so the lessons and community engagement are really for supplemental income and to keep their company name relevant.

Right now he could go for a little irrelevance.

It’s mostly because he’s got a sunburn on his shoulders that hurts when he stretches the wrong way and that makes him agitated because he almost religiously applied sunscreen to protect himself and his skin for all of the time that he spends outside. And he’s tired, so damn tired that he could fall asleep in this uncomfortable chair with the cushion that kind of hurts his ass.

Next week he’s buying new patio furniture, and he’s making Will and Robin haul it up here since the only reason he has this uncomfortable chair is because Roland broke his last one when he decided to jump up and down on it. And Will can help because he has to owe Killian at least five favors by now. Will always owes him something.

Really, he still feels like he owes him for that set-up with Emma, which Will fully admitted to being a set-up last week. It was a bit of vindication even if he already knew that.

But he likes watching the storm, watching the ocean and the people who have taken it upon themselves to wander in the rain to get dinner when it would be so much easier to simply order in like he’s doing. Delivery from Granny’s is by far the most genius business decision that woman has ever come up with even if it’s always a toss up between whether it’s going to be Felix or Ruby delivering the food. Either way, it’s unlikely that he’s not going to be missing a fry or two. They tend to snack on the way here.

Every system has its flaws.

His doorbell rings, speak of the devil, and he swings his feet to the ground to stand, sliding open his glass door and walking into his apartment and the few feet through the kitchen to the front door. His place isn’t that big, but it’s enough for him to have nearly everything but the bedroom and the bathroom in one area. The view of the ocean is worth it.

Looking through the peephole, he sees Ruby standing outside with a red hood from her raincoat perched atop her head, and he unlatches the locks and swings the door open, a smile already on his face from how put out Ruby looks.

“Hello, lass.”

“I hate you for making me come outside during this weather,” she mumbles, shoving his food in his hand so that he grabs onto the paper bag. “Seriously. Don’t you know how to cook?”

“Not as well as your grandmother.” He hooks the bag on his wrist and digs into his back pocket for his wallet, opening it and thumbing through the bills. “It still $12.58?”

“And a tip if you want to thank me for my great service.”

He smiles to himself and pulls out a twenty, handing it over to Ruby. “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure. You coming to the Nolans’ house tomorrow?”

“Is the British man coming to a party to celebrate America’s independence from my home country?”

She pops her lips. “Yep.”

“Aye,” he laughs in response, shaking his head, “I am. I’ve been here for nearly half a decade, and your holidays are my holidays. Plus, I hear Dave grills a mean steak.”

He doesn’t know the Nolans that well despite most of his friends spending time with them, but he feels comfortable enough to go to the party with his brother, Elsa, and their kids. Their first year here they felt so odd not celebrating the holidays that everyone else was celebrating, but in the three years since then, they’ve really embraced it all. Luis and Luca definitely helped with that because all of their school friends celebrated Independence Day and Thanksgiving (bloody hell does he love Thanksgiving), and they’ve integrated themselves into the town ever since. Storybrooke feels like his home as much as Brighton did, and after the initial culture shock of moving countries and time zones to set up their business after retiring from the Navy and needing a change of pace, he enjoys all of the little charming traditions.

That first year he’d still been so heartbroken over Milah and her leaving that the fourth of July fireworks could have gone off in his apartment, and he wouldn’t have cared.

It’s...different now.

“He does. See you tomorrow, Jones. Wear your best patriotic gear.”

“I’ll wear my Queen Elizabeth costume. I’ve simply got to find my purse and my corgi.”

“Whatever you say,” she laughs. “There’s a little surprise in your order, by the way.”

At that, she turns around and walks away while he shakes his head from side to side and closes his front door, locking it and turning to place his take out bag on his kitchen counter.

He opens his bag to grab his container of lasagna only to see a white napkin with black markings written across it. He guesses that’s the surprise.

In case you spill your lasagna.

PS: You’re going to have to imagine if my underwear matches because that is something you’re never going to see.

Your Secret Not Admirer

He chuckles under his breath at Emma’s note. He knows that’s who it’s from because it echoes his note from after he watched her spill her water on herself at Granny’s. He knew he was being a little cheeky last week when he’d left her the napkin teasing her about spilling her drink and about her wildly mismatched socks (he’s thinking it must be a thing for her to not take the effort to keep pairs of matching socks together) and implying that she did the same with her undergarments, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass it up. He didn’t see her after that, not for the entire week except for the one time he saw her across the street from the office while talking to Marcus, so he figured that he’d kind of pissed her off.

It’s a fine line talking to Emma Swan, whether it be risking it by actual conversation or by text. Sometimes he can flirt with no problem, sometimes she even flirts back, but other times he knows that he hits a sore spot that he needs to step back from. She’s a bit of a mystery to him, and she intrigues him. He wants to know more about her, to know her, and about half of the time he kind of thinks that maybe she wants to get to know him too. He knows that she’s against the whole soulmate thing, that she thinks this whole arousal thing between them is idiotic (it is even if he thinks it could have some rather pleasant results), but he’s sure that she can’t deny that they have some kind of connection.

Oh he knows that she would, but deep down, she has to feel it too.

To feel it past the physical attraction that they obviously both have for each other, weird aroused by each other’s voices thing or not.

Or maybe they’ll live a life of sending teasing notes and text messages and riling each other up whenever they’re in the same place and then not doing anything about it.

They’re both entirely too good at that even if his feelings of arousal and desire don’t feel quite as intense as they did on that first day. The day out on the boat had been bad, but he thinks a part of it was driven by how little Emma was wearing.

God, she’s stunning. Sometimes he still can’t believe that.

No matter, though, this is his life, and as confusing as it is, he’s having a damn good time having this little tete-e-tete with Emma.

He’s got to figure out how he’s going to respond to this note. But first, he’s going to eat this lasagna because his stomach is rolling nearly as much as the storm outside is.

Priorities.

-/-

“Uncle Killian,” Luca screams when he pulls up to his brother’s house the next afternoon, stopping before he gets to the driveway so that he doesn’t drive over Luca’s chalk drawing. It looks like she’s been out here for at least an hour drawing some kind of mythical forest, and he couldn’t mess that up after all of her hard work out in the sunshine. “Look what I drew.”

“That’s beautiful, love,” he smiles, closing his jeep’s door and jogging over to her, sweeping her off of the ground and into his arms as she giggles. She’s almost too big for him to hold her like this, but not yet. He’s going to kill his back to hold his niece, but he doesn’t care. He loves her too much to. “Do you want to tell me all about it?”

“Nah,” she sighs, tilting her head back as her legs swing, the girl practically a dead weight. “I’m not finished, so I can’t tell you about it because it’s a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Yep.”

“And you can’t even tell your favorite uncle in the world?”

“Mommy said I can’t have a favorite uncle because it’s not fair to Uncle Kris.”

He snickers at that, knowing that she loves him more than she loves Kris, but that’s mostly because Kris still lives in England with Anna and not down the road like he does. And maybe it’s because he knows that he’s a hell of an uncle. Lifting Luca a little higher in his arms, he lugs her through the yard and up the front steps of Liam’s porch. Elsa has gone a little crazy with the gardening lately, and there are flowers blooming along the railing and pathway that seem to bring a lot of life to the brick home.

But not as much life as Luca and Luis bring.

