#her demonstrations of love for them and her smile and her warm kind eyes and her liveliness

[cherry-treelane]

this is extremely important to me it means so much....if u get it u get it and if u don't u dont.... (fics are all from the wonderful mother_of_houseplants btw shes amazing and so is her writing which is evident in these screenshots)

[kadwrites]

the shelby charm | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.

warnings ; idk bad writing? arranged marriage trope, soft!tommy bc hes so babygirl idc,

a/n ; let me know what you guys think! and im so glad you guys are liking this series <3 i genuinely didnt even think id write a second part but here we are ig

-

"she what?" madeline asks with a gasp , her jaw is dropped.fiona froze mid-sip with her eyes wide open

"i know!" you nod , leaning in closer with your arms resting on the dining table. your eyes are wide, and you're laughing, still in disbelief of what happened.

it was around 8 in the morning, madeline and fiona dropped by early, they were too curious and excited to wait any longer.

celest is pacing around the table, with her 1 year old daughter rose , in her arms as she bounces her, shaking her head as if she can't believe it happened. you already told her the whole story, but she's still somehow taken aback

your parents are still asleep, the house is lit by the warm morning sunlight,  the scent of tea and toasted bread wafts around the house.

"she said ya cornered 'er? really?" madeline repeats what you said

"what else did she say to 'im?" fiona asks with a raised brow, she leans in closer as well

"i don't know , he didn't tell me anything besides that" you mutter, taking a bite of your slightly burned toast

"and he drove ya home?" fiona wiggles her brows at you 

"aye , he did. because that aunt of his left me stranded in that fucking office."

"she probably did that on purpose." celest adds with a laugh

"of course she fucking did" you say with a sigh

"he insisted on driving ya home aye?" celest teases , she sits on the table with you, bouncing rose on her lap.

"what kind of man would let a defenseless woman walk alone in the dark streets of birmingham" you resent that it made you feel giddy, you really did. it was just a polite gesture, you tell yourself.

"and what did he say to 'er afterwards?" fiona looks at you intently, too invested in the story to tease you.

"so that woman walks in yeah, and she walks straight to 'im. at that point she hadn't even said a word to me. and asks 'im to sign a fucking paper or something" you tuck a strand behind your ear and bringing your chair closer to the table. "and he says oh so y've met my fiancee ?"

at your words, everyone squeals  and giggles 

"would you shut up? it wasn't like that." you say with a whine, covering your face slightly 

"why else would he say that then?"

"to make 'er jealous? i dont know" you furrow your brows, taking another bite of toast 

"he did it to let 'er know what 'er place is" celest nods as she speaks, her daughter watches all of you , babbling as if adding to the conversation.

"anyways" you wave a dismissive hand "she said that she did and then he tells 'er that i'll be visiting the office often and he'd like 'er make me feel welcomed when hes not around"  you hold back a small smile that threatened to escape you.

it's childish, really. you didn't know the man, hell only a week ago, you hated the sound of his name.

all of them giggle and squeal, again. as if they were school girls

"i bet she cried 'erself to sleep that night" fiona snorts a laugh, sipping her tea 

"did you ask 'im if he's sleeping with 'er?" madeline chimes in

"i did, and he said he wasn't" you shrugged, leaning back on the chair

"and do ya believe 'im?" celest asks, not in a mocking or sarcastic way. she's genuinely curious 

"i think i do?" you sigh, then lick your lips "he seemed honest enough i guess? he hardly seems like the kind of man that would give two fucks if he hurt my feelings so i doubt he'd lie about it for my sake"

"but isn't he a bit of a whore?" fiona's draw together as she looks at celest then back at you 

"he is but what im saying is i don't think there's any reason for 'im to lie, its not like we're in love or anything" you rest your chin on you hand, 

"ask polly" celest is still holding her daughter, feeding her small pieces of bread "that woman knows everything" she mutters 

"and say what? hello mrs gray, would ya please tell me if your nephew is fucking his secretary?"

before any one else could talk , a knock on the door makes all of you go quiet , you looked at celest and clicked your tongue "ya just had to say 'er name didn't ya?"

alas , when you opened the door it wasn't polly gray's smirk that greeted you , but the icy blue eyes of her nephew.

"thomas" you're almost dumbfounded, your mouth slightly opened, you blink a couple of times. 

"y/n."

his voice was slightly deeper than you remember, or maybe it was the trance that made it seem that way.

"what are you doing here?" you tilt your head.

behind you, fiona and madeline are trying to snag a peek, you can hear their muttering but you hope he doesn't 

"i would like ya to come by the office today,"

"why?" you stare at him, he's standing on your doorstep, in his suit, coat, and infamous hat.

"there are some things we need to go over."

you then realize that he's been standing on your doorstep, you step back, opening the door "im sorry, come in."

you hear the footsteps of madeline and fiona they scurry up the stairs, celest hides in the kitchen

you walk him back to the living room, and he sits down on the sofa "ya had company over?"

you look back at the dining table, then at him

"sort of."

"who?"

"some friends"

he humms and nods, still looking at you, but that tension is broken when you hear the sound of rose babbling, you look down and shes crawling on the floor.

she probably escaped while celest was too busy eavesdropping 

he looks at her as well , "who's baby is this?"

you bend down to pick her up, and she giggles "she's rose, my sisters daughter."

you just smile at her, as she stares back at tommy then back at you, as if asking you who that man is

he stands up, his finger grazes her cheek "she looks a lot like you."

you humm, looking at her "because i look like celest"

"may i?" he asks you as he looks at her

you hesitate, rose is a fussy baby. "she's really fussy."

"i'll give 'er back if she cries."

you let him pick her up, and he just stares back at her for a while before you see his dimples peek through. "i think shes too shocked to even cry" he mumbles 

you watch, you're both amused and mesmerized "me and 'er both."

he looks at you "what? i thought ya knew that i 'ave a son."

"i did, but i didn't know you were the baby carrying kind of dad."

"i carry 'im whenever i can."

whenever i can , you forgot how much his work probably takes away. from him and his son.

he's so gentle with her though, as she looks at him inquisitively, curiously grabbing onto his coat. he takes off the hat and drops it on the sofa, so she wouldn't cut herself.

"can you hold 'er while i go change?"

"i think i can manage, just don't be too long" 

you hurry and go up the stairs, so she wouldn't notice your absence and cry. and at the top of the stairs, you're greeted with the faces of fiona and madeline as they try to hold back their squeals 

"shhhh!!" you put a finger against your lips and push them into your room 

they start silently squealing, if there is such a thing "he is such a dish."

"oh my god, oh my god"

"did ya see 'im holding rose? that was such a domestic moment between you two, i bet youre already falling for 'im aye?" fiona is almost vibrating with excitement 

"shut up." you mutter as you change your clothes "im tired of this family's surprise visits." you turn to the vanity, fixing your hair, putting on some makeup.

"look at 'er, rushing to look good for 'er fiance" fiona teases 

"or maybe it's for that pesky secretary? to show 'er that he's 'yours' ?" madeline wiggles her brows

"when i said that the novel you two read was ruining you, this is what i meant" you mumble as you put your lipstick down, and grabbing a pair of pearl earrings, they'll probably do.

you grab a coat from the closet and walk out ,ignoring the teasing noises of your friends. you hear rose's laugh and you just smile instinctively as you make your way down. when you reach the doorway, you see him throwing her in the air, not too high though just enough to get her to laugh.

"ah i see y've won 'er over." you walk closer, standing before him "so this is the shelby charm , then?"

a soft smile takes over his lips "she's easily impressed."

you reach for her, and he gives her back to you. 

"ya can go to the car now, i'll just go put 'er in the crib."

he nods , taking his hat and putting it back on as he walks out of the house.

"you can come out now!" you call for celest and she rushes out of the kitchen and grabs her daughter 

"what's with the smile?" she asks you with a knowing look 

"what ? can't i smile without you lot thinking im in love with 'im now?" you turn around and walk to the door, putting your shoes on. you didn't even know you were still smiling.

celest just lets out a laugh, as she bounces rose

"say what ya want, i know ya better than ya think i do."

you glare at her before leaving the house and walking to the car, you see him leaning against it before walking and opening the passenger door for you.

you get in the car, and a moment later he does too, and you pray to whoever is looking over you that this car ride won't be awkward.

-

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

The Orange.

You and Jake share an orange. He’s in love with you.

Part 2 - For Eternity.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2047

Masterlist. Requests.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You’re sat at the bar of The Hard Deck, reading the book that’s been sitting forgotten on your nightstand for months. Outside, you can hear the cheering and yelling coming from the Dagger Squad, who are playing their new favourite game – Dog Fight Football. Ever since Maverick introduced it, they’ve been hooked, finding any reason to gather at the beach and take each other down.

You man the bar while Penny sits on the beach, watching her partner and his team sprint across the sand. Inevitably, soon they’ll all come running inside, requesting water, beer, and popsicles to cool their heated skin and flushed faces. You prefer to shelter yourself away from the sun during the day, and make the most of the warm summer nights that seem to last forever. You’re already mentally planning your evening – you’ll finish your shift, grab a drink, and walk down the beach, perhaps taking your book with you. You’ll sit on the cooling sand, rest your legs, and stay there until the ocean breeze gives you your cue to leave. You’ll offer Jake to join you, and he’ll make a big show of being sarcastically reluctant – but he’ll never say no to you. Those sunset conversations have become the best part of your days – and his.

Your friendship with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is a seemingly unlikely one. Arrogant, charming, decorated Naval Aviator meets intelligent, determined, stubborn waitress. When the Dagger Squad arrived in town for the uranium mission, Penny had given you a sarcastic, but slightly genuine warning.

“You better watch out, you know”, she says in passing one night. You quirk your eyebrow at her questioningly.

“These pilots. They’re gonna be all over you. Fresh new eye candy for them to fight over.” She winks at you cheekily and leaves you to serve another customer.

You knew it was always just convenience, for the Aviators. You were pretty, and witty, and served them their drinks every night. You were in their line of sight. They didn’t really want you, you were just available. Easy. Or so you thought.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin showed up that night with the confidence of ten men. The minute he laid eyes on you, you felt it. Some sort of shift. A crack in your universe.

He’d sidled up to the bar with a swagger in his walk that should have been off putting – but strangely wasn’t. The moment you heard that thick drawl flow like honey from his lips, you knew you’d have to use every ounce of self control you possessed. He was gorgeous.

And cocky.

The man had gotten accustomed to having women throw themselves at his feet. All he had to do was flash that gleaming smile, and he’d have girls dropping their barriers – and their underwear. He was a ladies man, and he knew it. You were aware he only ever spent a night with them – having had to rescue him from many awkward confrontations at the bar, usually along the lines of, “why didn’t you call me back?” and “you said you’d make breakfast!”.

You, however, became the exception to his rule. You didn’t expect anything from him, just his kindness, which he would happily give you by the tonne. Your kindness though, is what started your friendship in the first place. Or maybe it was stupidity. You were still deciding.

It was a Friday night at The Hard Deck. The Squad were over by the pool tables, drinking, and throwing darts. You’d been subtly watching Hangman from your position behind the bar. He was bragging to Coyote about being able to hit the bullseye with his eyes closed, and proceeded to demonstrate. He closed his eyes, hit the target, and reopened them to be met with an angry brunette with a point to prove.

“Excuse me, Hangman! You think you can just sneak out of my house, not call me, and then come in here and play darts like nothing happened?”

She jabs her finger angrily into his chest, but he doesn’t move. Stubborn man.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “let’s not do this here. I’m sorry I didn’t call. But I thought you knew; it was just a one time thing.”

He lays his charm on thick, and you see her falter for a minute. You’re almost willing her to give up, and save herself the inevitable embarrassment. But lo and behold, she continues.

She’s shouting now, yelling about his treatment of women, and how he should be ashamed, how he led her on with his false intentions. His squad are watching silently, attempting to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble up between them. Javy has managed to take a few subtle steps back, as if to get as far away as possible from the danger zone.

She’s still yelling, and he’s just stood there, with that damned smirk on his face, taking it. You know whatever he’s going to say next is undoubtedly going to shred the poor girl’s self confidence, so, without much thought, you move from behind the bar, and make your way to the scene.

Placing your hand on his ridiculously toned bicep, you look up at him, praying that he’ll understand what you’re trying to silently say. You’re saving him.

“Babe, what’s going on?”, you ask cluelessly, as if you hadn’t been watching the entire situation unfold from mere feet away.

“Babe?”, she yells, more at the universe than at either of you.

Jake, for once, doesn’t quite know what to say. So, you continue.

“Yeah. I have no idea what’s happening, but I think we should talk.”

You look at him pointedly, and he seems to get the message. You apologise to the girl quickly, and drag Jake away, through the bar and out of the back door, into the cool evening air. You speak before he has the chance to.

“Please, Hangman. Keep your soap opera disaster of a love life out of my bar. No one wants to see it.”

It’s your turn now to jab your pointer finger into his chest. You expect him to snap back with a sarcastic remark, or to laugh. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you. Really looks. As if he’s seeing you for the first time, despite you serving him his beers every time he comes into the bar. Eventually, he speaks.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at him now. That wasn’t what you expected. You scoff, and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Seriously, Jake. It isn’t my business what you do with your spare time, but please, save us all from having to watch the car crash every week.”

He laughs. A real, genuine, hearty laugh, that settles itself into your ribs, into the cavity of your chest. You’ve never heard him laugh like that. It makes you like him more. Damn.

“I’m kinda done with it all anyway.”

“Done with what?”

“The sleeping around. One night stands. None of those girls are half as interesting or half as pretty as you.”

He’s looking at you again. You’re determined not to let him get under your skin, so you bark,

“Yeah, right. Bet you say that to all the girls, huh, Seresin?”

He laughs, and then pauses, million dollar smile still etched on his face.

“I’m serious. You won’t have to rescue me like that again, Angel. That’s a promise.”

He winks at you, and you swat his arm, before grabbing his hand and leading him back inside.

That was months ago.

Since then, you’ve spent an increasing amount of time with him. Laughing, joking, teasing. His friendship is more valuable than his weight in gold, you’re convinced, and you lower your guard ever so slightly. He’s worth letting in. You know he is. Warnings be damned.

You smell him before you see him when he enters the bar. He smells like cologne, salt, and sunshine – so distinct, so Jake. You’d bottle it up if you could, store a vial in every room in your house.

You feel him before you see him when he makes his way over to you. Feel his body get closer, the heat radiating off him. You can almost feel the salt on his skin when he plasters himself against your back, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

“Mmm, you smell good. What you reading, Angel?”

He’s moved to sit on the stool next to you. At this angle, you get a better look at him. He’s not wearing a shirt, golden skin on display. Begging for you to touch it, run your fingers along it, your tongue. You know he’d taste like the ocean and the sky simultaneously. Sunshine boy.

You pull yourself back to reality, and show him the cover of your book.

“Ah, smart girl.”

The praise lights up your bones, seems to settle into your ribs. You know, like all friendship does.

You look at him, and clock him watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Jake Seresin is in love with you.

You can see it clear as day, all of a sudden. Like you’ve been looking at him through a fog, a mist, and it’s evaporated without a warning.

He’s in love with you.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s kept his promise from that night. No more girls, no more one night stands. Since that evening, he’s only had one woman on his mind. You.

You’ve become suddenly aware of all of this, and you don’t know what to do with it. What about your friendship? What if this jeopardises everything? Losing him would be your worst nightmare. You’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

But then, you realise, that’s not going to happen. Because he’s in love with you. And like a freight train, it hits you. You’re in love with him. You have been since the moment he stepped foot in the bar, all self-assured attitude and golden hair and bright eyes. You’re in love with Jake Seresin and he’s in love with you and the world is suddenly making sense. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle has been placed and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or dance or all four or none at all.

So you stand, and make your way behind the bar. You slide a glass of ice cold water in front of him, and grab an orange. It’s ripe, bright and feels like a ball of light in your hand. A promise.

You sit back in your original position, on the stool next to his, but turn to face him. Carefully, you peel the orange, bit by bit. Juice runs down your fingers onto the palm of your hand, and without thinking, Jake grabs your wrist and traces the journey of the drop with his tongue. You look up through your lashes and smile at him gently, and continue to peel, slowly, deliberately. When you’re satisfied, you split the orange, and hand one half to him.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You eat in silence, stopping occasionally to inhale the smell of citrus, salt, and sunshine.

Jake reaches out as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and runs his thumb across your bottom lip carefully. He places his thumb in his mouth, and sucks gently.

You’re not sure if it’s you, or him, or gravity, but somehow, you’ve ended up sat with your legs in between his, facing each other. Orange finished, he leans in, and brushes your lips with his. He tastes like citrus, and salt, and sunshine. So distinctly Jake, that you’d bottle it if you could. He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. There’s a warmth emanating from him that you’re sure isn’t solely from the sun. You haven’t been outside in hours, and you’re omitting it too.

It feels like hours that you sit there, foreheads pressed together, orange peel abandoned on the bar top. Neither of you needs to speak. You both know exactly what the other person is thinking.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

[fraugwinska]

Could I get Alastor x Reader where he teaches her to swing dance in their room after they both talk about what was popular when they died as she comes from the current earth era so either 2010s or 2020s up to you!

Thank you so much if you write this and if you do not wish too that is totally okay! Have a wonderful day!

Aaaaaah, such a cute prompt! Of course I tried my hands on that, dear! I hope you'll like it!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Going with the times

You flipped the page in the heavy photo album, laughing. „Oh look, that's from my first party as a university student!“ Alastor scrunched his nose. „These shoes are quite... scandalous, dear.“ „Hey, I was in my early twenties, everyone wore overknee boots.“ „That doesn't make them decent.“

You elbowed him, with playful annoyance. „Watch it, I don't make fun of your style choices!“ Alastor cocked a brow at you, grinning proudly. „That's because I always dressed with timless class and style, sweetheart.“ His gaze returned to the picture – You, arm in arm with your group of friends, in the midst of a club in the city you went to study for a degree you never used, since you died too young.

„What kind of establishment were you at, anyway? It looks awfully... modern.“

You rolled your eyes. You knew Alastor enough to know that when said 'modern', he really meant 'awful'. The only 'modern' thing Alastor didn't hate, was you.

„It's a dance club. Me and my girlfriends used to go almost every weekend, just dancing, having a good time and a few drinks.“

Alastor looked intrigued. „Oh? What style did you dance to? I always loved swing and jazz, but I do enjoy a good quick-Step too.“

You couldn't help but snicker – he truly didn't keep up with the times, that one.

„No, Al, no... that kind became very... formal. We just danced, you know? To hip hop, or electronica and clubhouse, like this!“

You hopped up from your bed, swaying your hips, lifting up your arms and bouncing to a beat only your could hear. He watched you, half amused and half horrified. He laughed and shook his head at your movements, so you stopped, hands flew on your hips and you rose your chin. „Okay old man, why don't you show me how you danced when you were young and wild?“

He was so quick, you didn't even see him moving when you already felt one arm around your waist, the other lifting your hand.

„Oh my dear, it's my pleasure to demonstrate what real dancing is all about!“

As only Alastor could do, an upbeat, jazzy song began to play from god knows where, and he began stepping sideways and forwards with you clumsily following him. With each stumble, he caught you with his reassuring, beaming smile, his patient guidance encouraging you to press on.

He truly had some energy to his step, spinning you every which way and having you laugh out loudly. After your first awkward steps, you found some kind of pattern to stick to, and your feet slowly but surely fell into his set rhythm without crushing his toes. He noticed that as well and chuckled, increasing the tempo and spinning you gleefully. „Bravo, darling, bravo! Now come, don't lose your flow, eyes on me! Excellent. A twist! Ha-ha-ha, marvelous, and again!“

You found yourself lost in the music and enjoying this way of dancing thoroughly, your heart beating as quick as your dancemoves. You felt warm and lightheaded in his arms as he moved with you, until the music ceased way too soon, and you two stood in the middle of your room, a bit out of breath and panting softly.

Alastor pushed a stray strand of hair from your face back behind your ears, grinning smugly.

"How about it, darling? You want to try that in your silly overknee boots?"

[tadpolebrains]

With patch 6 giving us new kissing animations, I’d like to present:

Companion Hugs

Because we deserve a hug update.

“Can I have a hug?”

Gale buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He wants to get lost in your warmth, feel completely surrounded by you. His hands grip firmly at your waist, or his arms will sling around you snugly. If you ask for a hug during a moment where you need comfort, he’ll instead take a hand and cradle the back of your head, guiding it down to rest against his shoulder, fingers woven into your hair. His other arm wraps around you, hand settling between your shoulder blades. When you go to pull away, he’ll pull you back in for a moment, letting your foreheads rest against each other for a few moments of silent understanding before letting you go.

