#............................Happy Father's Day !

[5sospenguinqueen]

Hopelessly Devoted NOT To You - Charles Leclerc x Driver! Reader

Summary: Your family believes in two religions; Ferrari and Charles Leclerc. When you drive for a different F1 team, they make it known who their favourite is. Luckily, Charles’ favourite is you. 

Warnings: a happy functioning family (not sure how to write one of those), fluff, bad flirting

Requested: yes by anon

F1 Masterlist

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its_yn just posted

liked by alpinef1team, charles_leclerc and others

its_yn type of town i could spend a few days in 🌴

18,161 comments

pierregasly before you ask, i’m not helping you steal the hedge car

→ its_yn you never let me do anything fun

→ pierregasly @/alpinef1team can we leave her in miami?

→ alpinef1team only if you drive better than she does 

user1 she makes the alpine pink look so good! 

yourmum so excited to see you race, tesoro

yourdad will our paddock passes let us near the ferrari garage?

→ user2 love how this is her second year in f1 and her father is still a loyal tifoso

→ user3 her whole family are. don't think i've ever seen them wear alpine merch

landonorris the pink helmet makes you look like a highlighter

→ its_yn you can’t say anything, lorax

→ visacashapprb oh god, the girls are fighting 

→ user4 vcarb admin, you will always be famous

yoursister can’t believe i’m going to see a ferrari up close 

yourbrother do you think i’ll meet THE charles leclerc??

→ charles_leclerc if she brings you by the garage, absolutely

→ its_yn merda

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others

charles_leclerc the city that keeps the roof blazin’ 🌴

16,330 comments

yourdad be good to see you on the podium this weekend, son

user5 not charles matching captions with yn. in his lover boy era

→ user6 i mean, it’s a popular song for miami?

→ user5 trust me, he did it on purpose 

scuderiaferrari our driver is cooler than all others

user7 anyone else in love with the fact that yn isn’t her family’s favourite driver

→ user8 and they make no effort to hide it

→ its_yn they actually told me off once because i overtook him, even tho it lead to my first podium

→ charles_leclerc part of me is inclined to agree with them but your overtake was very nice

→ user9 stand up, charles

yourbrother the aura is unmatched. why don’t you look this cool on race weekends @/its_yn?

user10 yn’s whole family being tifosi is so special to me

→ user11 they’re italian. ferrari and charles are their religion

yourmum my daughter is single if you’re interested? liked by charles_leclerc

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its_yn posted a new story

yoursister replied i worked really hard on that cake. show some respect → its_yn you only get props for it tasting good → yoursister i bet charles tastes good → its_yn that is my work colleague!  → yoursister bangeable work colleague → don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it

charles_leclerc replied i think red really suits you  → its_yn don’t you start. they’ve spent the entire night asking me when i’m going to join ferrari  → charles_leclerc isn’t your contract up this year? → its_yn are you trying to make my cry on my birthday?? → charles_leclerc no, no. i just mean, any team would be lucky to have you → i’d beg ferrari to take you if we hadn’t already signed lewis  → its_yn i might have to start begging someone to take me at this point → charles_leclerc you can have my car if you wear red more often → its_yn how about you just lend me a t-shirt sometime? → charles_leclerc if you come over, i have a whole wardrobe you can go through

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by valterribottas, kimi.antonelli and others

mercedesamgf1 we're so excited to announce that yn ln has joined the mercedes petronas family for 2025 on a multi year contract

44,634 comments

pierregasly i’m free!

→ its_yn you’re bald! 

yourdad tesoro, you are italian, not german. why are you doing this to the family?

yourbrother well done, sis. now grandma is crying. this is not what we agreed upon

yoursister i told you that mercedes green doesn’t suit your complexion. ferrari red does

user1 not yn’s entire family crying in the comments

user2 getting to the point where i don’t think they’re joking

→ yourbrother we did congratulate her privately. we just had to scribble out the ferrari on the banner

georgerussell63 i take it i won’t be invited to ln family dinners? 

→ landonorris only happens if your name is charles leclerc

user3 maybe ferrari didn’t want her?

