#with Paul I love… nearly everything I heard

[tenitchyfingers]

There’s something so beautiful and special and melancholic about Beautiful Night too. Like… Linda being in it just shortly before she passed 💔 but also Ringo being in it, the melody and the switch from one section to the other, Paul’s voice… I can’t. What a song. What an album.

[jgracie]

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF APHRODITE

masterlist | rules

❝ Can I request percy x daughter of Aphrodite? ❞ — 🧸

in which percy dates a daughter of aphrodite

pairing percy jackson x aphrodite!reader

warnings i had to break up percabeth for the plot im sorry 😞, one swear word

on the radio . . . love me like you do (ellie goulding)

When Percy and Annabeth broke up, all of Camp Half-Blood was in shock

In their minds, they were the couple. The one little kids would look up to and teens would pray to emulate. How could they possibly break up?

Percy wished he knew. I mean, he kind of understood why, but part of him was still confused

You see, it was Annabeth who’d ended things. Annabeth, who had been head-over-heels in love with Percy ever since they were 12. She was nice about it, luckily, but Percy was still hurt

The reason why she ended their relationship was because she wanted to discover herself, and she couldn’t do that with Percy by her side. She’d been stuck in camp nearly her whole life until Percy came along, and when he did, she spent years doing quests and fighting by his side

She felt like she knew who Percy’s girlfriend was, and who Athena’s daughter is, but not Annabeth. That’s why she ended things

Every day, Percy would mope around his cabin, his heart shattered. Annabeth was his first love. He was happy for her, of course, but a larger part of him was sad for himself

To make matters worse, the Fates seemed to be working against him, since he got broken up with just a week before his mother and Paul’s wedding. How was he supposed to attend an event celebrating love when he lost his?

Besides, now he doesn't have a date. Annabeth was still going to go, of course, but with her own ticket, not his +1. The seats were already booked and paid for though, so he couldn’t tell his parents to remove one

Which is why he was in his current situation. Standing outside of the Aphrodite cabin, debating whether or not he should walk away

Percy hated to beg, but he didn’t have much choice. The Aphrodite kids were most likely to agree to go with him, since they love everything to do with love, especially weddings

Recollecting himself, Percy knocked on the front door

“Oh, hi Percy!” Piper said, inviting him in. As soon as he walked in, the whole cabin went silent, all eyes on him. Out of all the people in camp, Aphrodite’s kids were the most interested in his breakup with Annabeth. Percy knew they didn’t mean any harm, as matters of love just genuinely piqued their interest, but he hated the way their eyes were always watching their every move

Quietly, he told Piper, “I want to ask your siblings something, if that's okay,” then, when Piper nodded, he addressed the rest of the cabin, “so… My mom and step-dad are getting married next week and I was supposed to go with Annabeth but she’s not my date anymore and I still have an extra invite so I was wondering if maybe one of you guys wanna come?”

The room, which was once so silent you could hear a pin drop, suddenly became awfully loud as they all argued about who should go with Percy. This didn’t last very long though, thanks to Piper

Eyebrows furrowed, Piper clapped her hands, immediately silencing her siblings, “before you all start drawing lots to see who goes, I’m going to check and see if Y/N wants to go. I think we can all agree she needs this more than anyone, right?”

To Percy’s surprise, there was no arguing regarding this. He’d heard about you in passing before - Aphrodite’s most beautiful daughter, favoured by the Goddess herself not just for your extreme good looks but for your warm heart, dating Annabeth’s half-sibling Ali - but nothing about you needing to attend weddings

Piper went over to a bunk in the corner of the room, one Percy hadn’t noticed was occupied until now, and spoke to you in a hushed tone. When she pointed at Percy, you turned to look at him, and he could see that your eyes were bloodshot

With your arm wrapped around Piper’s, you made your way over to Percy, unfazed by the eyes that were locked on you, “I’ll go with you.”

You spent the days leading up to the wedding getting to know each other, since neither of you wanted to attend a wedding with a stranger, and discovered you actually had a lot in common

Namely, both of you were broken up with by children of Athena. Turns out, you were no longer Ali’s girlfriend - he’d broken up with you a couple days after Annabeth broke up with Percy. Not a lot of people knew, since the news of your own breakup was overshadowed by Percy’s

When he heard that, he apologised, but you’d smiled at him and told him it was fine, since you didn’t want much attention on the breakup anyway. That was Percy’s first time seeing you smile since hanging out with you, and he felt as if Eros himself had shot an arrow right through his heart

He couldn’t fall for you though, not now at least. Both of you were healing from breakups

The longer you met up with Percy, the better you felt. You were absolutely devastated when your now ex had broken up with you, saying something along the lines of, “it’s not you, it’s me,” when you begged for an explanation

You knew the truth, though. People in camp didn’t see you as anything other than Aphrodite’s favourite daughter, a pretty girl who just cared about her makeup and romance novels. While you loved both things, you weren’t anywhere near that level of shallowness

So, they date you just to say that the most gorgeous girl in camp’s dating them, then break up with you the moment you say anything remotely intellectual, challenging their masculinity

Usually, you didn’t care too much, since you know your own self-worth, but for some reason, your breakup with Ali really hurt. Maybe it’s because you thought as a son of Athena, with sisters who were also smart, he’d understand

You spent the first couple days after your breakup doing nothing other than crying in your bunk and reading romance books (which only made you feel worse). Your siblings, bless their hearts, had tried to make you feel better - doing your nails, telling you jokes - but nothing worked

Until Percy. You didn’t know if it was the fact that he was going through a breakup too, or the fact that he was still funny despite having his heart broken too, but he was the only person who knew how to make you smile, pulling you out of the pit you were in and allowing you to bask in the daylight

The week flew by, and eventually, it was time for the wedding. Your siblings fawned all over you as they did your hair and makeup, an Aphrodite cabin tradition. Usually, this tradition was only performed before first dates as a ‘good luck charm’ of sorts, but they decided to do it for you before the wedding

You thought they were just being sweet, forgetting that you shared a mother and therefore they of all people would know when you met the one. Your siblings saw the way Percy brought the glow back to your skin, and were eternally grateful as now they had their precious sister back

They were also grateful to him because you’d be gone for a whole day, meaning there was nothing stopping them from taking revenge on the Athena cabin :) Never underestimate the power of love!

“Hi Percy!” You said, waving, a bright smile plastered on your face. The dress you were wearing was a colour your mother knew suited you perfectly, and it cascaded down your body in waves, the lace detailing doing nothing to calm Percy’s rapidly beating heart.

The poor boy was genuinely afraid he’d pass out as he held an arm out for you, which you gladly took, wanting to be as close to him as possible, “you look gorgeous,” he said, blushing

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, the grin on your face growing. Your cheeks hurt, but something about Percy had you unable to stop smiling

Together, you left camp and headed for the wedding venue - Montauk beach

As a daughter of Aphrodite, you had a lot of experience with weddings. For some reason, wedding invites always seemed to find their way to the children of love, and so you’ve attended lots of them

And you adored every single one, of course, but they all paled in comparison to Sally and Paul’s. It wasn’t the most extravagant you’ve ever attended - just a small wedding with only close friends and family (and you) invited, but you could feel the love radiating off of the newlyweds

That alone made it your favourite, and as a warm, fuzzy feeling coated your body and soul while they were saying their vows, you turned to look at Percy. The corners of his lips were tilted in a smile, knowing how much his mother deserved her happily ever after

Would you ever experience a love like that? And if so, was there a chance it could be with Percy? Sure, you’d only properly known him for a week, but the two of you connected so quickly! Surely, that had to be a sign

You quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Even if it was a sign, you knew neither of you were ready to date yet

So, when the wedding ended, you said your goodbyes and walked side-by-side in silence, unsaid words hanging in the air between you

That was until your heel broke. You knew these weren’t a good pair, having had many close calls before, but you’d hoped they’d last just one more wear since they matched the rest of your outfit so well

“Shit!” You said, stumbling as the heel finally gave in. Subconsciously, Percy grabbed you by the waist, saving you from an awful fall whilst pulling you closer to him. You felt your face heat up at this gesture, which wasn’t doing much to help your confusing feelings

He then let go of you, bending down to untie his shoelaces. Furrowing your brows, you asked, “what’re you doing?” Percy didn’t reply until he’d taken off both shoes, offering them to you

“You can wear these. I have socks,” you couldn’t believe your ears. None of the men you went out with before would even think to do something so selfless. You shook your head, about to tell him you couldn’t do that, when he bent down to put the shoes on you (PERSEUS JACKSON 😭🙏🏼). They weren’t your size, but it wasn’t the end of the world

Shyly, you mumbled, “thank you,” then, looking off to the side, you said, “we can still hang out at camp, right? You’re a really good friend, Percy. I haven’t felt this happy in a while.”

“Of course, Y/N, what kind of question is that? You make me really happy too!”

At that moment, a dove flew over and landed on your shoulder. You smiled, scratching his head. Judging by the fact that it smelt like perfume, it was pretty safe to assume your mother sent it

A good omen

After the wedding, you continued to hang out. In fact, you did everything together - you made sure your cabins were on the same side when playing capture the flag, you joined forces during the chariot races, you even started sleeping at Percy’s cabin every once in a while, on the days when your meetups went past curfew and you couldn’t risk leaving in case the harpies caught you

As the months passed, the gash in your heart healed, and you got to a point where you wouldn’t even think about Ali anymore. How could you, when Percy was right there? He didn’t feel challenged by your brains, he embraced your cleverness and encouraged you to share your thoughts at all times

Percy also started getting over Annabeth. He wasn’t ever upset at her for breaking up with him, but he definitely avoided her. He felt bad about it, but every time he tried to hang out with her again, his heart would ache

Now, their relationship had gone back to what it was before their breakup, and she’d even join the two of you occasionally. On one of her visits, she apologised on her brother’s behalf, to which you were elated to reply with, “Gods, I completely forgot about that!”

Annabeth would simply smile, knowing you had your eyes on someone else now

In fact, everyone seemed to know you and Percy liked each other. Everyone but the two of you

That’s why they’d orchestrated this. The Apollo, Aphrodite and Dionysus cabins, as well as a couple demigods from other cabins, decided to throw a party in celebration of… well, a holiday

The point of this was that there was no special occasion. You and Percy would arrive at this ‘party’ only to realise you’d been tricked, then stay because you just love being around each other, then the fireworks would illuminate the sky and you’d realise how much you love each other and share a romantic kiss under the stars

At least, that’s what your siblings thought would happen

So, news about the celebration passed around camp and eventually made its way to you. You weren’t going to go at first, since you didn’t even know what you were supposed to be celebrating, but then Percy told you he was going. Why would you pass up the opportunity to go to a party with him?

The night arrived, and you left your cabin alone. When you asked your siblings why they weren’t coming, they just started yapping about needing to iron their outfits and wash their makeup brushes, telling you they’d catch up with you later. You left, not questioning much

Hiding behind the bushes was a strange group: Pollux, Kayla Knowles, Piper Mclean and Annabeth Chase. The four had their eyes locked on where you and Percy were supposed to meet up, praying their plan would work

“Ugh, where are they? They’re taking forever!” Kayla exclaimed, quickly earning a chorus of shushes from the other three

“I’m sure they’ll come soon,” Piper told the girl, putting some charmspeak into her words so everyone would calm down

On cue, you and Percy arrived at the venue, your laughter dying down as you realised not a single soul was there. Looking down at his watch, Percy said, “I thought we were late. Doesn’t this thing start at 9PM? It’s 9:30 right now.”

“Yeah,” you replied. You had a feeling there was something bigger at play here. Shrugging your shoulders, you sat on the grass and patted the spot next to you, telling Percy to sit

“This area’s actually really nice, we should come here more often,” you said as you looked around. Percy hummed in agreement

Eventually, the four decided you spent enough time chatting, and Pollux lit the fireworks, which shot up to the sky as bright pink hearts. You checked your surroundings, demigod instincts on alert. Had a monster infiltrated camp? Was this their idea of a sick joke?

Percy placed a calming hand on your shoulder, “hey, I don’t think there’s anyone around. It’s okay.” The tension left your body and you looked up at the sky, your head on Percy’s shoulder as you watched the fireworks

There were too many signs

You turned to the boy, and found he was already looking at you

There were too many signs

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer to you, feeling his breath on your skin. He let you

There were too many signs

You kissed him then, and he kissed back

Dating hcs now 🥳 I think that’s the longest backstory I’ve ever written

You’re a “if you do it, I’ll do it” kind of couple. Even without your charmspeak, you could convince Percy to rob a building just by saying you wanted him to

Sally and Paul were really happy when they found out you started dating. Even though it’d been almost a year since their wedding, they hadn’t forgotten the loving glances you’d take at each other

You tell them their wedding’s your favourite by far and they have to fight the urge to cry

Percy quite literally worships the ground you walk on. You’re not Percy’s girlfriend, he's Y/N’s boyfriend LOL. As your relationship progresses, you open up about all your other relationships and only your charmspeak could stop him from going and giving all those guys a lecture

He’s always hyping you up and reminding you of how you’re worthy of love!!! Even a daughter of Aphrodite needs to hear it sometimes

One day, the Gods seem to be smiling down at him, since he finally gets an opportunity to speak with Ali. Life went majorly downhill for your ex-boyfriend ever since you broke up, and while you’d never wish horrible things upon anyone, you couldn’t help but feel a little happy to hear it

Anyways. Percy was heading to the climbing wall when Ali bumped into him. The latter grunted an apology and Percy was going to just smile at him and continue his journey when he noticed who it was

Immediate scowl. If you listen closely you can hear the nearest body of water churning, mirroring Percy’s emotions. Ali attempts to continue going where he was going but Percy stops him, refusing to let him go until he gets an earful of how you’re the best girl in the world and how scum like him didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a queen like you <3

He thinks you don’t know he did this but one of your siblings was around and reported to you as soon as they saw you! They also told the rest of your cabin and from then on the Aphrodite cabin = official Percy fanclub

This boy loves listening to you talk. Your voice is so gorgeous, just like the rest of you, he can’t help it!! Your words flowed in a way Percy never thought words could

Gets you to read things aloud whenever he can. It’s really funny but also cute so you do it anyway

“Sweetie can you read this I can’t see it very clearly” “Percy that’s the camp entrance you know what it says” “No I think my eyesight is getting worse!!” “Okay fine, it says ‘Camp Half-Blood’”

Also random but you guys watch Say Yes to the Dress and other wedding related TV shows together. A wedding intertwined your fates so naturally you love watching these kinds of things

Always commenting on the dresses! You have an eye for beauty and at first he agrees with you just because you’re so pretty how could he disagree? But eventually you pass your tastes onto him and it’s like he can read your mind

After many of these episodes Percy’s mind can’t help but gravitate towards the theme of marriage and all of a sudden he’s planning your own wedding (WINK WINK!!!!)

This is especially bad in the middle of the night. Texts you pictures of wedding venues with the caption “do you want me to book this one?” Like okay sure for 5 years from now?!?!

Percy “wear whatever you want babe I can fight” Jackson the man you are <3

[yeonjuns-beanie]

Blasphemous Rumours

Warnings: 18+, smut, hierophilia, sacrilegious acts, priest kink, fucking on an altar, suggestive themes in a confessional, riding a rosary(?...), hair pulling, biting, light blood play, exhibitionism, suggestive themes during mass, probably smth else but i don’t remember. nothing too crazy🧌. im debating on linking the playlist i wrote this to, but it would kinda get rid of the anonymity of this account…. ~nero :)

Father Paul Hill x female!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

You hated this fuckin ferry. 