Astarion doesn’t understand exactly what to do at first. Hugging isn’t something he’s used to. I’d imagine in-game, act 2 hugging animations would be a bit stiff and awkward. Slightly uncertain pats on the back, not knowing when to pull away. But being unable to drop the lingering smile on his lips afterwards. By act 3, he’s more used to it. Less hesitant in pulling you in. Will even nuzzle into your neck- not even to bite, but because he knows you trust him not to bite unless given permission. It’s rare for that kind of trust to be extended, and it warms his undead heart to have it.

Wyll likes fully leaning against you, your chests flush against each other, lightly swaying back and forth, almost as if you’re slow-dancing. One of your foreheads rests against the other’s chest, or perhaps an ear over the other’s heart so you can hear the heartbeat. He hums lightly, some random tiny tune that is sometimes a known song, and sometimes something random. Going to him for comfort will get you a gentler embrace, a hand rubbing along your back.

Karlach gives the best fucking hugs. This woman is taking every excuse to hug you as soon as she gets her engine fixed. They can range from strong, excited hugs that lift you off the ground to soft, tender ones where she just surrounds you with her heat like a heated blanket, tail curling around your legs just to keep you a little bit closer. She loves nuzzling her nose into your hair, feeling the softness against her cheek. Platonically or romantically, she’ll also give little kisses on your forehead and cheek, just as an extra show of affection. She doesn’t really do quick hugs unless she really has to- ask her for a hug, and you’re getting at least a solid minute. At least. If you need comforting, that minimum time extends.

Lae’zel doesn’t understand it at first. You… want to trap her against you? Is this some sort of battle maneuver, or a show of dominance? She doesn’t see the point of it until you mention someone else in camp gives ‘the best hugs.’ Well, clearly she must be the best at this ‘hugging’ of yours. Once she either watches you do it with someone else or demonstrate for her, she seems to take it as a personal challenge. Will squeeze you tightly against her. Tight, crushing hugs that you feel like could break a rib. If you two are close and you go to her for comfort, she might just let you squeeze her tighter than she squeezes you. Just this once.

Shadowheart isn’t as eager to hug at first; not under Shar, at least. She prides herself on her self-control and independence, and doesn’t see hugging as something she needs. If you ask her for one while she’d still under Shar and you’re close, she’ll do it for your sake, and hate that she likes it so much. Denies it. Doesn’t want to come to rely on it. But once she starts coming into her own, she begins accepting the hugs, even letting herself enjoy them. She’s a gentle hugger, loosely wrapping her arms around you and letting her eyes slip closed, enjoying the moment.

Halsin is literally a bear. Bear hugs, all day. Will scoop you up in his arms and hold you tightly so you feel that nothing could possibly harm you while in his arms. The muscles combined with that softness is perfect hug material. If you need comfort, he’s your man. Comforting hugs from him can feel almost paternal, and he’ll make sure to reassure you that the want for touch is entirely natural. It’s a human need, and you should never be ashamed of giving into your natural urges. Those large hands rub along your back and twirl your hair, grounding you in the moment.

[scekrex]

I know you've been expecting this, so here ya go 😘

Punk!reader getting into Heaven and him just sort of bumping into Lute. Her being skeptical and annoyed at first but she quickly noticed his style and whole vibe/aesthetic and becoming interested. They talk and get to know each other, simply becoming fast friends which surprises many people since Lute isn't someone to trust another person this quickly.

Lute deciding that reader is an absolutely rad person and seeing similarities to Adam in him, she decides to make them meet. Her letting her bestie meet someone new who she thinks is awesome? Rare af and so Adam is intrigued. They meet up and even tho Adam was like "Eh, do I have to?" at first, he swiftly changed his mind after talking to reader for a bit and they hit it off. From that moment on it's just Lute being their wingwoman, trying to get them together. I trust your absolutely amazing, creative mind of yours that I adore with creating ways of her trying to set them up on a date. Maybe even failing once or twice before successing? 🤔

Muah, love you, you badass mfer ❤️

^ Lute showing off reader to Adam, that's canon, I was the Reese's Sticks on the shelf.

I love punk!reader - this simply has a light undertone of punk though bc it's still x reader :3 I love you too, babes xoxo <3

Never wanted to dance with nobody, but you

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute was kind of in a hurry, she had been talking with one of the other exorcists for a little too long and now she was about to be late to the meeting with Adam and Sera so when someone ran into her, knocked her off her feet and then offered her a hand to help her back up, she slapped said hand away angrily before she took a look at whoever had just dared to run into her. “Don’t you have eyes? Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled pissy as she got back up on her feet. You were quick to apologize, the lieutenant didn’t seem to care for such empty words though, she simply brushed the dirt off her clothes and pushed past you, her shoulder colliding hard with yours as if she tried to prove the point of being stronger than you - that you didn’t doubt.

That much about making a good first impression in heaven, huh?

-

It was a couple days later when you saw the lieutenant again, this time she seemed more relaxed so you decided to step up to her and properly apologize, she deserved an honest apology after you had knocked her off her feet after all. “Hey,” you greeted the woman as you stopped on her left side and offered the angel a soft and warm smile, she simply side eyed you before tilting her chin up, demonstrating that her rank was above yours and she didn’t have to speak to you if she didn’t want to, yet she responded, “The unstable mess that ran me over three days ago, didn’t think you’d have the guts to speak to me again.” She sounded honestly surprised that you came up to have a chat with her, you ran a hand through your hair, your body language was soaked with confidence though and that - Lute had to admit - was impressive. You reminded her of Adam, if only a little, yet your vibe clearly said punk and that she liked very much as a punk girl herself. She decided to let you shoot your shot, if your vibe didn’t match your personality, she could always cut you off later. “Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a smile that looked a little too prideful in her eyes, being a unstable mess wasn’t something to be proud of, yet you took the insult as a compliment and that she found charismatic. “Wanted to apologize to my fella punk stan, I didn’t mean to knock ya off ya feet like that,” you explained yourself and watched as Lute turned towards you, her posture straight, her chin still tilted upwards but her hands reached up to remove her mask and with that she revealed a wicked smile and sort of kind eyes, “Well, you made it clear that you’re not taking shit, not even from me and that is impressive.” She extended her arm, her hand was balled into a fist as she introduced herself, “Lute.” You looked down at her fist before you copied her wicked grin and gave her a quick fistbump, “Y/N.”

It turned out that Lute and you had a lot in common, besides liking the same music that was. You not only shared some favorite songs and bands, you also had similar hobbies and the lieutenant even invited you to stop by the exorcist’s training at some point - to watch and maybe even join them for that one session. The white haired woman and you had clicked almost instantly once she had dropped her guard and you had learned that she was great company - fuck, she seemed to like you so much that she even wanted to introduce you to her best friend and that was no other than the first man God had created. And while you had managed to avoid a meet-up until now, Lute had other plans. So when you opened your apartment door for her, because she had randomly texted you she’d come over and that she’d bring dinner, you were surprised to not only see her on the other side of the door, but also Adam whom she had brought along. “Uhhh, hey,” you gave them both an awkward yet welcoming smile and stepped aside to let them in, “I did not expect you to bring company.” Lute simply shrugged as she stepped inside, was quick to follow her, “He wouldn’t let go of the fact that I haven’t introduced him to you yet and I thought you wouldn’t mind.” Oh you didn’t mind it at all, you would’ve liked a quick heads up though, then you could’ve cleaned up your apartment a little. The first man was quick to leave you behind and explore your home, “Pretty fucking hardcore.” That made you smirk proudly, Lute had told you a lot about Adam, she had also mentioned how skeptical he could be when it came to meeting new people, yet he seemed way more chill than Lute gave him credit for - or maybe it was just your vibe and the way your apartment was decorated. “Holy fucking shitballs, you like Mindless Self Indulgence?” the first man asked, visibly excited and Lute smirked as she took her mask off and tossed it onto the couch, “I told you he’s the coolest guy heaven has seen so far,” Lute commented with a cocky smirk before she quickly added, “Right after you, Sir.”

Adam came up next to you, a CD in his hand as he wrapped an arm around your waist, “Babes, tell me you have some fucking thing that can still play these old as shit bitches.” And of course you had - why would you own CDs if you hadn’t? So you wordlessly grabbed the CD Adam was holding and walked over to your stereo system, put the CD in and turned up the volume. “Good fucking shit,” the yellow LED smirk of his mask seemed quite joyful and made you relax a lot. You had expected the first man to be more judgemental, maybe even distant, but Adam was nothing like you had thought, he was the loud, all-in-your-face type of guy but you liked that, a lot actually. Lute had also mentioned that Adam would probably take a long fucking time to take his mask off around you - he never left the house without it, never. Lute herself had seen him without it before, but only two, maybe three times. And the both of them had been friends ever since Lute had arrived in heaven - which was very, very fucking long ago. So when Adam copied Lute’s earlier move and took off his mask to toss it onto the couch, you weren’t the only one who was surprised. “Are you shitting me?” you mouthed in the brunette’s direction as your eyes were basically glued to his face - this was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. The white haired woman noticed the look in your eyes instantly and grinned, she knew that look way too well. “Huh?” the first man asked as he turned around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, he wasn’t quite understanding what you were talking about and it showed. “You’re fucking beautiful man, drop dead gorgeous even and you hide all of that underneath a fucking mask every damn day?” The confused look on Adam’S face turned into confidence with a good amount of pride mixed into it as he nodded, “This pureness is fucking reserved for specific eyes only.” And while it seemed to be self obsessed to say, you noticed the flirty undertone in his voice, it had been louder than the music blasting from your speakers. And something inside of your chest warmed up at his words, he thought of you as ‘worthy’ enough to see his face, to take a look of what’s underneath that steel mask.

During the evening Adam wrapped his arm around your waist more often than he kept it to himself,and you truly didn’t mind that at all - he was simply a touchy guy, that was it, right? But Lute knew better, Lute knew that Adam wasn’t touchy with every stranger he meets, and taking his mask off around you during your first meeting? Fuck, the first man was down bad and his lieutenant knew from the first second.

-

The three of you kept meeting after Adam had been introduced to you and while the brunette continued to send you signals, it was always the three of you, never just Adam and you. The white haired woman noticed the tension between you and the first man, she saw the signals he was sending you clearer than everything else - and you saw them too, you weren’t blind and Adam wasn’t subtle, but you were afraid to act on them, so you simply sent signals back. And given the fact that Adam wasn’t acting on those either, you assumed that was a simple personality trait of his, something you’d had to deal with from now on.

“Guys,” Lute interrupted the both of you, you and Adam had stared at each other for a good while now, you could say you had been eye fucking each other. “Did you even listen to what I was saying?” You were quick to shake your head, there was no reason to even pretend you had, neither you nor the brunette had a single clue what the white haired woman had just said. She sighed in annoyance as she rolled her eyes at the two of you, then repeated, “I was fucking saying, I have tickets for a band you two will enjoy, I won’t be able to come with you though because Sera wants me to work late and tickets are already sold out.” You looked at Adam, then back at Lute, “The fuck you mean, Sera wants you to work late?” You frowned at the lieutenant, she was so obviously lying, yet the tickets were indeed sold out and therefore her chance of joining you was gone. But she herself truly didn’t mind, not if that meant that the two of you were going to a concert together - she knew how Adam was whenever he went to see one of his favorite bands live and she hoped that maybe the two of you would have one or two drinks and that maybe you’d crash at Adam’s place.

Well, Lute was pretty fucking disappointed in the both of you when she found out that her plan didn’t work out properly. After the concert you had hung out at Adam’s place for a couple more hours and while the first man had offered you to stay the night, you had declined and left at some point during the night - Lute wanted to grab you by your shoulders and shake you because why in God’s mighty name would you do something so stupid when Adam had offered you his bed? She couldn't understand but she did curse you for your poor decision. Seems like she had to try harder than that though.

-

You heard the lock clicking and your brain needed a moment to process what just happened. “Call me when you two have sorted your feelings out and I’ll unlock the door,” then you heard the door to Adam’s house falling shut. Well, fuck. “The fuck does she mean by that?” Adam asked and ran his sweaty palm through his messy hair, he was nervous, his body language told you openly that he’d rather be anywhere else right now. He seemed afraid of the confrontation, had expected you to take the first step by yourself. Lute however had prevented you from doing so - not that you would’ve taken that step any time soon, so really Adam’s lieutenant was doing both of you a favor, yet you hated her for her little stunt. “Don’t do that, “ you sighed in frustration and your back hit the locked door as you leaned back. You slid down until your ass met the floor, your legs were pulled flush against your chest by your arms that you had wrapped around them. “We’ll both spit it out, then we can call that hoe to let us out.” Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow at your words, was that a trap? He wasn’t sure but he knew there was only one way to find out, “You’re fucking hot.” You looked up at him, a small smile had curled itself around your lips as you tilted your head a little, “You’re one to talk.” His eyes kept looking into yours and neither of you wanted to interrupt the moment you were having, so you sat there and did nothing but to look in his eyes and listen to the story they told you. There were feelings visible in them that you were sure Adam would never voice out loud, feelings and emotions that he had bottled up and not shared with a single soul until now, those feelings exposed a side of Adam that he had tried so fucking hard to get rid of - a soft side. His soft side. “I don’t like tiptoeing around you anymore. I like you, you like me. Are we gonna kiss now, or should I call Lute so we can murder her?”

The brunette’s eyes widened from your honesty and he just blinked at you, every single thing that he had wanted to tell you had left his mind, the only thought that had stayed was the thought of kissing you - well, it was more of a wish than a thought but it fogged his mind up nonetheless. With heavy steps he closed the gap between you and him, he offered you a hand to pull you up and when you accepted he quickly pulled you flush against his chest right before he grabbed your chin, tilted your head upwards and placed a greedy kiss onto your lips. Oh and how you loved the taste of his lips on yours - you were sure you’d never ever get tired of this taste or of the feeling the taste brought with it. You pushed yourself on your tiptoes to make yourself a little taller, to push into the kiss properly and Adam hummed in appreciation as you did so. He wanted to hold you like that for the rest of eternity, until the stars would collide and this universe would find its end. Until then he’d treasure you.

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Notes:

The only thing that took so long about this is the title because fuck titles (genuinely)

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Probably would be my last (long) twilight post in a while since I've lost interest in the series for a while (give it like 3 weeks before I regain it lmao)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2294 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

A full year had passed since the Cullens returned to Forks, now acting as grownups instead of some teenager studying in Forks high school, minus Renesmee, to her dismay. Carlisle received a warm welcome back to the hospital, where he encountered new faces introduced to him since his departure.

“Good morning Doctor Cullen.” A nurse with red hair greeted politely to him, he was around his height and had brown eyes, a face that he doesn’t remember during his time there

“I’m nurse Sean, not the chief nurse but I think Eunice is getting her out now.” Sean informed him “You’ll like her I think, she’s professional as fuck.”

A girl with her chestnut hair tied up in a bun walked out of a room. At that moment, all Carlisle could think about was how captivating the woman was, everything about her screamed authority, he knew then and there that she was the chief nurse.

Time felt like it slowed down when they locked eyes, this woman has plagued over his mind. Carlisle subtly admired her face, she had eyes that matched the shade of her hair and pale pink lips that complimented her fair complexions.

“Celine Wright, chief nurse here.” Celine introduced herself with a prim and proper tone. She offered her hand in a handshake and Carlisle accepted it, feeling the warmth of her hand against the coldness of his

“Carlisle Cullen, former chief doctor here.” Carlisle introduced back, pulling his hand away from the handshake “Pleasure to meet you.”

From the stories that Carlisle has heard, Celine was 25 years old when she assumed the position and has demonstrated remarkable competence, excelling in her role for a year prior his return with unparalleled precision and skill.

But it was distracting him, she was distracting him. Despite her undeniable competence, it was her blood that proved to be the real challenge for Carlisle. The tantalizing scent of it often left Carlisle struggling to focus, forcing him to endure long stretches without breathing just to filter out the temptation.

But even after leaving work, her scent lingered in his mind, infiltrating every aspect of his life. Something as harmless as a report file with a hint of her scent could drive him to the brink of madness.

It’s been a year since Carlisle has been working with Celine, a year of extreme caution over his thirst. He was always making sure that he was fed before going to the hospital, making sure that there was always some distance between them. However, as the chief nurse, their interactions were inevitable, presenting a constant challenge to Carlisle's restraint.

It also didn’t help that Celine’s kind and caring nature was growing on him in ways that he didn’t expect that it’ll do so. Her smile became a source of motivation for him, brightening his day with a single glance. He found himself instinctively seeking her out upon arriving at work, drawn to her presence like a magnet.

Celine was growing on him, as a person, as a friend, as someone that he wishes he could pursue openly.

“She’s your blood singer and mate.” Edward concluded, having experienced a similar scenario before “You’re dealing with what I’ve dealt with when Bella was still human.”

“Great,” Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arm “Another human.”

“Carlisle won’t pressure her into something that she doesn’t want to partake herself in.” Esme assured everyone

“We would never know if he doesn’t pursue her.” Alice said, holding on from having another vision whether Celine Wright was in their future or not

“Would we rob Carlisle a chance to finally be with his mate?” Edward argued to Rosalie

“Would you rob another girl’s humanity for an uncertainty?” Rosalie asked him back; the tension was growing between the two

“Enough with the arguing.” Carlisle said, a decision set in his head

“I’ve figured out that she’s my mate. But I will not pressure her into anything.” He stated at once to everyone that was listening to him “Nor will I pursue her whatsoever. Let the future play how it has planned to be. Alice, Edward, no attempting to manipulate it to one of your visions.”

Just in time, his alarm has rung, notifying him that he has a shift to get ready for. He bids his goodbye, going to his office to get ready.

He was painfully slow, questioning whether his choice was the right one, plagued by uncertainty and the fear of denying himself a chance at happiness.

But underneath his own desires was the concern for Celine's well-being. He couldn't bear the thought of forcing her into a life she didn't want, no matter how difficult it was for him to accept the possibility of letting her go.

“Are you sure of your decision?” Esme asked him, walking into his office “Do you really want to just give up like that already?”

“She deserves a long, happy life.” Carlisle spoke softly, grabbing his briefcase with all the reports that he’s brought home “Not be damned for eternity.”

“And if she asks for a long, happy life with you, then what?” Esme asked him, making Carlisle ponder at her question. She was right, what certainty did he have that Celine wouldn’t welcome this life?

‘The risk is too high.’ He thought to himself

He left without answering her question.

It was another late-night shift that Celine accepted. Having heard another alibi from one of her co-nurses. Lying and saying that “they have some important matters to deal with,” only to see them by the bar as she drives by, drunk beyond their capabilities.

‘I have nothing to do anyways, so why not just earn more so I could leave this shitty town.’ She always used that to convince herself

In all honesty, Celine's financial status was not a factor in her decision. She had inherited a comfortable sum from when her parents died, ensuring that she was shielded from any financial struggles. But she’s heard that Doctor Cullen always took a night shift, working perfectly for their family’s set up of needing someone to be at home at all times.

What’s wrong if she was to indulge herself and the tiny crush that she had for him? After all, he wasn't married, a fact his hand had subtly conveyed to her.

“Nurse Celine, good to see you…again.” Carlisle greeted, walking in her office (which technically, is his office too) with a disposable cup of coffee “I thought your shift was over?”

“Yeah, Nurse Alex had to bail, said something along the lines of dealing with some personal stuff.” Celine answered “Made sure to give him the morning shift though, just as some sort of revenge.”

“I do not condone that behavior, but frankly, I would say that you deserve the rest.” Carlisle said, sitting next to her. It was dangerous, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“It’s a slow night.” Celine reported “Just one rush to the E.R. thinking that they were dying because of some spots they saw on their face. After doing some checking on it, it was just some questionably large pimples. Scary? Yes. But not fatal.”

“At least it has been slow so you won’t tire yourself too much.” Carlisle said, pushing the coffee near her

“Why don’t you just say to your sister that you don’t actually enjoy the coffee she makes? It just feels like a waste, giving away your coffee every time.” Celine asked, accepting the cup and drinking it

Carlisle was asked by Celine one time why he wasn’t drinking the coffee that he had, noticing that the cup was left untouched until he throws it away just after his shift. In panic, he fabricated a story, claiming that his sister Esme, who worked night shifts at her own job, often made coffee for herself and would give the extras to him.

He had offered it to her then, hoping that the coffee Esme made because she has missed the aroma of coffee was in Celine’s taste. Celine didn’t answer that time if she had enjoyed the coffee or not, but every time he would offer her the coffee, she would accept it.

This silent acceptance fueled Carlisle's hope that perhaps, in some small way, they were connecting through these shared moments over coffee.

From then, he asked Esme about the recipe and continued to make it from the comfort of his car before he walked in the hospital, using the coffee as a conversation starter, a way to engage with her, hoping to deepen their connection through these small interactions.