→ charles_leclerc how dare you!

its_yn at least this way, @/charles_leclerc and i can continue our enemies to lovers arc

→ maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc was that loud scream from across the paddock you?

→ lewishamilton he can’t reply. he’s passed out on the garage floor. the mechanics are currently trying to revive him

→ user4 can’t blame him. yn finally acknowledged how obsessed he is with her

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and others 

charles_leclerc my girl looks good in red 

27,876 comments

its_yn ❤️❤️

pierregasly you two sicken me

→ its_yn your hairline sickens me

→ pierregasly @/charles_leclerc dump her

→ charles_leclerc never

user5 charles is just showing men that if you act obsessed enough, it’ll work out

→ yourbrother i think him being unbelievably handsome had something to do with it

scuderiaferrari does this mean you’ll stop talking about her every weekend? 

→ charles_leclerc probably not

→ its_yn you might just see me in the garage more

→ yourdad and us! 

yourmum oh it’s happening! it’s finally happening. i’ll bring the wedding book with me next weekend

→ its_yn no! you promised never to show any one that

→ yourmum but now it’s not just my fantasy, it’s real

→ charles_leclerc yes, please. i’ll bring mine as well

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Requests open. Now accepting requests for Estie Bestie

Can you tell I'm on the side of twitter that jokes about Gasly having a turkey transplant for his hair?

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx @teamnovalak

[be-xkyy]

Platonic Yan! Little Son

Warning: platonic yandere, possessive, jealous, crying, a little cute?, this is PLATONIC.

This is something platonic that I don't know why I wrote, since it's not part of my usual content... but the idea came to me and I wrote it in an hour or so, so here it is. 🤷🏻‍♀️🖤

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Yandere Little Son who is a beautiful and energetic 5 year old boy, your only baby, your only son for now (forever) who adores his mommy, YOU, with all his heart.

Yandere Little Son who since he was a baby was always calm and happy in your arms, but only with you, since he would sob and scream at the top of his lungs when someone else grabbed him (including his father)

Yandere Little Son who despite everyone saying that he would become more independent and less clingy when he grew up, that didn't happen. Oh no. He just became more attached to you and when he learned to walk he started following you around (like a little duckling)

Yandere Little Son who took his first steps walking towards you, his first words were "Ma—ma!", all his drawings are of you and him (and a distant figure in a corner that according to your son's own words is his father. At least he added it... right?)

Yandere Little Son who was sobbing and screaming when you first took him to daycare, the teacher told you that all kids were like that on their first day and that your son would calm down when he was with the other kids. Only an hour later you received a call from daycare to go pick him up since he wouldn't stop crying.

Yandere Little Son who learns at home with a private tutor since he doesn't want to be separated from you at any time, he pretends to get along with the tutor in your presence only to kick her hard under the table when you go to the kitchen for lemonade (he gets upset when she takes it easy and doesn't give up)

Yandere Little Son who approaches angrily and kicks his father with all his might (it doesn't hurt) when he sees him kissing you, his little hands push him (without moving him even a millimeter) while he yells at him in a shrill voice.

"Get away from my mommy! Get away, get away!".

Yandere Little Son who every night sleeps in your room regardless of you putting him to bed in his room, he leaves his room to go to yours, climbs into bed and lays right between you and his father, he snuggles up to your side squeezing his teddy bear while asking you to tell him a story (he falls asleep halfway through)

Yandere Little Son who always wants to match your clothes, always helps you in the kitchen when you're cooking something (he ends up covered in flour) and always gives you flowers when you go out and even when you're at home he cuts the flowers from the neighbor's garden to give them to you (your neighbor comes to your house upset because your son pulled out all her daisies)

Yandere Little Son who started crying when he found out you were pregnant and had a little brother or sister, he sobbed clinging to you hiding his face in your stomach saying he doesn't want a little brother or sister.