“Hello,” he bellows as he walks into the house, tossing Luca over his shoulder so that she’s hanging upside down, giggles still rolling through her body. “I have found this interesting little creature outside, and I think that someone needs to come and capture her.”

“I’ll do it,” Luis yells, running to him from the living room and practically taking him down with the force of his hug.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re big enough.”

“I am too.”

“I’m taller than you, Luis.”

“Only by a little.”

“Three whole inches.”

“Two and a half.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, ruffling the blonde curls on Luis’s head, “Luis is definitely big enough to help me lug Luca inside because he knows the most important information of all.”

“And what’s that?”

“Where is your mummy?”

His shoulder starts to ache so he puts Luca on the ground and plops himself down on the living room couch, making sure that he hasn’t gotten anything onto the cream material or onto their rug. Liam and Elsa have two eight-year-olds, but they somehow manage to keep everything inexplicably clean, especially since Liam isn’t as much of a neat freak as he used to be. Personally he thinks this entire house screams Elsa with its shades of blue and white with little bohemian touches everywhere. Honestly, it kind of reminds him of Emma and Belle’s apartment but with furniture that was definitely bought in a set and not found at different stores.

“She is putting her makeup on,” Luis tells him as he sits next to him on the couch and goes back to playing whatever video game he’s obsessed with this week. “And Papa is making a cake for the party.”

“That sounds good.”

“It’s not chocolate, so I don’t like it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he sighs, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch and tilting his head to see Elsa coming down the stairs, her steps so light that he almost doesn’t hear them, “I think all cakes are good cakes.”

“Amen. My children are simply picky.”

“We are not,” the twins protest together, both of their mouths flattening into frowns.

“You are,” Elsa insists, stepping behind him on the couch and leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek. “Have you guys been torturing your uncle?”

“They have been almost perfectly behaved, but I would like a piece of this cake to make up for it.”

“Nobody gets the cake until we are at the party,” Liam shouts from the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.

Elsa pats his shoulder sympathetically. “I have a cookie that you can eat to tide you over.”

“That’s why I love you.”

“And me?” Luca asks.

“Of course.”

He watches Luis play his game, which is apparently a Lego’s video game that he had no idea existed, for about twenty minutes before Liam announces that his cake is finished and that they can make their way to the Nolans’ house. He really should have driven himself, but he didn’t want to be the guy who was creepily sitting in his car outside of their house while he waited for Liam’s family to show up. Usually he’d march on in to whoever’s house it was, but not really knowing the owners has kind of kept him from that. Plus, he wanted to spend a little time with his niece and nephew because he knows that they’ll run off as soon as they get into the yard.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive out to the Nolans’ farm since they live on the outskirts of town, and by the time they get there, there are already cars parked all down the street, lining the gravel road almost as much as the trees are. It’s as beautiful out here as it was the last time he was briefly here for some kind of Christmas party, and he wonders just how David and Mary Margaret seem to host the entire town for a holiday each year.

The moment they’re out of the car, just like he expected, Luca and Luis run off to a group of children that are climbing on the treehouse and swing set, leaving he, Liam, and Elsa in their dust. He remembers what it was like to be that young and free in everything, even after his father abandoned him, and the thought of that has him reaching up around his neck to toy with the chain that holds his mother’s ring. His parents’ marriage wasn’t a good one, but the ring was his mum’s and is a memory of hers that he likes to keep resting over his heart.

When they walk in the door to the farmhouse, not bothering to knock, it’s a mess of people, everyone practically packed in like sardines. He nearly knocks Tink over when he’s trying to get past the staircase and into the kitchen so that he can place Liam’s cake in there. He doesn’t even know how he ended up with it in his hands, but he somehow did.

“What’s that?” Will questions, nearly making him jump out of his skin from surprise.

“Some kind of coffee cake Liam made. I’ve been told I can’t have any until we all eat dessert.”

“That sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“It is.” He places the container down and leans back against the wooden cabinets, the cool marble digging into his waist just above his jeans. “Where’s Belle?”

“What? You don’t want to talk to me, so you ask where my girlfriend is? I thought we were mates.”

“Nah, I’m just in it for Belle. She has access to every book I’d ever need.”

“So does Amazon.”

He rolls his eyes and taps his nails against the countertop. “But no, seriously, I wanted to talk to Belle about a field trip idea for next month since she’s still looking for some for the summer programs.”

Will nods his head toward the window. “She’s outside with Emma talking to Mary Margaret and David as they grill the burgers. They must have spent a fortune buying the meat. I can’t imagine so many people in one place.”

“Me either,” he mumbles, twisting his head to look out the window to see the grill situated at the end of the patio, Mary Margaret standing at it with Emma and Belle next to her. Damn, Emma has on the same jean shorts that she had on when they went out on the water, and he doesn’t think he’s going to survive those again, not if she acts the same. Not even if she doesn’t. He’ll probably have to avoid her at all costs tonight. He can tell that Mary Margaret is the one talking, the way she’s swinging the spatula around pretty obvious, but he knows that Emma isn’t saying anything because he can’t hear her voice. He’s close enough to her to be able to hear her voice, right? That’s how this thing works. “Especially because that big head of yours takes up so much space.”

Will lets out a low whistle. “You have spent too much time with Rob if those are the kinds of jokes you’re making.”

“He makes a mean dad joke.”

“That he does. And, for your information, if there’s any part of me that’s big enough to be taking up too much space in this house, it bloody well isn’t my head.”

He doesn’t want to laugh at that, but he does, biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes as he tries to keep from laughing out loud. Sometimes he swears that his humor is that of a teenager, even if he teases Will about that very thing.

“Where’d you get the drink?”

“They have a cooler of water and beer outside, but I know that Mary Margaret has some lemonade in the fridge and that David has whiskey in the pantry.”

He’d really rather have the beer, but he doesn’t want to be near Emma. It’s far too early in the day for him to be sporting an erection, especially when he doesn’t feel comfortable relieving himself in someone else’s home. He’d done it at Ariel’s, but that was a one-time thing. It’s not happening again. The thrill of almost being caught isn’t really there when he’s a gross man masturbating. That just...it’s wrong.

And he got caught the last time.

Damn, that was awkward and embarrassing, and he has no idea how he’s been able to look Emma in the eyes without melting into the ground or something. Probably because they had a few more pressing issues to deal with that day, and it’s hopefully almost forgotten.

He knows it’ll never be fully forgotten.

Changing the weight on his feet, he turns to the side and opens the fridge, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade, freshly cut lemons floating at the top, and pours himself some into a disposable cup, quickly writing his name on it with the marker that was left on the counter. He’s about to put the cap back on the marker when he sees the stack of napkins at the same time that he hears the faintest echo of Emma’s laugh. Scribbling down a note, he decides that maybe it isn’t too early for him to have to suffer from hearing Emma talk. And maybe avoiding her all day isn’t the best plan.

It’s certainly not what he really wants.

“Where are you going?” Will yells as he opens up the sliding door to their backyard.

“Use some common sense and guess.”

“Asshole.”

He doesn’t even blink at that as he strides across the yard, waving to the few people who wave to him, before he’s standing next to Emma and wrapping his arm around her shoulder so that his hand holding the napkin dangles down onto her biceps. Her feels her tense for a moment, all of her guards obviously going up, before her shoulders relax a bit.

Huh. Not what he was expecting.

“Hi, Killian,” Mary Margaret greets, a bright, cheery smile on her face. “It’s so nice of you to be able to make it.”