You loved your family but you never understood why they never left that island. When you found your way out you left without a second thought. Vowing to never settle here again but that didn’t mean you’d never visit your family. Usually for the holidays you made your way back out here, but this time you just had a break in your schedule and wanted to visit. Wanting to visit didn’t trump the hatred you had for riding this fucking ferry though. 

To be completely honest you didn’t hate the ride itself but rather how the journey made you smell like a feeding bucket at Seaworld. The evening sun was gracing you with its last bit of warmth as it began to tuck itself behind the horizon. Against the cool mist of the water for a split moment, you almost understood the appeal of this lifestyle.

Almost. 

The ferry pulled up to the dock and your eyes fell on the shoreline meeting some abandoned nets and dried out seaweed. The seagulls' mews echoed as you exited the boat. Grabbing your bags you took a deep breath as your feet hit the sand and you began the trek up to your family home. 

Nothings changed. 

It’s been years and everything still looked the same. The houses, the people, hell even the smells were the same. It was uncanny. You saw the church in the distance and were relieved knowing that you could finally lay your bags down soon. As you passed the church your eyes landed on a relatively young man standing outside, a warm smile welcoming anyone that passed by. Styx-colored locks, a slender frame, and a face that looked ever so familiar. Pressing your lips together in a close-lipped smile and waved at him making a mental note to speak to him later. 

Your family’s house was only two doors down from the church and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see them. Knocking on the front door you eagerly waited to see who would see your face first. 

“Coming!” 

You heard faintly from the other side and you were greeted by the face of your mother. 

“Y/n! Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you!” 

She embraced you immediately, nearly squeezing the life out of you. 

“Hi, Mom.” You chuckled 

Over her shoulder, you saw your little sister, Briar, smirking at you trying her best not to laugh at your current situation. Your mom pulled you into the house motioning for you to come eat dinner as you arrived just in time. 

“Please, come eat. We’ll worry about your bags later. You came just in time to go to mass with us after.”

Mass? Why so late?

“Mass? Did you guys miss it this morning or something?” 

Washing your hands you turned around to face your family as you dried them. Before you sat down at the table your dad came from around the corner physically interjecting himself into the conversation as your mom spoke. 

“No, they happen—hi dear, they happen in the evening now. A new priest has been filling in for the Monsignor. Apparently, while he left for his trip to Jerusalem he fell terribly ill. Such a shame. But Father Paul is phenomenal! I think you’ll like him.”

Your mom looked at you with a knowing smile and you knew exactly what she was teasing you about. You rolled your lips around your teeth and began to eat, swallowing a sly comment. 

After you guys finished dinner, you fixed yourself for mass. Although you weren’t religious on your own time, you did it for your family while you were here. Plus, it allowed you time to wrestle with your feelings with Christ to see if it really wasn’t for you. Your relationship with God or whoever was out there was complicated. Wildly complicated. You knew in your heart that you were a formal sinner yet you lacked the guilt that should’ve come with that. 

If anything, you relished in it. You loved being entangled with the feeling of sin, it made you feel alive. You felt so strangled as a kid with religion, as if every move you made was under scrutiny so when you found the courage to separate yourself, you may have overindulged in things that were impious in nature. 

Just as you were this evening, clad in a low-cut tank top, a hoodie, jeans, and slip-on Vans. If you felt you didn’t belong in Crockett before, you definitely visually fit the part now. Looking like a complete foreigner in comparison to everyone else. You screamed city. From your clothes, and makeup, even down to the way you spoke. You tried your best to eradicate every trace of Crockett when you left but there was one thing you couldn’t scrub away. 

God. 

God always found a way to squirm His way around your brain and tether you to this island. 

“Y/n! You ready, honey?” 

“Yeah!”

Spraying yourself with a light perfume you walked out into the front room where your family was waiting for you. Filing out the door, the walk to the church was quick which was something you despised as a kid and you could feel those same feelings bubbling up as you neared its entrance. It was as if God was mocking you, knowing that you had such an internal feud with whether or not you believed, what was right and wrong, and if you even had a sliver of faith left within you. 

Sitting down in the pews next to your family, you felt at home once the incense filled your nose. The strange feeling of comfort washing over you as memories of your childhood flashed in front of you. The tottering organ that was moments away from wood decay, the massive crucifix in the center arch of the back of the church, and the haunting glow from the warm ambient lighting had you questioning yourself once again. You swallowed the thought, deciding that nostalgic comfort was weighing out your need for logic. 

You were pulled from your thoughts as everyone around you rose to your feet and the chimes of the bell echoed through the building. It was at this point that you realized how many people were stuffed into the pews. Mass was never like this as a kid. 

He’s either the hottest thing known to man or he’s sent from God himself. 

Anticipation settled in your stomach and you fought the smile that was begging to stretch your lips. You needed to know what it was. Maybe he was just a really good preacher, and you were being facetious–or maybe you just walked into the next Jim Jones story. Either way, your eyes were glued to the hallway counting the seconds to the procession. 

As everyone around you opened their book of hymns you were fixated on the white robe that exited the side door.  You didn’t recognize either of the altar boys and for a brief moment, you wondered where the last two poor bastards ran off to. But then your eyes fell on his. His stark black hair wasn’t as neat as it was earlier today when you were walking through town. A few pieces in the front dangled over his right eyebrow and his head was bowed slightly as he walked through the pews. 

Your mind was pulled away from fully taking in the man as you were distracted by how full the church sounded. When you were younger the hymns always sounded so hollow and weak, but tonight it resembled a traditional mass. Savoring the moment of repose you felt, you found it within you to appreciate the music resonating through the building finding it somewhat odd that they were singing a hymn that sounded so haunting. 

At His feet the six-winged seraph, cherubim with sleepless eye~

Your attention drifted back to the priest where he kneeled at the steps and then bowed his head at the altar. When his head raised to stare out across the pews you felt your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him. Your mom nudged your side, smirking when you turned to look at her. 

“Told you.”

You shoved your tongue in your cheek, swiping it across your teeth as you sat back down. Mass went by in a blink considering you were completely engrossed in the man in front of you rather than his preaching. At some point, you completely tuned out his biblical orations and resorted to the simple pleasures of imagining him and yourself in various scenarios in the church. 

In the pews, across the altar, across the altar with the front door open waiting for Beverly to waltz through, in the confessio-

“Honey, come. I want you to meet Father Paul.”

Your mom tapped you on your shoulder pushing you out of your trance of thoughts. Standing up, you smoothed out your top and took a deep breath in an attempt to shake out the tension in your shoulders you most certainly built up during your daydreaming. Walking out of the church you wondered why you were leaving if she wanted you to meet the man. You turned around and noticed that he was no longer at the altar either. Stepping out to the front, your questions were soon answered as a smooth voice sounded from behind you. 

“I see we have a new face in town.” 

Your mother butt in before you had a chance to speak for yourself. Laying her hand across the small of your back introducing you to the man you just spent the better half of an hour fantasizing about. 

“For a little bit, we do, yes! This is my daughter, y/n. She usually comes around for the holidays but we got lucky this time around. This used to be her home until about two years ago.”

You stuck your hand out, Father Paul grabbing yours with a firm grip and you couldn’t help the compulsion to stare at his hand for a moment before quickly finding your mind and smiling at him.

“Nice of you to step in for the Monsignor. My mom told me you’re his stand-in for the time being.” 

“Yes. I apologize seeing as I’m not who you expected, but I assure you he’s on the road to recovery.” 

As Father Paul spoke, you couldn’t quite place why he looked and felt so familiar. You were running through files of how you could’ve possibly known him but nothing was coming out concrete. 

“Oh! No need to apologize. I quite enjoyed your sermon, it was very similar to what I was used to growing up here. It’s as if he never left.” 

You chuckled out your last sentence and suddenly nerves found themselves coursing through your body as you maintained eye contact. You were committing his face to memory. Whether it be for personal reasons in the dead of night or to try and figure out where you knew him from. You’d wrestle with that later. Right now, you were just hoping that you weren’t being painfully obvious. 

You were. 

You were bordering a fine line of staring and eye-fucking him that your mother and sister were finding absolute humor in. Your eyes flickered back and forth between his clerical collar and his face trying to shake the thoughts that were circling their way around your head. 

“Well, I’m glad that I feel so familiar to you. I hope to see more of you during your time here with us.” 

He smiled at you with such sincerity you forgot about all the lust brewing for a second. His face held so many emotions but you couldn’t place any of them. 

“You will.”

You smiled back at him, your eyes holding something a little more heavy though. You were aware of the priesthood’s celibacy and something about knowing you couldn’t have him made the feeling that more intense. Although, you didn’t miss how it seemed the feeling was reciprocated while you looked at him. Father Paul spoke, breaking the silence that you two created. 

“Well, it was very nice to meet the rest of your family, Mrs. L/N, but I am afraid that I have some matters to tend to back in my rectory. You all have a very nice night.” 

His gaze lingered as he spoke, giving you the same treatment as you did moments before and it was making you squirm on the inside. His gaze was soft but so intense and the contrariety of it left your mind racing. While you and your family said a choir of goodbyes, you watched Father Paul walk away as your family made the way back to the house. Your sister spoke up, whipping you from your thoughts. 

“At this point, you should just tell him you want to fuck him.” 

Both of your parents exclaimed your sister’s name in shock but the two of you were left laughing. 

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Y/n, you might as well have been sucking his fingers in front of us.” 

As you guys walked back into the house your mom snickered as you genuinely asked for her opinion. 

“Was I being that obvious about it?”

She paused. 

“You could be…less obvious about it.” 

You groaned in embarrassment rushing straight to your room to avoid any teasing for the night. 

“Goodnight!” 

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You opened your phone to check the time knowing full well that it was the middle of the night. You just wanted to see how late it was. 

3:33. 

Shit. 

You let out an exasperated sigh wiping your hand across your face. It was usually at this point in the night that your hand found its way in between your pajama pants and gently glided itself across your sensitive floret. Your hips jolted forward at the contact and as soon as that sensation spread through your body, images of Father Paul flickered in your mind. As your finger circled over your clit you found yourself reaching your climax faster than usual. As your orgasm flooded through your limbs, your chest heaved for air trying to calm the euphoria running through your veins. 

Pulling your hand from under the sheets, you let your arm drape across your eyes grappling with what you just did. But before you could really identify the problem with your actions, sleep weighed heavily on your eyelids. 

When you woke up, your middle of the night scandal was the first thing on your mind. 

How am I gonna look at him again? 

A string of questions ran through your mind leaving you mentally scattered but as you got ready for the day and saw your sister in the main room, it left the front of your mind. 

“Morning.” 

“Morning. You gonna go to church today?”

You shot your sister a look that was a mixture of embarrassment and a playful knowing. You two erupted into a fit of giggles that ended with you looking at her out of the corner of your eye. 

“Maybe.”

She watched you, impressed by your honesty, and nodded her head. Taking a sip of her drink she spoke through her swallow making her voice a little gummy. 

“Your best chances of seeing him are in the evening. For some reason, he’s stopped coming out in the day. Probably to avoid Bev. That woman would sew herself to his hip if she could.”

“Bev was up the Monsignor’s ass too, nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve never seen someone try to get so close to fucking God.” 

You both were laughing until you saw your mother emerge from the hallway and you halted the sound in your throats. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. Just givin’ Bev shit for being Bev.”

Your mom laughed through her nose and shook her head at your antics and you were preparing for a small lecture. 

“So I take it you’ll be heading to the church tonight y/n? Typically we only go on Sundays now but I’m sure Father Paul would be ecstatic to see one of us a little more often.” 

Your family took great pride in taking the piss out of you and to be completely fair you made it quite easy. You rolled your eyes at your mother because even she knew you had lost touch with your faith, but now you had reason to find it–maybe. 

“I wasn’t planning on it but since Briar and now you have both greeted me with the question maybe I will. Build some rapport with the man.” 

“We both know you’d wanna build something more than rapport with him.” Briar chimed in. 

“I literally can’t even! You know…with him. It’s against their whole code. Don’t think I forgot. But also they like should come up with a code to not have hot priests, I’m just sayin.” 

They both just hummed in agreement still silently giving you shit. 

“You guys are terrible.” You laughed. 

~*~

You had all day to conjure up a scheme of how you’d find a way to get close to Father Paul and you finally decided on a plan while you were getting ready. 

Confession. 

Technically you didn’t need a priest for confession but it’d be nice to have someone listen while you were in the box. Everyone separated into their rooms for the day and you hoped that was still the case when you stepped out of the house. 

“Skirt’s a little long isn’t it.” 

You didn’t expect Briar to be sitting in the main room so her voice spooked you before you registered her words. 

“Yeah, but I think the side slits balance out the potential prude.” 

You shoved your leg out to the side showing off how the slit in the maxi skirt stopped at the middle of your thigh. Paired with a fairly tight black long sleeve and chunky boots, you were bordering on looking like a mortician. In your mind, being clad in all black hid not only you, but your true intentions from being so visible. The last thing you needed was being sniffed out through a choice of clothing, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hopeful for an interaction. 

“I’ll be back.”

“Be safe.” Briar snickered

Stepping out into the cool night air, you were thankful to feel something other than the emotional heat from your family. It immediately soothed your nerves and you found yourself focusing more on your plan. With the church doors open, you noticed you saw nobody walking in and when you walked up the steps you were surprised to see the pews empty. It felt like you were intruding, like a fly buzzing around a dinner table. Your footsteps echoed in the empty building and you felt an overwhelming feeling to run out and forget about this elaborate plan. To sacrifice your need for affection and carnal satisfaction for a walk across the shoreline or to the general store. Just something else. 

Your eyes panned over to the confession box and you were wrestling with your gut feeling to stay. Maybe you should confess and get it off your chest…just not with him there. With disquieted uncertainty overcoming you, you took a step back to exit the church deciding that you’d come back another day, but when you expected your body to glide through the air, you stumbled into something solid instead. Whipping your body around you apologized profusely. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was spaced out and didn’t hear anybody behind me I’m so-” 

And then you paused. As your eyes traveled up to meet the person you stumbled into your eyes caught the clerical collar. It was like a bullet lodged itself into your chest and you felt your limbs begin to grow cold from shock. You knew who lied above that collar and you had to find the guts to look at him in the eye. 

“It’s no trouble at all. Are you alright? You seem pretty startled.” 

Father Paul placed his hand on your shoulder looking down at you with genuine concern. You made the mistake of looking at him directly in the eye and you wished you didn’t. His deep brown eyes furrowed under his brow waiting for your response but you were entranced by him. Stuttering when you found your voice. 

“I, uh, yeah. I’m fine. I just was in my head about something.” 

Father Paul cocked his head slightly trying to figure out where to step with you. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and flickered back and forth between you and the confessional box. 

“I noticed you were quite focused on the confessional, were you looking to confess this evening, y/n?” 

You panicked. Backed in a corner, your mouth moved faster than your brain. It was too late before you could register the words flying out of your mouth. 

“Well, yes and no. I’ve been quite separated from my faith as of late but I’ve been struggling with…some intense internal issues that can’t be ignored now. I’m not sure if confession would make it better or worse and that’s why I was so engrossed in it.” 

“Well. We’re here now. If you’re comfortable, I can lead you through it.” 