“You enjoy it.” Carlisle answered almost immediately. Celine looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“I mean, she always makes it at night for her work. Offers some to me, even though I don’t drink coffee, I’m just too shy to not accept it. And besides, you deserve some coffee yourself too.” Carlisle explained further, giving Celine the satisfaction of getting an answer

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Celine said, lifting the coffee and drinking some more of it “How do you even get the energy to do night shifts? Ever since you got here, you’ve like made it your thing to be the one for night shifts.”

“I sleep in the morning.” Carlisle answered, having prepared an alibi for when that question inevitably gets asked to him “Did kind of take a toll on my social life though, I’ll tell you. But I have accepted this way when I decided to step into the field of medicine.”

“Really?” Celine asked, piqued with how he was opening up “Why prefer night shift then? You could easily be transferred to morning shift if you’d just ask.”

“I prefer it this way.” Carlisle answered, Celine pondered if someone has asked him this question before “Besides, who will give you your daily coffee if I don’t join you with the night shifts?”

“I can get myself coffee, thank you very much.” Celine answered, fake insult in her tone and playfully rolling her eyes at him

“I know you can, I do enjoy it just as much to be the one to give you your coffees.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

‘He looked like a Ken doll.’ She thought, looking at Carlisle and admiring his seemingly perfect features. His eyes was shining golden, a shade she never thought was possible for a human to have. The pale pink tint of his lips stirred a fleeting curiosity about their softness, though she quickly brushed aside any thoughts of how they might feel against her own.

“Some of the nurses are getting jealous, you should give them coffee sometimes.” Celine teased him. Carlisle looked at her, his eyebrows raised at her teasing. He did not want to give anyone else some sort of affection.

His undead heart was with hers before she even knew it.

“That’s if they’ll like 5 teaspoons of sugar and 3 teaspoons of creamer in their coffee.” Carlisle teased her back, watching as she finishes the coffee that he has prepared

“Well, anything that you would give to them, they’ll accept really.” She answered, before going back to reading some reports that the morning shift nurses has prepared for them

The night was long, the comforting silence joining them as they read through. Fortunately, there were no urgent emergencies demanding their attention. It wasn’t until Carlisle heard Celine stifle a yawn that made him check his watch, the small screen showing 8:17 AM.

“Shift over.” Carlisle announced, standing up and faking a stretch

He could have stayed there forever had she been able to do the same.

“Finally.” Celine mumbled, the aftermath of the coffee finally taking a toll on her as she slumps herself on the seat that she’s been on for the past 12 hours “So tired.”

“Need a ride home?” Carlisle asked, seeing that she wasn’t awake enough to go home on her own

Despite his declaration not to pursue Celine, Carlisle found himself engaging in behaviors that seemed to contradict his words. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unintentionally leading her on, even though she hadn't explicitly expressed interest in him, neither through her words nor her body language.

“I’m fine, brought my car with me.” Celine murmured; her eyes closed as she rests her head on the chair “Just need a few minutes to close my eyes.”

“Okay then.” Carlisle answered, sitting down on the chair where he was sitting earlier, grabbing a bit more reports to read as he accompanies her

The few minutes became an hour. Then the hour became two hours. Carlisle then slowly realized that Celine was beginning to doze off in the chair she was sitting in. He looked at her with a small smile on his face.

He didn’t need to be a vampire or a doctor to know that she was in an uncomfortable position. Her whole torso was slouched down and her head was down, giving the look that she was uncomfortably bowing.

Carlisle moved his seat closer to hers, feeling the warmth of her arm against the coldness of his. With tender care, he lifted her head, cradling it on his shoulder. Though not as plush as a pillow, he knew it would be far more comfortable than where her head had previously rested.

As he sat there, Carlisle gazed at Celine, closing his eyes and synchronizing his faux breathing with hers, attuned to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Carlisle knew that it was temptation, being this close to her. And a sin to indulge himself in such temptation. But if he was to be damned today, he would be happy to have indulged himself with the existence of Celine.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How are you? 😊

Can I please request Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas separately with their girlfriend shy!reader? Reader is a powerful sorceress like scarlet witch powers and them meeting her son (who has same powers as her & mama boy) from a previous dating, just fluff

Tomas Vrbada

Billy meant everything to you.

Tomas also meant everything to you.

It was only natural that you would want the two most special boys in your life to meet but you weren’t certain how Tomas would react, a fear you had ever since your last parter had made a comment on before exiting out of the relationship. But upon seeing the excited look in his eyes and the tight hug he gave you when you told him that you wanted him to officially meet your son.

Your fears were soon subsided entirely as relief and happiness came flooding in whilst you reciprocated the hug, a huge smile adorning your face, that grew bigger when hearing Tomas list off things that he wanted to do leading up to the big day; leaving you feeling all warm as your mind began to wander.

So when the day came of Tomas to meet Billy, his heart was made full upon seeing you and the boy you had sat on your lap, watching with eyes full of wonder as you used your magic to demonstrate on how to conjure up some butterflies, reaching his small hands to touch them whenever one got close enough; only for it to land atop of Billy’s head much to his cute confusion. Upon hearing Tomas chuckle, you look towards him and smiled warmly before returning your attention back to Billy.

‘Billy, I have a very special person who would very much like to meet you. Is that okay?’ You asked and Billy looked to you nervously, you notice this and brought him into a warm hug, pressing a couple of reassuring kisses to his head. ‘If you don’t feel like doing this today, that’s perfectly fine we can wait until you feel ready, there’s no need to rush yourself.’ Billy returned your hug, feeling safe and protected within your arms, burying his head into your shoulder. ‘I want to meet him but I’m worried that he won’t like me.’

Your heart broke -as did Tomas- upon hearing this as Tomas took it upon himself to get closer to the both of you. ‘That’s not true.’ Billy removed his head from your shoulder to look at where the voice came from. ‘From all the stories I’ve been told about you Billy, and I think you’re just as amazing and as brilliant as your mother and I’ve been told a lot of ‘em.’ Tomas finishes, causing Billy to gasp as he then faces you with those same wonder filled eyes from before.

‘Mommy, he knows my name.’ He tells you and you couldn’t help but press a flurry of kisses into the side of your son’s head. ‘Of course he knows your name sweetie because like he said, you’re an amazing little boy Billy.’ You said to him as you mouthed a thank you to Tomas who only meekly waved you off, humble as ever you thought to yourself when you felt Billy become restless suddenly and immeditly got worried, all of which Tomas noticed. ‘Billy what’s wrong, are you hurt?’

‘No, I wanna go meet your friend now.’ Billy replied and you did as he asked, though not before he grabbed your hand and began dragging you towards Tomas who -whilst trying his hardest not to laugh at your current predicament- was happy to be able to spend the rest of his day with both you and Billy. And he did so from underneath the shade of a tree, watching on with love and pride as the pair of you made birds, butterflies and other kinds of insects with your shared magic.

Needless to say this soon became routine for the three of you.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang was made aware of the existence of Billy the moment you started seeing one another, stating that after the disaster that was your previous relationship, you had been putting all you had into raising your son and helping him gain control over chaotic his powers; something that Kuai Liang respected and admired about you.

So when the topic of meeting your sweet baby boy came along. You admitted to him that in due to some passing comments made by your previous partner, you were worried that it would be a deal breaker but being the sweetest and most caring man that Kuai Liang was, he reassured you that wouldn’t be the case and that he wasn’t that easy to be chased off unlike other immature people; whilst reminding you that he would happily wait however long until Billy felt ready to meet him.

He didn’t have to wait long for that day as soon enough Kuai Liang spotted a boy standing underneath a barren tree, hands out stretched as he focused all of his energy into aiding a small black cat with white paws that had gotten stuck in the tree, and it wasn’t until the kitten was within the boys arms did Kuai Liang see you join him in celebration as the realisation hit that the boy was your baby Billy.

‘Did you see me mommy! I got the kitty out of the tree!’ Billy cried as he held the sleeping kitten close to his chest, almost jolting the poor thing awake before it managed to get comfortable again to fall asleep. ‘I did! I’m so proud of you, you’re already so strong!’ You cheered as you doted on your son, unaware of the fact that Kuai Liang was watching from afar with a soft smile upon his face and a warmth spreading throughout this chest.

Kuai Liang always wanted a family of his own but was always too busy with Shirai Ryu business to give anymore thought to it and soon enough the thoughts of having a family was forgotten altogether. However upon watching you interact with your son, beaming with pride, laughing and smiling with him, it reinvigorated his seemingly unrealistic dream. ‘Is this the Billy that I’ve heard so much about?’ He said as he caught both yours and Billy’s attention, Billy held the kitten closer to his chest as he buried himself into your side for protection, while you smiled softly at Kuai Liang before pressing a kiss to Billy’s head.

‘It’s alright peanut.’ You whispered. ��Kuai Liang couldn’t hurt a fly, trust me I should know.’ Your attempt at making Billy laugh thankfully worked as he let out a little chuckle, ‘Really, that’s silly.’ Billy said through his laughter, looking over at Kuai Liang, who smiled at him whilst keeping a reasonable distance between himself and Billy; having sensed his nervousness towards meeting a new person from a mile away.

‘Oh yeah.’ You reaffirmed to your son, ‘Kuai Laing is quite literally the biggest goof you will ever meet. Would you like to meet him?’ Billy was quiet for a minute before looking at you with a smile. ‘Yes please.’ You kissed his forehead, praising him for being brave, before you both made your way towards Kuai Liang, who decided to meet you both halfway. ‘I saw what you did earlier.’ He began, gesturing towards the kitten within Billy’s arms. ‘You’ve show great promise in becoming a brilliant magic wielder one day.’

Billy smiled brightly. ‘That’s because I wanna be like mommy when I grow up. Strong and powerful for mommy is the strongest there is!’ Kuai Liang laughed at how impassioned your son was and looked over at you with warm eyes, he could see the pride and love you had towards your son and it even showed in everything you did. Kuai Laing couldn’t help but love you even more for being an exceptional mother to your son. ‘She sure is.’ He said, never once taking his eyes off of you. ‘She sure is.’

Bi-Han

Bi-Han caught sight of a small shy boy clinging onto your leg like a vice, peaking his head out now and then before retreating behind you when getting caught. He automatically knew that this kid must be your Billy with the way you’d smile down at the boy, playfully ruffle his unruly hair with your magic as you knelt down to reassure his anxieties in a hushed tone.

‘I know, I know, he may look scary but I promise you that he’s actually a sweet guy.’ You reassured your son but it was proven difficult when Bi-Han had a natural resting bitch face along with a cold demeanour. Bi-Han, wanting to make a somewhat positive impression on your son, knelt down and offered up his hands. ‘Watch.’ Was all he said to Billy as he then began to make a bird in mid flight out of ice before handing over the ice sculpture to your son, who was watching the entire process with awe and wonder from behind your leg.

‘Wow!’ Billy, shuffled out from your leg, small hands cupping the ice sculpture tenderly, admiring every ounce of detail that Bi-Han had put into the bird. ‘Mommy always did say that you could make really pretty things out of ice.’ Bi-Han’s brows rose sharply at Billy’s words as his dark eyes were filled with a semblance of warmth. ‘Does she now?’ Bi-Han asked, intrigued and Billy hummed as. ‘Yeah, she would always tell me stories about how despite how scary you were, you had a good heart beneath all that ice.’ He says.

‘Oh! And also mommy would also get this look in her eye wherever she talked about you. It’s nice.’ Bi-Han looked over at you and you smiled sheepishly, now understanding just how oblivious you were to everyone else before getting with the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. Bi-Han on the other hand was highly amused with everything he was currently learning, even if his face might say otherwise, but if someone were to look deep enough within his eyes, they would see the warmth and the humour within his oftentimes ice cold eyes.

Much like his brother, Bi-Han also liked the idea of having a family of his own, whilst it were for all the trivial reasons for someone of his status, such as having an heir that would eventually take over as Grandmaster after he passes. After some time spent with you however, Bi-Han soon found himself wanting to have family for completely different reasons. So seeing the bond that you and Billy had firsthand made him want to be apart of that too.

Bi-Han already saw himself being with you for the long haul and now he wanted Billy to apart of that also, he didn’t care that Billy wasn’t of his own blood for he would treat him as though he were. Bi-Han knew that he could take care of the both of you and your every need with ease, the coward that ran out on you both. Bi-Han would protect you both with his life, even though that wouldn’t be necessary with the rare and powerful magic that courses through both yours and Billy’s veins, but Bi-Han didn’t care, you and Billy were his family to protect and provide for.

Bi-Han looked back at Billy and said. ‘Would you like a tour of the Lin Kuei?’ Billy looked at him with wide eyes before looking at you, almost pleasingly. ‘Can I mommy, please!’ You chuckled at your son’s eagerness and immediately caved in. ‘As long as you don’t stray too far from us, deal?’ You asked, holding your pinkie finger out to him, watching with a smile as Billy locked his pinkie with yours with a matching smile. ‘Deal!’

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

Prof! Price as a literature professor. He's giving an online class to his students talking about how romance is involved in books. Until one of his students through the computer interrupts him.

"Professor, do you believe in love?"

He won't lie. That question threw him by surprise, halting his words. He stares at the computer for a few seconds, trying to analyze what's the answer. Just then, he raised his eyes to something in front of him.

Or someone.

Does he believe in love?

Well, if love is described as one of his students entering his class on the first day and struck Price the instant she stepped food into his classroom, making him almost unable to greet all the people, then yes. If Love is described as how he found her days later in his favorite coffee shop trying to do her homework, him feeling confused (and strangely happy) because he's seeing her in one of his favorite places, took the courage to stepped closer to her and talk to her for a few minutes as she showed him her precious smile, then yes. If love is how the talk went for hours and hours until the coffee shop had to close, neither the two of them checked the time, just immersed in the conversation and realizing they have so much in common then, yes. If Love is how they got closer when months passed and Price was feeling kinda anxious because he was falling hard for her and she was his student, he was her professor and he is older than her, but one day she walked iinto his office —she had been visiting him— and he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped closer and kissed her lips so softly, as if her lips were some kind of fine porcelain. His emotions exploded then and there, and when they separated, he realized what he had done. He kissed one of his students, he could get in trouble, she could get in trouble or worse... he didn't know if she felt the same as him as she was frozen on the spot. But when he felt her hands go to his face cupping him and bringing him closer to her lips once again, all his worries vanished within a second, as if her kiss had some kind of anesthesia. If love means all of that, then yes.

If love means the two of them in his room filled with gasps, kisses, and whispered words as he thrusts her in a slow, intimate way, demonstrated how much he loves her, then yes.

If love is the woman now sitting in front of him on his other desk, her eyebrows together as she concentrates on doing her homework, oblivious to the topic her lover is teaching. She has one of his t-shirts, her neck showing a few love bites he gave her forty minutes before class started, then yes.

He believes in love.

His lips curve into a small smile. Without taking his eyes off her, he says; "Yes."

Once he says that, she looks up at him, grabbing attention to what he just said. He smiles, and she looks at him with a confused smile.

"I do believe in love."

Her smile dropped a little as she stared at him with surprise, then she smiled again, a warm feeling spreading over her chest. She mouthed an 'I love you too' while blowing him a kiss and looking at him with those eyes he loves.

Fuck, how could he not love her eyes? It was like Van Gogh painted them, and Michael Angelo sculpted them. They are so beautiful.

He doesn't care about the consequences of being with a student, he only cares about her.

And she cares about him too.

Until then, she loves him, and he loves her.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

I apologize for any mistakes or misspelling. Any suggestions are appreciated.🫶

[seaweedroll]

Her dearest friend.

Silver hair, velvety voice, killed more people than one can count? Sounds like my type <3 Y/N Stark is the daughter of the youngest Stark lord who is the renowned negotiator and diplomat that travelled through Essos with young Y/N. Now that he's been invited to consult the King, Y/N is reunited with her childhood friends Aegon and Aemond who are not the same sweet boys she used to know. Will it be too late before she realises that? Part 1/4.

‘Now remember; in Kings Landing nobody is your friend. They all want something from you; they are going to use your every move against you so make sure you’re five moves ahead of them’ a tall man with a deep voice spoke to a girl sitting across from him in a carriage. ‘Be very careful when I am not around’ he continued ‘You will be left alone a lot while I attend small council meetings.

‘I’m sure Heleana and Aemond will take care of me like they always had’ the young lady couldn’t hide her smile whilst talking about her childhood friends.

‘The Targaryens are not your friends’ he replied curtly. ‘Aegon and Aemond are not the same boys you used to play with. They are young men now and young men are very dangerous to a lady such as yourself’ her father leaned in and took her hand ‘You must never ever stay alone with Aegon. He has turned into a beast’ lord Stark couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

‘So he has’ she mumbled quietly.

She already knew that Aegon had bedded almost every maid in the Red Keep. She knew that Heleana loved cross stitching and spoke in complicated riddles. She knew what weather was like last summer; how could she not when Aemond sent her countless letters over the years they’ve been apart.

Lady Y/N Stark and Aemond Targaryen were close childhood friends. She never mocked him for not having a dragon or being weaker than his brother. But last time they saw each other was a week before he had lost his eye. Will he still be the same kind-hearted boy that put flowers in her y/h/c hair? Or was he a monster hiding behind the beautiful words in his letters?

Either way, she had nothing to worry. A daughter of well renowned negotiator, whose silver tongue saved the kingdom from numerous wars and ensured a stable trade route with Pentos, she was protected.

‘They will ask for something big’ her father exhaled once they approached the castle. ‘We are being welcomed like the royalty they definitely want something big from me’ he rolled his eyes getting out of the carriage ‘Remember what I told you, Y/N’ he whispered and extended his hand to her.

‘Yes, father’ she nodded and took his hand, trying very hard not to jump out of the carriage.

‘Lord Ayden Stark and his daughter, lady Y/N Stark’ their arrival was announced. Queen Alicent stood on the stairs, a polite smile on her beautiful face. Behind her stood her children whom Y/N barely recognised. Moments later, Heleana launched herself at Y/N and wrapped her in a warm embrace – she had always been a kind, affectionate girl and that hasn’t changed. Aegon followed close behind and planted a kiss on her hand. Only Aemond stood beside his mother, stoic, cold, proper. It hurt Y/N but she didn’t let it show. But when they all turned to go to the castle, she felt a faint brush of a callous hand against hers, almost ghost like but enough to let her know that he sees her, he missed her.

That night they had a feast. Ayden entertained everyone with stories and riddles; they laughed, they guessed and missed, flooded him with questions about exotic lands. His daughter added to his stories, demonstrating the gift for words she inherited from him. Prince Aegon asked most of the questions, begged for one more story and she obliged, her heart warm from memories she made with the boy he once was.

Aemond sat silent at the table, barely touching his food, his eye never leaving her. He was mesmerised by her warm, open nature and laugh that rung like silver bells in the wind. She had changed so much: her hair no longer wild but braided neatly; her curves filled in the gown made from finest material. Yet she still had the same smile, same innocence about her paired with quick wit and sparks of mischief in her y/e/c eyes. She was a true vision, a dream come true.

A few hours into the evening, lady Y/N retired for the night. Kissing her father goodnight, she disappeared into the dark hallway, unaware that a silver dragon had followed her. Ayden Stark gripped his glass tighter as an uneasy feeling washed over him.

‘I know you’re behind me, Aemond’ Y/N smiled without turning to look at him. A man behind her couldn’t help but smile too, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. For a moment he hesitated to touch her, fearing that this was all a dream but before he knew, she spun on her heel and jumped into his embrace, laughing. He wrapped his arms around her, drinking in her scent. This must be a dream, he thought.

‘You’re so tall’ she pulled away slightly. ‘And so handsome’ the lady stroked his silver hair. ‘How many hearts have you broken already?’ she raised her eyebrow.

The prince was stunned. Did she not see his eye patch or a horrid scar on his face?

‘I’m afraid the ladies are not very fond of my face, my lady’ he bowed his head.

‘Well, I am’ she pecked him on the cheek, making him blush. ‘I cannot believe I’m finally here with you!’ she jumped onto him again. This time he lifted her up bridal style and spun her like he used to do when they were children. ‘Again’ she laughed, and he obliged, making them both dizzy.

He sat her down on the windowsill overlooking the gardens, sweet scent pouring in from the outside.

‘This reminds me of Pentos’ she looked at the gardens illuminated by the full moon. ‘Every full moon we would go and play in the gardens with my father and our servants and then sit by the bonfire and drink peach nectar’ she reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

‘You were allowed outside during the night?’ he raised his eyebrow.

‘I was! I had many freedoms back there. My father is the fourth son, so he has no claim to the North which means I don’t have to be paraded and sold off like a cow to some old ugly lord’ she laughed and jumped off the windowsill.

‘Your father is one of the most influential men in Westeros’ Aemond frowned at her carelessness as he followed her to her chambers ‘Any house would want him on their side. You’ll have a line of suitors by the end of this week’ he warned as they stopped in front of her doors.