"NO! Mommy... sniff— sniff... I don't want a brother or sister! You'll stop loving me and only want him! sniff—"

Yandere Little Son who lets you comfort him by taking him in your arms telling him that even if you have another child he will always be your baby, your first son, that you have special affection for him, he stops crying hiding his face in your neck even though your words calm him down, he takes his head out of your neck to look at you his little hands gently grab your cheeks.

"And if I don't like my little brother when he's here... can we return him? Give him to someone else who wants him... ok mommy?"

[arkosfan]

Blake: Why are You All SO happy?! They're using them as Slaves Labor!!!

Jaune: For the Last Time Blake, they're NOT Slaves!!

We Pay them pretty Good ($50 x Hour)

We give them a Lot of benefits in our stores, they have 3 times to rest in the day (1st x 30 min, 2nd x 20 min & 3rd x 10 min), they rest 3 days at week and have a 2 Weeks of vacations Pay each 3 months!!!

Ruby: that sounds good

Weiss: Wait what??, if My father hear that, he Will have a heart Attack

Blake: How can we be SO sure you're not lying?!

Nora: Oh for F@#$ Sake Girl, look at those cute & happy Rabbits!!! how could You think that of My Leader Family?! They're not Schnees!!!

Weiss: HEY!!!

Yang: She's rigth Blake, i mean, they get better payment that normal workers, Even more than miners

Ren: are we sure that THAT'S not the reason of why are You angry??

Blake: LIES!!

Pyrrha: Blake, please, Jaune invite US to His house, You and your Team are here ONLY because Ruby ask him, in the Last minutes, please don't do Anything that would make US unwanted here.

*Say Pyrrha, along with the rest Nodding and leaving to play with the Bunnys in the área of rest*

Blake:*Looking at the 'Slave' (in Her head) Labor

@arc-misadventures @howlingday @howi99 @patriot2525 @rachetmath @superiorsturgeon @jboy44 @soundkiller0017 @rwac96 @moistmailman

tell me she didn't do something Stupid

©东予薏米  jade rabbits making mooncakes for mid-autumn festival

[superbat-lmao]

A mage who doesn’t like child soldiers targets Batman in Gotham. They know that several vigilantes connected to him are children or were children when they started.

Their vendetta against him basically boils down to, “What the hell were you thinking?” and they cast a spell against him accordingly.

Every day, a new family member will be able to read Bruce’s mind for 24 hours. It’s entirely random and the definition of “family member” is incredibly loose, but everyone knows the Robins are his children because of how berserk he went when Robin II died.

On the one hand, it’s a horrific violation of everyone’s privacy.

On the other, Bruce finally figures out what his kids think of him and don’t say. And his kids are finally able to realize that yes, he cares about them exactly as much as they want him to. He’s literally the absolute worst at showing it or communicating that, but he cares.

Dick gets confirmation that Bruce knows how good he is, how capable he is to lead a team. That Bruce doesn’t secretly think that when he screws up it’s because he isn’t cut out to be a vigilante. When he screws up, Bruce gets scared and lashes out in the only way an emotionally repressed father can, by making it worse. That Bruce doesn’t think Dick is incapable of looking after himself or making the right call. All of Bruce’s attempts to control Dick or his life were because he was scared. Because he wanted Dick to be better than him, and he is, just not in the ways Bruce was first able to see. Having more friends and being connected to people is infinitely more important than college, though it took time for Bruce to see that. Dick is Bruce’s first son and he couldn’t be more proud.

Jason realizes that Bruce loves him. That he tears himself apart over their relationship. That he feels there’s a clear line between Bruce’s opinion of Jason and of Jason’s actions. Because murder is wrong and Bruce’s philosophy is grounded in second chances. Because he just wants Jason to come home and his son’s actions scare him because he’s more isolated from backup than his brothers. Jason can literally feel how Bruce thinks, how he sees murder and how he thinks about himself. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a line he would be able to walk away from, and Jason feels more precarious seeing the world as his father thinks about it than in his own head. There is far less judgement in Bruce’s thoughts. Just pure concern. And self doubt over what to say. Bruce never sought to replace him, would have joined him, and has missed him. Those were always Jason’s major concerns.