Emma groans, something he thinks only he hears, and he pulls her a little closer to his side. He will never get over how undeniably fun it is to bother her. “It’s nice of you to have us all here. I don’t think there could be a more gracious host in Storybrooke.”

He watches as Belle’s eyes roll at that before she takes a sip of her water. “Don’t let Killian charm you too much. He’s full of it.”

“Oh, love, don’t be jealous that I haven’t complimented you yet. I was getting around to it.”

“You spend too much time with Will.”

It’s funny how conversations with two different people still end up being similar.

“And what does that say about you?”

“That I am not as influenced by others as you are.”

“This is true,” he sighs, jumping a little when he feels Emma pinch his side under his button down. He was waiting for some kind of retaliation for her since he’s very obviously invading her personal space and talking to annoy her and drive her mad, not that anyone but the two of them knows that. “You are an unshakable force, my dear Belle. So do you need any help with anything, Mary Margaret?”

“You’re a guest. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Oh come on, lass, I’m sure there’s something you need help with. Emma and I would be happy to assist you.”

Emma pinches his side again, this time the force another to actually cause him a little pain, and he slides his hand down from her shoulder and deftly puts the napkin in her back pocket. He fully expects her to punch him and knock his teeth out, but he thinks he manages to give it to her without her noticing too much. Maybe she’s too on edge to even notice.

“Oh, well,” Mary Margaret says, taking a few of the burgers off the grill and placing them on the tray, “if you two could get all of the side dishes from the kitchen and set them up on the tables out here, that would be great.”

“It’s not a problem, milady. Come on, Swan.”

He steps to the side and starts making his way back to the house. He doesn’t check to see if Emma is following him. He doesn’t need to because as soon as he gets back inside and into the little alcove between the back door and the kitchen, Emma shoves him and slaps at his chest.

“What the hell is wrong to you?”

“Whatever could you be talking about?”

Her eyes roll in what he believes is her signature move around him now, and he has to suppress his smile at how red her cheeks are and how much of a scowl her lips have formed into. “You’re a jackass. I was in the middle of a conversation, and you come out there and wrap your arm around me and then start talking because you know what happens when you do that!”

Gooseflesh rises on his arms, and he tries to regulate his breathing as Emma keeps talking. It’s not as bad as it could be, but it has the potential to get worse.

“And what the hell did you put in my pocket?” she huffs, reaching behind her and pulling out the napkin. “‘You’re right. I wouldn’t know what kind of underwear you wore because the only time I’ve ever seen down your shirt you weren’t wearing any.’ You’re ridiculous.”

“Never claimed I wasn’t.” He bends down and whispers in her ear, making sure to get close enough that his lips brush skin. “For the reference, mine have a delightful blue and white striped pattern today.”

“J-just get the damn side dishes,” she stutters, her voice visibly catching.

“As you wish.”

#Not Your (soul)Mate #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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setaripendragon · 5 years

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There’s a Miracle Right There

So, this is a very old idea that I decided I ought to just finish and throw out there now that I’m back in the Supernatural fandom. Idk if anyone else will care, but I always wanted to give Layla a happy ending, so, that’s what this is. (Virtual cookies to everyone who remembers who Layla is XD)

‘Ugh, how do I even- Uh, our father who art in heaven? This is so stupid I don’t even believe in God what the hell am I doing? Uh, ok, start again. I guess, this goes to anyone who can hear me? I don’t know if- if anyone’s listening – it’d be kind of creepy if you were, actually, god, these are my thoughts, I don’t want anyone else inside my head, goddamnit, focus – or if you douchebags even care but- Ok. There’s this girl. A nice girl. Layla Rourke. And she’s really kind, and sweet and… you know, just a whole round decent human being, which is pretty fucking rare.

‘Anyway, the thing is, she’s got this brain tumour, and she was going to see this- this faith healer, except he wasn’t, his wife had put a reaper on a leash and she was killing people to, I don’t know, transfer their health to the sick people in her husband’s flock, and- The point here is we had to stop her and now Layla’s going to die, and I- I don’t know, I feel like it’s my responsibility to- to at least try and… Ask for a miracle? Aw, hell, this sounds stupid even inside my own head. If you can hear this you probably already knew she was dying and don’t even give a fuck. Well, you know what, fuck you. Who the hell can sit around watching people suffer and just let it happen?

‘I don’t care if you’ve got reasons, or if you’re just an asshole. That girl deserves better. She deserves to have a life before she dies, alright? So- So if you are out there, then… At least help her. Goddamnit what the fuck am I even doing I give up.’

Gabriel snorted. Being away from heaven had muted the babble of prayers in the back of his head, but not so much that he couldn’t hear them if he focused. And that one had come through loud and clear, for all the lack of faith behind it. Maybe Dean Winchester just got faster broadband, courtesy of being the Righteous Man, maybe it was the conviction of his beliefs, regardless of how much actual faith he had, Gabriel didn’t know.

Plus, Gabriel liked listening to the prayers that weren’t sickly with the simpering faith of idiots who didn’t even understand what they were believing in, or talking to. Or the ones that were bitter with false righteousness and superiority. Those were the worst. But the ones that came form people who were just trying to find answers, those were always interesting.

Not that Gabriel ever did anything about them. He couldn’t risk his cover like that. The other angels would be getting those open-ended prayers much louder and clearer than he was. Not that they would get up off their sanctimonious little asses, either, but they’d certainly notice if someone else did their job for them.

Except… maybe they wouldn’t? Just this once. He was bored, anyway. He spent all his time punishing the wicked, and that was fun, but it was also getting a bit tedious. Samey. Dull. Maybe it would be interesting to shake it up a bit, so he wrapped up the trick he was playing on a bunch of businessmen in Japan, and went to find Layla Rourke.

She really was a good person, he discovered. Her faith made Gabriel feel kind of gross, not just because she had no idea how fucked up God and his angels really were, but because it reminded him of everything he used to be. He wasn’t going to heal her right off, because that would be suspicious to the fucks upstairs, so instead, he insinuated himself into her life by masquerading as one of the homeless that visited the soup kitchen she volunteered at, and he watched her.

He maybe played a few tricks on the assholes who harassed the other homeless while he was waiting, but mostly, he just kept an eye on Layla. He could see her getting closer and closer to death, but even though her body was failing her, her soul stayed bright. Gabriel was a little impressed despite himself. Most people weren’t that at peace with their own death, no matter what they liked to pretend to themselves

A couple of weeks, he figured, was long enough.

“This is the part where I say ‘Be not afraid’, right?” Gabriel asked by way of introduction. They were in a church, because he couldn’t resist a little melodrama, and Layla was sitting in one of the pews, alone, seeking solace. She might have made peace with death, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting.

She startled at the sound of his voice, and looked up from her prayer. “Oh, Gabe, I didn’t hear you come in.” She said, breathless with surprise, and then she actually registered what he’s said, and laughed. “Are you saying you’re an angel?” She asked, teasing and friendly.

“Gabe is short for Gabriel.” Gabriel replied with an easy grin, and then beckoned her up to the front of the church. Layla gave him a puzzled look, but did get up and walk over to him.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, more curious than nervous, when she came within touching distance of him. “I didn’t get the feeling you’re particularly religious.” She added gently, because Gabriel had cringed a little at some of the more faithful things she’d said at the soup kitchen.

“Define religious.” He muttered darkly, and then shook the thought off. “I’m here to heal you.” He told her.