‘Well then, I hope all of them are as handsome as you! And if not, I’ll let them know that my best friend is the finest swordsman, and he will slay them all if they are ugly or forget to bring cake!’ she giggled once again. ‘Good night, Aemond!’ once again she reached to kiss his cheek. ‘I’m so glad I am reunited with my dearest friend’ with those words she disappeared behind the door.

Her dearest friend.

That’s all he was to her whilst she was everything to him. Aemond loved her since he was a child, love nurtured by letters and hope she would return one day and now that she has, more beautiful than he could ever imagine, he would stop at nothing to become more than her friend.

[serenpedac]

OC in 15 - Yael Greene

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you @aztarion, @topaz-carbuncle and @serially-wayhaven for tagging me, I loved reading the ones for your OCs so much! I'm stealing Lucille's idea for adding a link to the fic (if posted) where the quotes are from ^^

“I understand,” she whispers. She turns around before he can see her break down completely. (x) 

“In case you haven’t guessed, and I know you have, you were distracting me. I was thinking that you look very beautiful when you’re concentrating. Very beautiful and very distracting and I would like to—” She shakes her head. “No, one thought.” (x) 

“You know I’ve always wanted a sister?” “Would be fun, yeah? Good thing you have—” Farah falls silent, realisation spreading over her face. “Me. Oh, that’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“But don’t you see, we shouldn’t have to find them. No one should have been taken in the first place. All they want is me.” (x) 

“Or you could… demonstrate?” She bites her lip, his gaze flickering to her mouth at the movement. “Right now?” (x) 

“Hmm, yes. Yes, you did. But it’s part of what makes it romantic, don’t you think? Being lost in the throes of passion, forgetting about anything else. No thinking, only feeling, feeling…”  (x) 

“I don’t think I need to make any wishes tonight, you know. Not when you’re already here with me.” (x)

“Are you sure there’s still space for me between all the bubbles?” (x) 

“Just like me. And each mark tells a story, some are good and some are bad and some might be sad or funny, but they are all part of its history, you know? In trying to remove that it felt like, like they were telling me everything was fine. That Murphy never. That I wasn’t changed.” (x) 

Do you, can you maybe understand? Just a little? (x)

After a few deep breaths, Yael places her hand on top of Morgan’s. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” With a wavering smile, she adds, “I appreciate you.” (x)

“My car didn’t die, it’s just… ill. Yes, it’s ill.”

“You should go help them. I’ll,” she swallows, “I’ll be fine.”

He breaks the kiss when she shivers against him. “You’re getting cold, darling.” “Are you going to follow that one up with a proposal to warm me up?” (x) 

“You could have escaped,” Nate says, vehemently. “You should have escaped.” Tears of anger and frustration burn hot in Yael’s eyes. “I couldn’t. How was I supposed to just leave you? You were— I thought—”

(Yes, nr 10 is me cheating, but letters are a kind of dialogue, right?) Tagging anyone who wants to do this really, but also: @evilbunnyking, @nat-seal-well, @agentnatesewell, @wayhavenots, @ellstersmash, @fauville, @nsewell, @sustainably-du-mortain, @lykegenia, @lukas-du-mortain

[strbymacaroon]

❀ Confession ❀

❀ Priest Jean Kirstein x Nun Fem. Reader. ❀

❀ Sypnosis:

Sunday.

The day we dedicate to God, for he is our lord and savior. You, a dedicated Nun who wishes nothing more than to serve your savior. But, is starting to sin more often then normal.

With a certain desire for your priest…

Father Jean.

❀ Genre:

Attack on Titan, Priest Jean.

❀ Content Warning:

Absolutely filthy. Dark content! Slight voyeurism, degradation, cream-pie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise, filthy smut, slight oral sex, penetrative sex, dacrayphilla, etc.

❀ Word Count:

16 k words.

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

Sunday morning. 

The light wind blew the melody of sweet songs, light dancing around in soft fragments, the stained glass catching it, and displaying the colors on the marble floor. Painting pictures of which only children’s wild imagination could understand. 

Clean, white, pure, just like the women and men inside the sacred building. If not, they are here for just that, cleansing, white, and purity. Forgiveness for the sins they have committed. Forgiveness for the sins they have yet to commit. For the people are God’s loyal servants, and wish to follow him into paradise once they fall into their eternal rest. 

A beautiful hundred foot ceiling above their heads, painted in the most rich of colors and pictures. Demonstrating the beauty and depth of what Christ has done for his people. Wooden seats decorating the floor, allowing God’s people a place to sit when Father preached the Holy Spirit. 

A stage decorated with soft pastel flowers, a white fabric draped over the stand of where Father preaches each morning of Sunday. Some bread and wine next to him when he did so. Velvet clothes decorating each table and floor. Crosses with the son of God resting above the stand. 

Jesus died for our sins. 

And, today was a simple day. Just confessions. People repenting the sins they had committed since their last confession. However, there was something different about today, and the next few weeks. Father was being observed by the Nuns of the church. Along with their novitiates. Sisters in training. Most were young, eighteen to nineteen, the oldest being twenty-four. They were always a delight to have over, along with polite. Father never minded their company. 

Quiet as a mouse and beautiful as a dove. Along with their dedication to their religion. Father loved the company of each one. Each of them huddled around each other, watching with eager eyes. Wanting to observe the process of forgiveness. 

Father approached the next person, placing his hands together, and holding them around the cross by his neck. Smiling kindly, his dimples molding into his cheeks, “For you, my child, are you ready?” His tone was soft, comforting, and warm. Just like a blanket fresh out of the Laundry. Opening an inviting, willing to forgive and bless. It is what everyone loved about the Priest. 

“Yes.” It was breathy, almost nervous. Fingers pressed against the soft white fabric of her dress, trembling slightly. Father was used to that. She thickly swallowed, “Anything for my God and Savior.” He smiled kindly, nodding his head. Bringing their foreheads close, two slender fingers pressed together. Dark brown eyes peering into the girl's light blue ones, drinking up every emotion shooting through her body. 

Nervousness, uncertainty, anxiousness, excitement, and eagerness. The eyes always reveal so much about the person, that’s why Father preferred to look into them. He always knew what type of person he was talking to just by looking into their eyes. 

She looked up, watching as Father bent his knees to reach her height. He was so much taller than her, so much bigger. It was intimidating. The novitiates watch closely. Leaning closer in hope of catching Father’s voice again. Kind yet deep, intimidating but interesting. All the women were practically leaning out of their seats. This priest in particular always causes this reaction with the novitiates, considering how young he was. A mere twenty-six years old. 

His fingers gently pressed against her upper chest, “In the name of the Father,” her left than right shoulder, “and of the Son of the Holy Spirit, Amen.” He backed up, watching the women. And, the novitiates watched as the woman bent her head down, hands pressed together against her lap. Closing her eyes and staying still. 

It was a way of separating the sinner to the saint. The blesser to the blessed. Father always was more than willing to help the sinners relish their sins. It was something he loved about his life, it made him feel closer to God. 

It was his heaven. This was his heaven. 

A brief pause, then, “Bless me Father Jean, for I have sinned.” 

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

It was seven-thirty am. Your bed is freshly made, decorated with white silk sheets, along with soft pillows. An extra light pink blanket hanging off the edge of your bed frame, something you brought from home. 

Painted glass decorated your window, making it hard to see the beauty of the outside. However, you didn’t mind. The sun always reflected the light of the glass panels perfectly, making your room colorful. Maybe that’s why you were in charge of the children. Your room was big and simple, nothing but the necessities. Along with that, your bathroom was able to be locked and unlocked. Which made it the ideal children’s drop off zone. 

It was the children’s drop off zone. And, you were the caretaker. 

Currently, you are sitting in your vanity. Sister Mary standing behind you, trying to place your hair into your veil. A task you had trouble doing on your own. 

You straightened your back, eyes dancing over the cross on your neck.You mind was bouncing back to the sight from last week. Father Jean and the women asking for forgiveness. The isolation that ensued the moment the two started speaking. It felt like you shouldn’t have been watching. It looked so.. intimate. 

Something you didn’t know much about, due to your devotion to God. 

You parted your lips, “It looks so intimate Sister Mary,” you whispered, placing your hands on the vanity in front of you. Slowly moving it in circles, the mirror ahead of you following you every movement. “The Priest, and the people.” You mumbled, replaying the scene in your head like a movie. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. You crossed a leg over the other, “Is that what marriage looks like? Is that what it’s like?” Father Jean was always fresh in your mind. Of course, it was because he kept you close to God. Nothing else. 

She collected your hair together, trying to find a way to style it. Always treat your hair, then place it into the hairstyle. “Marriage is something we shouldn’t be thinking of Sister, for we are already wed to the Lord our God.” She hummed comfortingly, “And, it looks as if you’re in need of a haircut, Sister.” Her hands dropped your long silk strands, reaching for scissors on the vanity. Something you used when making crafts for the children.

You wanted to grab your hair from her hands, hold it tight and close. But, you grabbed the vanity instead. Keeping your hair short was practical, useful, and your sign of devotion. It showed you no longer wanted to follow the temptations of the world. Attraction. Cutting your hair was a way of showing you were refusing all the pleasures and temptations of the “outside world”.

And, wanting to keep it was a sin. 

You were sinning. 

You closed your eyes, not looking at the amount of hair Sister Mary was holding. It had to be to your shoulders, you didn’t want to think about it. It had been so long since you last cut it, and you were rather proud of the length you acquired. The care and nurturing you put into your hair, along with, you really enjoyed the way your hair looked on you. Of course, no one saw it, but it was a pleasure of your own. A secret sin of your own. 

“In the name of the Father, and the Son of the Holy Spirit..” Please forgive my secret sin, my one pleasure, but allow me this one thing. Allow me to enjoy my one pleasure, and I will do you with good in ten fold. “..Amen.” Your eyes fluttered open, watching as Sister Mary lifted her scissors, your hair held by her other hand. 

A knock at the door, followed by, “Sister Mary, I do apologize for the poor timing,” a deep and kind voice, warming– like a blanket fresh out of laundry, “but, I’m afraid I need you for something.” The door remained shut, your eyes peering at it. You wished for it to open. 

“Oh, of course Father, allow me.” She stood up from the seat behind you, placing the scissors down. Your eyes following the silver weapon. “I apologize, Sister. But, it seems that God has a different day planned for your length change.” She gave you a silly, comforting, smile, “Goodbye, Sister.” 

You gave her one in return, bowing your head. “To you as well.” Thank you Spirit, for sending one of your Angels. “Thank you, Sister Mary.” She gave you a brief nod before walking to the door. Cracking it open and speaking with Father Jean, giving him a kind bow. You couldn’t help yourself, but you leaned forward. Trying to catch a glimpse of the young saint. You didn’t know why you wanted to see him, but you did. And, you were eager to at that. 

Unfortunately, that was all you got. A mere glimpse of the man, his clothing. Black everything, his pants, shirt, and shoes. His collar was decorated in a brief white, along with a rosary resting on his chest. You wondered if he wore gold rings. Priests often wore gold rings. It was something you noticed from your two years of observing your religion. Something required to be a Nun. 

Father Jean was known to be the nicest man alive. A true saint with a golden heart. A man who does good purely to do good, with expecting nothing in return. A true ideal priest, someone you looked up to. Admired even. Even if you two haven’t spoken often. 

Your door shut behind Sister Mary, leaving you in the small room supported by the Church. “I thought she’d never leave.” You turned around, looking at your friend. Watching as she finally emerged from your closet. Since, she was hiding from Sister Mary. Visiting time wasn’t permitted at this moment. 

Her name was Sasha, a pretty girl she was. She had joined this path with you about a year ago, and since, you two have been inseparable. Well, that’s how it was with everyone of your Sisters. A total of five, including yourself. 

“I thought I was going to lose my hair, Sister.” You muttered, grabbing onto it instinctively. You didn’t want to lose that. “I believe, Sister Mary is too strict about trivial things.” I mean, it was 2022, not 1900. Couldn’t you have one pleasure as a Nun? Everything else about you was dedicated to the Lord. Quite literally. 

Your friend sat on your bed, brown hair decorating her shoulders. A small pout on her rose lips, “I like my hair short, so I don’t completely mind the haircuts.” She answered, “Besides, it’s more manageable.” Her hand went to her hair, grabbing a few strands of her bangs. Toying with the silky strands. 

“I know, but it think—“ you turned to the mirror, “I think it looks pretty like this.” You liked your hair, it was unique to yourself. Curly, twisted, long, thick, thin, straight, whatever you hair was, it was a perfect representation of you. That’s why you didn’t want to cut it. “I know, I shouldn’t, but I do.” You whispered. 

Sasha sighed, “How about this, tonight you and I go out to the garden.” She stood up from the bed, walking to you. Taking your hands into hers, “And, we enjoy the pool with the flowers that surround it. It’s said to be the most beautiful place in the church.” She gave you a soft smile, squeezing your hands. 

You blinked a few times, swallowing the saliva that built in your mouth. “Uhm— I,” you pressed your lips together, feeling them move without thought. Swimming in a pool sounds like... You eyes dipped to her chest, catching sight of her cross, you ended up shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, I’m fine. Besides, we’re not allowed to be seen outside of our assigned clothing. That would be a sin.” You disliked saying that word, you disliked it so much.

Because, so many things were considered a sin. 

Sasha nodded, letting go of your hands, “Of course, I forgot about that.” Her tone wasn’t as cheerful as it once was, just more monotone and disappointed. Her hands went to her side, “Let’s get dressed, once I finish I Promise to do your hair.” She said, forcing a smile in your direction. 

You couldn’t help, but give her a sad smile. The two of you didn’t choose to become Nuns, your families forced it upon you. Which, of course, made commiting to Christ more difficult than it normally was for Nuns in training. 

The two of you were young, a mere twenty, and you wished to experience youth like anyone else. Rather than being restricted by the word of God. Giving your body to Christ. Which meant, you were his bride. As a child, you didn’t think that your husband would be the very thing your family worshiped. And, what you repented. 

“How about we go and greet everyone who enters the church today?” You suggest, pressing the palms of your hands to your habit, making sure the silk wasn’t wrinkled. “That sounds like a joy.” You added a smile. 

“I want to swim.” Sasha said, pulling back and holding herself. “I don’t get why I can’t do that.” She mumbled, closing her eyes and sighing. “I just want to have some fun.” You reached a hand for her shoulder, watching her collect herself. Then, “In the name of the Father, and the Son of the Holy Spirit..” Silence. “..Amen.” 

You knew exactly what she was doing. Because, the both of you were conditioned to do it. 

Sasha fluttered her eyes open, slowly bringing her brown beautiful eyes to you. “Okay, let me go get ready.” Sasha pulled herself back, placing a foot behind another. Walking towards your door, while you turned your back to her, diligently watching her move through your vanity. And, she stood at your door. Hand on the handle, froze in her spot. 

You could feel your eyebrows mush, What was she doing? Was she okay? Was something wrong? You twisted your body around, your shoes clicking against the marble flooring as you made your way to her. Pupils moving up and down her frame. You couldn’t stop the word from slipping from your mouth, “Sasha?..” 

“Sister,” her voice made you flinch, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m going to ask Father Jean for forgiveness next week,” she mumbled. Turning her head over her shoulder. “Because, tomorrow tonight at twelve, I will commit a sin of my own pleasure.“ You disliked the fact that something so trivial as swimming, caused such a massive problem within your community. The two of you just wanted to swim. But, you couldn’t.. “And, I think you should join me.” Her words pierced your chest. 

And with that, she left. 

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

Sunday 8:05 am…

The sound of birds was always the highlight of the morning for you. You loved watching them fly high in the sky. Oh—how you wished to fly free just like them. You always liked to imagine what type of bird you would be. Maybe a crow, you loved the sleek look of them. 

You smiled kindly at those who entered the church, hands pressed against your thighs everytime you bowed. Many of the people who visited this Church were either tourists or regulars. Considering how old and beautiful the building was, people always enjoyed the stunning scenery. From whichever belief they held. 

“Y/n!” You jolted at someone hugging your legs. Looking down at the small body. You couldn’t help but smile when he looked up at you. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” He shouted. 

You giggled, pressing a finger to your lip. “Hush, love. Not so loud.” You sweetly said, not wanting to bring too much attention to yourself. You placed your hand on his head, pushing some short strands of hair from his face. “But, I’m so happy to see you!” You caressed his face comfortingly. 

His eyes blinked a few times, before a smile exploded from her face. “Me too! Me too!” He whisper–shouted, shoved his face in your habit, mumbling– “The house has been so lonely without you, Y/n.”

“That’s Sister, Luke.” Your father corrected, your mother not too far behind. You could feel your body just crumple, and tense together, almost like it was regressing. You absolutely disliked this part of the day. This was your least favorite part.

Luke looked back at you, a small pain in his eyes. “Oh yeah..” he mumbled, “Sorry, Sister.” His hands went behind his back, his head looking at the ground. 

You could feel your heart break. Before softly nodding, “No, it’s okay.” You reassured, placing your hand in his hair again and rubbing it. “Sometimes even I–” you sighed, your voice wavering for a moment, “Sometimes.. Even I forget.” You placed your hand behind his back, “Besides, you have all your other brothers and sisters!” He just merely nodded.

Your eyes shot to your parents, standing behind Luke. You smiled, before giving them a subtle bow. “Mom, Dad.” You said, “It’s a pleasure.” You stayed there for a moment, not wanting to come back up. It felt like you didn’t have the energy too. 

Your Mother hummed thoughtfully, “It’s good to see you too, Honey. It’s always so good to see how much you’ve grown.” Your Mother cupped your cheek and lifted your face. “We knew this profession was the one for you.” Her thumb rubbing your cheek was supposed to be comforting, it wasn’t. “See, and you didn’t want to do this at first.” 

You pressed your lips together, feeling them wiggle, before giving her a kind smile. “Of course, you two know me too well.” You looked between your Mother and Father. “I’m actually the caretaker for the children.” You added, hands fiddling with one another. 

Your Mother let out a small noise of excitement, “That’s wonderful, Sister. We always knew you were amazing with children.” Her hands went to yours, squeezing them. “You were always so good with your siblings.” Your Mother and Father were always working, so, being the oldest. You were the ones who took care of the children when they were gone. 

You nodded, “I love children.” 

Your Father nodded, while your Mother smiled. “We know, Honey. We know everything about you.” She patted your back, “Why else would we make you do this?” You gave another smile, keeping your body forward as they walked into the church. 

“Oh! And, Honey!” Your Mother called over her shoulder. You turned to them, “We’re dropping Luke off at the daycare, so you can spend some time with him!” She blew you a kiss, “Love you, Sister.” She turned on her heel, grabbing Luke by the hand and separating from your Father. Off to find your room. The daycare.

You shakily breathed out, not realizing you were holding your breath. Clasping your hands together and holding them near your face. Trying to recollect yourself. Closing your eyes and keeping them shut, tight. 

“Are you alright?” 

You fluttered your eyes open, keeping your gaze to the ground. “Huh?” You blinked a few times, “Yes, I’m–” You nodded to yourself, “I’m alright, just a bit.. tired.” Your voice was soft, strained almost. You let go of your hands, pressing them to your sides. 

The person laughed, “That’s good, we wouldn’t want a sad soul at Church.” Their voices cut into your head. Almost like a dizzying spell. So inviting and warm, almost like a scorching hug from an angel. 

Please don’t be.. “Father Jean!” Someone shouted, making the tall pastor turn his head. 

You gasped, turning your head to him. Instantly, your eyes met his side profile. A strong jaw, long lashes, pink soft lips, clear tan skin, and a nose built to perfection. His hair was soft, yet slicked back into a hairstyle he frequented. Dark blonde. What a pretty color. 

Father Jean’s face turned back, meeting your wide-eyed one. Jean’s face is in full display to your wavering eyes. And, that's where they went, to his eyes. A light brown reflecting perfectly in the light, displaying his soul to you. Such a pretty color. Such a pretty face. 

Wow. He’s so pretty. 

Your mouth parted, and his eyes went to your lips. Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat speed up and flutter, your mouth was so dry. You felt nervous, really nervous. “F–Father Jean, I–” You thickly swallowed, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have–” 

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Sister. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He reassured, his eyes bouncing up and meeting yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” And, he smiled. He smiled. Your heart melted, your mind crashing. His smile was perfect. Dimples denting into his honey–like skin. So, kind and welcoming. It felt like you were home. 

“Yes, I’m– I’m okay.” You replied, giving him a forced smile, it was more of an awkward one. “But, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?” You placed your hands behind your back, looking at the people entering the sacred building. “I mean, isn’t the sermon starting soon?” Your eyes were filled with worry. 

Jean laughed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you're correct, but I’m not the one speaking today. Father Eren is.” He clarified, a big hand coming to his hair. Slicking back the fly aways, “I’m just just saying hello to everyone entering the Church.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice, even if it was subtle. 