You were hesitant. You worried that in your current state, you’d divulge too much, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed to do. To just get it all out of your system and bear the humiliation. You looked at him one last time and it was as if he was waiting for your compliance. He may as well have been extending his hand out to lead you to it. Closing your eyes and accepting this as a fated moment you inhaled a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Walking to the confessional, you got down on your knees, folded your hands in front of your mouth, and exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You looked through the latticed opening and made out a few of Father Paul’s features. A feeling began to pool in your stomach as you realized the dynamic of the situation you were in. Your mind swiftly moved into the gutter wishing you were on your knees for a different reason. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned–and will continue to do so.” 

You paused deciding one last time if you were going to bear all your bones here. Swallowing your pride, like a gun sounding the start of a race, you relieved yourself with zero guilt. 

“Being separated from my faith has left me in a deeply sacrilegious state. For the most part, I can ignore my thoughts, my taboo interests but since I stepped foot back on this island it's all come bubbling back up.”

You looked to see if Father Paul was looking at you but he stared straight ahead giving you his complete focus to your confession. 

“I find, grave desire in things I shouldn’t. Sexual hunger that I can’t displace somewhere else because I know the only reason it brews within me is because I know it’s wrong. Father, these feelings came back to the surface when I laid my eyes on you during Mass. I couldn’t help it. The feeling that pooled in the depths of my stomach and left me aching for something more. Forgive me, Father, for my boldness, but I fear that the only way I can feel relief is to…release.” 

You felt your breath quicken at how honest you were being but it was soon replaced by the feeling of of excitement. 

“I know it’s wrong but I…I can’t stop the feeling. This is all I can say, I’m sorry for my sins.” 

Silence. 

You felt like you sat in silence for an eternity waiting to hear his voice echo to your side, but you didn’t. Instead, you heard the pace of his breathing. You almost confused it for your own but you held your breath trying to calm your nerves and still it echoed. 

“Father…I. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any-” 

“Y/n. Come to the other side. 

As you rose to your feet, you heard the door on his side of the confessional click open. When you stood in front of the door, it was the first time this evening you found the courage to look him directly in the eye. There was a dastardly hunger swimming in his brown eyes. Like a predator stalking his prey, his aura was intense and left you frozen in front of him awaiting his command. His eyebrow slightly cocked upward and his hand raised, coaxing you towards him. You followed, pausing before you stepped inside his side of the box but he coaxed you forward with his voice so smooth and alluring. With little room, you were left to slot yourself in between his legs. 

Your breath hitched as you looked at him again and he patted his thigh with his hand that was wrapped in a rosary. Clenching around nothing, you made the swift decision to close his legs and straddle them instead of taking his knee. Letting your hands rest on his shoulders you stared him down. Nothing but salacity was radiating between your bodies and quickly you began to feel your desire rise into your face. Searching his eyes for any indication of his feelings you opened your mouth to speak but he occupied the silence before you. 

“I wondered if, you would find the courage to be truthful and I must say I’m struck by your honesty.”

Your heart nearly stopped. 

You fucked this up, bad.

“Father, I-”

“No need for any apologies. I’m glad you were so honest.” 

“You…you are?”

“Lying is a sin, so yes. But it relieves me of my own prurient conscience so that I may indulge in you free of guilt.” 

You weren’t paying attention to the movement of his body due to being so focused on his words, but when his words were punctuated with the rolling of his rosary-clad finger across your cloth-covered center, you were made very aware. Your cunt clenched around nothing and your body lurched forward unintentionally writhing over his hand. Your breath came out in shutters and your eyes, now hooded with lust, gazed into his own in a frenzy. 

His fingers kept gently teasing your bud through your panties and you couldn’t help the compulsion to ride in tandem with his movements. The beads of the rosary gifted you an unknown kind of pleasure that you knew would afflict your mind for the rest of time. It was a feeling that was near indescribable but the pleasure was too good to deny. You rested your head on his forehead, gripping onto his shoulders for some type of leverage. You bit the corner of your lip in an effort to silence yourself, but your ragged breathing was near that of an incensed bull. 

“If you did a better job of controlling yourself yesterday, I may have been fooled by your sheepish nature, but you just couldn’t quell this desire on your own, could you? You went home to seek some satisfaction but you found none, so you came here to plague me instead. Praying that I’d fix this ache within you. Am I right y/n?”

You went to respond but Father Paul’s finger slipped past the barrier of your underwear, leaving you to feel your arousal be spread across your puffy petals. A moan escaped your throat and the way it echoed off the confessional walls into the church made you shrink into his body. A pathetic attempt to hide from your lechery. Father Paul hummed, urging you to speak as he sank two fingers into your honeyed garden. Catching your breath, you found your words. 

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Father~”

You brought your head up to look at him again, too dazed to even feel like this was real. As his fingers continued to roll themselves against your sweet spot, your breath quickened as your mouth stayed ajar looking for the courage somewhere in yourself to slot your lips against his. As he rolled his finger over your swollen bud, your body decided for you. Your lips danced in a sweat and lust-filled hysteria leaving your brain foggy with desire. You rolled your hips into his hand needing more of him and your sounds slowly increased in volume as you felt a bead of the rosary slide across your center. The feeling of the beads slightly grazing your sensitive lips brought you faster to the precipice of elation than you expected and you pathetically whined for your release. 

“I’m, I’m close, Father.” 

You expected him to speed up his ministrations, but instead, he removed his slick-ridden fingers from your garden and brought them up to his lips. As if his hand was dripping in myrrh, he sucked you off of his fingers and paused before he spoke. Ghosting his fingers across his lips, his tongue hesitantly licked the tips of them as he dragged his hand away from his face.

“If you’re going to be brought to rapture by my hand it will be done when all of me is inside of you.” 

Father Paul motioned you to stand up and you staggered out of the confessional with him not far behind. He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the center of the church pews up to the altar. Ripping the white cloth off the altar, Father Paul held his hand out before sitting you down on the altar. He caressed his hands down the curves of your body before toying with the waistband of your skirt. Looking down at you, you saw the fervor swimming in his irises. 

“My sweet lamb, is this alright?”

You nodded and he slotted himself in between your legs feeling his bulge at your center. Depraved and corpulent lust washed over your body and your fingers fumbled with his belt, unfastening it with haste. You looked up at him and his face was closer than you expected, the heat radiating off of your bodies leaving a mist of humidity between you. You palmed him through his jeans and an inviscerated moan crawled out of his throat. The sound urged your body to move faster, the need to have him inside of you becoming near unbearable. 

He kissed you again, insatiable ardor all that you could taste. The feeling trickled down your body leaving goosebumps across your soft skin and a river seeping through the fabric of your panties that slowly painted the apex of your thighs. He tapped your thighs and you took it as a sign to lift your hips. In a swift motion, your skirt and underwear were left in a pool by the altar. Father Paul removed himself from his sweater, throwing it in the pile of sacrilegious cloths that served as a visual reminder of the desacralization that was about to take place. He left his button-up to cling to his chest and he moved his jeans and underwear down to the middle of his thighs, leaving him with his fervid cock on full display. 

You kicked your boots off your feet, the thud echoing a little bit louder than you intended. With your feet now free from their confines, you wrapped your legs around Father Paul’s legs, bringing him as close as possible. Your hand slithered between your bodies and varnished the tip of his cock in your amatory nectar. Your moans harmonized in synchrony and you gazed into his lust-blown eyes seeing nothing but black and you were sure yours were the same. He asked silently one last time for consent and you nodded slightly before he entered you. 

The stretch of his cock was something you felt only one could dream about. It filled you perfectly and you knew you wouldn’t last long. Your head dipped back in zeal, relishing in the feeling that was rushing in waves over your form. When your head tipped back up, your eyes met the enlarged crucifix that hung in the center of the back wall. For a reason unknown to you, locking eyes with Jesus as you desecrated His holy house made a pang of carnal hedonism tangle in your sexual daze. 

Your hands webbed themselves in Father Paul’s hair gripping at his strands and pulling his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, feeling his breath heat up your skin. You felt his mouth open and drag itself across the side of your neck. A slight chill graced the parts where his spit marked his territory. You felt his breathing get heavier and all of a sudden you felt his cock slip out of you and he picked you up from the altar, turning you around and kicking your feet into a perfect V shape. He bent your body over the altar and slowly pushed himself back into you, the new angle making you cry out in complete perverted passion. 

His thrusts were deep and pointed making sure that you felt every inch of him drag in and out of your seraphic labyrinth. Just when you felt that the feeling couldn't get any more intense, his hand entangled itself into your hair and pulled your body up, flesh against his chest. His thrusts became rougher and you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. 

“Feel good, my dove?” 

You were fucking yourself back onto him, any coherent thought on the brink of leaving you amidst your ardent pleasure. 

“S-so…so good, Father. Shit.”

You were running out of air, your body paying more attention to the dam that was about to burst within you. 

“Better than your hand?”

“Uh-huh”

Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure and were hooded as you looked back at him. He gingerly guided your body back down to the altar and removed his hand from your hair, slowly tracing his hand down your back. Both of his hands grabbed your hips and the feeling had you crying out as his tip kissed your cervix. You felt his body lean over yours as he moved your hair away from your neck. His breath was sticking to your neck before a whisper ghosted over your ear.

“I’m sorry, but trust me right now.” 

He licked from the base of your neck and then you felt him pierce your skin with his teeth. In your licentious stupor, you just moaned out at the contact not fully registering that his teeth were sinking into your flesh or the fact that footsteps were echoing through the church. 

“Father, you weren’t in your rectory so I assumed this would be second best to find you-oh…” 

Bev.

Her grating voice almost brought you out of your daze, but Father Paul resorted to slow, deep thrusts as he kept he kept sucking your neck. When he lifted his face from your neck you felt a warm liquid trickle down your skin and pool towards your collarbone before landing on the altar. You lifted your head, your body weak and wracked with pleasure. You could barely make eye contact with her as your eyes were so hooded but you heard her voice resonate through the building once more. 

“Haresis Dea.”

Your head dropped unable to focus on her and your body rolled back into Father Paul’s, needing more of him as your orgasm was slowly fading back into your body. As you moved against him, his hips slowly began to thrust back into your sloppy cunt as Bev waited for some semblance of an explanation. 

“God has chosen her. He has chosen to consecrate this union, this nocturnal metamorphosis with lascivious intent because she is the last piece. God has willed it this way and has chosen her.” 

Father Paul bent down to lap at your neck again and his hips regained their momentum. You pushed yourself up from the altar and wrapped your arm around the back of his neck lapping at the blood that was dribbling down his chin.

“Very well.” 

And you heard Bev’s footsteps walk out of the church, the main doors closing behind her. Father Paul picked you up again, turning your body back around to face him. There was a certain ferality that wasn’t in his features before that had you clenching around his cock. With the doors shut, you both let your moans reign loose, a salacious cacophony filling the air. Your eyes scaled up the wall again and you came face to face with Jesus as a pool of heated arousal settled in your lower stomach begging to be set free. Your head knocked back in avidity and you didn’t see him slice a small cut in his wrist. 

When his thumb found your enflamed bud, you brought your head forward and he placed his bleeding wrist against your lips. As a wave of sexual delirium washed over you, your mouth hung open and he urged you to suck on his wrist. The metallic taste flooded over your tongue as your orgasm heightened your senses. Father Paul kept fucking you through your high until he reached his own, his cock painting your labyrinth a warm alabaster. He pulled his wrist away from you as you both were trying to calm down your breathing. 

Both of your mouths now covered in a drying garnet hue, you found yourself pressing your lips against his once again, unable to satisfy this ache completely. He chuckled as you both pulled away. 

“Easy, my dove.” 

You nodded, placing your hands flat against his chest. 

“Let’s get you dressed and then walk to the rectory, hmm?” 

Licking your bottom lip and locking it behind your teeth, you nodded as you slowly made the return back to your body.  

© yeonjuns-beanie

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

Ann-Margret (Bye Bye Birdie, Viva Las Vegas)—While she started as a singer, the lovely and talented Ann-Margret also left her mark as an actress in Hollywood. She won a Golden Globe for her first role in Pocketful of Miracles and was nominated again for Bye Bye Birdie, and very nearly stole the show from Elvis Presley himself in Viva Las Vegas.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

Ann-Margret:

She can sing! She can dance! She had excellent chemistry with Elvis! She reportedly survived a 22 foot fall off of a stage! The movies and old and problematic but I love her 1000%

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 15

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: angst, survivor's trauma, smut, FLUFF chapter map

-You stay together for a few days in the hotel in town to recover from your ordeal. Burns, Paul’s slashed arm, a possible concussion, raw scrapes at your wrists and ankles, and the lacerations upon your back that you feel sharply every time you move. A persistent cough dogs you without mercy, your lungs raw from smoke and the pure heat you’d endured in the inferno. 

Anjélica is able to slip away once to check on you. She tells you that Las Nubes has fallen into chaos. No body was ever recovered from the ruins of the house, but it was such an inferno that there’s no conceivable possibility don Juan survived. You hug your sister tearfully, certain you’ll never be able to return to your childhood home again. You do not know how your misadventure will pan out for the rest of your family, living in the shadow of the Aragóns.

When doña Maria sends a representative to your door to make noises about murder and arson, you tell them you’ll be glad to tell the world in court about what depraved things her son Juan Aragón y Espinosa did to you. The papers will eat up every sordid detail. To people like the Aragóns, saving face is everything. It would be their worst nightmare. 

They went away, and you haven’t heard from them again. 

You are sure they will rebuild, and the winery will go on, eventually under Juan’s younger brother, Pedro, who has been away at school. 

You have mixed feelings about Juan’s death. 

A part of you mourns the loss of your childhood companion. The more logical part of you insists that there was nothing left of that boy in the prideful monster Juan became. He fully intended to destroy you for the sake of his own ego, one way or another. He left you to die, and you should feel nothing for him. 

You always thought you would have been burned as a witch in an earlier century. 

You never imagined it was a fate you might actually face in the present time, had your sister, Paul, and the Veterans, bless them all, not banded together to save you. 

Now you and Paul have harrowing nightmares about your pasts, together. You cling to each other at night in your little room, taking turns soothing the other. 

What a pair you make. 

Paul helps change the dressings upon your shoulders. Some of it will heal, but you will be scarred for the rest of your life by what Juan did. You watch Paul work in the mirror, see the dismay upon his handsome features as he peels back your bandages. The wretched words fall from your lips before you can stop them: “Am I ugly?” 

His touch upon you freezes for a moment, taken aback by the vehemence of your outburst. 

You’re afraid that’s your answer, until he asks a question back: “Do you think my scar is ugly?” 

He surely means the long raised cicatrice that stretches the entire length of his abdomen, a souvenir from war shrapnel that nearly took his life in France. You turn in his arms on the bed to look at it, for he is shirtless behind you, only wearing blue-striped boxer shorts and a bandage around his upper arm, every inch your battered war-hero. Your heart is filled with so much love you fear it might explode, and you climb into his lap with your arms around his shoulders.  

“Of course not,” you answer without falter.  

“Why not?” His hands on your waist anchor you, pulling you closer. There’s no where you feel safer, as though finally you’ve found the place where you belong. You cup his face in your hands, tracing those high cheekbones with your thumbs. His eyes are liquid pools filled with so much earnest yearning–this man is so good, so valiant, so true, and you don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

“Because…I love every part of you, Paul Sutton. I love you.” Realizing the magnitude of this admission, you start to cry, but then somehow, you start to laugh too, ducking to hide in the bend of his neck “I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” he asks through his own tears and laughter, flummoxed by joy and squeezing you carefully in his strong arms.    

“For…everything. For being me. For what happened. For getting you involved–”

He effectively shuts you up with his mouth on yours, a bone-melting kiss that renders you soft and pliant in his arms. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he insists with his forehead pressed to yours. “I would only change…that you got hurt.” 