Layla stiffened, all the good humour sliding off her face in an instant. She swallowed and looked away. “Please don’t joke about that.” She chided him, still gentle.

“I’m not.” Gabriel replied, and then shrugged, shoving a hand into his pocket to grab a lollipop. He started unwrapping it. “Been a while since I’ve done this sort of thing. Ran away to join the pagans, oh, some couple thousand years ago. Tried not to go throwing my grace around after that, in case Mikey noticed and came to drag me home by my ear.”

Layla stared at him, blinking rapidly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped, clearly thinking better of whatever she’d been about to say. “You’re… saying you’re the archangel Gabriel?” She asked eventually, clearly dubious.

“That’s me.” Gabriel confirmed, popping the lolly in his mouth and grinning around it.

“I would have thought an angel wouldn’t look so… human.” Layla replied, a weirdly tentative note of challenge in her voice.

“Well, technically, I don’t.” Gabriel replied, a little muffled around his lolly. “Look human, that is. I’m just… wearing one. If you looked on my true form, your eyeballs would burn clear out of your head and your brains would fry. I’m here to heal you, not harm you.”

“Ah.” Layla said, feigning understanding and doing nothing to hide her bewildered amusement.

“Hey,” Gabriel said, plucking the lollipop from his mouth and gesturing vaguely with it, “what have you got to lose from giving it a go, huh? Either I’m nuts, and nothing will happen, or I’m telling the truth, and you walk out of here cured.”

Layla considered him for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “You have a point.” She acknowledged. “What do I have to do?” She asked.

“Just give me your hand.” Gabriel replied, holding out his own, the one not full of lollipop.

To her credit, now that she’d decided to hell with it, Layla didn’t hesitate. She reached out and put her hand in his as easy as you please. Gabriel stuck his lollipop back in his mouth, and covered her knuckles with his newly freed hand, patting it once, and then twice as he reached out with his grace and swept it through her body, putting everything to rights again.

Layla swayed, gasping softly, and suddenly clinging to his hand bruising-tight. “Oh.” She said, shock and wonder in her tone as she focused on him, and then promptly dropped to her knees. Gabriel blinked at her as she rested her forehead on the back of his hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

“While I’m usually all for having a woman on her knees for me, this is just awkward. Get up, please.” Gabriel pleaded.

Layla looked up at him, gaping in incredulous, scandalised amusement. She did get up, but she was still looking at him with wonder. “I’m pretty sure angels aren’t supposed to say things like that.” She told him, voice trembling with laughter that was only half amusement. The other half was definitely edging towards hysteria.

Gabriel shrugged. “What’s Dad going to do? Smite me?”

Layla shook her head. “I never would have imagined an angel could be so… irreverent.”

Gabriel sighed and stuck his hands back in his pockets. He crunched down on the lolly in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then made the stick disappear. “We’re not infallible, Layla.” He told her sadly. “I mean, shit, Lucy proved that. But he wasn’t the only one, you know? Mike’s a control-freak and Raph’s a bigoted douchenozzle, and I’m the irresponsible fuck up. We’re-” He snorted. “We’re a lot more human than anyone likes to acknowledge.”

Layla hummed, thoughtful and understanding, but not actually convinced. “There are worse things to be like than humans” She retorted lightly. Gabriel snorted again, and then burst out laughing.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He agreed. They stayed standing there for a moment in silence, both of them contemplating the other, before Gabriel decided it was time to clear off. He clapped his hands together. “Right, well! I’ve got places to be, people to seduce, heresies to commit.”

Layla laughed again, but then reached out. “Wait!” She called, so Gabriel paused, looking at her expectantly. For a moment, Layla looked helpless, but then she finally managed to ask; “Why me? I- Not that I’m not grateful, but you said you haven’t done this for a while, so I… I just wondered, why now? Why me?”

Gabriel watched her for a long moment, debating. There were a lot of answers he could give. Because he was bored. Because she deserved it. Because he wanted to prove that he could. Because the end was nigh, so what the hell. Because, because, because. “Because Dean Winchester prayed for you.” He said finally.

Layla blinked. Her mouth opened in silent shock. “Dean?” She asked. Gabriel nodded. “Why…?” She trailed off, but Gabriel understood.

He could tell her that Dean was special, that he was The Righteous Man, that he’d been chosen by God to play an important role. He didn’t want to. Because he didn’t do this because of who Dean is to Heaven and the Host, even if that was why he heard Dean’s prayer as clearly as he had. He came because… “Because he said ‘fuck you’ to a heaven that doesn’t care about good people suffering.”

“That sounds like him.” Layla agreed fondly, and for a moment she looked like she might cry, just from the overload of emotion. “Tell him thank you, from me, if you get the chance.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not mentioning this to anyone.” Gabriel replied, scoffing.

“Ah, yes, you’re in hiding.” Layla remembered, shaking her head at him in amusement. “Well, anyway. Thank you, Gabriel.” She said, leaning in to make sure she could meet his gaze when she said it. On impulse, Gabriel leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He told her, offering her a wink before taking wing.

#Supernatural #Gabriel #Layla Rourke #poor layla #believing in pure and good angels #and then she meets gabriel #but then if anyone's faith could withstand that #it would be layla's really

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madelainesvixens · 5 years

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CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT: CHAPTER FOUR | SWEET CHILD O’ MINE

Saturday, October 3rd

12:00

Marty showed up at the diner with a couple guys from the team, a herd of blue and yellow jackets passing through the single door.

''Jones!'' Marty's voice called, seeing him balancing empty plates in one hand and drinks in the other. FP looked up when he heard his name. ''Where were you last night? You know it's a rule to be present at every after-match parties.''

Unknown to the public eye, the Bulldogs have a book of rules they must follow to be a part of the team. At the start of every season, all new players have to sign the book and agree to follow all rules. If one violated a rule and, by example didn't attend an after-match party, Marty threatened to kick them out of the team. Except, Coach still had the last word on who was in the team and not so...Marty can shove his rules up his ass.

''Sorry man, I had a...stomach flu,'' FP covered up, hoping Marty wouldn't press in for more infos. ''I threw up on the way home and didn't stop until two in the morning. Trust me, it was best I stayed home.''

The bulldog frowned. ''Shouldn't you be at home if you were sick?''

Caught. Think fast, FP.

''Weirdly enough, I'm feeling brand new. So, maybe it was more of an upset stomach than stomach flu.''

Marty hummed, still perplexe. ''Better show up on Friday.'' FP nodded at his captain. ''Now, bring me my usual. With an extra onion rings order. I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole cow.''

''Coming right up!''

18:54

Some spent their Saturday night at the Twilight drive-in, making out in a car with a movie in the background while the party animals liked to get ready for parties with their girlfriends or pre-gaming at their best bud's house. FP, he, was stuck at the diner, wiping the counter and tables clean.

It was nearing seven o'clock and the diner was almost empty except for a couple sharing a booth and an man in his forties at the counter. The latter stood and left a twenty on the counter, right next to his empty plate. FP nodded at the man, grabbing the dollar bill and politely wished him a good evening. Putting the cloth over his shoulder, FP cashed in the money in the register, putting the rest in his apron's pocket as tip.

While he was doing so, the bell above the door signed, signaling a new customer walked in.

''Hey handsome. I'll have a vanilla milkshake and an order of fries. Don't burn them.''