You fluttered your lashes, biting the corner of your lip. “Do you want to–” 

“Yes, more than anything.” He quickly spoke, a smile appearing on his face again. “I love it, it’s one of my favorite parts about being a priest.” He sighed, placing his hands into his pockets. Looking at the sky for a moment, his neck is on full display to you. “But, I’m just going to be doing the body of Christ for today.” His smile wavered for a moment. 

“You sound disappointed, Father.” You noted, watching as he leaned his back against the building’s wall. “Is that something you don’t enjoy doing?” You took a step closer in his direction, tilting your head to the side. 

Jean echoed your moments, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s not my favorite.” He mumbled, slightly embarrassed by his confession. “I don’t know, I just don’t necessarily enjoy placing food in people’s mouths.” He visibly cringed, his nose scrunching in distaste. 

You giggled, a hand coming over your mouth. Jean smiled at your reaction, “Well, what’s your favorite thing to do then?” You curiously asked, toying with the cross around your neck. 

He blinked a few times, a chill going up his spine. He disliked when that happened. “Uhm,” He shook his head, “I actually really enjoy confessions.” He said, “It’s something that just makes me feel closer to God.” You watched as he smiled, again. He was such a bubbly and bright person. 

You were jealous. 

But, you could help but feel a part of your body regress at that. Jean was a priest, of course he was going to be extremely religious. He wasn’t like you.. Someone forced into this lifestyle. You subtly sighed, grabbing onto your arm. Not everyone here was like you, it was something you kept forgetting. 

Jean leaned his head back, looking to the side. Whispering, “Something I’ve been really needing this past week.” It sounded like he was talking to himself, rather than to you. And, it sounded like he didn’t want you to hear it. 

“Really?” You gasped, speaking before thinking. He gave you a look, making your face burn with embarrassment. “I mean! You’re just– you’re you! So, I would think..” You stopped talking, feeling your head screaming at you to stop. Pressing your lips together you turned away. 

He chuckled, silently reassuring you. “No, no, I get it.” He reassured, placing a hand on your shoulder. His thumb rubbing in circles, “Being who I am and all.” He could feel you shiver under his touch, and he froze. Before, he shook his head and pulled away, smiling at you kindly. “But, sometimes I have my moments where one or two unholy words slip.” 

You giggled, your hand meeting your shoulder. Already missing the contact between you two. “I guess that's true, Father.” Your mind rushed to this morning with Sasha, her words soaring through your head. “And, I think you should join me.” You thickly swallowed, wondering if you should take her up on her offer. 

“Well, Sister, I think I have to go.” Jean said, “Soon enough, Father Eren is going to start his–” He paused, not wanting to finish the sentence. “Anyways, he always gets bothered if I don’t attend.” His hand went to his hair, pulling back the fly aways. He gave you a final smile, “Until, we meet again, Sister.” 

You watched as he turned away. Entering the Church, just like all the other people. And, you couldn’t help, but feel empty. His company is an enjoyable and new thing to you, something you wanted to last a bit longer. Just a little bit longer. 

“Father Jean!” 

You gasped at your mouth, placing your hand over it. I really need to think before I speak. Jean looked over his shoulder, peering at you. Giving you another kind and acknowledging smile. He was waiting for you to speak. 

And, you didn’t know what to say. You felt your body freeze, “Next week– next Sunday,” you corrected, “I wish to confess, much like yourself, it’s something I’ve been needing this past week.” 

You couldn’t see it, but a shiver went down Jean's spine. And, the cause of it?... Jean thickly swallowed, keeping his face the same. “Of course, I’d be more than glad to be the one to guide you.” And with that, he turned his back to you and walked away. 

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

“Luke, you can’t just!–” you pressed your lips together, taking in a deep inhale. “You can’t just leave the room without telling me, or Sister Mikasa.” You gestured your hand to the other Nun in the room. Her head turning to you briefly, and giving your brother a small smile. Before, returning to what she was doing. 

“I know, but–” He tried arguing. 

“No buts!” You added, placing your hand on his back and gilding him back into the room. Shutting the door behind you, “We have a restroom, food, coloring, and books. So, there’s no reason to leave, Luke.” You scolded, quickly observing him. Seeing how both his hands were behind his back, holding something. “And, what do you have?” Did he steal something?

Instant his hands were lifted up to your face, showing you a sheer pink scarf. He looked at the ground, “While walking here with mom, I dropped it, then went to go find it.” His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric, toying with the material. 

Your lips parted, guilt plaguing up your spine. “Oh, uh–” you shook your head, “You still should’ve told me, we could’ve looked for it together.” You cupped his cheek, bending down and kissing his forehead. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.” 

Luke nodded, “Okay, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

You giggled, grabbing the fabric from his fingers. Whispering, “But thank you, Luke.” You ruffled his hair, watching as his face lit up. Running into you and wrapping his arms around your legs. You laughed, nodding your head. You quickly stuffed the scarf into your habit, you find a place to put it later. 

It was something your grandmother gave you before her passing. Unfortunately, due to it being a pleasure, you weren’t allowed to bring it to the church with you. Which broke your heart to say the least. It was the only thing you had left of her. You refused to loose it. 

“Sister?” Mikasa called, glancing at your clock. “It’s about an hour to the body of Christ, should we start cleaning up?” She told you, holding one of the younger kids in her arms. Cradling her as she started to fall asleep. “Or, should we start taking the kids to the main room?” 

Mikasa was a woman a bit older than you, twenty. She was the embodiment of Sister Mary. Tall, kind, strict, yet relaxed. Her skin was soft and clear, like snow freshly laid. Lips pink and shiny, her cheeks lightly tinted red. Mikasa was someone you strived to be like, the ideal Nun. Graceful and beautiful, like a dove. 

Not a crow. 

You shook your head, “Parent’s sometimes pick their children up during the small break. We’ll start taking them in twenty minutes before the body of christ.” You stuffed the scarf into your habit. “But, starting to clean up, doesn't sound like a bad idea, Sister.” 

Mikasa nodded, placing the child down. Wrapping her with a soft blanket you laid out specifically for the children. “Okay children, how about we start cleaning up the play area.” She announced, smiling sweetly at everyone. The children groaned, which made you giggle. 

Mikasa walked into the play area connected to your room, flashing you a smile. “I’ll take care of the playroom cleaning, you want to take care of your room?” 

You nodded, “That works with me.” Mikasa nodded and walked into the playroom with all the children, Luke staying by your side. You sighed, looking down at him. “Want to help me clean?” 

Luke just nodded, picking up some of the drawings that were left on the floor. Your ears perked to the sound of knocking, immediately drawing your attention to your wooden door. Was a parent here to pick up their child already? 

You reached for the door, pulling it open. “Hello, and who would be your child..” 

Father Jean tilted his head to the side, a kind smile on his lips. “Don’t have any kids.” He looked to the side for a moment, before laughing to himself. “Yet.” 

You could feel your lips part for a second, before shaking your head. “Uhm, then– if you don’t mind me asking.. What do you need?” You placed your hands behind your back, feeling Luke behind you. Hiding behind your leg, looking at Father Jean. 

Jean’s eyes met your brothers, and he kindly waved at him. “It’s not a problem at all, Sister.” His eyes danced around the room, almost like he was looking for something. “Is Sister Mikasa here?” 

You could feel your heart squeeze for a moment, almost hurt. “Uhm..” You looked away. Your heart aching, why did it bother you so much? “Yeah, she’s in the playroom with the children cleaning up.” You pushed open the door, silently indicating for him to come inside. “I’ll go get her.” You pulled Luke with you, leading him to the room and telling him to help the children clean.  

Jean nodded, walking into the room. You quickly walked to the playroom, searching for Mikasa. “Sister,” you called, watching as her head moved to you. “Uhm, Father Jean is here for you.” You pointed inside your room. 

Mikasa’s eyebrows met together, almost in a concerned way. “Father Jean?..” She mumbled, standing up and stumbling over her footing. Which caught you off guard. Mikasa was always such a collected and calm woman, you’ve never seen her stutter– let alone trip over her own feet. 

What was worrying her?

“Did he say any reason to why?” Mikasa sounded– strained. 

“Uhm,” you looked back at Jean, then back to her. Shaking your head, “No, h-he just asked for you, that’s all.” You responded, moving to the side and allowing her to walk into your room. 

Mikasa’s hand rested on her waist, looking at Father Jean expectantly. “Father, you called?” She asked, head tilting to the side. “What do you need?” 

Jean’s eyes moved to you, then Mikasa. Smiling sweetly at her, “Father Eren is calling for you, I’d suggest going to search for him.” He looked to the side, “Actually, if I remember correctly, he’s in the small break area. You know how he is.” Jean smiled, “He needs his voice to rest before speaking again. He just wants your company.” 

Mikasa looked at you, “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have to clean, maybe when we return the children to their parents for the body of christ.” She replied, about to walk back when Jean cut her off. 

“I’ll stay.” He said, walking to her and smiling sweetly. “You know Father Eren needs your  company to regain energy, I’ll stay.” He placed his hand on her lower back, leading her to the door. “Don’t worry, I work wonderfully with children.” 

Mikasa looked at you, “Oh Sister, I hope this doesn't bother you. Father Eren just gets… cranky when not tended to.” Her hands moved to hold each other, an act to comfort herself. “He’s such a child sometimes..” She whispered, more to herself then anybody. 

You couldn’t help, but look back at Jean. Your heart racing in your chest, the thought of spending one on one time with each other. Albeit, there were many children around– you were still grateful. Your crush on Father Jean could be sated with a mere glance his way. “N-no, it’s okay, Sister. It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” You kindly smiled at her. 

Mikasa returned it, before walking away. You slowly shut the door, back pressed to it as you looked at Jean. Heart racing in your chest, “Uhm, as of now we’re just cleaning up. Nothing too interesting.” You informed. 

“That’s fine,” he kindly dismissed, “Is there anything I can do to help.” His hand went into his pockets, “I’m all around when it comes to these things.” 

You giggled, cheeks burning. “Uhm, you can just help me here.” You gestured around your room, “I’m sure the children are having a field day noticing there isn’t an adult in the room.” You laughed to yourself, “Last time, one of the kids became the president.” There was a whole republican and democrat party. 

Jean laughed, hand covering his mouth. “I think I heard about that.” He said through laughs, “If I remember correctly, the party names were onion and apple, right?” 

You giggled, nodding your head. “It was crazy what can happen within a few minutes.” You replied, kneeling to the ground and continuing to pick up all the papers. Being careful not to wrinkle any of the drawings. 

Jean watched you, “Kids are so creative nowadays.” Jean walked towards you, lifting your head. “Wait, you have something in your..” He pulled off the piece of paper, holding it in front of you with a smile. “Here.” 

You smiled, taking the paper from him. Eyes fluttering as his hand pulled away from his face, his contact burning into your skin. “Thank you.” you whispered. Eyes looking up at him. 

Jean blinked a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing before he smiled. Dimples denting into his perfect skin, “Of course, anything for you, Sister.” He pulled back, hands going back into his pockets. 

You were going to make conversation again, when he spoke. “I’ll go help the children, we don’t need another party debate.” Jean turned on his heel, walking into the other room. Leaving you sitting on the heels of your feet. 

Did he not want to speak with you? 

It wasn’t long before the cleaning had finished, and Father Jean had to leave. Which you couldn’t help, but feel hurt by. Mikasa had finally returned as well, so at least you weren’t the only one taking care of the children. Which was a relief. 

You nodded to yourself, before turning to the children in the room. “Okay, okay. Children!” you announced, watching as all the small heads turned in your direction. “We’re going to start heading down to the church hall, start cleaning up so we can leave.” You informed, grabbing a piece of paper from the ground and tossing it in the trash.

“Bread!” A small child shouted, making you giggle. 

“Wine!” 

You could feel your eyes widen, looking at Mikasa, seeing she was holding a similar expression. Before the two of you burst out laughing, looking away from the child. She placed her hand on their head, “Maybe, not wine.. But, there will definitely be bread.” She corrected. 

“I believe Father Jean is doing bread today,” Mikasa loudly remarked, looking at you. You couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks darkened in color, a smile plastered over her lips. “That’s something I don’t want to miss.” 

You felt your eyebrows come together. Did she… like him? You brought your head down, “Looks as if you really like, Father.” You smiled at the baby in your arms. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your eyes glancing up for a second. Looking at Mikasa’s reaction to your statement. You felt your eye twitch. 

Mikasa had her hands pressed to her face, covering the massive blush decorating her face. “Is that what people think?..” She muttered, looking at the ground. 

“No.” You respond instantly, before quickly catching yourself. “I was just messing with you, I didn’t think..” That was a lie, you knew. You just asked Mikasa to confirm your suspicion. Wait.. you just sinned, again. What was happening to you?.. 

It didn’t take long before the two of you were leading the group of children to the main hall. Reunited them with their loving parents. Before going into line for the body of Christ. You joined along with your family, standing behind them. Making brief conversation with your parents. 

You sighed, finding yourself at the front of the line. Keeping your gaze to the floor, finding yourself exhausted from speaking with your parents. 

“Sister.” Someone greeted. And, you wanted to die on the spot. From your last interaction, you wondered if he wanted nothing to do with you. He dismissed you so quickly…

“Father,” you returned, “Nice to see you again.” You lifted your head again, smiling at him. 

Jean nodded his head in return. “It’s nice to see you as-well, Sister.” He grabbed a thin piece of bread and lifted it up. “I hope the children didn’t give you much trouble, I didn’t want to leave too early.” He said, forcing a smile in your direction. Jean was tense. 

You looked at his hand, seeing as gold rings decorated his fingers. So, you were right about the jewelry thing. “Of course not, I always enjoy their company.” You responded, placing your hands around the cross on your chest. “I always enjoy anyone’s company.” 

Jean could feel a shiver go down his spine. He disliked his small tick so much. You parted your lips and Jean felt his eye twitch. Jean’s gaze hardened, like he was concentrated. You noticed and for some reason– it felt intimidating.

You tilted your head up and looked at the bread. Jean’s eyes dilated, bringing the bread close to your mouth. “Body of Christ.” 

You could feel yourself freeze. “I don’t know, I don’t necessarily enjoy placing food in people’s mouths.” You closed your mouth, quickly giving him a sheepish smile. “Father Jean, please excuse me, it’s a habit.” You informed, placing your hand over his. Holding onto his much larger hand, “Allow me.” You grabbed the bread from his hand. “It must seem like I disregarded your boundaries.” 

Jean blinked a few times, shaking his head. His eyes dancing from his hand to yours. “No, no. It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” He said, turning his head to the side for a moment. “I must’ve forgotten..” He bit the inside of his cheek.  

You nodded, “I did too, Father. Don’t worry.” You pressed the thin bread against your tongue, looking down for a second as your tongue slipped over your finger. Before running over your bottom lip.

“..at me.”

You tilted your head up, seeing that Jean was already looking at you. You could feel your cheeks burn, “I’m sorry, what was that, Father?” You absolutely disliked asking people to repeat themselves. You tilted your head to the side, looking away for a moment, unable to keep eye contact. Why? You didn’t know. 

“Father Eren is going to be so angry at me.” He told you, “I think I’ve been giving out the wrong bread.” He said with a chuckle, looking down at the table and basket. His hands came to his side, fidgeting with the material of his black shirt. 

You felt your lip wiggle, trying to contain the laughter bubbling in your throat. But, it slipped out, “Oh Father, if need be, I’m sure you can always confess.” You quickly collected yourself, placing the tips of your fingers to your lips. “I’m sure even priests have their moments of sin.” Why would I say that? 

Jean blinked at you a few times, before smiling, “It’s true. Shameful to admit, but I have struggled of my own.” Then, he nodded his head. “I suppose you’re right, confession does sound nice right about now..” he looked at the roof for a second. Elegant paintings of moments written in the bible looking back at him. 

You nodded, agreeing with him. “Maybe, we should confess together, Father.” You mumbled, not so much telling him, but saying it to yourself. 

“Maybe, we should.” He responded. Still looking up, giving you a nice sight of his neck. With Jean being that tall, and from where you were standing, it looked as if you were on your knees giving him.. 

“Is that a scarf?” He whispered, leaning into you slightly. His eyes dipping down to your chest. Curiosity filling them. 

You could feel your cheeks burn, when did he start looking at you?.. “Oh gosh, I–” You reached up, tucking the fabric into your habit. You thickly swallowed, “I– uh, yes, it is.” You mumbled, “My brother gave it to me, and I couldn’t refuse him.” You added. 

He smiled, nodding his head. “Don’t worry,” he pushed his finger to his lips, “It’ll be our little secret.” You tilted your head, the word sin– filling your head. 

But, you blinked a few times, before bowing your head. “Goodbye, Father.” Then, you walked away. Closing your eyes and shaking the impure thought that came to your head away. Jean’s eyes followed you for a moment, before returning them to the person in front of him. 

“Father.” They greeted, and Jean cringed. He really did. 

“Sister Mary.” He followed. 

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

Sasha laid on your bed, a blanket over her body and sighing out dramatically. “I think Father Jean’s been hooking up with someone,” she announced. Bringing her hands to her face and messing with her fingers. “He’s been acting weird.” 

You could feel your heart drop. “You think so?!” You disliked how worried you sounded. Sasha gave you a look that made you instantly correct your tone. “I mean, do you think so?..” You placed your hair brush down on your vanity, looking at her through your mirror.

She giggled, nodding her head. “And, I think you have a small thing for him.” She added, grabbing the scarf from your bed and playing with it. Enjoying the thin yet silky fabric between her fingers. She held it up to you, “You know if Sister Mary sees this she’ll be mad.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Reaching for the scarf. “I know, I know, but my brother gave this to me. I couldn’t say no.” You got up, walking to your drawer. “And, I don’t want to throw it out. I–” you sighed, “I really like it, it’s cute.” 

“Uh–Hu, totally.” She stood up, glancing at the clock in your room. “Just hide it somewhere you know she won’t find it.” Sasha stretched out her arms, cracking her fingers. “I’ll lend you the–” 

“I’m not hiding my scarf in your crusty box.” You glared at her, stuffing the fabric in your habit, rather than the drawer. It would be safer if it was on you. 

 “Okay, it’s almost time, it’s now or never, Sister.” She grabbed your hands, pulling you to the door. “Let’s get going!” You disliked how excited she sounded. Because, deep down, you were equally as excited. Maybe you were mixing it with fear. I mean, they practically felt the same. 

“I don’t know, I just feel like..” 

Sasha shushed you, “If you think about it too much you’ll hurt your brain,” she said, grabbing the two towels by the door and placing them under her arm. “Sister Mary should be asleep by now, it’s the perfect time!” 

You rubbed your arm, looking to the side. “Sister, we don’t even have bathing suit, how are we supposed to–” 

“I’ve already thought about that.” And instantly, she was pulling at her outfit. Removing the layers of thick, black, clothing. “We’ll just swim in our underwear. I mean,” she shrugged, placing her habit on the floor gently. “It’s practically the same thing as a swimsuit.” 

You keep your eyes to the ground, “And what if someone sees us?!” You argued. Finally looking at her. 

Sasha shook her head, “No one’s going to see us, Sister.” She reassured, grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around her body. “Now, c’mon, get naked with me!” 

“No.” 

Sasha pulled at your hand, “C’mon! You know you want to.” She cooed, doing a small dance. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll go.” You admitted, grabbing the other towel from her. “But, only for ten minutes.” You asserted, pointing a direct finger at her. 

Sasha nodded. “Yes, anything you want.” A devious smile came over her lips, her hands grabbing the scarf inside your habit. Placing it and tying it around her head, “Now, get naked!” 

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

They weren’t lying when they said the pool was beautiful. It was surrounded by a grove of flowers, all different shades of the rainbow. Mixing together like an experienced painter making a beautiful painting. Right next to the pool was an equality as beautiful Labyrinth garden. 

The sky above, the full moon reflecting the pool water, and a cool breeze flowing over you. You tilted your head back, dipping your hair into the water. Bringing your head back up and using your hands to push it out of your face. 

“See! I told you this was a good idea!” Sasha boasted, swimming backwards. “And, what a beautiful night to do it too!” She stopped, starfishing in the water. 

You swam by her side, looking up at the sky. Seeing the stars shining down at you. You couldn’t help but feel awe-struck. You were never allowed outside the church past nine, and now you were swimming in a pool, half naked, at twelve in the morning, looking at the stars with your best friend Sasha. It felt like a fever dream. Maybe, it was a dream and soon you were going to wake up. 

You didn’t want to wake up..

“It’s so pretty,” you voiced, lifting your feet from the ground and floating in the water like Sasha. Fully relaxing while you looked at the sky, “I miss this feeling.” You whispered. 