You’ve never really talked about Juan’s demise, and the parts the two of you played in it. You find that your only remorse in that moment…is that you have no remorse. 

You kiss him again, a lingering lock of lips that feels like offering up a piece of your soul to this man. You feel him smiling against your mouth, and for the umpteenth time you think your heart will burst. 

“Will you say it again?” he asks, so shyly with such a sparkle in his dark eyes. He is breathtaking beyond words, and in that moment you don’t know how you haven’t told him, every day and every hour. 

You never told him what you said to Juan to earn the worst part of your thrashing–you never intend to, you know he would just feel guilty, and that is not a weight you intend to lay on his shoulders, when he already carries so much. But you know what you said that night is true. This man owns you–in the way two puzzle pieces meet, or a lock that has finally found its long lost key–and incredibly…you are fine with that now. There is a freedom in this acceptance of the truth that makes you absolutely giddy inside.  

“I love you.” You say it again, and again, between kisses and running your hands over his form you adore so well. He shudders as your nails graze his scalp and your hips press into his, finding him at full attention between you. Suddenly what little clothing you’re wearing is too much between you. Yet he catches your hands when you reach for the buttons of his shorts. 

“Sweetheart…I want to,” he sighs raggedly. “I want you so much, but you’re hurt, and I–” 

You kiss him again, merciless in your sudden need to devour him whole and lick the bones clean. It’s amazing, how desire acts as such an effective painkiller.  “I’ll be fine. I will not be fine, if I can’t have you inside me.” 

He laughs, that beautiful, unassuming sound that fills you with sunlight. “Honey…” 

“Come here.” He lets you–of course he lets you, you could not budge this strapping man without his cooperation–nudge him over until he can lay back on the bed, and you can straddle his hips. As you undo his buttons you can tell Paul is fighting a war with himself, torn between need and worry. Taking off your brassiere helps slightly–you can’t help but grin with a bit of wickedness as a small sound escapes him, looking up at you. 

“Y/n…” 

“I’m alright,” you tell him gently. “Because of you. Let me thank you.” You feel the burn in your back, the sharp ache as you stretch your skin to lean down to press your lips to his scar, but you have no intention of stopping. 

“You don’t need to thank me…” His breath hitches, his fingers tangling in your hair as you brush the velvety tip of his manhood with your chin 

“I want to. I want to be close to you.” 

That much he agrees with, and you watch him nod, eyes half-lidded, before taking him into your mouth. 

Though he clearly loves it, his head thrown back into the bedclothes, he only lets you savor him for a little while before he tugs gently on your hair, urging you up, needing you too, guiding you with those big hands on your hips until you are sinking onto his thick length, and the both of you see stars. 

“Go slow,” he cautions you sheepishly. “Or I’ll lose it.”

You are so pent up with desire and emotion that you know you won’t last long either. You savor the delicious stretch of him inside you, riding him slowly with your breasts in your hands, his thumb on your ripe little clit driving you mad. He brings you like the sun cresting the horizon, a warm and bright pleasure that fills your center and spreads through your bones. You know he holds on by a thread as your greedy cunt milks every last drop of golden ecstasy from him, his strong fingers digging into your hips with a moan. Breathless, you take mercy on him, uncoupling to take him in your mouth once more. The taste of him spilling upon your tongue is divine–his throaty moans the most wonderful sound. 

With a satisfied sigh you curl up beside him, resting your cheek on his ribs, shuddering for his featherlight fingers tracing over your hair, careful of your shoulders. That disbelieving laughter you love so much draws your attention back up to him, finding him looking down at you with so much joy shining in those lovely dark eyes. 

Not for the first time, you think he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” you answer with a smile, and in that happy moment you know you are equally blessed and ruined. 

The latter, you are finally ready to accept with an open heart.  

___

epilogue to follow...

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

---

Chapter Twelve: Consequences

Now Playing: Breakin’ Dishes by Rihanna

I listened as Billy told us all the story of Taha Aki and his family, how they dealt with the Cold Ones. I had heard this story before, when Bella and I had come over with Charlie as children.

Bella fell asleep after a while, and Jacob picked her up to take her back to Edward. I had gone back with the rest to Emily’s house.

I showered and put on my pajamas, walking out to sit on the couch as Jared set up some movies. Emily made popcorn and Sam dug out blankets.

The movie Jared ended up turning on was some action movie I wasn’t particularly interested in. It wasn’t bad, though.

I fell asleep about half way through, and I woke up in my bed. I wasn’t sure how I got there, but I figured one of the guys put me to bed so they could fold out the couch bed.

I made my way towards the kitchen, only to find Sam, Jared, and Paul sitting around the table looking grim.

I slid into the seat closest to me, asking them, “What happened?”

Jared handed me a newspaper.

On it, the title read, “Seattle Terrorized by Slayings.” Underneath the title, I read about nearly fifty people having been killed at random. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the brutal murders; no racial bias, no gender bias, not one part of the city safe from the attacks. The only thing that authorities have determined was that all the victims were from ages twenty to thirty, with a few victims being in their late teens. I felt sick.

“We will be patrolling more,” Sam said grimly, “We are meeting with the Cullens.”

“Do you think it’s… supernatural?” I asked, my brows drawing together, “It could be human doings, there’s some sadistic people in the world.”

“There’s not a fingerprint there, no tracks, not a single thing pointing to human murders,” Paul said, his voice tense and his body pulled taught, “Better safe than sorry.”

I pursed my lips, nodding.

---

Bella called me.

“You saw it, right?” She demanded, her voice hushed. I knew what she meant.

“Yeah, we all saw it.” I confirmed, and I heard her sigh in relief on the other end of the phone.

“Carlisle asked for help from the Denali coven, the one I told you Laurent had stayed with,” she explained, “They won’t help us, if this is caused by Victoria.”

“Why?” I asked, slightly confused. Weren’t they friends with the Cullens?

“Laurent was involved with one of them,” she said angrily, “And now the Denali coven wants to kill the pack because they killed Laurent.”

I was silent for a long moment.

“Fuck Laurent and fuck them, we don’t need their help anyway,” I said slowly, anger simmering in my chest, “He tried to kill us, he deserved to be destroyed.”

Bella agreed with me, adding, “Yeah. Listen, I need you to talk to Sam. If the things in Seattle are because of Victoria, we need to work together or everything will be for nothing.”

“He wants to talk to the Cullens,” I informed her, “I think it’s going to be some of the others who need convincing.”

“Okay,” she said, “Okay. I’ll call you, if I know anything else.”

“Back at you,” I tell her, “Love you.”

“Love you too, Y/n.”

The call disconnected, and I ran back to the front of the house to tell everyone what I had learned.”

---

Bella said that Alice was having a party. We both agreed that it was a stupid idea.

Sam wants to speak with the Cullens, but he doesn’t trust them. He wants answers, he wants to know what they know.

I think he believes that they’re somehow the cause of everything, and I don’t really disagree. I think, though, that the Cullens are trying to keep everything safe and close to their chest.

Jacob got Bella, but they hung out at his house.

I was making food with Emily, watching as the guys cycled in and out of the house. Sam had everyone doing double shifts, and it was taking a toll. When they weren’t out in the forest, the pack was sleeping. I had to coax them awake to get them to eat, and as soon as they were finished, they were right back asleep.

Paul had just gotten back from his shift to trade out with Embry, when Bella stormed into the house. She was holding her hand, furious and crying, and I was quick to rush to her side.

Despite his weariness, Paul woke himself up to oversee everyone’s safety.

Bella’s hand was broken, and Emily was the one to look at it. She explained what happened, and I stared at her. I was still as a statue as she spoke, my eyes wide as fury exploded in my chest.

I shoved to my feet, my chair tipping over behind me as I stormed outside to find Jacob. Paul was on my heels after smacking Jared awake to watch over Bella and Emily in the kitchen.

I stormed over to where Jacob was standing in the yard, debating if it was worth it to break my hand to punch him, too.

Instead, I stopped an arm’s length away from him and watched him coldly. I was so angry that I was shaking, and I demanded, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My voice almost didn’t sound like me, and it would have been a bit more startling had I been less upset.

“Y/n, listen—” he started, but I cut him off.

“I don’t give a single damn about what you have to say!” I snapped, “I know you like my sister, and no one fucking liked Edward, but that doesn’t give you the right to kiss her against her will!”

“Y/n, it’s not that bad, I—”

I cut him off again, “If Edward doesn’t kill you, I very well might, you pushy, idiotic, piece of shit.”

I turned, looking to Paul.

“Explain to him what consent is, because it seems like the constant fever has gotten to his brain,” I ordered, “And keep him away from the house.”

I stormed back to the house, listening as Paul started to lay into Jacob.

---

I took Bella to the Cullen’s home. It was the first time I had ever seen it.

We marched in and I saw Edward first.

“What happened?” He demanded, and Bella explained everything to him.

I was still fuming, and Edward was tense beside me as Carlisle fixed Bella’s hand.

“Don’t touch any of the others,” I muttered, “But Jacob’s free game.”

Edward inclined his head, “We share similar sentiments on him now, I see.”

“If I could have, I would have broken his nose.”

---

I ended up staying the night with the Cullens.

Alice made me shower, since I “smelled like wet dog,” and gave me some of clothes to wear instead. She stuffed me into a pair of black pajama pants several sizes too big, tying them a tightly around my hips. The shirt, which was also slightly large, was a band tee for Metallica.

Bella and I took monopoly over the couches, Edward sitting beside her.

Emmett and Rosalie had come out of their room, and Emmett asked, “What happened, Bella? Walking and cheering gum at the same time?”

“Punched a werewolf,” she corrected, and he laughed loudly.

“Which one?” He asked eagerly, “That why your sister’s here?”

“Jacob,” I answered, “Feel free to break his jaw, if Paul didn’t for me.”

Emmett grinned, sitting down happily beside me, “Paul’s the one who tried to beat my ass when I accidentally got over the creek, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, “No hard feelings about it.”

Emmett laughed again, “If we weren’t supposed to hate each other, it’d be cool to wrestle. They’re bigger than the bears that I hunt.”

I raised my brows, “I’ll relay the sentiment.”

After a minute, my phone rang. I picked it up and I walked back outside, listening to Paul’s voice as it crackles to life on the other end of the line.

“How are things over there?” He asked, “Are the lea— Cullens taking care of your sister?”

“They’re nice, the good doctor put a brace on Bella’s wrist, Edward’s taking care of her right now.,” I informed, then asked, “How are things over there?”

“Pack’s a little divided,” He told me honestly, “Some think Jacob wasn’t overly in the wrong, Emily, Leah, and the rest of the girls think Bella should’ve been able to break his nose.”

I hummed, “What about you? What do you think?”

“I think I hate vampires and want you and Bella away from them, but that Jacob had no right to kiss Bella when it wasn’t what she wanted.”

His answer was good, and I told him as much.

“Good answer,” I murmured, “You get some brownie points.”

“For being a decent person?” He said dryly, “Thanks, Y/n. I’ll take them where I can get them.”

I snorted, “Alright, Hot head, whatever. Meet me over at my house? I think I’ll murder Jacob if I go back over there, and I need to tell Charlie about Bella breaking her hand.”

“Took care of it already,” He replied, and I could hear him walking to the door, “I’ll see you over there.”

I hung up and kissed Bella’s temple, hesitantly patting Edward on the shoulder as I left. I felt awkward in their house, but I thanked them for their help and hospitality.

———

Sorry this was put out so late!! Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!!

Also, this was about when I started realizing that Stephanie Meyer wasn’t a good writer in general bc Jacob and Edward weren’t shit and Bella was a victim of both at any given time

Also also, I got a few requests!! I’m so happy and I’m working on them rn!! They should be out sometime this week and thank you guys so much for the interest in my writing 🥰 I adore yall 💕

(Ps I got a guinea pig and he’s adorable and SO soft)

[emlovslennon]

Ok so for your Paul stuff… y/n has been dating Paul since the cavern club days, now it’s set during get back, and Paul has gotten a lot more dominant….

Good LORD i have been lacking smh. But woohoo ft Paul McCartney for the first time on my account ‼️

Era: 1969

-

it’s been 8 years since you and Paul have gotten together, you guys met early 1961, back when The Beatles were still performing at the infamous Cavern Club. You showed up to every show and ultimately got the attention of the handsome bassist, after that night, you and him have been pretty much inseparable. At the beginning of your relationship, Paul was very shy, and would let you take the reigns when it came to bedroom activities. But, something changed, to say the least. As the Beatles grew bigger and more popular, the more confident Paul grew. And it wasn’t just an egocentric kinda thing, he started to really push himself when it came to sex as well. Especially now, with how stressed he is with the band seemingly falling apart, even though he doesn’t want to admit it, and obviously you don’t either. And the numerous moments in between when John hit on you when drunk and apologizing in the morning after Paul’s scolding.

“I just don’t understand it, y/n.” Paul sighed, looking at the copious amounts of song writing material on the table. You looked at him, with nothing but sympathy, you know that Paul is truly trying his best and how passionate he is about the band, it truly is exceptional.

“Paul, I promise, everything will be fine.” You say softly, bringing your hands to his shoulders and slowly massage them. You felt him groan as his head laid against your chest. This went on for a minute or so until he turned around and gave you a soft kiss, Paul was always such a passionate lover, he usually was never too rough, even though he sure tried.

“Y/n, I want to try something, I heard it helps with stress, at least, something to do with what John was rambling about earlier, but, I wanted to ask you if you want me to be… rougher, in bed.” You blushed as he explained, you’ve never done that before, but as much stress he’s been dealing with lately, you couldn’t help but not give in to what he wants.

“Of course, we can try. That’s fine with me.” You said, you smiled as Paul’s eyes grew wide and giggled, he honestly didn’t think you’d agree to it. Paul picked up bridal style and took you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed. You pulled yourself up by your elbows to see the look Paul’s eyes change, they looked darker than usual, and filled with lust. Your breath hitched as he slowly unbuttoned his vest and the white button up he had underneath. Today was a very stressful day for him, whether it be him and George bickering or John completing spacing out or having pda with Yoko.

“Strip for me, love.” He demanded. His voice deeper than usual. You immediately got on your knees on the bed and unbuttoned your blue cardigan along with your white top, along with your black, lacy bra you had been wearing. Paul seemed to be impatient as he grabbed your knees and pulled from under them so you fell on your back, as he nearly ripped off your black skirt and panties. This was definitely not the norm for him. He spent no time slipping a finger into you without warning, causing you to arch your back and moan loudly. He immediately shoved a second one in, causing you to gasp, he’s usually very slow in mid movements, but this definitely is different, he’s wasting no time. His fingers always manage to hit your sweet spot as his fingers curled. Causing your legs to shake as you continued to moan.

“Never noticed how needy you are, love. I think I’m gonna need some convincing if you want me to do more than this.” He said, kissing your forehead, although his fingers felt ethereal, you did wish he was actually inside you, especially at such a fast and deep pace he was going.

“P-Paul, please, I need you.” You moaned out shakily, a huge grin painted his face, as he slowly unbuttoned his pants in a excruciatingly slow pace, which made your thighs clench.

“Paul, come on, please I need-“ you stopped dead in your tracks as Paul shoved his entire length into you at one go, causing you to yelp out. Paul gave you no time to adjust, which he usually does, and just immediately started a hard pace.

“Come on, you asked for this, what you get for rushing me.” Paul grunted, you cried out as he hit all the right spots, you have no idea where this type of Paul has been all your life, well, the last 8 years, but you weren’t complaining. You have never felt yourself so close to the edge before, it never came this fast. You could feel the warm feeling in your stomach growing, you felt as if you were a ticking time bomb.