Tim sees that Bruce views him as his son. That he wasn’t a substitute for Jason and he doesn’t secretly think Tim shouldn’t have been Robin. Bruce thinks that Tim reminds him a lot of himself and based on all the things people say about him, that makes Bruce nervous. Because he wants Tim to have fun and be a kid, not feel chained to work the way Bruce is. He knows they both have workaholic tendencies and wants better for Tim, wants him to have friends and a life outside of work. But Tim also knew Bruce at his lowest and so he will always feel guilty that it was Tim who pulled him out of his grief spiral, because Bruce wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.

Damian learns that Bruce was so excited for him to be born and devastated when he thought Talia had lost the pregnancy. That he was furious his son had been hidden from him. That he loves Damian and loved Talia and wasn’t sure how to separate out those feelings. That he would have wanted Damian no matter his level of training, if he gave up this lifestyle or anything. That there is nothing Damian, or any of his family could do to make Bruce stop loving them. Damian is wanted. He can also see that Bruce struggles with knowing how to handle him being a kid that acts like an adult. How he knows how capable Damian is, but that no children should go through that. Bruce didn’t have that sort of childhood. And while his own wasn’t exactly happy, he still got to be a kid. And innocence and youth aren’t things to be looked down on, just experienced. And Bruce doesn’t want Damian to not have those experiences, even if he doesn’t value them as others do. He learns that Bruce trusts him and that his father feels emotions acutely and strongly, such that he becomes reactive in a way that feels accusatory or disappointed but is just afraid.

They all realize that Bruce needs them and hates himself for needing them. That they are his children and he loves them and wants them safe. But that those feelings constantly war with how capable they are, how good his children are at what they do. How much they care about the helping and protecting others. That every time he says something they beat themselves up over, it’s because he’s scared they’ll get hurt or make a mistake that they can’t undo and will have to live with. He never wanted them to join him and it’s not because he thought they couldn’t do it, but precisely because he knows they can. And that sometimes, that isn’t enough. Even metas can get hurt and even Superman could die. By comparison his children are so vulnerable and there’s only so much he can do to keep them safe.

Does he verbalize this?

Bruce thinks so.

But all his kids hear is:

You were too reckless.

You disobeyed orders.

You’re off patrol.

And oddly? This solves like half of the current problems his kids have with him. Because they never really believed him before and always felt the conversations were one-sided.

It does create several new problems thought because Bruce just had like a significant invasion of privacy as the most paranoid person on the planet, so it takes a while for him to calm down and actually work things out with his kids in a way that lasts and isn’t just a bandaid over a bullet hole.

[aphroditeinthesea]

Hii, could you please do Percy Jackson x daughter of Hades dating hcs?

percy jackson x hades!reader

⚠️ swearing and suggestive

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nico was not happy about the whole ordeal

of course, after bianca died and nico was a mess, percy tried to back off

but he saw you

he saw how you cared for your little brother, contrasting how dark and powerful you could be

and he couldn’t help how he felt for you

it just happened

so one day when you were participating in a little capture the flag

you found yourself alone with percy

and one accidental touch of hands led to someone pinned to a tree with lips clashing

spoiler: percy was pinned to the tree because spoiler! you felt the exact same way!

but for the sake of your brother, it was all kept under wraps

he just so happened to want to hangout at your cabin more and you just so happened to invite him to your table because he would sit all alone and you just so happened to sneak into your cabin at 4 AM with messy hair because you, well, i don’t know actually

at some point thigh, you bite the bullet, telling your little brother

and he’s just like “i know”

and you’re like “what?!” 

and he’s like “i tried to come in here the other day and you two were making out!”

you guys are chill after that though

also poseidon kid x hades kid makes the most powerful couple ever

like if one of you ever got attacked, it’s like that akhlys scene times a thousand

only you would not stop him

sorry im like a slut for evil percy

but as someone who naturally has been outcasted at camp because of your father

percy is like an angel, finally getting more people to realize your actually like chill and nice

you two do have a lot of sleepovers though

you both get a fair amount of nightmares so it’s nice to wake up and already have someone holding you

plus you are never not wearing one of his hoodies

he might as well have been robbed

you’re always freezing so if he ever says anything you’re just like

“so you hate me, so you don’t care about me and want me to freeze?”