“Me too,” Sasha said. “I miss being a regular teen. I miss being a teen.” You could hear the whimper in Sasha’s voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my religion, but not this much.” 

The thing you and Sasha had in common was… you two were forced to become Nuns. 

“I miss it too,” you were forced to grow up so fast. “But, I enjoy the time I spend here.” You told her, moving your head to the side and looking at Sasha. She was looking at you, smiling. 

“Yeah, we thought we heard something.” 

And, you two shared the exact same expression, at the exact same time. Pure, unrequited, fear. Oh, you two were dead, and you two didn’t even confess! Sister Mary was going to send you two to hell. 

You two immediately rushed out of the water, grabbing your towels and diving for one of the tall bushes. Hiding behind it and looking at the pool entrance through the leaves. 

“This is exactly why I said we should have splashed, it’s way too loud!” You whispered at Sasha, ignoring the urge to punch her. Until, you watched who walked into the entrance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Father Jean, Father Eren, and Sister Mary. 

Sasha deeply inhaled, then exhaled. Closing her eyes, tilting her head back, clasping her hands and sighing. “I’m sorry, Sister.” She said, fluttering her lashes. “But, we’re so dead.” 

“I’m going to kill you.” You groaned, looking back through the leaves. Seeing the three look at the pool. Which was clearly disturbed, softly sloshing around. All their eyes were on it, everyone knew someone was in the pool. 

“Well, I can look around the area.” Eren voiced, glancing around. “Or, Jean can too.” 

You looked at the table and immediately cringed. Turing to Sasha, “Sasha, did you bring my scarf with you?” You slowly turned to her, eyebrows mushed together. Showing your anger. 

Sasha blinked a few times, glancing through the leaves. Seeing your scarf on the table. She grimaced, “Well, I didn’t think that..” she shook her head, “It doesn't matter, no one will know it’s yours.” She argued. 

“Yes it does matter!” You said, almost a little too loud. “Father Jean has seen me with my scarf, he knows it’s mine!” You looked back out, sighing. “We’re so dead.” 

Sister Mary sighed, “Well, if we can’t find the culprit, it could mean they’re still on the ground.” She went back to the entrance, placing her hand on the wall. “I’ll go roundup all the sisters, just to make sure they’re safe.” She nodded, then turned on her heel. 

Eren nodded, “Sister, I think it will be fine. I’ll glance around the church and make sure no one is here.” He smiled, “There’s no need to worry everyone over something that could just be an animal.” He reassured, and he turned to Jean. “Just check around the area.” 

Jean nodded. Then, the two of them left. 

You turned to Sasha. “Okay, you go, and I’ll try to get my scarf.” You looked back at the table, glancing at Jean for a second. Biting your lip and sighing silently. You were not getting that scarf back. 

Sasha nodded, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Sasha looked at Jean, making sure he wasn’t looking, before dashing to the exit.

You sighed, watching Jean walk around the water. Holding your breath as he passed by the bush you were hiding behind. You just needed him to leave, then you could grab your scarf. 

Jean walked to the table, his eyes landing on the scarf. And, you cringed. He saw it, there’s no way he didn’t see it. His fingers moved over the table, landing on your scarf. Pulling it up to his face, then looking to the church. You softly groaned, you weren’t getting that scarf back. 

The worst part was, he most likely knew it was your. Considering how he saw it not too long ago. 

“Bless me Father,” he softly said, your ears perking at his deep voice. A shiver going down your spine that made you shift your thighs together. “For I have sinned.” You disliked the effect his voice had on you.

Jean placed the fabric behind him, stuffing it into his pocket. Shaking his head and walking into the flowery grove. Surrounded by tall, green, fluffy bushes. It was almost like a corn maze, except the center was filled with statues, and a beautiful fountain. It was a place most tourists like to visit during open church hours. 

You quietly followed him, keeping the towel wrapped around your body. Your bare feet hitting the soft green grass. Sending a discomforting shiver up your spine. You ignored it, taking a different path to the center fountain, making the inference that’s where Jean was going. 

You were correct. 

Jean rested on the fountain wall, lifting his hand to the water. Looking at the statue of the Virgin Mary in front of him. You stayed behind the bush, looking through the leaves. You could see your thin scarf peeking from his pants. 

If only you could grab it. 

“Father, and the Holy Spirit.” Jean softly said, his voice deep and smooth, pressing his palm to the fountain's ledge. Placing one knee to the ground, followed by the other. His hands clasped together, “Please, speak to me. I’m in dire need of your assistance.”

You should leave. You shouldn't be watching Jean on his knees, praying to God. This was private. Sacred. Speaking to your one God, was a sacred and private experience. Not something for all wondering eyes and ears to witness. You need to leave. 

But. You need your scarf. 

You sighed, pulling back from the bush, and turning your back to it. Looking at the starry night. 

“I’m struggling, pleading, praying, for your help lord.” Jean sighed, “I can’t keep this up anymore, I feel as if— I’m going insane—“ he thickly swallowed, “Immoral, impure, sinful—“ 

A shiver shot down your spine. You pressed your hand over your lips. Closing your eyes. 

“I can’t control myself.” His free hand went to his pocket, pulling out your scarf. “It’s like a burning desire, turning me to sin.” His hands wrapped around the fabric, before his hands clasped together again. Bowing his head. 

“Everytime I see her, it feels like hands– her hands are crawling around my body. Grabbing me and pulling me in her direction. When I get close enough, I feel like holding her down and hearing her cry. I want to see her cry.” Jean shook his head, “I want her on her knees, worshiping me. Only me, I want to be her devotion.” 

No way. 

There was no way Father Jean said that. 

The most religious man you know, someone who enjoyed doing confessions, always donated what he could to the church, and openly spoke about his devotion to his religion. There was no way he was confessing about… something so– forbidden. 

You deeply inhaled. You need to leave. Your scarf was going to have to wait. It had to wait. Maybe, if you were lucky, he was going to give it to you tomorrow. Along with a stern scolding from Sister Mary. 

You took a step forward, but unbeknownst to you. There stood a very, very crunchy leaf. 

The silence was deathly. 

You clasped your hands together, holding them over your face, and deeply sighing. I’m so dead. 

Jean’s head perked up, “Who’s there?” Jean's voice sounded panicked. You were right, no one was supposed to hear that. And, you just did. 

You shook your head. There was no way you made that mistake, you just imagined it. There was no way you were that careless. You could hear Jean’s heavy footsteps coming in your direction. 

You were that careless. 

You pushed yourself off the bush wall, trying to silently walk away. When Jean grabbed your wrist, making you stop dead in your tracks. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you could feel your throat constricting. 

“I believe Church doors closed several hours ago.” Jean sounded different. Deeper and intimidating, almost like he was.. mad. His hand around your wrist only made you realize how much bigger he was than you. 

You thickly swallowed, turning your head to him. Sheepishly smiling. Blowing a wet piece of hair from your face. 

His pupils dilated, his grip tightening. “I caught you.” 

You thickly swallowed, finding your mouth dry. “I know, Father. But, I just wanted to swim and then you grabbed my—“ 

“Scarf.” He finished for you, looking at the thin fabric. Still wrapped around his free hand. He thickly swallowed, his eyes dipping up and down your frame. “Did you hear anything?” You disliked how scared he sounded.

You shook your head softly, “I just saw you holding my scarf, then started to leave.” You lied. 

Jean's eyes darkened. “You know, lying is a form of sin.” You could feel your heart drop deeper in your chest. His grip on you was hot. 

“I’m not— but I’m not..” Why were you stuttering so much? Your eyes met his, and you could feel your body burn. You closed your mouth, quickly composing yourself. “Father Jean, I’m afraid I’m not lying.” You disliked how you were lying directly to a priest. Your favorite priest, more specifically.

Jean pulled you into the center of the maze. Not saying a word, you don’t know if it was scary or exhilarating. When he let go. 

“What are you—“

“Pray.” He demanded. Looking down at you, “As someone who serves the lord, I hate seeing someone blatantly sin in front of me.” 

Jean sounded strained, deep, and almost... Was he trying to intimidate you? “Father Jean, are you Afraid I heard you?” You innocently asked, “Because, all I saw was you on your knees, praying.” With my scarf wrapped between your hands, begging for forgiveness. “That’s it.” 

Jean raised an eyebrow at you, walking to the edge of the fountain, and sitting down. His legs naturally spread open. Your eyes remained trained on his face, “Really?” Jean asked condescendingly, his head tilting to the side. He didn’t believe you. “You told me you wanted to confess, why don’t you do that now.” 

“Fine.” You reassured. “But, only because it makes you feel comfortable.” You placed a knee to the ground, followed by the other one. Awkwardly holding the towel to your almost naked body. Tilting your head up, and looking at him. “Father, and son of the Holy Spirit, allow me to speak with you.” You bowed your head, fluttering your eyes closed. 

“If you’re going to pray, do it properly.” Jean voiced, “Hands together, Sister Y/n.” Your name on his tongue was heaven. Maybe even hell. 

You disliked being called Sister, to the point where being called your real name made you jump in your seat with surprise. It also started a fire deep inside you. “Father, I can’t, I’m not wearing much under the towel.” You softly muttered, keeping your eyes to the ground. You were embarrassed, you could feel your skin on fire. 

Everything was on fire. 

Jean didn’t say anything, just brought the tip of his rather clean shoe, to the bottom of your chin. Lifting your face up to look at his. You could feel your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you looked at him. Thighs desperately mushing together. 

Your name. He called you by your name.

“Well, isn’t that a shame.” Jean said, pupils blown wide. His eyes were dark, scary, sinful. You’ve never seen Jean like this. “Do it properly.” His foot went back to the ground, and he lowered his head. Grabbing your face, “Please.” He whined. 

He whined that. 

Jesus Christ. 

You thickly swallowed, blinking at him. Tears pearling in your eyes with arousal, making them glassy in the moonlight. You just nodded your head, hesitantly bringing your hands together. Your towel pooling around your body. 

Jean’s head tilted to the side. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” 

You could feel your mind racing, what was going on? “Father Jean, I–” your mind drifted, “Are you going to tell Sister Mary about this?” You thickly swallowed, looking to the side. Your hands messing with your damp hair, “Because, she is going to–” 

“Should I?” Jean rested his face on his palm. Staring at you. Into you.

“No, you shouldn't. If she found out, I’d be–” 

“Then, maybe I should.” Jean scowled at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

Who were you talking to? This didn’t seem like Jean at all. What happened to the sweet Church priest who loved everyone? The one who seemed like he was always smiling. Suddenly, you could feel your eyebrows mush together. “Are you threatening me?”

Jean's expression remained, like he was disgusted with you. “Did you hear anything I said?” 

You glared at him, trying to ignore the burning sensation in your lower belly. A secret you pushed so far back after you accepted your new life, now bubbling back into your body. 

You loved being treated like this. 

You deeply inhaled, “I’ll ask you again, are you threatening me?” 

“Yes.” 

Your eyes widened, shocked by his bluntness. Before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Letting out a small giggle, “So, I guess there’s no reason for me to keep lying then.” You tilted your head, “I heard how much you want to fuck a girl.” You placed your hand on his tight, resting your head on the other one. Looking directly at his eyes, “Or, worship you, was the word. Correct me if I’m wrong.” 

Jean kept his blank expression, his hand pushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand slowly moving down to your throat, fingers skimming over it softly. As light as a feather. “You need to learn when to shut the fuck up, that mouth of yours is going to get in trouble.” 

You tilted your head, enjoying Jean’s hands on you. “I doubt it.” You whispered. Your gasped at his hand tightening around your throat, a small moan leaving your lips. 

Jean grimaced at you, “You really are a whore. Into disgusting things like this.” His eyes darkened, watching as your thighs moved together. “What would our God think?” He mocked. 

“You must be one lucky bitch.” You replied, eyes fluttering. You hummed thoughtfully, “I wonder what the church would think if that information got out?” You smiled at him, “I guess, you’re not the only one who wears a mask– you’re just like me.” You ran your hand further up his thigh, pupils blown. “You’re just another corrupt priest–” 

Your back hit the ground, knocking the wind out of you. Jean pinning you to the ground, his hand wrapped around your throat. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” He grit. 

You just giggled, letting your hands roam his chest. “Mm, keep talking. I love that tone in your voice.” You mocked, “Makes me want to see you on your knees, begging to fuck me.” 

Jean thickly swallowed, shaking his head as he tried not to smile. “Jesus, who would’ve thought one of the Nuns was such a whore.” He scowled.

You shrugged, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Eyes dipping down then up, looking at Jean’s prominent bulge. “You know you love it.” You lifted your leg, running your shin against his cock. “Tell me, how small are you? Men with tempers are all talk, no size.” You mocked.

Jean’s head dipped down to your neck, removing his hand, as he peppered your skin with kisses. “You want to get on your knees, and find out?” You did. He bit your shoulder, making you stifle a moan. “Ask me who I was thinking about.” 

You tilted your head to the side, fluttering your lashes. You didn’t want to know who Jean was lusting over, especially when you were lusting for Jean. It felt like a jab in the heart, something painful you didn’t want to hear. You asked anyway, “Who were you thinking about?” You slightly pulled away from him. 

Jean noticed, his eyes picking up on the glossy outline of yours. He softly smiled, before masking it again. He hated how he had a soft spot for you. “You.” He mumbled, pushing his knee in between your legs. Sucking on your neck lightly, “Since you’ve gotten here, all I could think about was fucking you until you cry.” Jean was to see you cry. “You don’t know how many times I’ve stayed up, praying to God– only to fuck my hand to the thought of you.” It was horrible. 

You couldn’t help, but feel your chest swell with pride. You ground your cunt against his leg, moaning out softly. “Really? You’re so gross.” You groaned, running a hand through his hair. Lifting your back off the ground as he trailed his hands around your bra. Desperately trying to find the clip. His lips attached to the exposed parts of your tits. 

Jean hummed out, nodding his head. “C’mon, lift those hips for me.” He groaned, “I want to feel you against my cock.” You moaned at his words. You watched as Jean tossed your bra to the side, grabbing your waist with one hand and bringing you against his hips. 

You could feel his cock. Holy shit. 

Jean laughed at your wide-eyes reaction, grabbing your hand while leaning towards your tits. Giving you some light placed kisses. “See, look how hard you make me.” He moaned against your skin, his hand guiding yours over his aching cock. Rubbing it through his pants. His free hand was placed over your lower stomach, pressing down on it slightly. “That’s going all the way inside you.” 

You shivered. Your pussy clenching around nothing. Ugh, why was he so hot? 

“You wish.” You mumbled, arching your back as his lips wrapped around your nipple. Eyes fluttering shut. “Your gross dick isn’t going anywhere near me.” You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him away from you. 

Jean darkly chuckled against your skin, pulling back and looking at the way you were laying on the floor. Hips pressed against his, rubbing against him nicely, arms near your chest, and hands softly pressing against him. “Your body’s sayin’ something else.” He pressed. He pressed his forearm to your hip, his fingers tracing over your panties. “But, if that's what you want.” He shrugged, “I don’t care.” 

“I don’t need to use my dick to make you cum.” 

Jean smiled, shaking his head. He pushed you away, making you land on your hands. Watching as pulled himself away from you, sitting on the fountain's ledge again, and unbuckling his belt, his hands undoing his pants. “You need to learn some manners.” He growled, “Let’s teach you a lesson.” 

Was he going to make you suck his cock? You could feel your mind race, eye fluttering at the thought alone. You just wanted to feel him inside you, whether that be your throat or..

I shouldn’t be doing this.. 

Jean’s hand reached into his pants, pulling out his thick cock. A huge one might you add. One of the biggest you've ever seen. Well, it was the only one you've ever seen. The tip flushed red, and was oozing with pre-cum. A vein traveling underneath the head of his cock, to the base. Your pussy clenched. That was going to go.. Inside you. All the way inside you. 

You scooted closer, placing your hands on his knees and opening your mouth. The palm of Jean’s hand went over your mouth, keeping you away. “Nu-uh, only good girls get to suck cock.” He mocked, pushing you away from him. “You need to learn some discipline.” 

You blinked at him, your eyes shining from the starry night. “H-huh?” You stupidly asked. Sitting on your heels, hands meeting together in your lap. “Discipline?...” You mumbled. 

Jean smiled, nodding his head. “Awh, that’s right. Discipline.” He moved his hand to the base of his cock, “What? Never heard of that word?” 

You watched his hand move up and down his cock, his throat straining. You hated the way every movement he did, transferred to you. Making your body hot with desire. Watching and hearing the way his hand glided over his cock in a fast rhythm. 

You wished you could remove the deep sweltering desire building within you. Maybe, feel Jean’s  hands over your body to help. Feeling his hand trail over your breast, your waist, neck, and near the throbbing sensation between your legs. That would calm down your sweltering body, right?

Fuck. Hopefully. 

Jean couldn't refuse someone begging for his touch, right? Begging him to fuck them? 

You crossed your legs, slightly squirming in place. Hot pants leaving your glossy lips as your eyes fluttered softly. Your legs awkwardly mushing together as a slick developed between them. Trying to ease the burning desire within you.

Jean’s eyes danced over your pathetic attempt to relieve yourself, his eyes going dark. Why the hell were you so sexy? He couldn’t hold it back, his throat constricting– a whiny 'fuuck..' leaving his glossy lips. 

You nearly lost it. The heat between your legs becoming painful. You couldn't help, but whimper. Would he at least let you draw shapes on your clit? Help with the desperation. You swallowed, feeling embarrassed from your thoughts–the whole situation. Your Priest fucking his hand in front of you, getting off on you watching him. 

Yeah.. This was a bad situation for you. Really bad. 

Despite the situation, Jean didn't stop. Just took a quick glance at you, before tilting his head back. Another scratchy groan leaving him, his Adam's apple bob slightly. Hot pants and strings of curses leaving his mouth every other second. 

God. 

"Ready for your punishment?" You blinked a few times, lips slightly parted as you mindlessly nodded. You felt yourself softly getting pulled closer to him. You slightly flinched once his free hand pushed your hair out of your face, feeling yourself become more jumpy in the situation. Every sensation is like fire against your skin. Everything felt so good.

So unbearably good.

Jean’s rather large hand pumping up and down his cock lewdly. "I have the perfect punishment in mind." He watched the way you squirmed. Slowly looking back at him, trying to ignore the thing you so desperately wanted to see. 

Jean had no shame, he wanted to see you squirm. Wanted to see you pant and look at him with desire. Hot fucking desire. Jean smiled mockingly at you, his dimples denting into his skin. "Ask me what it is." He persisted. You took your lip between your teeth. 

"What's my… punishment?" You asked with uncertainty. Sitting on your heels, and slightly arching toward him with anticipation. Eyes fluttering. 

Jean cupped your face, tilting it to look directly into his eyes. "You're going to sit there, look pretty, while I fuck my hand." He slightly sat up, grabbing the back of your head along with a handful of your hair. Seeing the way you slightly moaned as he pulled your head to his face, noses practically touching. "Alright, pretty girl?" You obediently nodded, awkwardly pulling your attention to his cock. Watching the way his hand moved. His other hand planted in your skull. You felt him bring your head down, bring you in front of his cock. 

Jean wanted to see you suck his cock so badly. See you struggle maybe even enjoy the way you couldn't deep throat him like he wanted you too. That wouldn't matter, he'd still force your head down. Seeing you gag and look up to him. 

Because, Jean was disgusting like that. He'd get off on your struggle, and a part of him says you'd enjoy it too. You softly moaned. Finding yourself naturally spreading your legs as you leaned forward. Your fingers moving to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. 

Jean fastened his pace. Finding himself getting closer. Which was a surprise for him. Although, with watching you play with your pussy, that more than likely played a part. You rolled your hips down into your fingers, groaning with frustration and pleasure. Jean's eyes never leaving your exposed form. 

Sucha’ cute Nun. His cute Nun. 

You bit your lip, finding no other way to react to the groans reaching your ears. Almost concealed by the water fountain behind him. But, oh no, you could still hear them, clear as the night sky. Almost as if he was right next to you, trying to sound as indecent as he could. A shaky exhale left you. 

Tears pearling around your eyes was throwing him near the edge. The way you were slightly begging with those round eyes of yours. So pure and innocent. You didn't even know what to do with yourself. You were just waiting for him to do something to you. While he got off to that thought alone. 

That thought alone made Jean realize how painfully horny he was for you. How much he wanted to grab you by your hips, and pressed your face into the floor while he fucked you. Seeing you squirm, and moan over his cock. Maybe, even praise you for taking him whole. 

But, this was a punishment, Jean reminded himself. But, he was still trying to get off. He just needed something to push him over the edge. His eyes flicked all over you. "Lay down." Your eyes peered at him. Your wet lashes fluttered, as you quickly obeyed. Your legs immediately clamped shut. Jean groaned with annoyance, grabbing your ankle and roughly pulling you towards him. Connecting the dots in your head.