FP's eyes snapped upwards to meet the figure that had previously interrupted the stillness of the diner. A smirk formed on his face as his eyes lander on the girl that haunted his dreams. She had told him she'd show up at the diner yesterday. Like promised, there she stood.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Alice had asked, sitting up in FP's bed, smoking a cigarette in nothing but her underwear.

FP stared at the ceiling, still naked under the blanket, savoring the intimate moment. “I’m working.”

“Until…” She raised an eyebrow, using an old plate on FP's nightstand to use as ashtray.

“Until eight.”

“And after that?”

He thought for a moment, playing the busy card. ''I don't know. I might go to Fred's.''

''What would you say if I passed by?''

FP looked up at the blonde, furrowing his eyebrows. ''At Pop's?''

She nodded, taking the last puff of her cigarette and killing it in the plate. She set it aside and joined FP, sliding a leg on each side of his hips. The teenager watched her with hungry eyes, his hands coming up automatically to knead at her butt.

“Then, I'll be going home, I guess.”

''No burger?''

''No burger,'' she confirmed.

FP frowned in confusion. ''How can you come at Pop's without ordering a burger? It's Pop's trademark menu! Along with milkshakes.''

The boy went to work and prepared Alice's milkshake

''I'm simply not hungry for a burger.'' She paused, leaving over the counter a bit, exposing her decolté. FP bit down his bottom lip, swallowing his burning envy to reach out but figured it was inappropriate to grope someone in a familial diner - even more so when you work there. ''I'm keeping space for the dessert.''

The raven haired boy raised a suggestive eyebrow, watching her as she grinned down at him. ''May I ask you what you are having for desert?''

FP placed the vanilla milkshake on the counter, right in front of her.

Alice gave him a thoughtful look. ''I'm not sure yet.'' She picked the cherry from the whipped cream mountain and put it whole in the mouth, twisting her tongue expectedly so the tail would knot.

She pulled it out of her mouth, setting the perfectly knotted cherry tail next to her milkshake and took a sip.

FP called an order of fries from Pop and the man send one back immediately. He set the basket on the counter, right in front of the vanilla milkshake when the blonde biker caught something from the corner of her eye.

''Does it work?''

She pointed at an old jukebox with yellow and orange lights by the doors of the diner.

FP nodded. ''Yes. Although no one uses it, Pop insists to keep it. He says it reminds the customers of the diner's roots.''

''Does it plays good music? I swear if I hear another Backstreet Boys hit I'm gonna smash my head against the counter.''

''You have a hatred for boy bands?'' FP asked, amused.

She shrugged, taking a fry between her fingers, cutting it in two with her teeth. ''Meh. Not my cup of tea.''

''What do you listen to?''

''Wait and see.''

Pulling out a few coins from her pocket, Alice walked over to the jukebox and tapped the glass, following the rhythm of a melody, while reading the titles available. Def Leppard, Michael Jackson, Prince, Tina Turner, Aerosmith, Whitney Houston, Poison. In the end, she pressed an orange button and choose Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N Roses.

From his spot behind the counter, FP watched as Alice swayed her hips to the side, following the beat of the song, as the sound of guitar filled the diner. He should be heading to the kitchen and help Pop with the orders but Alice had all his attention. Sorry, Pop.

20:07

After his shift ended, FP said goodnight to Pop and switched his uniform for proper clothes. He usually didn't bother changing and just walked home in his work clothes but, if he were to see Alice Smith after his shift, the greasy and smelly uniform had to go. He joined Alice outside the diner and they took the road in direction to FP's house. Only, as they took Elm street, FP stopped in his track on the sidewalk, seeing his dad's truck in the driveway. Fuck.

Instead, turned around and headed to Alice's.

It was FP's first time on the Southside and, although he would never admit it, he was a bit creeped out. He's heard so many bad things about Southside citizens.

Forty minutes later, they reached Alice's house and FP was surprised to see a trailer. He knew she lived on the Southside - aka the 'poor' side of Riverdale - so, he hadn't expected a fucking castle. He wasn't ignorant.

Alice pulled out her keys from her backpack and unlocked the door. The second the trailer it was shut, FP had his lips on her, pushing the blonde against the back of the door. He used his knee to part her legs, rubbing expertively against her middle. Alice moaned, her body already on fire under FP's touch.

She dropped her keys and backpack right at the entrance, creating a loud noise inside the trailer. FP shrugged off his jacket, Alice doing the same with her, the rest of their clothes and shoes quickly leaving their bodies as she led them to her bed.

They got to the bed, Alice straddling FP and taking control.

Usually, FP wasn't a fan of dominant girls. He liked to be the alpha in every situations - and that included in bed. He liked to be in control and guide where it goes but, with Alice, it was different. He wanted her on top. He liked when she had control on him and he would let her do all she wanted with his body - but, he's not going to tell her that.

He had a reputation to maintain.

Alice's hands were in FP's raven hair, tugging at the roots as he sucked on her nipple, flicking the other between his fingers. She moaned, loving the feeling of his tongue on her. Although the pleasure was good, she pulled away and pushed him so he was laying back on the bed, scooting closer on his stomach, sitting right under his pecs, letting him feel the wetness through her underwear. FP licked his lips, hands running up her thighs.

He grabbed her and flipped positions with her so Alice was now the one laying on the bed. His fingers lightly dances across her skin, running up and down her legs as he brought their lips back together. Alice closed her eyes and waited for his fingers to make their way up to her underwear. FP ran the tip of his middle finger between her legs and Alice sighed into his mouth as all of her attention flooded to the work of his finger against her underwear, her heart beat instantly accelerating.

“FP,” she breathed against his lips.

He smirked, continuing to stroke his finger along her clothed centre. ''How's does this feels, Ali?''

She shuddered uncontrollably as his middle finger curled and found the very top of her already swollen clitoris, making her unable to talk. Her body was defying her mind and responding to his touch more and more as each second ticked by. The blonde instinctively pushed herself backwards against his finger, desperate to feel more of him.

Her hands snaked up his back, feeling the muscles underneath his skin before clawing at it, leaving red marks.

Wetness coated FP's finger as he pushed it in and out of her. For a second, he thought to add another but, instead, he pulled back completely and wiped his finger on the sheet. FP raised on his knees and sat between her legs, stopping for a second, staring at Alice and admiring her - almost - naked body. Blond curls cascading over her shoulder, plump lips reddened from all the kissing, the curves of her full breasts, nipples hard and asking to be played with - again.

''Why did you stop?'' she asked, both confused and frustrated.

The raven haired boy snapped out of his trance, getting back to business. Slowly, he pulled Alice's underwear down her legs and discarded them on the floor.

The seconds passed and his erection was getting difficult to ignored, still confined under the cotton of his boxers. Patience, he reminded himself.

FP scooted himself down on the bed and positioned himself between the blonde's legs, anticipating what was going to happen. Alice was a lucky one, only a few girls had the privilege to get the special treatment from the MVP. Forsythe Pendleton Jones II did not go down on every girls. His strong hands pushed her knees further apart, creating more room. Alice propped herself on her elbows and looked down, locking eyes with FP. Keeping eye contact, he dipper his head and kissed her inner thigh, sending shivers through her entire body. FP kissed higher and higher until he reached her middle and-

Alice threw her head back, fingers gripping the sheets, the second FP's lips touched her clit. Yes.