and he’s just like

“keep the hoodie”

but on the topic of you always being cold

you will purposely put your hands under his shirt, just to scare him

like cuddling all sweet and cozy and suddenly you just slip your hands under his shirt and he jumps in the air

that’s all

smooches

[bubbleggum444]

—❝AᗪORED Bㄚ HIᘻ❞

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis damian finally sent you the package (PLEASE NOTICE HIM), pt 3 of "unexpected crush?!"

Beep beep beep be—

Damian’s fist collided with his clock. He was still exhausted from yesterday’s wrapping paper fiasco.

Stumbling out of bed, he made his way to the washroom, freshening up for the day ahead.

'Strange… I feel like I’m forgetting something,' he thought, brushing his teeth thoroughly before rinsing his mouth with cold water.

Which was indeed strange. Damian rarely—if ever—forgot anything.

As he mentally checked off the tasks from the previous day and planned for today, it suddenly hit him—the package.

In a blur, he bolted out of the bathroom, leaping over his bed to grab his clothes for the day.

He dashed out of the house so quickly that Alfred had to peek out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about so early in the morning.

The butler let out a light scoff as he watched his young master clumsily lock the front door, a package tucked under one arm.

'Post office. Got to get to the post office. Post office—' Damian chanted in his mind, swiftly (but very carefully) placing the package into the compartment of his scooter before hopping on and securing his helmet.

After the seemingly daunting task of mailing it (he had spent way too long choosing the cutest stamp for you— "Just pick one already, kid!" "In a minute!"), Damian made his way home.

Stupid, impatient worker. Tch.

The moment he stepped inside, he headed straight for the fridge, desperate to quench his thirst. He hadn’t even realized how parched he was from doing such a simple task. Well, seemingly simple.

Truthfully, Damian probably would’ve felt less nervous fighting a villain than sending that package to his newfound crush—his first ever actual crush.

“Where were you off to so early, son?”

His father greeted him as he joined the rest of the family for breakfast.

Great. Damian really didn’t want to answer that. Not because he was ashamed of going to the post office, but because he had no intention of revealing to whom he sent something—or what that something was.

“Out. Sending a package,” Damian answered curtly.

Before his father could press further, he pulled out his phone and earbuds, watching something as he began to eat.

That caught Bruce off guard. He wasn’t planning to interrogate his son, seeing how unwilling he was to talk about it. But the fact that Damian—who never bothered with distracting devices this early in the morning—was doing exactly that? Strange.

“Uh, demon brat? You know there’s a ‘no phones at the table’ rule, right?” Jason spoke up.

Damian didn’t respond. In fact, they weren’t even sure if he heard him.

And truthfully? He didn’t.

He was too focused on his food—and the video of yours he was watching.

Oh, right. That was the other thing he forgot. After yesterday’s wrapping paper disaster, he had been so drained that he missed your latest upload.

He’d probably be irritated about it for the next three days. Not being your first like? Unacceptable.

Oh well. At least he could admire your cute face while eating breakfast.

His eyes sparkled slightly, his irises expanding with quiet happiness as your sweet intro played through his earbuds.

It was calming. Simple. Just like you, really. Though you had many interests, you always kept them modest.

Damian’s heart skipped a beat. He liked that. A lot. Amidst the chaos of his life, a peaceful soul like yours was something he craved. Something he needed. Something he adored.

A small smirk tugged at his lips as he quickly set a screenshot from the video—a Robin-inspired makeup look—as his lock screen.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough.

Cassandra noticed.

She shot him a knowing smile.

Damian cringed, like a pianist hitting the wrong note, before hastily pushing back from the table and carrying his empty plate to the sink.