“P-Paul-“ you gasped

“Already? I don’t know, should I let you cum?” He says, in a very breathy tone as he lets out groan after groan. He never made you beg before.

“P-please Paul! Please let me cum, please!” You cried out, Paul spent no time rubbing your clit before you felt the feeling in your stomach snap and you let go all over him. Paul didn’t stop, though. You felt yourself started to get overstimulated, tears started to brim your eyes and the shakiness you were feeling wouldn’t subside.

“I know, I know, I’m almost there, love.” He moaned, after about three more thrusts, he came inside you with a loud groan. Which is probably the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. His long, dark brown hair disheveled, and his face was flushed. He looked so darkly beautiful. He laid next to you and kissed your face all over, no matter how rough he was, he will always be the same boy you fell in love with in Liverpool.

-

THIS WAS KINDA BAD BUT WE NEEDED PAUL CONTENT IT NEEDED TO HAPPEN

[nescaveckwriter]

Stethoscopes & Triangle - Chapter 6 💖

A/N: OMW😱😱😱...Y'all, I know it's been a while, so sorry, life has been busy😳, but I hope y'all like this chapter, please let me know what y'all think... Enjoy 💕

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, angst, heartbreak, mention of death, hard scenes, terror , bombs , anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Sam Winchester, Amy Summers, Cas Paul Summers, Dean Winchester.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:1875😅

Chapter Six 🤩

His eyes dark, wide and filled with fear, he heard the sound of rustling water, he heard the people screaming for his Amy and another man, to get out of there, but it was too late, the water filled the subway, he heard the people in the distance saying “Ain’t no way someone could’ve survived that” it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, he clasped his shirt, trying to get air inside his lungs, but it sure as hell didn’t work, he didn’t even realise he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face, he lost the love of his life, the woman he’d always knew would be a mother for his kids… the only woman he ever truly loved… She’s gone, just like that… GONE! He heard someone scream in the distance for a medic, for him, but there was a part of him that wanted to give up. His sweet, beautiful Amy is gone, and she’s never coming back. The medics came to him, saying he's busy having a panic attack, but in all honesty, it felt more like a heart attack.

Water everywhere, separated during the flood, Amy found herself against some sort of concrete, debris, gasping for air, water in her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe normally. Her eyes burning from whatever was in that water, shivering, looking around and then finally calling out “Dean, Dean?” but her voice came out sounding raspy, and more like a squeak, he needs to be okay, he just needs to be alive. Never in her life has she felt so afraid, so alone, so scared. She clung to that piece of debris, as if that was the last source of hope. Her clothes were wet, her hair wet strings clinging to her cold skin, she tried to make something out, anything… but it was so dark and water wherever you looked. With trembling hands she rubbed over her face, tired, scared, hurt and alone she found herself stranded. She drew her knees to her chest, resting her head on top of her legs, closing her eyes, recalling everything that took place, sighing as she recalled the last conversation she had with Sam, is that how he's going to remember her.?

He's breath ragged, the blood trickling down the side of his head, from some open cut, a piece of glass sticking, out of his upper torso, grunting “That's great, survived the war only to die in some damn subway, hell of a way to go” maybe he's crazy talking to himself like this, but hey it's not like anyone's going to sent him to some head doctor, grunting as he pulled out the piece of glass. He chuckled a little, when he saw a bottle of bourbon, drifting in the water, “at least there's some booze,” he grabbed the bottle, “ah! Damn, here I thought all my luck was gone, this bottle is nearly full” he opened the cap, took a few big gulps, with the back of his hand he swiped the last few drops away, closing it again. He screams out “Any chance for a burger? Just randomly drifting around! Preferably not soggy, and extra cheese.” He laughs at himself. He walks further in the water, coming up to his chest, it's cold, but he's had a lot worse. As he kept walking he heard a small squeak sound that called his name “Dean, Dean?” He could hardly believe it, it's Amy… he quickly moved through the water and debris, towards the sound, that's when he saw her, she looked so vulnerable, so alone, far from the strong doctor he met. His voice came out a little more rough than intended “Sweetheart!” The way her head lifted, the way she looked at him, it made his heart melt there and then, she jumped into the water, made her way to him, snaked her arms around his , in a brittle voice “Dean, your alive” he smirked, resting his chin on her head, “Got to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me” a small giggle escaped her lips, “your an ass, you know that right” his calloused fingers, found their way to her chin, lifting her head so he could look into her blue eyes “might be true, but at least I àm a handsome ass” she tried to keep a straight face, but then she burst into laughter, a few seconds passed, when Dean joined in, both of them laughing hysterically.

It went on for a while, might have been the shock, adrenaline or the relief that they weren't alone in this. The two of them at least had each other. They made their way to the fallen concrete debris that were out of the water, sat there, Dean wrapped his arm around Amy's shoulder, they sat in silence, passing the bottle of bourbon between the two of them.

With the bottle of bourbon, halfway through, Amy broke the silence, “Dean?” Staring into the darkness, “yes!” She gulps, “you think, anyone knows we're alive?”

Dean takes another sip, barely audible, “Don't know” Amy looks at him, her blue eyes piercing, “what the hell is the matter with you?” He looks completely dumbfounded, “what?” Rolling her eyes, “you're not exactly a ray of sunshine, beaming of positivity, now are you?” Dean shrugs his shoulders “Bite me! What am I supposed to do, lie?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “urgh! Your …” trailing off, then looking away. Dean runs a hand through his hair, “look I'm sorry, I'm not exactly good at this heart to heart shit”. He tries to look at her face, but with the dim light, he can't make anything out. “Please look at me?”

Still looking away, tears softly running over her delicate skin, trying to hide it, “No!” Sounding slightly brittle. He Huff's, “oh for goodness sake, are you for real? You're not going to look at me ever again?”

She scoffs, “fine by me” He raises his voice “AMY! Look at me damnit”. But she doesn't respond, instead holding her gaze on something floating in the water. He growled a little, “Don't make me get off here, just look at me!”.

Her head flung around, her eyes wide, a sense of vulnerability, written all over her face, something that nearly never happened. Barely audible “I'm scared okay, are you happy now?”.

His face softened when he saw the look on her face, without thinking it through, he pulled her into his chest. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Wrapping her hands around him, “the least you can do is be a little more positive” saying between sniffles. He burrows his head in the crook of her neck, “sorry, not my forte”. He felt her sigh, “I hate being so… so…” he interrupts “human?”. She lets out a muffled groan “yes”. His breath trickled against the skin in her neck “hate to break it to you, but last time I checked, we are human.”

Her fingers slightly clenching to his shirt, her head against his shoulder, tears running down her cheeks, muffled sobbing sounds coming from her, all Dean did was hold her close, in that moment the two of them found comfort in their shared embrace.

Unsure how long they were holding onto each other, but Amy's sobbing died down, and Dean, unwilling pull back a little, his finger sliding underneath her chin, tilting so that he can stare into her blue eyes, the way she looked at him, took his breath away, she was stripped of the stoic appearance she used to have, and instead he was met with a open, raw vulnerability that no one knew was in Dr. Amy Summers. His voice was a little rough, “Amy!” A small “mhmm?” Escaped her lips.

His free hand brushing away a strand of hair, without breaking eye contact he, hoarsely whispers “I really want to…” trailing off, not finding words, instead his lips plunge into hers. At first she was taken aback, but then gave into the feeling of his plump lips. She parted her lips, and he wasted no time, slipping in his tongue, and in that moment the kiss became passionate, hungry almost, his hands cupping her face, while her fingers tangled in his hair, only fueling the passion more. Only breaking the kiss when they were completely breathless. Panting a little, both of them share a look of amazement, and a tinge of embarrassment. Needing to get space between the two of them, Amy and Dean, go and shift to sit on the farest ends of the makeshift debris haven, not uttering a single word, each with their own thoughts, Amy can't believe she kissed another man, than Sam, feeling guilty, and something else, almost excitement, she loved Sam, but this kiss, felt different, felt exhilarating, as for Dean, his mind racing, never in his life has he kissed a woman, and he was known as a player, and felt such a spark, such desire, such fulfilment, as if he found what he's been longing for, for so long. The shared moment between them is nearly sacred. The awkward silence that fell between was palpable.

Sam sat there in the back of the ambulance, defeated look on his face, the panic attack had died down, but the heartache would never go away. He nearly didn't even hear the ringing of his phone. The vibration in his pocket tearing him away from his thoughts, picking it up, not even sounding like himself “hello?”.

The gruff, cold voice of Paul Summers ringing in his ears “ah! What's the matter, you sound sad!” Sam sighed, despite the fact that he hated this man he was still Amy's dad, his voice tired, broken “P-Paul! It's… it's Amy” he couldn't say the words, he paused, trying to regain the capability of telling this man, his daughter is gone.

Paul let out a cold chuckle “yeah! Shame that had to happen, I'll arrange a nice funeral for my daughter, she'll be greatly missed” Sam could not believe what he heard, his eyes wide with realisation. “You bastard! This was you, wasn't it! How… how … could you, she's your daughter.”

Unfazed Paul answered, “to my defence, I did warn you something bad will happen!”

Sam snapped “are you hearing yourself?” His voice was low, dark “you listen to me, you bastard.” Paul Snickers “okay sonny, before you go on and rant about how you're gonna kill me, How about you call the fire department, to your office, that's currently burning to the ground, oh! And thanks for leaving the witness files out in the open, you've been a great help.” With that he ended the call.

Sam sat there, trying to wrap his head around everything that just took place. Adrenaline and anger coursing through his veins. When his phone rang again, he immediately picked up, “what do you want” but the voice on the other end of the line wasn't Paul Summers, no, it was far worse… a ghost from his past …

@jackles010378 @k-slla @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99

[celesteheartsjey]

~Call On Me~Chapter 1

"Bloodline you're on in 5.. 4..3..2..1" the director said not even above a whisper.

"Now.." The director says right on cue.

Roman turns his head from the tv backstage in the bloodlines locker room, slowly , with sort of a smirk on his face, yet a confused look at the same time.

"I don't get it .. Wiseman.." Roman spoke, turning his body to Paul, not all the way , but just enough to know that he's talking to him.

"Yes my tribal chief ?" Paul's says quickly leaning into Roman's frame, listening to his voice of concern.

"Why are they on my show?" he says referring to Randy and Matt Riddle whom had just had a match with Sami Zayn, as both men in the end had stood tall with their raw tag team champions. "I mean we already smashed RK-Bro, we done with them man , they must be desperate.."

"I mean we already whooped them at backlash uce, and they out here still talking Trash !" Jey chimed in with a hint of aggravation in his voice.

"Yeah, they not just talking trash about the tribal chief uce" Jimmy joining in also. "They not only doing that , but they disrespect the usos too !" He said looking back and forth between his twin brother and older cousin. "Saying we can't do nothing on our own.. saying we need you to do everything for us" he says , with his eyes on Roman's. "Man.." he countinued. "We the longest reigning smackdown tag team champions nearly 300 days for a reason !"

"No cap" jey says agreeing with his brother.

"But it's all good uce ! We do this for the bloodline, and most of all we doin this for family ! Tonight uce ..the whole world will acknowledge the tribal chief ."

The camera pin points on Roman as he looks on with a serious expression, clearly taking in everything the brothers just said, nodding his head, he was satisfied with what he heard.

"Tonight ..we gone give them an answer" Roman says.

The odd silence fell from the room when the director had yelled "cut !". Everyone had got up from the nice cushions they were sitting on, making their way outside of the locker room, to prepare for the events that would happen later that night , involving a in ring segment with Riddle and Randy.

_____

Outside the locker room, was where she stood waiting for Roman. Ever heard of the catchphrase "behind every successful man there is a woman"?

She in this case , was definitely that woman. Olivia Ouelett was her name. She and Roman had been married for quite some time now , and it was very evident that these two were so in love with each other , even now with the wave that Roman and his cousins are on , she's extremely proud of him . He's worked hard to get to where he is now, and it first it was a struggle , but that's apart of life .

All people tend to go through struggles, but that makes them who they are, and if anything that ought to make a person stronger , fueling the passion deep within one's heart.

Roman embraces his beautiful wife, closing the now gone distance, between them.

Olivia smiled as she took in her husbands warmeth against her body. He then pulls away, looking at her up and down , observing the very short red dress that had a low cut , enough to reveal her breasts, hugging her tight frame ,with her blonde loose curls, flowing down her back beautifully.

Olivia, to simply put it was just that girl.

A smirk forms at his lips, As his eyes still can her amazing features.

"I don't know what it is ..but it's something about this dress that's taking everything in me to not rip it off of you right now" he says suddenly. This time with more of a serious, thus far desirable look.

Olivia giggled at her husbands words.

"Mm, eh bien, si cela ne tanait qu'a moi, je te ramenerais dans ce vestiaire tout de suite" she said, speaking in her very strong French Canadian accent.

"English ?" He asks, his hands moving down to her waist.

"I said , if it were up to me I would take you in that locker room, right there..now." she says pointing over at the locker room door that he as well as his cousins had just came out of.

He bit his lip , turned on by her words. "Well how about we -"

"Ay yall chill on the pda. We know yall married but damn, do everybody gotta know?" Jimmy says , interrupting the moment like he always does.

Joe sighs at yet another moment being ruined. Meanwhile Olivia just laughs.

"Uce why you always gotta say something" Jey says tapping his brothers arm, causing him to flinch.

"What you mean ?! I ain't even do nothing , all I asked was a damn question! I can't ask questions now ?? and secondly what the hell you hit me for ??"

"Cause of yo damn foolishness that's why, now come on so we can go to get us a quick bite to eat at catering before this segment tonight" jey says walking off.

Jimmy rubs the back of his head and just looks at his brother walking away, then he looks between Roman and Olivia.

"Ay uh, I'll catch you later then big uce" he says dapping Roman up , and walking off behind his brother.

Roman shakes his head and looks back at Olivia. " I can't stand them sometimes" he says with a bit of a chuckle.

Olivia laughs.

_____

Later That Following Night

The Bloodline had cut their in ring segment for the night , and were currently walking backstage.

By that point everyone was ready to load and get ready to go. Hoping that they all could get a good nights rest , and just like that be on to the next city..

Roman and Olivia walked hand in hand as they went back into the locker room, having faith that they would get some kind of alone time tonight.

As soon as the door is opened Roman goes to plop down on the couches soft cushions, instantaneously letting out a loud groan. Olivia joins in, sitting beside him.

He lies his head back, gazing up at the rooms lights. Olivia comes into him closer, closing the space between the cushions.

Her hand begins to fidget with the zipper on his jacket that he was wearing , the other one was playing with the likes of his hair that was slicked back into a man bun.

He looked over at Olivia , adoringly as she toyed with his hair . He pulled her in , only for him to place a light kiss on her lips.

She swooned at the touch of his lips, already missing the feeling of them. Without saying another word she leans her head down to give him a smother of pecks on his lips, grabbing a hold of his thick beard she begins to stroke it lightly.

A slight moan falls from Olivia's lips as the kiss gets sloppier. Their tongues dancing like no other, feeling the heat of the moment.

Just like that Olivia lifts her right leg up to put it over Roman's lap , practically straddling him, with their lips not once leaving each other. Olivia's dress rises up by the minute as Roman starts to rub his gigantic hands in circles over her ass.

Her moans intensify as he tugs at the back of her dress , pulling it over, to reveal her bare, but perfectly rounded butt.