Monday, October 5th

17:50

FP pushed the button to turn off his shower, grabbing his royal blue towel to wrap it around himself. He paddled over to the locker area to dry himself and get dressed when the locker room door was pushed open and closed loudly. FP brushed it off, thinking a guy from the team had forgot something like their cleats or jersey.

He expected a loud voice to resonate through the locker room, typical of Bulldogs but, the room stayed quiet, except for a clicking sound of shoes. FP pulled his brows together. Maybe it was the janitor? Mr. Greenfeld was avery quiet person. But, there was no sound of wheels or chemical cleaners bottles swishing around in the cart.

Not dwelling on that, FP put away his shower stuff in his toiletries bag and was about to untie his towel to dry off when a voice startled him.

''That back's looking mighty fine, Jones.''

FP whirled around. What the fuck?! His alert eyes softened when he saw the girl that haunted his dreams, a wicked grin across her plump lips, standing by a row of locker. ''What the hell are you doing here? If Coach sees you-''

Alice shook her head, taking a few steps forward, crossing the locker room. ''No need to worry. I saw him pull out of the parking lot two minutes ago when I parked my bike.''

''Your bike?!''

The new information made FP laugh. Until FP caught Alice's name in detention, he used to always refer to her as 'biker girl' because of her leather jacket but, it turned out she was a real biker. That's...hot.

She stepped over the wooden bench separating the two rows of locker and joined FP on the other side. FP watched her getting closer, biting down his lip in anticipation. Less than a couple inches was separating them, now.

Alice leaned to close the gap, stopping just before their lips touched. ''Do you have anything one you?'' she asked in a whisper.

Nodding, FP pressed their lips together, one of his hands coming up to cup her jaw. Although their kissed were urgent and intense most of the time, they were capable of soft kisses too. Alice ran her hands from his waist to his shoulder blades, feeling them flex beneath her palms. Water was still dripping from his damp hair and onto his back and chest, adding to the sexiness of the moment.

Mimicking her movement, he untied her flannel at the front, revealing a black bra. The Bulldog trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, sucking on her skin to bruise it lightly - nothing too noticeable. Alice moaned, feeling her her nipples hardening behind her bra. She reached back and unclasped it, freeing them. She could feel herself dampening between her legs as his lips and tongue continued to play skilfully. FP's hands came up to her breasts, massaging them, pressing the flats of his palms against her aching nipples.

They pulled back so she could free herself from her jeans and boots and, to FP's surprise, she shifted to her knees and, with one light tug, FP's towel dropped to the floor and she leant forwards, holding his dick steadily in her hand as she kissed around his groin and thighs.

“Enjoying that?” She flicked up her eyes to FP, who was smirking down at her. She slid her lips from him and licked along the length of his shaft once more, keeping her eyes on his.

She sat back on her feet and smiled.

FP banged his head against a locker. ''Very much so.''

19:15

The second FP got home, his after-sex 'glow' was chased away.

''What's that?'' Forsythe asked, raising an assortment of college applications in his left hand.

Shit. He found them. Panic rose inside FP's head.

''The school's counselor gave them to us. It's nothing, Dad.'' He tried to snatched them back from his old man's grasp but Forsythe abruptly pulled them away of his son's reach.

Forsythe pointed an accusing finger at FP, eyes narrowed and menacing. ''Don't lie to me, Boy!''

He stepped closer to FP and the latter backed away until his back hit the wall. For a second, FP thought he was going to hit him. He didn't.

''Us, Jones's don't go to college. We work at the factory. Like me, like your grandfather, like your great grandfather, like-''

''I don't want to work at the factory, Dad! I want to be the first Jones to go to college.''

He wanted to study marketing with Fred so they could, one day, start their own business together. Fred and him had talked about it during the summer and it became their secret little project. They had no idea what they wanted to start a business in but, they had time to figure it out. College was months away and their business won't see the day of light until a couple years.

Forsythe laughed. ''Who made you believe you could get into a college? College is for intelligent kids with big money. Don't think that because you're a part of the football team that colleges will want you. It counts for jackshit in a college application.'' And then, the man ripped the papers in half right in front of FP's face.

NEXT CHAPTER (X)

#falice #falice fic #riverdale fic #call it what you want #call it what you want chapter four #fp jones #Alice Cooper #riverdale

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stressbakeling · 5 years

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Hiding from Writing and an Italian Interlude - 8/24/2019

Let’s get meta on writing. I used to write Hamilton style, cranking out poems, prose, rap song parodies and unrequested book and film reviews fueled by what I can only guess was a combination of dormitory stir-crazy and teenaged angst. As I move into my mid to late twenties (such demography), I find myself having to negotiate with myself to keep my buns on a seat long enough to put my words somewhere every thirty to ninety days. Did I stop having creative thoughts or time or... has my personality changed? I feel like I have so many conversations in my head. All day long I’m asking questions, I’m having arguments--I close my eyes and have vivid dreams night after night as the filing cabinet that is my brain dumps itself onto the floor and the tender, anxious nerves of my dying youth rush in to sweep it away and prepare for the next batch. I don’t think it’s because I have nothing to talk about. Yesterday I mused on why blueberries don’t usually end up in jams for about an hour on the train, conceding that it’s probably because their weirdly whitish flesh does not match the color of their purple/blue peel and people just don’t know how to embrace that kind of dissonance (and surely not because of their lack of naturally occurring pectins). I also regularly have time to sink into social media, reading hefty books by dead people, painting tiny figurines for games I don’t play, and of course that super laborious hobby that involves zero dead time whatsoever--bread making. I have time. The time I’ve spent on YouTube watching a Croatian man talk to his giant spiders alone is revealing to the room in my life I have available to barf my head thoughts onto a social media platform that the next generation will probably remember as readily and fondly as mine does of the teletype. “So say it, Marisa! You just don’t wanna!” Well, if that were true, why do I dust this puppy off so frequently? I do wanna. I used to think I wanted to do this for money! Adamantly! When a professor told me my future in such an industry would be compromised if I didn’t show up to three hour workshops weekly and write about ghosts haunting my childhood home, I believed! And while I do occasionally push when it says “pull,” I’d like to think I’m no dunce--certainly I managed to get this far, and ten years ago I don’t think my logic was tragically worse off. K, let’s revisit that list then: - too busy - nothing to write about - no desire - no strong opinions - no avenues or opportunities - too expensive - not as interesting as it used to be - afraid

Ah ha! It’s the dust. It’s the piles of beautiful leather bound notebooks and fountain pens I’ve been gifted over the years that look so beautiful in their clean slate state. It’s the negative feedback. It’s the positive feedback. It’s the it’s-too-late-nows and the it’s-already-been-saids. But no one is asking me to quit my day job. I’m not even asking me to do that. Yeah, but what’s the drive, why do it at all? I’m not a fiction writer, I do love a good story but there isn’t a song in my heart that’s dying to be sung. I think writing is highly therapeutic, it’s cathartic, it’s informative, it’s definitive. People have been keeping diaries and journals for centuries just to help make sense of the world--to capture something that our memory sieve of a brain will lose inevitably. It’s also entertaining and performative. I could write into little books and shove them under my bed at night, and indeed, some of the best writing was found in this state--never prepared to be shared with the world--but then I build my own bubble. And part of the fear of writing (offending, triggering, or even directly endangering people in certain situations) can and must be offset by the great things that come of it (discussion, connection, mental expansion). “Well, that’s very bold of you. Thank you for your contribution to the body of literature that is fine, poignant, and enriching Tumblr posts.” Yeah, yeah, let me do my yoga in the public park and chill in the hot tub at my apartment complex. You are welcome to join me. So, then also let me talk, and in return I will also listen.