You could feel your eyebrows mush together in confusion, picking your head off the ground. “Wait,” you muttered, watching as he pulled your panties to the side. Pressing kisses to your thighs, “I haven’t showered, I just out of the pool, and I’m like really—“ 

Jean's hand harshly gripped your face, your mouth covered with your palm. “Stop bitching,” he grumbled, “fuck, I’ve waited long enough.” You just blinked at him, nodding your head softly. He smiled at you, “Good,” he cooed. “Now, shut the fuck up, and take it.” 

You thickly swallowed, spreading your legs open for him. Jean just laughed at you, “Good job.”

You could feel your eyes roll with his tongue moving up your slit. “No. No, wait.” You shut your legs, thighs squeezing Jean. 

Jean loudly groaned, “What now?” 

“What’s up with you?” Suddenly your mind was coming together and questioning the situation. You were on your back, about to get eaten out by a priest. Not any priest, but the nicest man you’ve ever met. A guy who enjoyed speaking aloud to the church, taking confessions, and helping those who needed it.

That same guy was leaning over you, calling you filthy names while eating you out. Where did the other guy go? “I’m so confused, I thought you?—“ 

“Yeah, no. Don’t even start.” Jean cut you off, groaning with annoyance. “You wouldn’t believe how corrupt this place is.” He replied, “The only reason Eren isn’t here is, because he’s fucking Mikasa.” He lowered himself to your face, smiling at you mockingly. “Don’t tell me you fell for that fake bullshit, I thought you were better than that, Y/n.” He mocked. 

Jean’s eyes skimmed your form, as he felt his breath heat up. You shuttered as his fingers fluttered over your calf gently. Slowly moving up your leg close to the place you wanted it most. A soft moan leaving you, as your back arched. 

Jean laughed to himself, "Fuck. I've barely touched you, yet, look at yourself." He pulled his hand back, staring at you. Jean pressed his hand to your abdomen, tracing it teasingly. 

A small 'please.' Left you. You didn't even know what you were begging for. And, Jean knew that. "Please?" He mocked. Clearly amused. "Please what?" The way he said that, made your eyes flutter. So, breathy and laced with desire. 

"Touch me.." you meekly said. Embarrassment running through your body.

Jean shook his head, "Spread your legs." You blinked a few times, feeling that heat worsen– if that was possible. You slowly parted your legs, hearing the deep growl coming from Jean. Your eyes fluttered. "Good. Fuck– good job." 

You whimpered. Jean smiled to himself, he didn't know you were such a slut for praise. He finally lowered his hand to your clit. Rubbing his thumb over the nub slowly, with just the right amount of pressure. You could feel your belly starting to heat up.

You looked to the side, thinking back to what Jean said. “You’re just a liar.” A good one at that, you finally replied. “I guess I’d be a hypocrite to judge you, though.” 

“A hypocrite?” Jean asked, eyes glued to your face. Searching for your expression. Trying to see what you did, and didn’t like. He knew this was supposed to be a punishment, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Your eyebrows slowly knitted together, lips parting your tried to inhale. The sensation of Jean’s thumb, sending electric currents up your body. “Y-yeah, a hypocrite.” You lightly groaned. Jean was touching you, rubbing your sensitive clit while you moaned. You had to be dreaming. 

“Did you not want to be a Nun?” 

Why was he talking about this? “No, my–” You jolted, feeling his fingers pinch your clit. His lips wrapping around your nipple, his tongue running over it. “M-my parents forced m-me.” You could feel your legs twitch, tears pearling in your eyes. 

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god–oh god. Why does it feel so good?

Jean laughed, pressed a soft kiss to your tit. “Makes sense, I could hear your moaning all the way from my room when you masturbated.” He smiled seeing the way you tensed, his words seeping into your brain and connecting the dots. “You’re so loud, I’m sure the whole Church heard you.” 

You could feel your blood run cold. The warmth in your belly growing warm, why was that– hot?...

Jean’s dark eyes hardened, watching as you jolted when his fingers ever-so-slightly dipped into your hole. “What? Don’t tell me you thought you were being quiet.” He mumbled against your skin. Listening to you moan, he would do anything to fuck his cock with– something. He was so desperate for relief. 

“The amount of times I would just listen to you call my name in the middle of the night.. It’d have to have been hundreds.” You felt your body tense up, a string twisting in your stomach. “I would fuck my hand to the sound of your voice, listen and listen to your sinful voice. Wish I could see the way your fingers circled your clit, the faces you made when you came.” 

“I wanted to walk into your room, and be the one who made you feel good. I wanted to fuck you so bad..” Jean did everything in his power to control his thoughts at first, prayed, begged. For a moment he thought you were the devil with an apple taunting him, daring Jean to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. 

Until he decided… hell can’t be that bad, and it definitely can’t be eternal. And, hell– you were fucking worth it. He was going to savor each fucking bite.

Jean’s head tilted to the side, “And, I always wondered how you did it.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, “I wondered if you were thinking of me.” His voice was weirdly soft, making you look at him, noticing the way he towered over you. “Tell me, Y/n. Were you thinking of me when rubbing your sensitive pussy?” 

You shakily exhaled, unable to think. You thickly swallowed, choking over a moan, and tilting your head back. A long breath leaving you as Jean intently watched. Your innocent demeanor basically diminishing in-front of him. “Y-yes, I was thinking of you.. Jean.” 

It was perfect. So, fucking, satisfying. 

A sharp, 'hah!' Left you. Making it painfully aware you didn't know how to react to the new sensation. His hands tracing over your exposed skin, before grabbing your bra, pushing the fabric up slightly. Exposing more skin to his hungry eyes.  

You whimpered, and turned your face away, embarrassed by the eyes racking over your skin. Also, by the fact of how much you enjoyed it. Jean grabbed your cheeks with his index and thumb, bringing your face to his eyes. 

“Don’t look away, I want you to watch this.” You felt your lip quiver as you looked down, seeing what Jean was doing. You could a pair of hands trail over your stomach to your upper back, unclipping the back bra you wore. Revealing your bare breasts to him. The perky buds hardening under the cool air. His tongue rolled around them, your eyebrows scrunching together in return. 

"God! Hah!" You choked over a moan, the sensation becoming too much for you. Jean laughed. 

"God?" Jean questioned mockingly, grabbing the back of your neck, and raising you towards him. "I'm not a god.” He said, his voice laced with amusement. “I'm fucking Jean Kirstien. You better not be calling out anything, but that." You groaned, nodding your head feverishly.

"Yes! J-jean!" You gasped, feeling his hand tighten around your throat. 

Jean groaned, biting in his lip. "Such a slut." He harshly spat. His hand left your throat and reached for your lips, pushing two fingers into your mouth. You gag initially before closing your mouth around them, your tongue rolling against it. "Suck." You quickly obeyed. Jean felt his eye twitch, as well as his cock. How were you so sexy? He pulled his hand back, removing his fingers from your mouth, and wiping your spit on your cheek. 

Your eyes rolling back lewdly, as you tried to refuse the feeling of tossing your head back. Your legs spread impossibly wider, making his eyes snap to your entrance. Moving his fingers faster. You arched your back. 

Your pussy was fluttering on nothing, begging to be stuffed. Jean continued to pump his cock, sucking in a groan as you moaned without care. He was so close. If only he could taste you. Run his tongue over your entrance before going to your clit. Glancing up at you to see your reaction. 

You’d probably tear up, try to push him away as he grabbed your hips and forced you to stay put. Pinning you down, and just hearing you cry out about how it was– too much. He wouldn’t care, just continue rolling his tongue around your sensitive bud. Maybe, pump his fingers in and out of your entrance.

You took a deep breath, eyes shutting and rolling to the back of your head. A mantra of babbles leaving your mouth, “Ohgod, fuck. I’m– hah!–” you could feel yourself tighten around nothing, desperate to be filled.  

God, Jean was losing his goddamn mind. He couldn’t help, but fuck his hand, hips bucking at the sound of your voice. Fingers moving your clit in circles, trying to follow your pace. Trying to imagine it was him inside of you, feel the way you’d suck him into you. 

"Please, God– Jean." You softly begged. "I feel weird..." you stated. 

That was a tipping point for him. The slutty words leaving your mouth were shooting straight to his cock. You were such a slut like this. Such a fucking saint. The perfect in between.

Jean wasn't complaining in the least. "How slutty of you?" He questioned. But you didn't care. For once you felt so good. So incredibly good. The fact that Jean was watching was even better, you didn’t know how but it was. 

You choked on a moan, nodding your head. Hearts filling your eyes as you spoke. "Yes! Anything!" Your pussy in plain sight for his viewing pleasure. Loving every second. That tipped him over.

You wrapped your arms around Jean’s shoulders, pulling him close to you. You lips right next to his ear, releasing profanities. Jean could feel his mind melt with your words, “Oh my god, Jean! S’it s’good.” You cried, tears falling down your face. Jean kissed the corner of your eyes, before running his tongue over the wet stream. A laugh leaving his throat. 

Yeah, there was no way you weren’t cumming around his thick cock. 

Jean’s fingers pulled away, and you immediately whined, wanting the sensation to come back. “Wait, wait, don’t stop..” You pleaded, reaching for his hand. Trying to get him to continue. 

“Shh, don’t worry.” He cooed, “It’s only for a second.” His hand went to his cock, pressing the head to your entrance. “Hold me.” 

You slowly took a deep breath in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him close. Shutting your eyes as he pushed himself inside you. You could feel tears brimming your eyes from the stretch, a pain– and pleasure shooting through your body. A pained whimper leaving you.

Jean just held you closer, “S’it okay, it’s okay. I got you, I got you.” He whispered reassuringly, pulling his head back to kiss you, his tongue tracing yours. You moaned into him, melting against his body, His hips rolling into yours. Jean stifled a groaned, “Fuck, you feel s’good, Y/n.” 

You could feel his dick slowly inch inside you, pushing your lips apart. Bullying his fat head inside your small hole, stretching around his size. A small whine leaving your throat, his hips meeting the fat of your ass. He tried staying still, letting you adjust to his size. But, God was really testing his patience. 

This was the very thing Jean had been dreaming of. 

You couldn’t breathe. Filled to the brim with Jean’s fat cock, it felt like it was in your throat. But, it felt so, so good. Being filled like never before, his cock hitting all the spongy spots deep inside you. Spots even you couldn’t reach. You gasped, “J-Jean, it hurts– feels so–” 

“Good?” He cut off, pressing kisses to your neck. “You can do this, Y/n. Promise.” His nose caressed your neck, “Be good for me, yeah?” You shut your eyes, and meekly nodded your head, pushing your face in his neck. “Can I move?” 

You nodded. 

Jean smiled, his eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” he whined, “I’ve been waiting too long for this.” His hips pulled back, before pushing forward. His head getting thrown back back from the pleasure shooting through his body. Making his mind hault. Your pussy was so tight and warm, so desperate to have his cum inside of you. 

You immediately arched your back, your toes curling at the pleasure. Your mind blanking as you loudly moaned, your pussy stretching around his cock. Sucking him back into you, “Holy fuck, holyfuck..” You babbled, unable to think. 

Jean’s hands went to your waist, gilding you to move up and down his cock. Your slick, lubing him up, and allowing him to enter with ease. Almost like you were made to milk his cock. His eyes went to your stomach, seeing as it pressed against your belly. How cute. 

Your hands reached for his shirt, gripping onto it as Jean pressed his hips into you. Going in and out, at a slow rate. Savoring every whine, cry, moan, and gasp that left your mouth. Your pussy clenching around him once Jean hit that spongy spot of yours.

You groaned, tossing your head to the side. “Hah!” 

Jean licked your neck, “You like that spot?” He asked, but as expected– didn’t get a response. Your stupid, fucked out head probably couldnt register a thing he was saying. Awh, poor baby. You need him to dumb it down for you. “Here?” He asked, jutting his hips to hit your sweet spot. 

You cried, tears falling down your cheeks. Your lips swollen from biting on them. Jean smiled to himself, “Yeah, right here.” He hit it again, watching as your legs tightened around his waist. Almost a silent way of telling him to stop. 

There was no way in hell he was stopping. 

Jean wanted to see you sob in pleasure. 

Jean grabbed your ankle, lifting it to his shoulder. Placing his hand on your other thigh, and pressed it to the ground, allowing him to go deeper inside you. A groan leaving his mouth from how fucking amazing you felt. Electricity shook up his body with every thrust into you. His swollen tip hitting inside you perfectly, making him whine. You just felt so, so good. 

Jean never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay like this forever. Fuck his cum into your abused pussy until you couldn’t help but cry with pleasure. Tears falling down your cheeks as you weakly gripped onto Jean, desperate to ground yourself. But, even more desperate to cum again. 

Jean pressed his lips together, trying to conceal his moans. Which only muffled them, his hips pressing into yours as he gripped your waist tighter. Moans trying to escape his closed lips, making them even whiner, than before. His lips parted, “I feel so good,” he groaned, “Fuck, you make me feel so good.” 

Jean’s hands went to the back of your thighs, folding them into you. “Oh god, fuck yes,” he moaned. Pounding his cock into you, making sure to hit all your favorite spots. He looked at you, seeing as you rolled your eyes back. “I’m hitting all your favorite spots, huh?” He groaned. 

You just nodded, head lollying to the side. Unable to hold it up, your mind swirling with nothing, but thoughts of his cock deep inside you. His moans filling your ears, with wines and cries. No thought put behind them, just pure pleasure. Your body jolting with every thrust of his hips. 

 Fuck, you needed this. You wouldn’t be able to go another day without this in your life. 

“Oh my–” you could feel your throat constrict, your heart speeding up as your vision went white. “Fuck, ohmygod– I’m– so close!” You tried breathing, but you couldn't. 

Jean chuckled to himself, “No, not yet.” He cooed, looking into you. Only to see your non-vacant eyes. He couldn’t help, but laugh again. “Awh, look at those fucked out eyes. Not a single thought behind them, huh?” He pulled out, “You just want my dick, huh?” 

Jean turned you around, forcing your face to the ground. “C’mon babe, don’t tell me you’re already tapping out.” You meekly shook your head, pushing your pussy back on his cock. Eyes rolling with every thrust. “Atta’ girl,” He praised. 

You felt your lips wiggle, tears falling down your face. Too much, it was way too much! That coil from before, building in your stomach again, getting tighter and tighter. Jean could notice by how tight you were clenching around him, your gummy walls pulling him back into you. 

“Awh, am I hitting all your favorite little spots, over and over again? Does it really feel that good?” Jean mocked, feeling his balls tighten. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last much longer like this. His hand wrapped around your body, circling your clit again. Hearing the way you groaned, your mind melting with overwhelming pleasure. “You feel your belly getting warm?” 

“Y-Yes!” Oh my god, you were going to cum. It almost felt different, like you couldn’t stop it from happening. Forcing it way through your body, your ears ringing. 

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, babe. I’m not stopping, I’m not stopping.” He cooed, watching as you went slack. Your legs wobbling, as your arms caved in. Squirting over his cock, wetting his abdomen. Jean couldn’t help, but feel his eyes go wide. Watching you come, not bothering to stop his thrust. Only making your pussy twitch. 

Your body went slack, about to fall to the floor when Jean caught you. Laugh at your pathetic state, “Babe, did it really feel that good?” He mocked, continuing to fuck you. You could feel your pussy burning with pleasure, it was almost overwhelming– fuck that, it is overwhelming.

You could feel your mind screaming to pull away, your body aching with soreness. Jean’s hands going to your shoulders, pulling you back on his cock. Making his thrust deeper and harder than before. Hitting that spongy spot with more power. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. Just lay down, and take my fat cock.” 

You didn’t even have the power to object, your mind was just high on pleasure. 

“Oh god, fuck, Y/n I’m gonna’ cum.” Jean moaned into your shoulder, his thrust turning erratic. “W-where do you want it?” His dick was coated with your slick, a ring located at the base of his cock. Evidence of your actions with him. 

You weren’t even thinking when you said it, “Inside.” You groaned back, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could feel your mind blank again, body tensing. 

Jean felt his throat constrict for a moment, “Oh fuck, oh fuck..” He moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head while he pushed his hips into you. Hot ropes of white cum, seeping inside your overstimulated pussy. “Fuck.” He groaned, closing his eyes and collecting his breath. Slowly lowering you to the ground. Then, finally pulling out of you. 

Watching as his cum leaked out of you. 

Jean just smiled to himself, running his hands over his face. He tilted his head to the side, peering at you. “Babe, you okay there?” You gave him a weak thumbs up, one that made him laugh. “Alright..” He dismissed, looking at the Church, and seeing how all the lights were off. 

It was going to be a bitch, and a half to get back inside. 

You rested on your back, your eyes blinking slowly. Jean went to lay next to you, looking at the shimmering sky above. Holding your hand, not before quickly removing his shirt and placing it on you. Trying to give you something to cover yourself. 

“The sky’s pretty.” You quietly said, leaning into Jean. Eyes blinking at the endless cosmos, observing the beautiful scenery. You never got to look at it, being trapped inside the church at night. 

“Yeah, the moon’s beautiful.” Jean responded, wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “This is nice.” He whispered in your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “I didn’t mean the things I said, I think I was just horny.” He said with a laugh.

You giggled, moving closer to him. “Your brain went– Y/n, must fuck, now.” You smiled, wrapped your arms around his torso. Still slightly sore from your previous activities. You wondered how sore you would be when you woke up. 

Jean groaned, “Uhg, I hate that.” He laughed, “I have so much confessing to do after this.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer to him. “But, it was worth it.” Jean smiled, the smile you came to utterly adore. “You’re worth it.” 

You rested your head on his chest. “You are too.” 

“You want to sleep with me tonight?” He asked, pushing back off the ground and pulling you up with him. Picking you up like a princess, a small yelp leaving you. “I’ll promise to massage your back in the morning.” 

You looked to the sky, pretending to think, while wrapping your arms around his neck. Crossing one leg over the other, “Will you also massage my legs?” You stretched your foot out, feeling it cramp.

“Of course,’” Jean responded, pressing his lips gently across yours. Walking through the maze. Searching for the exit, which he found surprisingly fast. “I’ll even fuck you stupid again, if you want.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t. I think my body needs a break after that.” You pressed your finger to his nose, smiling to yourself. “Just get me to a soft bed, and I’ll be fine for the night.” You rested your head in his chest, yawning quietly. “I’m so tired.” You whispered. 

Jean smiled back, his dimples prominently shining at you. “Fine, but next time I’m eating you out.” He sang, twirling around with you in his arms. 

You shook your head, smiling sweetly. “Deal.” 

Ugh, you literally loved him so much. Why’d he have to be so perfect.

⊹ † ༻✦༺ † ༻✧༺ † ༻✦༺ † ⊹ 

[hannahmanderr]

ACTUALLY WAIT I ASKED FOR DANNY AND DAMON SO I ALSO HAVE TO ASK FOR VALERIE AND JACK AND MADDIE to make it fair 😌

(affectionately calling this Duly Deputized Hunting)

part 1 ~ part 2 ~ part 3

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

"So!" Jack clapped his hands together, nearly making Valerie jump from the sound. "I bet Danny told you all about the Fenton EctoScrambler, huh? Did you want a demonstration? I mean yeah, we're not using actual ghosts as test subjects anymore of course, but we can still -"

"That's okay!" Valerie said, throwing her hands up with a kind smile. "I already heard about it from Danny." That was a lie, but hopefully neither Fenton parent would pick up on her fidgety fingers and bouncing leg.

She would lose whatever nerve she'd gathered before coming here if she got sidetracked now.

Maddie, thank God, could see the somewhat unrestrained panic in her eyes. She laid a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder. "Honey, let's not overwhelm her. I'm sure I heard Danny say something about demonstrating it to her later this week." Valerie relaxed and met Maddie's eyes. A knowing twinkle glimmered behind the older woman's irises, a twinkle that carried the experience of taming her husband's energetic zeal. "You said you had something to ask us on the phone?"

And just like that, Valerie's heart rate skyrocketed again. She picked at the edge of her sweater, desperately wishing she had something to tinker with. "Yeah. I mean, yes. Only if that's okay, of course." She nearly smacked her forehead. Way to play it cool, Gray.

"Of course!" Jack said with a hearty laugh. "Why wouldn't it be okay? You're practically family! Danny's brought you 'round often enough, you should know that by now." He shot an exaggerated wink to Valerie as Maddie gasped "Jack!" and nudged him in the arm.

Valerie's face flushed warm, though strangely not from Jack's teasing. You're practically family echoed in her mind, sending an electric warmth down her spine and across her whole body.

It wasn't as though Jack and Maddie had never accepted her. Far from it, in fact; they'd been ecstatic to finally discover that the famed Amity Park Huntress was, in fact, one of their son's classmates, and his girlfriend at that. Jack in particular had been thrilled that there were more from the "younger generations" interested in taking up ghost hunting.