He places a hard smack against her sensitive skin. She moans In return, his lips leaving her mouth to then only attack her neck.

His hands roamed her back , tugging at the back of her dress once more.

"Take this off" he growled against her skin, unzipping the back of her red fitted dress.

She did just as he said, sliding her dress down over her shoulders, revealing her black laced bra, with the panties to match. Pulling her dress all the way off, she throws it to the floor.

His hands immediately fall to her breast, groping them, liking the feel. Her hands lay on top of his, rubbing his hands against her breasts.

Suddenly he stops, lifting himself up , with her weight still on him , as he began to unzip his jacket and take it off of himself, along with his shirt, showing his toned body that was both tatted and Muscular.

He positioned himself back to where he was at first, just gazing at her and her beautiful adolescense.

"You're so perfect" he softly spoke, pulling up to Kiss her lips again.

She giggles. "Thank you"

Before saying another word, they find themselves kissing each other nonstop , his hand caressing her back , soon coming down the front of her. His hands went down her stomach , pulling at her black laced panties.

Looking down he notices how wet she is, so he takes his finger and slowly inserts it inside of her.

"Oh, oh my god" she spoke.

"Feels good don't it ?" He whispered against her ear.

"Yes.." she whined to him.

While he was pumping his finger in and out of her , his free hand went to her bra, pulling it down, unveiling her double d's .

His mouth watered at the sight of them, quickly attaching his lips to her left breast.

He took his time working on her left nipple , soon going over to latch his lips on the other one. She moaned, looking up at the lights, laying her head back as far as she could, only to bring her head back down again to look at his finger as he slid in and out of her wet folds.

"Mmm.." she moaned moved her hips back and forth against him, as he fingers worked her, picking up his pace.

Her hands went around his head , as he had finally unattached his lips from her nipple. He pumps in to her more as she feels herself starting to come of an extremely high orgasm, her moans more vocal than ever.

"Mhmm, tell your tribal chief what you want" he moans.

" Je veux que tu me baises, I want you to fuck me" she said with a pleading tone.

Hearing those 6 words, he took his fingers from her sticky folds and put it up to her mouth, allowing her to get a taste of herself.

Taking his finger from her mouth, he pulls his joggers down along with his underwear, to see his 7 inch shaft , spring out , rock hard against her slickness.

He picks her up, cupping both of her cheeks , and placing them on his dick. She moans at the feel of him inside of her.

His thrusts started slow as she mosned to him , fulfilling her every desire in that moment, that pleased the both of them, as they had moaned together in unison.

"I can feel how wet you are for me .."

A moan was all that feel from her tounge, until he planted a hard smack on her ass.

"Uhh yes ! I'm so wet for you !" She loudly moaned.

He countinued to slap her ass, rolling her hips into his , riding the waves of ecstasy , watching her body go back and forth.

"Tell daddy what you want again" he says, placing a tight grip on her hips.

"I-I .. I want daddy to fuck Me!"

And that he did as he had moved with a quickness, his balls slapping against her skin, his mouth widening at the pleasure he was giving , as they fucked each other in pure bliss.

"You love this dick huh?" He says cupping her ass checks, to go down harder on his member.

"Yes! I Love it !"

"Then you gone cum for me right?" He whispered against her ear.

"Uht, yes-"

"What you say, I can't hear you baby" he said pounding into her much faster.

"Y-Y-Yesssss! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" She moaned, feeling her walls closing in.

"Fu-"

That's when their was a twist on the door knob, and with Olivia and Roman not paying to much attention, they hadn't even noticed that the door had opened.

"Ay, Uce-" jey said stopping dead in his tracks, as his voice echoed throughout the room , causing Olivia to jump up within a matter of seconds, gathering her clothes to cover her, running into the bathroom.

" shit, shit ! My fault uce !" He said quickly going back outside the lockeroom, in absolute embarrassment, knowing that he had just walked in on his cousin and his wife 'doing it'.

Once Jey had gotten out of there sight, Olivia peaked her head in from the bathroom.

"Relax baby he's gone, you can come out of hiding now" Roman said dropping his hand down over his face.

She came out of the bathroom , looking straight at Roman like he was crazy.

"What?" He asked looking over to her, adjusting his joggers.

"Why didn't you lock the door !?!" She shrilled at him.

"Why didn't I lock the door ?? What do you mean , you came in last following behind me, why is it me, that was supposed to lock the door!?!"

She rolled her eyes at the thought of their carelessness for fucking in their locker room, and not only that it was the bloodlines lockeroom.

"Whatever" she shot back at him, going back in the bathroom.

" Are we finishing this back at the hotel though ?!" He asked.

"No! Since you thought it was you that wasn't supposed to lock the door!" She shouted from the bathroom.

"What - Olivia I did not say that !"

"Didn't have too !" She hissed.

"But you came in last" Roman said still trying to defend himself.

"Whatever Roman!" She says in annoyance at the topic.

He didn't bother to say anything else, because he personally saw no point if she was going to shut him down everytime. But he still needed the reassurance.

" wait so you really not gone give me no more at the ho-"

"NO."

"Damn" he muttered to himself , wishing that he could've went back and locked that door.

Y’all this is my first fic on here I hope yall enjoy it , and this is also posted on my wattpad , Celeste798 in case yall wanna check it out ! But anyways here yall go ! And y’all’s comments and votes would be very much appreciated 🌞❤️..

[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Epilogue: The End

Date: 2/9/78

Dear John, 

I wish I could have told you how much I loved you. From the first moment our eyes met, to the last shaky breath. I don't know if you remember me anymore, it's been so long since you went off with Paul, George, and Ringo on your grand adventure. I hope everything is going well for you. 

It's been, what, 20 years? More than that at this point, I know...

I tried reaching out a few years ago, but I couldn't get ahold of you because you had stepped away from the public eye. I hope you're happy with your family, and that you release some new music soon. 

Imagine has to be one of my new favorites, keep working away! I miss you, I'll be sure to reach out again soon. 

Love, 

the girl you showed around Liverpool over 20 years ago

Date: 4/16/78

Dear my best friend, 

It's been awhile since our last talk. Nearly 7 years now...how's your family? I hope they're doing well...

John, I, don't know what to say, how we can come together again. I know we are split apart, really and even our music is starting to reflect that. 

But you'll always be my best friend, you'll always be the person who inspired me the most. I love you, John. 

Highest regards, 

the boy you found in Liverpool 

Date 6/26/78 

Dear friend, 

I find your boldness endearing. The words you speak to the world are strong and noble like those of my own. I sometimes wonder how things could have been different, if we hadn't disbanded, but even you know that I wanted out of there more than anyone...more than you. 

Things have been fine over here. I've been soul searching, figuring out myself...especially in these times. I hope you and your family are well. I wish my own was. 

Notify me when you drop that next album will you? I'd appreciate a chance to listen to something that reminds me of better times. 

Signed, 

who they considered quiet 

8/30/78

Dearest friend of friends, 

Recording with you has been the best thing I've done in awhile. The albums aren't doing very well right now. I'm just glad for your contributions. If you need anything, I'm always here so just send a word. 

I haven't seen either George or Paul for awhile, the pretty girl from Liverpool reached out to me and she said she sent you a message a few months back. 

We've been wondering about you John...

Peace and Love, 

Your Drummer

20 years earlier 

"We won't be gone too long," John says, adjusting his cap. You raise your eyebrow as you fluff up his hairs that sticks out. 

"I know, but when you make it big, don't feel compelled to come back too soon, alright?" You reply, stepping away from him.

The train was nearing the station, your heart swelled, seeing your beloved friends going off into the world.

"I'm going to miss you," John whispers to you. He kisses your hand with a slight smirk. You chuckle to yourself, this feeling that he's going to forge his own path...you know that he will have bigger things to think about than you.

At least that's what you thought...

10/9/80

Dear Y/N,

I know it's been a long time since I've written you. My life has changed in so many ways, I can't even explain it. I admit that I wanted to reach out in the past and didn't have the courage too. I really missed you, but I felt I left you behind...

I see that now that I should have just written you. 

I still love you, and always will...

I really do miss you, maybe we can meet up again sometime. It would be nice to meet up again after all these years. I heard you're getting a name for yourself in England. 

Thank you for the birthday card, by the way, you've sent me one every year. 

I hope to see another one next year, 

I love you, 

John Lennon

@sabrielka-133

[mysweetgeo]

Could you do 14 and 16 off of list three for the Valentine’s Day prompts with John please? 👉🏻👈🏻

hello love! i am soooo so sorry about the very very long wait for this—i found myself quite busy and in quite a writing slump. i hope this is worth the wait !

Cupid's Arrow

Request: Could you do 14 and 16 off of list three for the Valentine’s Day prompts with John please? 👉🏻👈🏻

14: “I’ve been hit with Cupid’s Arrow.”

16: “Why? Because I’m in love with you, that’s why!”

Pairing: John Lennon x Reader

Warnings: Only a bit if swearing, dare I say a bit mild for good old Lennon.

Not written with an extremely specific era in mind—sometime after George and Pattie married in January 1966.

You and John Lennon hardly had a conventional relationship—if you could even call it that. 

Yes, that John Lennon.

You were currently one of the many personal assistants to Brian Epstein, therefore making you an assistant to The Beatles.

You’d ‘landed’ the gig when the lads had first taken off in Liverpool—you had worked at NEMS for Brian ever since you were able to work as a teenager.

While you loved your job, you did find many aspects of your work incredibly stressful, you had to make deadlines and phone calls like any other assistant.

But worst of all—you had make sure that any food orders were perfectly correct or else you’d never hear the end of it from John.

You got on perfectly well with all four of the boys, in fact you’d gone to school with George up until he’d been placed at Liverpool Institute for Boys.

Each of them had your heart in one way or another:

Paul (an endless flirt) always greeted you first thing with a smile that would make any girl weak in the knees and a very chipper, “Good morning, love. How’s it?”

George was very kind and always asked about you and your family and if you’d heard about one craze or the next—always in the know and wanting to make sure you were up to speed. 

Ringo was the friendliest, he always would offer to walk you in the building if you arrived at the same time and you were always invited to his home for tea. You and Maureen got on wonderfully and it was always such a joy to be invited to the home of a Beatle even if you saw the lads nearly every day. 

John, on the other hand was always pulling anything and everything he could on you.

He always seemed to have a wise remark to say in response to anything you said or did, no matter what it was. 

It didn’t seem to end with him, and nearly everything was a joke—at your expense, not that you particularly minded.

You’d had some indifferent feelings towards John in the nearly 6 year span of your acquaintance.

Today was no different, it was Valentine’s Day and it seemed that each of the boys had their plans set out with whomever they were taking out.

You knew most of the ins and outs of each of their personal lives, Ringo and Maureen were married with yet another kid on the way, George had just married Pattie Boyd not long ago and they were very much still in the honeymoon phase, and Paul had been seeing Jane Asher for quite some time but it seemed to be going nowhere.

You couldn’t quite read John. He never liked to open up about those things with you, but you did know that he was single—at least that’s what Paul had told you the other day. 

You’d put these thoughts far out of your mind while you had a friendly chat with all four of the boys in the canteen when you had all arrived, you were sat beside Ringo at one of the small tables while John and George grabbed a tea. 

George sat to your other side and John had sat across from you, passing you a cuppa across the table with a wink.

You smiled as a wordless ‘thank you’ while George soon began chatting your ear off about his plans with Pattie for the evening—you often wondered how anyone could even faintly consider him the ‘Quiet Beatle’ when you’d never had a moments peace while in his presence. 

George was soon interrupted by Paul, and then Ringo and soon you knew of all three’s Valentine’s plans. 

John remained silent while you engaged in conversation with the remaining Beatles, seemingly taking it all in or perhaps feeling a touch of jealousy at the fact that he didn’t have any plans for the evening. 

The coziness of the conversation was soon over and the lads began working on a quick take with just Paul, George and Ringo—which proved to be a very rare occurrence—and you found yourself lounged on a couch in the control room with John. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, y’know,” John’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Oh, is it?” You asked, playing coy. “I’d have never known. Say, that must be why I was calling for reservations for you lot a month and a half ago!”

John snorted a laugh and gently nudged you with his shoulder, “Oi, not me I’ll have you know!”

You pushed back with a nudge of your own, “Well I know that much—I’d be pretty dim if I thought I was makin’ you a reservation when George is the one who asked!” 

John only gave you a closed mouth smile as he draped his arm on the couch behind you, allowing a comfortable silence to encroach upon the two of you once again. 

A familiar warm feeling in your stomach began to set in, a feeling you felt nearly any time you were alone or in close proximity to John. 

Another take was done before the other three decided to call it a day, it was early in the afternoon and they all likely had other things planned for their loved ones. 

Once your duties were done for the day, you bid farewell to Brian and George Martin before popping your head into the canteen to tell the boys goodbye and wish them a happy Valentine’s.

Upon doing so you only found Paul and George, who thanked you for the regards and for helping with their plans. 

Ringo and John had seemingly already left so you decided to concede and walk back to your car. 

What you found waiting for you proved to be very interesting.

John projected a casual ‘coolness’ as he smoked a cigarette and leaned against your car, a sly smile on his face when he saw you approach. 

“Hey, I was looking for you inside but thought you’d already left—to what do I owe the pleasure of John Lennon leaning against my car?” You asked, mirroring his cool demeanor. 

He let tendrils of smoke release from his mouth before flicking his cigarette to the ground and clearing his throat. 

“I think I’ve been hit by Cupid’s sparrow,” he said in a very serious tone, eyes meeting yours. 

“You mean, ‘I think I’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow’?” You asked, huffing a laugh. 

John’s face immediately burnt a bright red at his jumbled words, “Well—yeah! It’s not my fault, I’m nervous!”

“Why are you nervous, John?” You asked, tilting your head because you couldn’t understand why John would be nervous, especially when he was speaking to you. 

John threw his hands in the air, exasperated, “Why?” He asked, huffing loudly before continuing, “Because I’m in love with you, that’s why!” 

You knew your mouth had dropped open the moment John had finished his sentence, but you were frozen in place, unsure of what your next move should be. 

“Fuck—I knew I should have waited. I didn’t mean to—“ John cut himself off with a shake of his head, “I thought you felt something similar, sorry I’ve read this wrong.”

John turned to walk by you and back into the studio, but you’d already reached a hand out to grab his arm before he could get very far. 

His head whipped back in your direction, eyes searching yours for anything that could clue him in to what you were going to say. 

“I like you, John. I’m not sure if what I feel is what you could call ‘love’, but I do get a warm feeling inside whenever I’m with you,” you moved closer and placed your other hand on his opposite arm. “I’d like to explore that feeling, if you’ll have me.”

John grinned, his hands coming around your back and pulling you close to him for a hug. 

“That’s better than any Valentine’s present I could have ever received.”

[guitars-and-kaleidoscope-eyes]

Anonymous:

hi! i love love love your content and i want to know if you write reader inserts? if you do could you please write a Ler!Paul Lee!reader?

Lee: X Reader

Ler: Paul McCartney

Ticklish, Darling?

1965

You had just returned home to the London flat you and your boyfriend, Paul, shared. You hung up your damp rain coat and slipped your shoes off. It had been a long week and you thanked any higher power that today was Friday. You sat down at the kitchen table and put your head in your hands. Your boss had yelled at you over something that wasn't even your fault, you slipped in a puddle of water in the hallway of your office and fell on your butt, and the height of Beatlemania was really getting to you.

Oh sure, you knew that by dating a Beatle (especially the cute one) you would draw a bit of attention to yourself, but you never imagined that you would receive death threats from some angry fans! You were always careful when leaving and coming home.