Now, wait isn’t this a baking blog or... something?

I went to Italy for two weeks in July, so it’s worth talking about the pastry, bread, and other sweet and savory encounters I had there. It started at baggage claim at FCO where I ordered a cappuccino (like a goddamn American!) and a caprese sandwich while waiting for Eric’s plane to land. This pedestrian airport Italian coffee kicks the living cajones off of any American coffee I’ve ever had outside of artisanal roasteries, and even still--it’s close. The sandwich nearly made me cry. I was starving but was mostly expecting waterlogged tomatoes, spongy but weirdly wet mozzarella and wilted/blackened basil on soggy bread since these things were probably prepared this morning and it was officially 1:30pm Roman time. Negatory, doctor. Everything was death defyingly fresh (I didn’t yet know that I basically was kicking off the lunch hour at this counter, Italians eat pretty late) and the Italian woman behind the counter laughed unabashedly at me as I moaned into the baguette and drank my breakfast milk.

Italian pizzas from the Roman countryside. Italy knows how to make a fucking pizza. Really brilliant work combined with crazy fresh ingredients made these super memorable. This experience makes me very scared of pizza dough knowing how crispy and light and perfect it can be. These pizzas were each about $9 USD and cranked out faster than my sister and I could down a glass of wine.

Meredith and Alan had a beautiful wedding and our hosts made us an incredible dinner, but the two most memorable parts of the meal had to be the lasagna (good lord I’ll never have lasagna that good again) and the dessert--an Italian take on a croquembouche. Croquembouche (a French invention) is typically profiteroles (read: cream puffs) piled high in a tower held together by a crunchy spun caramel. The Italians basically take French pastry and proverbially deep fry its butter. Instead of a tower with lightly spun and delicate caramel strands, the Italians pile the cream puffs in a mound and cover it in rich but creamy dark chocolate ganache. Instead of the choux pastry puffs being filled with a light vanilla scented whipped cream, they go chantilly or bust--but don’t worry they save that light whipped cream that would go in the croquembouche for the outside, and ring the chocolate mountain with beautifully piped examples of the stuff, adding strawberries while they’re at it because Jesus why not. We ate it gleefully with stomachs that were bursting, and when we couldn’t eat anymore, we popped the plastic tub with the leftover contents open and ate the rest hungover at the breakfast table the next day. Best. Breakfast. Ever.

Semifreddos in a super cold fridge in Vernazza on the Cinque Terre. I think they’ve figured out sweet dairies over there. Gelato is served in tiny cups and is everywhere and the rainbows of flavors make each one novel. I had pistachio, fig, hazelnut, coconut, coffee, amaretto, peach, orange, mixed berry, cantelope, mint, tiramisu and stracciatella. I think I had at least two scoops of gelati everyday and I never regretted it, it was scorching.

I had this vanilla ricotta and mascarpone filled cannoli with pistachio crumbs down by the Arno our last night in Florence. It came out of a food truck. It was 85 degrees outside and the sun was down. I melted into a puddle and had to be scraped off of the ground to be carried back to our rooms. Cannoli are always done wrong, they have a bad rap of being too greasy, too sweet--this thing could have fallen in the dirt in front of me and I would have talked it right into my mouth without hesitation.

Amuse bouche from our final meal outside of a hotel or airport in Italy on the main piazza in Arezzo Antico. The shortbread cookies remind me of my Italian Nanni’s favorite nibble, the thing she always had in tins when we’d come to visit. They fall apart without much convincing and melt in your mouth--the butter to sugar content isn’t what I’d make for myself, but the execution was excellent. The cream puffs continued to kick choux ass and take chantilly names.

My final stop was a layover in Munich where I chased down a pretzel that came with this cold wurst salad. The German bartenders were fascinated that as an American I would 1) order this dish 2) eat all of it. Onion breath for days. No regrets. In conclusion, I think my hesitation to post is unwarranted. I’ve also baked many things in the month of August I won’t post here because I wouldn’t want to sully the beautiful golden rays of Italia we’re basking in right now, but if you can do me a favor and ask me next time you see me why I haven’t posted lately, I’d be entirely grateful. :)

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shannrussell-blog1 · 5 years

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When you say ‘Coober Pedy’, three things usually come to mind. Firstly, opals. It’s the opal capital of the world. Secondly, hot and remote. And finally, it makes a convenient stop on your way to Uluru or somewhere else you actually want to go. And all of those things are true.

What’s also true is Coober Pedy actually makes a pretty good base to do some serious exploring in the region. A one trick pony it ain’t – it’s a genuine destination in itself if you’re prepared to look a little further afield and don’t mind getting dusty.

I recently drove up for the Kanku-Breakaways Marathon and that’s where my adventure started.

The view of the Kanku-Breakaways.

Do you need a 4WD for this trip?

The Kanku-Breakaways is about 30km north of Coober Pedy. The road in is unsealed, but fine with a 2WD. It’s worth mentioning, any unsealed road can have issues in wet weather though, so an SUV would be preferable, but a 4WD is the best and safest option. In good conditions though, a 2WD will get you where you need to go. Eventually.

You can take a 2WD, but a 4WD would be preferable.

Gear to take

When I’m on the go like this and lightweight gear isn’t required, I go for extreme comfort and sleep in the back of my SUV with an Exped Megamat and the Coleman Pilbara C-5 sleeping bag. It may be warm during the day, but at night it can get down to around zero, so you’ll want something that keeps you warm.

Are there opportunities for hikes or walks?

There aren’t really any hikes or opportunities to explore on foot at the Kanku-Breakaways, it’s very much a case of driving in and stopping at a few lookouts to take in the views. Which are awesome. There are two main lookouts and a few places to stop throughout the park, including the dingo fence and the Moon Plains – an unbelievably barren landscape that, as the name suggests, looks not unlike the moon. This spot has been used in a number of films including Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome and The Red Planet.

You can do a round trip, entering off the highway and coming back to town via the unsealed Kempe Road. It’ll take half-a-day tops and only a few hours if you’re on a mission.

If you want to head off on foot, you can explore the Moon Plains.

Exploring the town

My next stop was to do some exploring around town. I’m not big on tourist attractions as such but I figured I’d take in some of the sights. In half a day I visited Tom’s Opal Mine and did a self-guided tour.

You’d probably get more information on a hosted group tour, but a quick self-tour is also fun and more my speed. They even lend you a blue light to spot opal in the mine walls which is very cool.

The grass-less golf course is one of the things to see in Coober Pedy.

Crocodile Harry’s

I’m not one for golf, but driving past the local golf course with not a blade of grass in sight is a good reminder of the Aussie sense of humour.

And, a visit to Crocodile Harry’s Underground Nest is a good reminder that heat can fry your brain. Crocodile Harry was an actual crocodile hunter in the Northern Territory before moving to Coober Pedy where there’s a distant lack of crocodiles, so he started hunting gemstones instead. He ended up building one of the whackiest houses you’re every likely to see. And trust me, I’ve seen a few.

Like a lot of miner’s homes in the area, his is underground. What’s not like other miner’s homes, is his home decoration skills which are off the charts. Well worth a look and a laugh. Both are only a few minutes out of town.