And both of them had supported her ceaselessly. They'd sponsored a paid internship for her the moment she'd gotten her high school diploma. Helped navigate her out of her contract with Vlad. Continued to provide her with whatever tech and repairs she needed, even after her internship technically ended. Designed gear specially for her.

It was more than she could've ever dreamed. After Danny had told her about how rough it had been getting them to let him keep up with his ghost fighting after they learned of his secret ("Of course I'm grateful they don't hate me," he'd told her, "I just wish they could be slightly less overbearing with their love."), she'd expected them to stick her with lectures about the dangers of the job and how she should be leaving such risky endeavors to the grown-up professionals.

She couldn't have been happier to have had her expectations blown out of the water.

"It means so much to hear you say that," she said, her voice beginning to tremble with emotion. Darn it, keep it together girl! "You two have done so much for me and taken me under your wing, and you've gotten nothing in return."

Maddie scoffed. "Don't be silly." She took the hand on Jack's shoulder and reached across his lap to lay it on top of Valerie's. The kind smile on Maddie's face nearly melted her heart all over again. "Not only have we gotten to see our Danny happier than he's ever been, getting to spend his time with you, but we've gotten to see you grow into a bright, beautiful young lady. That alone is entirely worth it." Jack nodded eagerly beside her.

Now the tears were truly threatening to fall, and Valerie Gray did not cry. She sniffed and took a deep breath. "These past years with Danny, getting to know you and Jazz and be a part of your family, they've been the best of my life. I know Daddy wasn't exactly keen on letting me hang out here too much at first, but he knows this whole family cares about me almost as much as he does.

"And I care about you too. I seriously can't even begin to describe everything you've done for me. I didn't even need to ask; you just did it." Another sniffle. "It's like you somehow knew what I needed before I even asked."

Maddie's smile faltered just slightly. "Well," she said slowly, "I wouldn't say that was entirely the case..."

"It was Danny," Jack said. "We wanted to help you, of course, but he was the one to tell us exactly what you needed. Kid was always fretting about how you wouldn't accept the help if it came from him, but he just loved you so much. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you."

Valerie's breath caught in her throat. "Danny..." she whispered.

God, she was going to strangle that boy the next time she saw him. And then kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

Breathe girl. In and out. "He's... he's done so much for me too. I wouldn't be who I am without him." In and out. "I can't imagine my life without him." In and out. "I don't think I want to live life without him."

Maddie jolted upright. "Oh my..." she breathed. "Are you saying...?"

"Yes." The tears were falling uncontrollably now, but Valerie's smile felt like it could split her face. "Yes, I absolutely am."

"What?" Jack looked back and forth between the two women. "What's she saying? What are you saying?"

Maddie had started crying too, clutching Valerie's hand in one of her own and Jack's with the other. "She wants to join our family," she said through her own tears.

"Really? That's what this is all about? Well heck, what's all the fuss for then? Like I said, you're already part of the family, Val!"

In spite of herself, Valerie giggled. "No, no," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm saying... I'm saying I want to spend every day with Danny. I want to be a part of his life forever, and I want him to be part of mine. I want to get to share you as parents, and Jazz as a sister. I don't care what might happen, I just know I want me and Danny to face it, together, for the rest of our lives.

She took another deep breath. "I'm asking for your blessing to ask Danny to marry me."

Valerie suddenly found herself engulfed by the warm embrace of two sobbing Fenton parents.

Soon to be her parents too.

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

part 2 here

[allyymcl]

—𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗟, serie

—pairing; castiel veilmont x f!reader

—genre; fluff.

—warnings; kissing?? lol and maybe suggestive stuff ig

—a/n; this is going to be like a "serie", so i'm going to do the boys separately.

∙.• ◦ ━ 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗟 𝗩𝗘𝗜𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧

♡; 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔?

kisses with castiel are passionate.

his kisses are destabilizing, wrapped in passion and a slight desire. It's the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more, seeking his lips once they part, shooting you a smirk, before attacking your lips again with almost the same intensity. he takes you by the waist so gently that everything is confusing once he kisses you, skillfully moving his lips, intoxicating you with new, interesting sensations. fingers combing through his hair, his grip firming as her arm wraps around your waist seeking to bring you closer. you never get enough of it.

♡; 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅?

♡;lips. traditional, but he loves it. he just likes the way jus lips feel on top of his, and the way you tangle his hair between your finger, playing with it and making him feel relaxed.

♡;shoulders. DAMNN. this boy LIVES for shoulder kisses. usually, likes to walk around the apartment without shirt, so the exact moment you subtly approach from behind him, and wrap your arms protectively around his waist while leaving a soft stretch of kisses from his shoulder to his neck, he completely melts under your touch.

♡;jawline. do i even need to explain it?? he literally thinks is the most hottest thing in the world. the way you gently bury your head into his neck, brushing your lips over his skin until you gently kiss his jaw, dangerously close to her lips but not an actual kiss yet. he likes the intimacy of the moment, and the closeness. he can hold your waist with his hands as you sit on his lap, crossing your arms behind his neck as he feels your soft lips seductively run over his jaw, what cand be better than that??

♡; 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

♡;forhead. He LOVES IT, thinks is so cute. the way he gently strokes your hair, brushing strands of it behind your ears and then plants a loving kiss on your forehead, makes him look at you like you are the cutest creature in the whole planet. especially when you gently close your eyes, and smile at the way he delicately caresses your face. hes just so in love.

♡;neck. OMGG. he loves the way you squirm under his touch once his lips leave a warm trail of kisses that starts on your jaw and ends near your collarbone. the way your skin crawls at his touch. above all, he usually gives them to you when you are cuddled up, and takes the opportunity to bury his head in the crook of your neck, and leave tender kisses there.

♡;back of your hand. BYE IT SO CUTE. usually when they are driving and your hand casually intertwines with his, is when he takes the opportunity to stretch it and leave a soft kiss in the palm of it. on the other hand, he also likes it when you two are in public. castiel is not very demonstrative when there are people around, so he likes a discreet display of affection, such as peaking the palm of your hand briefly. he also likes the way your face lights up when he does it.

♡; 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔?

once in a while. especially when they are alone, and cuddling. either watching a movie, before going to sleep, or maybe when saying goodbye. in special occasions too. he doesnt feel the need of being all over you all the time, but sometimes when he feels like playing, likes to steal you a kiss.

[moorishflower]

aulon raid (Hob/Dream)

this is a fic about worship and wanting to beat the shit out of nazis

it's inspired by Bishop Marcellus of Apamea and those twitter posts about the guy in the crust punk bar

Sometimes, and especially around holidays, when the University is quiet and bereft of students, Hob tends the bar at The New Inn.

Dream sits and watches him, how he moves so easily from patron to patron; conversation comes to him as naturally as breathing. He does not think it of himself, but Hob Gadling is a born storyteller, a man whose mere presence evokes memory and description.

A young woman with mascara smeared in runny lines beneath her eyes drinks shot after shot of tequila and tells the story of her now-ex-boyfriend while Hob leans across the bar, the rakish line of his spine and hips and buttocks at odds with his concerned expression. When she orders another drink, Hob touches her hand and murmurs something inaudible. She shakes her head, and he repeats it, insistent, and finally she relents. This story has a happy ending, Dream knows – she does not try to drive herself home. She avoids a car accident that would have left her sunk so deep in the Dreaming she would never wake.

Two men in their fifties order cosmopolitans – they knock their shoulders together, they laugh, they lean their heads close. Hob brings them their drinks, and one man raises his left hand to show off the ring on his finger. Hob is interested, lively, congratulatory; the man tells the story of how he and his new husband met, thirty years prior. It’s full of in-jokes and hidden, meaningful glances, of love sought in dark times, watching friends die, lovers die. Hob is sympathetic. “I remember,” he says, and both husbands laugh. “Really! I’m older than I look. I got my father’s good genes.”

This story also has a happy ending. These men are married. They have passed through dark shadows into bright sunlight, and will live the rest of their natural lives together. It is a story that might never have been told aloud but for The New Inn, a mixed drink, a friendly ear.

This place is a temple, Dream thinks. This place is a monument to human experience which Hob raised from dust and sorrow, shrouded the bones of his regrets in the living-skin of storytelling. He built this temple for Dream.

He sits at the bar and watches Hob go about his work. It has been several months since he set foot in this place for the first time, a warm summer day, a reunion, a friendship. “A hundred years, then?” Hob had asked, and Dream does not profess to truly read the minds of men, but even in that single sentence he had heard the trepidation.

“I have been told,” he’d said, “that friends meet more often than once a century.”

Once a year, he had thought. Perhaps more often, if Hob were amenable to visits in his dreams. How quickly that had changed – Hob is passionate, ebullient, he pours joy into every room in which he treads. Once a month had become twice, and then once a week. Come over for lunch, he’d said. Come over for tea. Do you like McVitie’s?

People dream of tea, of biscuits, the intimate ceremony of sharing a drink with a friend. Hob demonstrated for him how to dunk the chocolate digestives into his tea, and Dream did not tell him that he sees the long, unspooling thread of time stretching out before and behind them, that tea is a far more ancient thing than even Hob, that he has personally witnessed countless dreams of nearly this exact act performed by monarchs, celebrities, poets.

He watched Hob hold the biscuit in a delicate thumb and forefinger grip, and found it special because it was Hob.

If Dream be the Prince of Stories (and he is, and shall be, forever), then this, surely, is the happy ending: a bar built in his name, a tale uttered in his presence, a friend setting a drink before him and smiling. He has dwelt so long in the dark that even this simple kindness seems outrageous. More than once he has felt a too-familiar sting in his eyes.

Hob has never once begrudged him.

“All right, Dream?”

Hob is there when he looks up, his head ducked down to try and see under the fall of Dream’s hair, his eyes soft and concerned. It is nearly eleven o’clock, and Hob’s relief does not come until one; he looks tired, but no less friendly for it.

The thought sidles into Dream, a quiet thief, a cat at midnight: I want to kiss him. He wants to kiss the rough-stubbled cheek and the expressive lips, touch his tongue to the chapped spot on the lower where Hob has nipped himself raw, he wants to put his hands in soft clean hair and tilt his head back and drink all the gentle sounds he suspects Hob will make, sighs and groans and lustful exultations.

He takes the shot that is being offered. He sips it, because it is polite, and because it pleases Hob, whose expression is moved from concern to an aching soft fondness.

“Listen,” he says. “I know you keep your secrets, and that’s fine. More than fine. Just knowing your name is more than I ever thought I’d get. But if you want to talk, about anything…I’m here. For you.”

Dream is not a god, but nevertheless, in this temple built in his honor, he has been a cruel god. His most earnest and honest worshiper has gone six-hundred years not even knowing to whom he has prayed. Again, he feels the wanting, to kiss Hob across this bar, to whisper ardent forgive mes into his pleasing mouth. I will be different, he could say. I am already different.

The drink is sweet, spicy, warming. He licks his lips and chases the taste of cinnamon and almond, is surprised to find the rest of the shot is already gone. Hob looks terribly smug.

“Cinnamon toasty,” he says, and Dream pages through a narrow sea of dreams, warming drinks had with friends, winter holidays, the clink of glasses. Schnapps and amaretto. “It’s simple, but lovely for this time of year.”

Inside, The New Inn is warmth and comfort. At some point he will return to the Dreaming, where memories of snow have made themselves at home in a thick blanket over the palace grounds. For now, he gazes up at Hob and thinks of supplication; his wanting covers him like a dense winter jacket. He would lay this man out on the altar he has built, and in full sight of all other adherents he would profess him holy. He would kiss the center of his forehead, he would anoint him in the oils of this temple: water, sugar, hops, words and words and words.

The front door opens, and Hob is staring at him, his eyes first squinting, and then widening. More than a hundred years of nothing but his own reflection, and Dream has fallen out of the practice of mimicking human expression. Something must show in his countenance, and it sends a pang through him like a bare foot on broken glass, sudden, sharp, unwanted.

A person sits beside him at the bar, and Hob blinks, and his gaze skirts aside. Dream forces himself to affect breathing, and finds it, absurdly, comforting. To hone on the simple mechanical action of lungs and throat and nostrils.

“No,” Hob says. Dream refocuses, watches Hob sway back from the bartop, affront creeping across his face, disdain stealing through his mouth. He is not looking at Dream, but at the man who has sat beside him. “Get out.”

“Hey, I’m not doing anything. I’m a paying customer.”

“Don’t care. I said out, now.” There is thunder in his voice. There is an old and scarred-over hatred. There is anger. Hob reaches for a baseball bat that leans against the wall behind the bar, and Dream has never considered its use before, but now he understands.

In ancient dreams he has watched the destruction of a temple, a Bishop stood apart, waiting to pass judgment. He has watched this man committed to the fire by the very pagans he sought to subjugate. He has felt their fervent belief, he knows the shape of what they would do to defend their temple, their gods, their holy words.

Hob lifts the bat an inch higher, and the man gets up from his seat. His arms are lifted in defiance; Hob is broad-shouldered, straight-backed, his forearms are corded in muscle and there is the white line of a scar on his cheek from a longsword that has long since crumbled to dust, and yet Hob still remains. His hair is tied back in a small bun; he is filled with righteous fury.

“Fuck you,” the man is shouting. The two husbands have huddled together at the other end of the bar. The girl who will live tonight, and tomorrow night, and hundreds of nights after, has gotten up and moved closer to the door. “Everywhere else is closed, I just wanted a drink. Fucking fag lover bar. Not worth my money. Fuck you.”

“Get the fuck out,” Hob says, and the bat comes up, and he starts to step around the bar. He crackles with an energy that only Dream sees, but is easily felt by all who’ve set foot in this holy place. It is restrained violence, devout intensity, it’s faith.

The man leaves, shouting and swearing. His dreams are petty, arrogant things for a petty and arrogant man – tonight he will visit Dream’s kingdom and find nothing waiting for him but nightmares. So it goes.

Hob leans the bat against the wall. He pushes back a lock of hair that has fallen into his eyes, his bun come just a bit undone, messy and loose when he slides back in front of Dream.

“Sorry,” he says, “you had to see that. I swear, there’s more and more of them every year.”

“Them?”

Hob tilts his head towards the door. “Dunno if you saw his vest. Iron crosses, sig runes. Just a load of nazi shit. Hate that I have to devote part of my brain to remembering all their stupid little secret symbols.”

The husbands are bent close together again, talking quietly. The girl with the mascara has stepped outside; she is calling a cab. Hob is once again focused on him, wholly, irrefutably.

“You have to kick them out right away,” he says, musing. “It’s always a nice one at first, and you don’t want to cause a scene. And if you let them become a regular, then they bring a friend who isn’t so bad. At first. Then the friend brings friends, and they bring friends. And suddenly you’re a nazi bar, and they outnumber you.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet, tucking his thumbs into the band of his jeans. Soft blue denim. A shirt for a football team that Dream does not care to recognize. He has gone sweet and soft once more, no hint of the reddened anger, the offense at the liberties that man had dared to take.

“You would defend this place so ardently?” Dream asks. He feels his voice like the rumble of a volcano. There is a fire in him, stoking higher and higher; he yearns, he wants, he turns towards Hob as mankind once turned towards the divine. “At the risk of injury to yourself?”

Hob tugs at his ear, a familiar gesture. His cheeks are flushed, Dream notes. He feels the edges of a daydream creep along the edges of himself – soft hair as black as midnight, a pale mouth opened in a gasp, a voice in his ear: You need not have come to my defense.

“Can’t die, remember?” Hob’s hand falls back to his side. He looks, suddenly, nervous. “Besides. Can’t have you visiting me in a bar full of nazis. Last thing I wanted when I built this place for you.”

And there it is, so plainly spoken that it hurts to think about. This place for you. This temple of stories, this pagan tribute, this venerated hall.

“Hob,” he says, and the man leans forward, his nervousness becoming concern at the shake in Dream’s voice, the resonating burr.

He reaches across the bar and grabs a fistful of Hob’s shirt. It is an easy thing to drag him forward, to stand up on the tips of his toes to give himself the best leverage, and Dream leans over the empty shotglass and finds the mouth that blesses him. He wants to climb atop this bar and drag Hob down onto him, wants to feel the heavy figure ground him in earthly delight. He wants to have Hob kneeling in front of him, he wants to kneel, he wants to take Hob inside his body, he wants to consecrate this place with the severity of his longing.

He settles for a kiss, for slotting his mouth to Hob’s mouth, the rough chapped patch, the warm scent of his breath, a hand cupped to Hob’s cheek against day-old stubble. He sweeps his tongue through and tastes devotion – it tastes like almonds, sweet and subtle. 

At the other end of the bar the husbands erupt in claps and whistles, and Hob draws away, his eyes wide and dark, his lips reddened.

“I’m,” he starts to say and his voice croaks. He tries again. “I am so sorry, everyone, but we’ve got to close early. Maintenance reasons. Right.”

“Looks like the maintenance has been a long time coming,” one of the husbands says. They’re finishing their drinks, they are standing to leave, they are looking at each other with unconcealed affection and no small amount of lust. Tonight, they will dream of each other. Tomorrow, they will tell the story of two young men in a bar, the flush of new love, of one coming to the defense of the other. He feels it like a pleasant bruise, a story about him.

“Dream,” Hob says. The name is benediction in his mouth. Traversing around the bar will take far too much time. Dream hoists himself up onto the bartop, sending the shotglass spinning away, and Hob is laughing, “You lunatic, I haven’t wiped it down yet, it’s sticky.”

He doesn’t care. In this hallowed place, this blessed temple of song, Dream pulls Hob closer and finds his mouth once more, wraps his arms around the strong shoulders, gets his hands into the remains of the messy bun and pulls it into loose silk over his fingers.

Hob tells the story of them with mouth and tongue and fingers tripping over bare skin, and Dream, worshiped, worshiping, listens.

[cherryrainn]

Sorry to hear your drafts were deleted, that's awful :( You're going to do great writing more stories, and it's going to be great to read them!

I'd love to request something if possible. Would a Lackadaisy platonic story of Ivy Pepper x fem!reader be possible? I'd love one of a reader pianist looking to write a song on piano and asks Ivy for her opinion on the progress overtime until it's finished. I hope that's okay and I hope writing stays fun foe you <3

aaa!! thank you for the request luv, ivy is my absolute fav <3 and thank you for your super kind words, i'll never stop writing... hope. anyway, i hope this is what you wanted!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— rhapsody of reflection

ivy pepper x female pianist reader (platonic)

the warm afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of the lackadaisy speakeasy, casting a soft and inviting glow over the vintage furniture and the lively atmosphere. in a cozy corner of the room, you sat at the piano, your fingers dancing gracefully over the keys as you composed a new melody. your passion for music was evident in the way your eyes sparkled with each note you played.

as you lost yourself in the creative process, a familiar figure entered the room. ivy pepper, the embodiment of spirited confidence, sauntered over with her signature blend of charisma and playfulness.

"well, well, if it isn't the musical prodigy herself. whatcha cookin' up tonight, pianist?"

you glanced up with a smile, appreciating ivy's energetic spirit. "hey, ivy. yeah, i'm trying to come up with a new song. i thought maybe you could give me your opinion as it progresses?"

ivy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "you want my expert ear, huh? well, i guess i could grace you with my opinion. but don't expect me to hold back if i think something needs fixing."

with a chuckle, you nodded. "deal. i could use some honest feedback."

over the following weeks, you continued to refine your composition, playing it for ivy every few days. she'd listen intently, her eyes focused on your fingers as they danced over the keys. she'd offer suggestions and insights, helping you mold the piece into something even more beautiful.

"hey, in that section there, why not switch up the rhythm?" ivy suggested during one session, tapping her foot to the beat. "give it a bit more punch, you know?"

you followed her advice, altering the rhythm as she demonstrated. the change brought a new dynamic to the melody, and you exchanged a grin of mutual satisfaction.

as time went on, ivy's insights proved invaluable. she had a knack for identifying the emotional core of your music and suggesting changes that elevated the piece to new heights. you couldn't deny that her fiery personality was a perfect match for the creative process.

one afternoon, after many sessions of sharing your progress with ivy, you felt that the song was finally complete. with a mix of excitement and nervousness, you sat down at the piano and played the entire composition from start to finish. as the last note hung in the air, you looked up at ivy, your heart racing.

ivy leaned against the piano, her expression thoughtful. for a moment, she seemed lost in her own world, listening to the echoes of the music. then, a slow smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes. "you did it, y/n. you really did it. this... this is something special."

you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and happiness. "thanks, ivy. i couldn't have done it without you."

ivy's demeanor softened momentarily. "don't get all mushy on me now. seriously though, you've got a talent. keep this up, and you might make a name beyond these smoky walls!"

as the evening wore on, ivy's vibrant energy blended seamlessly with the jazzy melodies that enveloped the speakeasy.