You thought you heard a noise from outside and you jumped out of your chair and ran to the sitting room and looked out the window, but all you saw was the darkness of the London streets as rain hit the sidewalks.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your mind couldn't stop racing. You kept thinking someone was outside of the window watching you, but nothing was there.

Tears filled your eyes and your lip quivered. You flooped down on the sofa and you curled on your side as you let a small sob escape you. You hugged a pillow against your chest and buried your face into the soft cushion.

"(Y/n)! I'm home!" You heard Paul's voice enter from the foyer.

"(Y/n)?" Paul's voice became more concerned. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could maybe just make the world go away.

"Oh (Y/n)..." Paul's smooth voice trickled through your ears.

The only response he received was a shaky breath coming from his girlfriend, who was laying on the sofa crying.

"P-Paul." You whispered, opening your teary eyes to see your concerned boyfriend kneeling next to you.

"What's the matter love?" Paul asked tenderly, stroking some hair from your face. You tried to give him a response, but all that came out was a shaky. breath.

"Alright love. Alright." Paul soothed. He sat down next to you on the sofa and scooped your shaking body into his lap. You raped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest. He rocked you back and forth, stroking your hair and rubbing your back.

"Shhhh, it's alright love. I'm here." He cooed into your ear.

After a few minutes, you had your breathing under control. You sniffled and pulled your face away from Paul's warmth. Your eyes met with his doe eyes.

"Do you think you can tell me what's wrong now?" Paul asked, wiping away a few tears from your cheek.

"I'm sorry Paul. God, this is so stupid." You said.

"Hey, hey. It's not stupid." He said in a soft, but serious tone. "Nothing that upsets you this much is stupid. Now what happened?"

"It's just too much." You said, finally letting the wall come down. "It's been awful at work all week. There's been fans swarming outside the office. My boss yelled at me today for that. A-and I've been getting threats from a few of them, saying they were going to break in and try t-to..."

"Shhhh, it's alright." Paul whispered as you started to cry again.

"N-no, it's not!" You sobbed, "I can't go anywhere without worrying that they'll get to me! I can't even sleep without having nightmares of-"

Paul cut you off by hugging you close to him, holding you against his chest, as if he were trying to block out everything that hurt you. He rested his head on top of yours. You curled up against him, as if he was a cave you could hide in.

"What I was saying is that nothing like that will ever happen to you. Brian is already trying to find a way to keep fans away and get better security. I promise, by next Monday, things won't be nearly as bad. It's been hard on all of us. But trust me, I will NEVER let anything ever happen to you, my dear" Paul whispered into your ear.

"I love you so much Paul." You whispered.

"I love you too (Y/n)." Paul said, kissing your forehead. You smiled and wiped your eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better love. You gave me quite a scare when I walked in." Paul said.

"I'm sorry Paul. I didn't mean to." You said.

"I know." He returned, "But I think a little punishment is in order."

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

He grinned with mischief and wiggled his fingers infront of your face. Your eyes grew wide as it hit you by what he meant by "punishment".

You leaped off the couch to get away, but he ponced on you and the two of you fell onto the carpet. He straddled your hips and rested his hands on your ribs, poking them just enough to tease you. You began giggling

"What is it doll?" He asked, with a mischievous look. "What's got you all giddy today?"

"Pahahahaul!" You giggled, "Stohohop!"

"Sorry deary. No can do. Not until you apologize." He said.

You kept laughing as the tickling increased. Paul's hands moved towards your stomach.

"What have we here?" Paul teased, lifting up your shirt to reveal your belly. "Aww! A cute little tummy! And all for me!"

"Gohahahahd Pahahahaul!" You laughed, trying to get his hands away from you as you blushed. "Stohohop ihihit!"

"What, you mean I can't have this little tummy?" He pouted, kneading the flesh. "But it's so cute and ticklish!"

"Nohohoho!" You laughed even harder.

"How about this little bellybutton then, hmm?" Paul asked, scratching inside your bellybutton. "Just let me play with your bellybutton for a little bit. Then I'll leave you alone."

You couldn't muster to say anything because you were laughing too hard, so you shook your head, trying to hide your grin with your hands.

"Aww! Why not?" Paul pouted, teasing you again. "It's so round and ticklish and cute. I just wanna play with all day."

"Plehehehease!" You laughed trying to escape.

"Please what?" Paul asked, now tickling your belly again. "I think you're laughing too hard. I can't understand you."

"STAHOHOP!" You laughed.

"Ohhhhh." Paul said, still teasing you, "I don't know. Maybe I will. Or maybe I'll just keep this sensitive little tum tum and bellybutton all for myself.

"NOHOHOHO!" You laughed.

"What do you say then?" Paul asked.

"I'M SHOHOHORY PAHAHAHAUL!" You yelled through your laughter. Paul's tickling stopped.

"There. Was that so hard?" Paul asked, rubbing your belly to get any lingering tickly feelings out.

All he got in response was a giggling (Y/n) laying on the floor. Paul smirked at his beautiful girlfriend.

"Thanks for cheering me up Paul." You said, once you stopped giggling.

"Anytime love. Never be afraid to ask if you need help. Or if you ever need a good tickling." Paul winked cheekily. You chuckled and hugged your wonderful boyfriend.

[house-of-slayterr]

I thought this would be so cute so it's y/ns birthday and david wanted to do something special for them but somehow his plan got ruined by the boys eating their cake and then they played a prank on y/n that went too far and made them cry so david take that opportunity to make them feel better

Birthday Disaster!

David’s POV:

The boys and I had long past given up on birthdays. It’s not like they mattered much when you were immortal anyways. And Paul and Marko never needed an excuse to party. They were pointless.

At least that’s what I thought before I met them. Our Human. My human. They somehow made life feel so simple, yet so complicated all at once. They were an enigma, one you couldn’t pry your eyes away from.

Birthdays where Important for two reasons. Human lives were fragile. Nearly everything could hurt them, kill them. I was in a constant battle of worry so every birthday we got to see was a blessing. A reminder that they really were meant to be ours and weren’t going anywhere.

But more importantly, each birthday brought them closer to their promise to us. Just three more and they would join us, stand by my side for the rest of our lives. Sure, it was selfish to preserve my excitement for my own reasons, but I couldn’t help it.

Today marked two more birthdays until they would turn. And I tried to make each human birthday more special than the last. It wasn’t hard when Marko and Paul were like excited puppy’s ready to please their every whim. They would go out of their way for our mate for the smallest things.

The boys had decorated the cave and Dwayne picked out some music. But I was in charge of the most important part. Getting the cake. It was an easy task really, I had an ongoing deal with the baker in town. He was a paranoid old man convinced the rival bakery was trying to steal his secret recipe. I said I’d “watch” the store if he gave me a free cake for my partners birthday every year.

This year I decided to theme the cake around their current favourite character. They were always talking about it, that even Paul started to remember details about it. I asked him, not so kindly, to not smoke tonight at the party unless Y/N gave the ok. He could get even more rowdy when he was high. And that could be a lot for any vampire, let alone a human.

Dwayne was tasked with keeping and eye on him and Marko. So I was beyond livid when I escorted our mate back to the cave for their surprise party, and their cake was nowhere in sight. And neither was Dwayne.

I could sense the other two still in the cave. Y/N may not be able to hear their faint laughter but I could.

“This looks amazing babe” y/n complimented.

I gave them a lazy smile, not trying to bring their attention to the missing cake. I guided them over to the couch when I saw a slight pout on their face, making up a quick lie.

“They must be out getting some last minuet gifts for you doll, you know how they are. Always procrastinating.”

I almost felt my heart flutter when I heard them chuckle. It quickly became one of my favourite sounds after meeting them. And right now I wanted to keep their spirits up. They’d had a long day celebrating with the humans, but I knew they much preferred our smaller parties.

I was furious by the time Dwayne came back to the cave with Laddie, they’d missed like half the party and I still had no cake for our Mate. I pulled him to the side, harshly whispering out of earshot of our human.

“Where the hell were you?” I grit out.

“Laddie got spooked by the thunder and ran off, Star and I were out looking for him. He wasn’t in any of the usual spots.”

I sighed. I couldn’t be mad at him for that. He loved that boy more than anything, we all did. And our kitten would be even more upset if something happened to laddie on their birthday.

“The two idiots did something to the cake while you were gone, but they’re being cowards and won’t come out. Our mate is starting to get sad nobodies here for their birthday, and I think they’ve noticed the missing cake I promised them. This is a disaster Dwyane. I swear I’m gonna kill them-“

He looked almost as furious as I did. Their pranks were typically harmless, but this one wasn’t in good taste. Pun fully NOT intended.

My heart nearly stopped again when I heard faint crying upon re-entering the cave. Followed by the rambling of Marko and Paul apologising profusely. Christ, what have they done now.

“Out!”

I shouted.

The three of them jumped, and I felt bad, but Dwayne could deal with those two right now. I simply pointed to the cave entrance and they hung their heads and left with a few more muttered apologies.

I quickly moved in to scoop up our baby, holding them closely to my chest while they cried. I was never good with words like Dwayne was in moments like this, so I just rocked them, petting their hair softly which seemed to work.

When the sniffling lightened I looked down at them, trying to give my best smile.

“Wanna go for a drive, doll?”

They could never resist a midnight ride under the moon. That would give the boys enough time to fix the party before I got back. Or they’d have hell to pay, those hunters will be the least of their worries…

An: I’m so sorry if this is bad, I haven’t written in so long I feel rusty. I gotta get back into it but seasonal depression is kicking my arse! 😭 Got that writers block hard core right now and I want it to stop!

PS: Doll and Kitten and neutral here, I never use those as gendered terms….

[odiesdayoff]

Parent-Teacher Conference

pair: Burt Fabelman x fem!reader

summary: As Sammy’s teacher, you request a meeting with his parents. Maybe you get a bit too close to his recently-divorced father...

warnings: inappropriate relationship & age gap (all legal no worries); drunk kisses

im sorry steven spielberg for writing about your fictional father. ur fault for casting paul dano.

originally supposed to have smut but then i put off writing this for months.

this is not very proofread, i needed this out of my google doc

You were always glad to hear the final bell of the school day. All the students in your last-period class spilled out of the room and you were left with a silent room for the first time throughout the day. As much as you loved teaching and all of the students you had, there was something special about not having them around.

Just as your bag was packed and you nearly started to put your jacket on, you heard a knock coming from the doorway. A man stood in a brown suit with a white button-up shirt underneath. His hair was neat and only a strand fell in front of his face, right in front of his circular glasses. He looked familiar and you guessed that he was a parent of one of your students, which was highly unusual.

“You’re Miss L/n, right?” You nodded and his confused expression turned into one of satisfaction, “I’m Sam’s father. I believe you sent a note home wanting to talk?”

You waved him inside and gestured for him to pull up one of the student chairs to your desk, “I have to say, it’s unusual that I see a father come in for a meeting like this. Nice to show involvement in your child’s life.” He grinned in response, awkwardly sitting in the chair that was a little bit too small for him.

He folded his hands and rested them on the desk, “Well, my- she’s very busy right now.” You caught his smile falter for a moment before he returned to his cheery disposition.

“I’m glad you’re here. I just wanted to talk about Sam’s performance in class. For the past few weeks, I’ve noticed him becoming a bit distant during class. His performance on assignments hasn’t changed, he’s still quite the exceptional student,” You tried to search your desk for his latest essay, a creative writing piece that you were absolutely blown away with. It seemed to be under the pile of useless announcements and other things the administration had given you during the day.

You finally pulled the essay out and handed it to him, “He's about to start filling out college applications and I think that it would look better if he was in a higher-level class. I only teach A-track classes, but I spoke with the honors English teacher and she would be more than willing to accept him mid-year. It’s up to you to decide if that’s a good idea for him.”

He let out a sigh and a bit of a laugh, “I thought this would be a disciplinary meeting, so this is fantastic to hear.”

“Don’t worry, sir, he’s a wonderful kid. I just think he’d be happier with more stimulation, especially with all of those films he’s making,” You never actually saw one, but you certainly heard all about it from the students and faculty, “I usually let parents discuss this at home before making a decision, unless you’re on the same page as Mrs. Fabelman.”

He scratched the back of his head, “My wife, she’s, well, not really my wife anymore. Sam was the one that discovered everything first, actually. You see, she’s actually in love with my best friend and now my girls are in another state with them, and Sam’s with me.” The silence in the room was a bit deafening. You had no idea how to respond, “That’s primarily why I was so concerned with this meeting. He’s dealing with that whole situation and I just want him to be happy, you know?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“Oh dear, what am I doing? You don’t want to hear any of this,” He wiped his face with his hand and stood up from the chair, making a screeching noise against the floor. 

You followed his movement, standing as well, “It’s okay! I was gonna leave after this, would you say yes if I offered to buy you a drink?”

~~

It wasn’t California’s nicest bar, but it gave a sort of homey feeling that you--and by association, Mr. Fabelman--needed right now. Not many people were here, given the fact that it was barely five in the afternoon. 

Sitting next to each other in a booth, he spoke about his life while you listened and nursed a long island iced tea. Other than a few antics from his wife--or ex-wife?--and children, it seemed highly normal, and if you were being a bit rude, mediocre. You could tell by the more personal he got about his life story, the more the alcohol was in the driver’s seat.

Once he asked about you, it seemed to have snapped you out of your listening mode. You took a sip of your drink, “There’s not much to say about my life, really. I had a pretty normal childhood, went to college, and now I’m working.”

He raised a brow, “What about romances? Surely, you’re married or at least dating someone!”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks before you shook your head, “It’s not really a priority for me. The last time I seriously dated someone was in college, but obviously, that didn’t work out.” 

“It’s hard to believe someone as beautiful as you is still single,” He stared into your eyes, almost in a daze, or perhaps, he was mesmerized by you. The alcohol was definitely in his system, but there was enough in yours as well to find it a bit endearing. He was a good-looking guy with a few family issues, not too much of a red flag. The age was a concern, though.

He kept his blank stare for a moment, then leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You weren’t sure how to react, looking back at him with doe eyes once he pulled away. He shuttered, maybe out of embarrassment, and quickly began to stutter through an apology, “I don’t know what came over me, I-”

Without much thinking on your end, you grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a second kiss. You could taste the faded chapstick on his lips even once you separated. 

It was a sort of post-kiss clarity that suddenly hit you and the situation you were in finally was realized. Your eyes widened and your hand went to your forehead, pushing some of your hair from your face, “Oh my god. This is so unprofessional”

You quickly grabbed your bag and jacket before rushing out, despite Burt’s protests. You couldn’t believe it, kissing a student’s father deliberately. If anything gets out, your job is gone.

~~

“Once again talking about our short stories, I want to remind you all that there is a twenty-page limit and it is due on Friday. Write about anything you want,” You leaned against your desk while the students rolled their eyes and groaned over the big project of the semester. This was usually the case for anything you assigned, despite how fun you might've thought it was.

Before anyone could complain any more about the assignment, the bell rang. In mere seconds, your full room of students was empty. You sat on your desk and pushed some ungraded tests aside. That was a job for you tomorrow, or maybe tonight if you were bored. It’s not like you had much going on in your life.

A few birds flew past the window and for a moment, you longed to be one of them. Your concentration on them broke with a knock at the doorframe and the familiar Sam Fabelman standing next to the light switch. 

You gestured for him to come in and watched as he anxiously walked into the classroom and sat at the frontmost desk, “I’m moving classes on Monday. It’s official.” He had a faint smile, but it didn’t look necessarily happy. He was a boy that had naturally sad eyes, much like his father. They were much more noticeable now.