Crocodile Harry’s is a unique tourist destination in the town of Coober Pedy.

Sightseeing in Coober Pedy

If you’re up for more sightseeing around town, there’s Faye’s Underground Home, the underground Catacomb Church, the underground Serbian Orthodox Church, the underground bookshop and if you’re hungry, John’s Pizza which weirdly enough, isn’t underground.

Equally weird, they claim to have once been included in a list of the top ten pizza places in Australia, but I’m yet to work out if that’s for real, or another quirk of the Aussie sense of humour. Much like their ‘Coat of Arms’ pizza which has emu and kangaroo from the Australian coat of arms. I kid you not.

Galleries to visit when in the town

Back in town, you could visit any number of galleries offering various indigenous art, but Josephine’s is the one to go to because it’s also a kangaroo orphanage and…baby kangaroos are awesome! They close the gallery and feed the roos twice a day, so get there on time, or get locked out.

Josephine’s – the gallery and kangaroo orphanage is the best one to visit in town.

Accommodation in the area

There’s plenty of accommodation options in town including numerous underground hotels. I was on a budget, so I opted for a cabin at the caravan park, opposite the drive-in. Yes, there’s a drive-in that usually operates on weekends.

Day trip to the Painted Desert

If you’re up for some more serious exploring, The Painted Desert is a full day trip. You could do it on your way to somewhere else, but I did it as a loop ending up back in Coober Pedy. I went there via Kempe Road, an unsealed road directly out of town then turned off to Arckaringa station, and came back via Painted Desert Road.

You’ll need a full day to check out the Painted Desert.

It’s definitely do-able in an SUV but I’m not gonna lie, a few pieces broke off my car as it was so rocky and rough in places. If you go slow or have a real 4WD maybe it won’t be an issue, but this area is remote and the roads can be pretty rough in places.

You could do this trip on the way to Oodnadatta, or pop out on the highway about 150km north of town and be on your way up to the NT.

Due to the rough roads, it would pay to be in a 4WD.

The Painted Hills

Breaking your trip up and staying the night at Arckaringa probably isn’t such a bad idea either. I’m usually travelling with time restrictions and so I squeezed this trip into half a day, driving back down the highway after dark – which is not something I’d really recommend with sheep, cattle, wild brumby and roos on the road.

The Painted Desert itself is quite spread out. There’s a lookout area, and a few kilometres away, a short walk you can do which is pretty cool.

It’s worth checking out Wright’s Air for a tour of the Painted Hills.

As good as the Painted Desert is, I can’t help but feel it’s the poor cousin to the similarly named Painted Hills, south-east of Coober Pedy. I’m almost certain you can’t actually drive there regardless of the vehicle you have unless that vehicle happens to be a light aircraft. If you don’t have one of those, hit Wrights Air up for a tour.

They’ve just worked out a few of their light aircraft can land nearby, and have started doing tours in the area. Although all I did was fly over, this looks like total bucket list stuff to land, and go in for a wander. I’m sure it’s only matter of time before you can access it by road, but for now, it’s by air only.

Visiting Lake Eyre

And, if you’re going to jump in a light aircraft, you may as well check out some of the other local sights including Lake Eyre which, right now is one of the rare times it’s filling up with water courtesy of the Queensland floods a few months back.

As great as it was to see Lake Eyre filling up with water, the true highlight for me was simply the landscapes from above. They were absolutely mesmerising. The shapes. The colours. The textures. The patterns. I literally could not take my eyes off of any of it. It was incredible.

I know a tour in a light aircraft won’t be in everyone’s budget, but I cannot recommend highly enough that you find a way to do it at least once.

The view flying over Lake Eyre was incredible.

Stopping over in Woomera

Finally, there’s the trip between Adelaide and Coober Pedy. I went up via the highway, stopping in Woomera for the night. It’s where the rocket base was back in the 60s. Unfortunately, there’s really not many accommodation choices there or anything else for that matter, although, there’s an outdoor space museum which is well worth a half-hour look.

I stayed at Mt Ive Sheep Station on the way home.

Mt Ive Station

On the way back, I headed inland into Kingoonya and down the west side of Lake Gairdner, staying the night at Mt Ive (sheep) Station. Even a few weeks later, my teeth are still rattling from the drive as some of the unsealed roads are super corrugated, but the landscape was amazing, and there was plenty of wildlife along the way including emus, kangaroos and wombats.

I went there because Mt Ive has direct access to nearby Lake Gairdner, the salt lake where the Dry Lake Racers have Speedweek in March every year. Mt Ive Station has camping, basic ‘Shearer’s Quarters’ accommodation, and if you’re lucky and it’s available, ’the princess suite’ – a restored, stand-alone cottage with air conditioning – which is where Miranda Kerr stayed when doing a photoshoot in the area.

All in all, my trip to Coober Pedy and the Kanku-Breakaways Park was a good one.

Coober Pedy is a dry and remote location, but it’s still a seriously cool place to explore if you don’t mind the dust and you’re ready for an open road adventure.

Are you thinking of heading off on a spontaneous road trip to the arid and scenic Coober Pedy?

The post Coober Pedy’s Travel Secrets – More than just Opals & Mines appeared first on Snowys Blog.

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shannrussell-blog1 · 5 years

Photo

I recently drove up for the Kanku-Breakaways Marathon and that’s where my adventure started.

The view of the Kanku-Breakaways.

Do you need a 4WD for this trip?

You can take a 2WD, but a 4WD would be preferable.

Gear to take

Are there opportunities for hikes or walks?

You can do a round trip, entering off the highway and coming back to town via the unsealed Kempe Road. It’ll take half-a-day tops and only a few hours if you’re on a mission.

If you want to head off on foot, you can explore the Moon Plains.

Exploring the town

You’d probably get more information on a hosted group tour, but a quick self-tour is also fun and more my speed. They even lend you a blue light to spot opal in the mine walls which is very cool.

The grass-less golf course is one of the things to see in Coober Pedy.

Crocodile Harry’s

I’m not one for golf, but driving past the local golf course with not a blade of grass in sight is a good reminder of the Aussie sense of humour.

Crocodile Harry’s is a unique tourist destination in the town of Coober Pedy.

Sightseeing in Coober Pedy

Galleries to visit when in the town

Josephine’s – the gallery and kangaroo orphanage is the best one to visit in town.

Accommodation in the area

Day trip to the Painted Desert

You’ll need a full day to check out the Painted Desert.

You could do this trip on the way to Oodnadatta, or pop out on the highway about 150km north of town and be on your way up to the NT.

Due to the rough roads, it would pay to be in a 4WD.

The Painted Hills

The Painted Desert itself is quite spread out. There’s a lookout area, and a few kilometres away, a short walk you can do which is pretty cool.

It’s worth checking out Wright’s Air for a tour of the Painted Hills.

Visiting Lake Eyre

I know a tour in a light aircraft won’t be in everyone’s budget, but I cannot recommend highly enough that you find a way to do it at least once.

The view flying over Lake Eyre was incredible.

Stopping over in Woomera

I stayed at Mt Ive Sheep Station on the way home.

Mt Ive Station

All in all, my trip to Coober Pedy and the Kanku-Breakaways Park was a good one.

Coober Pedy is a dry and remote location, but it’s still a seriously cool place to explore if you don’t mind the dust and you’re ready for an open road adventure.

Are you thinking of heading off on a spontaneous road trip to the arid and scenic Coober Pedy?

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