“You’re an exceptional student. As much as I love having you in class, you’re just too advanced for it. It’ll look great on your resume for schools.” You tried to reason with him. He sighed, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

He looked down, “Can I still have lunch here?”

With a soft smile, you nodded and checked your watch, “Aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

He flinched for a moment, then realized the time as well. He sprang from his seat and rushed out of the classroom, waving a quick goodbye before disappearing completely. 

He was a good kid. You couldn’t help but admit that you were a bit sad not to have such a kind soul in your classroom every day. It certainly beat the cookie-cutter California kids that drowned the population of the school. 

You didn’t want to get attached to any students, knowing that they would leave after ten months and be replaced like clockwork. Hopefully, when he eventually gets famous for his little movies, he would remember you. Or thank you, if you wanted to be a bit delusional.

More papers were stacked in front of you, finally meticulously graded. The weekend was upon you. No more students and your clock was going to run out in just a few minutes. No longer contractually obligated to be in the building. Like Cinderella, but instead of midnight, it was 4 pm.

You locked your classroom door behind you and fixed your bag on your shoulder. As you turned, there he was, standing right in front of you. You jumped back and held your chest. 

Burt Fabelman in the flesh.

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Fabelman.” You caught your breath and regained your normal stance.

He smiled at the sight of you. “I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay with Sammy and his class transition,” He paused, “And between us.”

This wasn’t exactly what you wanted to deal with at the moment or deal with unprepared, but such is life. You looked at him with a soft smile, “Of course it is. Look, we’re not bound to a parent-teacher relationship now, so we can just call it water under the bridge.”

You nodded and began to continue your walk to your car, hoping that he wouldn’t follow. You weren’t exactly so lucky in that department.

He was hastily following you, now stuttering over his words and making whatever he might be trying to say incomprehensible. You could hear his footsteps over everything else. He caught up, “Would it be unprofessional to ask you out, for real this time, considering that we technically have no relationship with each other inside the school?”

You knew that this was coming and every cell in your body was screaming at you to decline his offer. You knew what that might entail if one nosy parent or student caught wind of your escapades and eventually traced your relationship with him to the parent-teacher meeting. However, he was attractive. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about kissing him again or doing more.

“I…Yeah. I’d love to go out with you.”

[johns-prince]

Do you ever feel jealous of Paul cause John was so in love with him? I feel like nearly all of the partner's of John and Paul were jealous some just a little bit others to toxic degrees. Like Cyn and Linda would be 1 out of 5 jealous, Jane and all of John's male 'friends' in the 70s are a 3 out of 5 and Yoko is like a 10000 out of 5. The only partner who doesnt seem jealous at all to me is May Pang.

I was thinking about it last night and you know what when I think of John and Paul the word that continually recycles through my mind is 'Love.' Love as in, Love.

Love, they loved each other, John and Paul loved each other so much that John couldn't take it and burned it all down, the Beatles and his partnership with Paul. Paul couldn't handle it and he couldn't control it and place it all in a neat little box, and yet it clearly hurt (I wanted to use the words destroyed and killed but) Paul when he felt or believed he didn't have John's love anymore.

Their love is indescribable and unmanageable. It's destructive, possessive and obsessive, and insecure and confident and brazen and beautiful and poetic and admirable and immortal and all encompassing.

I am not jealous of Paul for getting to have and experience that kind of love. I don't even know if I'm all that envious, either. I don't think I could handle a love like that. I don't think I could survive it. John and Paul barely survived it.

I look at those moments of Paul openly stating he believed some white/blue light or odd sound in a recording room during an interview was John; when he stated he believed that the white peacock was John—in those photos of Paul and George and Ringo, standing outside together as older men. That he has dreams about John, constantly. That he'll imagine John's sitting with him, as if they're having another jam session, to help him with his music. Talking about John in present tense—of people who knew him outing him by reporting they've heard him talk about John as if the man was still alive. He finds ways to bring up John in any way possible. His own wife had told on him about how he'd been desperate to get back with John, to play with him again.

All these moments that make someone almost feel, uncomfortable? I feel bad for him. I pity him, in a way.

Like, I can't feel jealousy or envious over that. The love that John and Paul had for each other... Still have, it's almost agonizing.

Of course their girlfriends and lovers and wives would feel some type of way about it—their relationship couldn't really triumph and trump the relationship and dynamic that John and Paul had. They'd always take a backseat in one way or another.

It was only when it appeared that their wives were finally being prioritized or that John had Yoko and Paul had Linda and that meant John couldn't have Paul and Paul couldn't have John because these two did not share each other they were viciously obsessive and possessive of their relationship to one and other, did we get to witness a fallout between the two-lovers-that-never-were, as destructive and gnashing of teeth and cruel and unwanted as that of a great H-bomb befalling a city.

But even in the end, even when it appeared it was all over and john loved Yoko and Paul loved Linda and they never needed each other to begin with—the two still fought and mourned and yearned and begged and laughed and loved each other through the music they wrote separately. They couldn't escape each other. Paul was still desperate and John believed he was telepathically connected to Paul like these two were pathetic for each other even after all the bullshit fallout divorce.

Of course their girls were jealous on some level, like, of course. I don't think any of them understood the depth that devoured everything which was John and Paul's love for each other and all the things they could accomplish with each other.

May is an outlier because she was put up by Yoko to be John's date and essentially report back to her about everything and still keep some sort of lead between her and John. Their relationship wasn't exactly genuine... That isn't to say May didn't love John... She did. She cared a great deal for him. She wanted him happy and okay... Which is why she was the biggest advocate and supporter of John to get back together with Paul. I think she knew—maybe not on the level I'm espousing, but she knew just how much Paul meant to John, and she was a witness to how John being around Paul affected him, probably for the better.

Anyway, point is, no I'm not jealous, and I hardly even get envious over Paul and the love John had for him.

I can understand why their lovers and friends and wives were jealous though, but it's either because they didn't a) realize just how intense and almost suffocating the love John and Paul had for each other were, or b) they did and wanted it anyway (because they thought they could control it, or them) and c) most likely because their girlfriends and especially their wives probably felt they deserved to take some greater precedent over John and Paul's partnership and relationship, but never did.

What John and Paul had not even their own wives could replace or provide. That's kind of insane and not normal.

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

Hey! i wanted to ask the mercenaries (tf2) knowing a brazilian s/o with a very strong accent (and he can speak a little spanish because of his father) who usually plays guitar/cavaquinho and doesn't know much english plzzzzz (like they didn't have time to learn English and don't understand much of what mercenaries talk about)

se quiser pode ignorá-lo e desculpe se escrevi algo errado :]

No problem! As always, I'm open to requests! Just make sure to keep them SFW (Safe for work). I hope you don't mind, but I also made the reader speak Portuguese.

Mercs x Reader Who Speaks Portuguese and Spanish/Is From Brazil

A/n: Sorry if it seems I'm stereotyping, I'm not. I did a little bit of research on the internet. If there's anything incorrect, please let me know so I can correct it! No Ms. Pauling this time, sorry guys.

Scout:

Every weekend, Scout would come over after a hard week of fighting just to spend time with you. He jabbered about everything, unaware that you really understood. You just nodded and smiled. When he found out you didn’t know much English, he brought it upon himself to teach you. Your accent was very strong, but that did not stop Scout from helping you out. He even learned some basic Spanish and Portuguese to help you understand.

Once, while returning from work to visit you, Scout heard you playing the cavaquinho and singing a nice melody. He was really impressed by your musical skills. You offered to teach him lessons and he accepted. In a matter of a month, he could not only play his bongo drums, but now he could play the cavaquinho just like you! As a bonus, you taught him how to dance. 

Back home at the base, Scout now spoke some Spanish and plenty of Portuguese. Spy understood what he said, but everyone else was just confused. Scout even brought you over to help show off his new skills. You gladly agreed to help and the two of you amazed everyone. You even played a samba remix of Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual.”

Soldier:

Soldier first met you at an outdoor cafe playing a gentle melody on a guitar. He listened to the entire song and was captivated. He approached you and began to ramble on about how good you were. You simply smiled and replied, “Gracias.” He immediately understood you knew very little English and wasn’t too harsh about it.

He’d visit you every day and try to understand what you said without learning anything. Even if you knew a bit of Spanish, he still learned the basics for it. You learned a little English and talked to Soldier, trying to see if you knew anything. He adored your accent. Eventually, you two became a couple. He showed you around the base and you gained everyone’s trust. 

Soldier loved your singing as well as your cooking. You were good at it. Soldier was always happy to have a slice of dinner you made. He worked hard every day and deserved the best. So when he returned home, you made him his favorite empadão, the way your father taught you. Soldier was glad to have met you.

Pyro:

Pyro understood you perfectly, despite the heavy accent. He did not care whether you talked to him in Spanish, Portuguese, or English. He loved you as who you were. You on the other hand did not understand Pyro but tried to make the best of it. The mumbling surely but slowly began to make sense the more time you spent with the fire-loving mercenary. He even picked up some Spanish and Portuguese.

Pyro was enchanted by your music skills. You were excellent at the guitar. But, because he’s a pyromaniac, he may or may not have burned your guitar like Jimi Hendrix did. You got mad at him, but you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. You did lose your guitar, crafted and gifted to you by your father. Pyro felt guilty. So he saved up to buy you Jimi Hendrix’s guitar, which he managed to get. 

But even then, the famous guitar was not enough. Your father was nearly scared to death when Pyro visited him, begging for him to build you another guitar. He agreed and let Pyro scorch his name on the inside so you knew it was a gift from him. You smiled and planted a kiss on his mask the day Pyro gave you your new guitar. He was all flustered and did not set the guitar on fire this time. 

Demo:

You both had heavy accents that at most times, no one understood what you were saying. Demo was overprotective of you. If anyone made fun of you, he’d hit them in the back of the head really hard. You understood him perfectly well. He understood you too. He even took the time to learn Portuguese! You had a fun time helping him perfect it. You both took lessons on learning Spanish as well. 

Demo never knew you played the cavaquinho. He did a little research on the instrument and found some classes for you to take, since you were a self-taught learner. He thought you could benefit from it. And you did! You were a professional by the end of the month. Demo helped you practice every day and night. He was a good teacher. He picked up some of the musical basics as well. 

Demo may have loved the conga, but he sure loved to samba! Especially with you! Every evening, after he returned home, he would turn on the radio and begin to dance with you in the living room. He always says, in a singing tone, “Samba, samba, samba!” Sometimes he’d freestyle it, making you laugh. Even Eyelander joined in the dancing. Then you’d all pass out on the couch from exhaustion and have a good night’s sleep.

Heavy:

At the time, Heavy did not know that Spanish and Portuguese existed. He knew four languages existed. Russian, German, French, and English. He was scared to approach you. There was no way he could speak to you. You weren’t fluent in English (neither was he) and to be honest, he didn’t understand you. Although, he liked your accent. It made him feel comforted. That’s one factor that helped him talk to you.

Another factor was that Heavy decided to approach you through music. Like Demoman, he did research. But he didn’t use it. He found you in a music story, singing and strumming the guitars. He watched you the entire time, not like a creep, and decided that was how he was going to talk to you. So he picked up a music book, bought a guitar, and invited you to the base. You were impressed at how fast he learned guitar, even though it was senseless strumming. 

Heavy started to talk to you more often, gaining confidence more and more. He taught you of his culture and you taught him yours. He began to switch back and forth in all the languages he now knew. You switched back and forth as well. Recipes were passed down. Sandwich dates, AKA, picnics, were his favorite things. Especially when you made them.

Engineer:

When Engineer first met you, your accent gave it away. He understood it. There was no need to worry. He knew how to speak Spanish. Portuguese was a bit forgien to him, but that would not stop him from learning it. He even helped you learn some more Spanish and become fluent in it! He translated English words for you so you could learn some words, which you did. 

Engineer knew how to play the guitar as well. For fun, he challenged you to music battles and let you win. On some occasions of course! Every Friday, it was duet night in front of a bonfire. As a gift, you bought him a cavaquinho. It wasn’t any different than a guitar for him. It was really easy for him to learn how to play it properly. So now there are cavaquinho nights every other weekend. 

Engineer knew how to make dishes like feijoada and pastel. Some dishes came from people he knew back home, like pozole and enfrijoladas! You were never hungry. This Texan always made sure you were fed. He even packed you lunch before you left! He always left little, sweet notes for you.

Medic:

You were also a doctor, helping patients get the help they needed, unlike Medic, who would probably experiment on them. He met you while stuck in the hospital for an unknown reason. While you tended to other patients, he always noticed you spoke in Portuguese first, followed by English and then Spanish, since you knew just a little bit. In his time at the hospital, he made it his mission to learn Portuguese and Spanish.

After returning to work, Medic scoured the Teufort libraries for books on how to speak Spanish and Portuguese to continue his lessons. He learned as much as he could. He found you playing music for the children on his return to find you. You seemed so professional, so elegant strumming the guitar. After your performance, he approached you and asked you out for coffee, in terrible Spanish. You knew what he was trying to say but it was funny. So you agreed. From there, Medic tried his best, but he always slipped back into English. Sometimes German as well.

He always invited you to the base, which he claimed to be his house/workspace. Of course, you were smart enough to know it was not a home, but you didn’t mind. Medic was a funny guy. The “I lost my medical license” joke was your favorite (even though it actually happened). He was always getting mad at Archimedes for interrupting sweet moments between the two of you. Unfortunately, you had taught Medic some curse words he used on the poor bird.

Sniper: 

He was shy to approach you when you first met him. He just watched you on the stage, putting passion into playing the guitar. He was going to talk to you when you finished the performance. But he didn’t need to. You came directly to him. You spoke.in rapid Spanish, switching between Portuguese as well. Sniper didn’t reply and just nodded. You smiled, understanding he didn’t understand and said everything again slowly in English. 

You had an interest in guitar as well as in saxophone. Sniper was willing to teach you. He got a chance to open up and start talking more, since he didn’t talk often. You were the one always talking. During lessons, he would talk about his family. It was so nice to hear him talk. You talked about your family as well. He wanted to meet your father as soon as you mentioned he was the one who taught you how to play the guitar. The saxophone lessons were never completed.

Sniper liked to take you out to the lake and have small, candlelit dinners, courtesy of Spy. You spoke in your native language(s) while talking with Sniper. He didn’t mind. He made sense of what you were talking about. Even when you spoke English, he understood you. The other mercs did not understand completely what was going on with you two, but whatever it was, it was making Sniper happy.  

Spy

Spanish, French, Italian and Portuguese  were known as the romance languages and Spy knew all four. He used Spanish and Portuguese around you. He was calm, cool when approaching you first. He worked hard to make himself the best. He expected you to let him do all the talking, but he was thrown off track when you started talking first and asked him out for dinner the following night. Shocked, he agreed. 

That first date, he was impressed by you. You knew little English and Spanish, but Spy helped you with that. After that, every evening, Spy would invite you over. After dinner, you would play either the cavaquinho or guitar. He loved hearing you play. You would always take his requests and play them. Sometimes it was just small conversations in Spanish while letting the radio play. 

When it came to dancing with you, Spy made sure you enjoyed it. He tried to make it fun, but he always had this urge to make it romantic in a way. Flamenco was not Brazil’s traditional dance, which Spy was good at. So he decided to learn samba. Unlike Demoman, he was more passionate about it and did not freestyle. He stuck to the classic moves. Sometimes, he’d let you lead in dance.