What. A. Nuisance.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

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🏷️;

@liabiamiakiawia

@jason-todd-fangirl-14

@shirp-collector-of-fixations

★

author's note 1: someone requested an adorable ff idea, and it's a jason x reader, RAHHH, so excited to make it <333

author's note 2: just to be clear reader's first interaction with damian in this fic is happening either in pt 4 or 5, so stay tuned for that :>

╰─..★.────────────────────╯

[samirahmed125]

Today is a very happy day. I came to tell you that we received good news about my brother, whom we lost in the war. He is alive. He is in the occupation prisons. He is not dead. Do you know what feelings are inside us and how we received this goodness? My mother cries, ululates, prays, and prays to God. My brothers, my father, and my loved ones are all astonished and in disbelief that my brother is alive. Praise be to God. My friends. Please, as my brother returned to us, give me back my feet and make us walk again. Your support for me at this time and in these beautiful minutes will be the best gift 🙏🙏🙏💔🍉

@90-ghost @ot3 @a-shade-of-blue @opencommunion @dykesbat @8-bitfiction @90377 @feluka @femmefitz @fifthnormani @fatfemmearoorc @squuote @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pissvortex @polkadotmotmot @paper-mario-wiki @one-time-i-dreamt @oneofthosecrazycatladies @umberandmochaagate @yekkes @yujateaandpi @yesitsanusha @tamamita @turtletoria @tigerisout @robinwithay @wellwaterhysteria @westernwoodblogs @landlessbud @komsomolka @karinyosa @jolyne-best-jojo @junglejim4322 @hehemechief @hotvampireadjacent @ghostofanonpast @gothhabiba @mortalityplays @mysharona1987 @nogender-onlystars @buttercuparry @buttercuparry @beserkerjewel @butchmagicalboi @xxx-sparkydemon-xxx @catcrumb @vague-humanoid @communist-ojou-sama @virovac @c

From the rubble, our children make the Palestinian Dabke, which revives our heritage and connects us to our land. I used to make it with my friends at school from Gaza. I appeal to you with a broken heart. I am a young man who is threatened with having my legs amputated. Please donate so that I can undergo the 5 operations quickly. With your donation, you are able to give me hope, even if it is only 5 dollars. You are able to revive the spirit within me. Your donation also encourages many to donate, and with your participation, everyone participates. He takes the initiative to do good from you. Please donate and share 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🙏 Please, I don't want to remain helpless. I want to go back to walking, running, and practicing my hobbies. I play football and practice dabke with my friends, just like I used to do at parties and at school. Please give me life and help me with my treatment. Please donate and share. Please, do not stop and do not be silent. Help me. You are strong and capable of doing this, even if it costs $5😢😢😢

@90-ghost @feluka @fifthnormani @memingursa @malcriada @a-shade-of-blue @mettaworldpiece @lordzannis @labutansa @lmaonade @palms-upturned @postanagramgenerator @opencommunion @ot3 @oediex @onedollopofsourcream @one-time-i-dreamt @operahousegirl @irhabiya @imjustheretotrytohelp @i-am-a-fish @determinate-negation @dykesbat @danelloevee @ghostofanonpast @gazavetters @gothhabiba @hehemechief @heritageposts @jolyne-best-jojo @komsomolka @qattdraws @wellwaterhysteria @wonderavian @weirdmarioenemies @eternalpeacenosuffering @roadimusprime @read-marx-and-lenin @raccoon-smiles @error-core-animations @tamamita @the-nyanguard-party @teethburied @nabulsi @nezreblogz @noble-kale @beserkerjewel @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses @buttercuparry @butchmagicalboi

[writingoddess1125]

Mr. and Mrs. Riley

This has been so fun to write so far lol Enjoy!

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

NOTE: It's clear in the story but just in case this will be almost 12-13 years AFTER COD MW2

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Fluff, Angst, Mild Fighting, Knives?

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEP!

You groan softly and roll over still feeling your husband's arm around your waist still. Sluggishly tapping your phone to turn off the hellish alarm before turning back in his arms.

"We gotta get up Lov" Simon grumbled, Pressing his face into the top of your head with a happy sigh, you smile and snuggle into him.

"Five more minutes, or maybe we can just stay in bed today?" You Humm, not bothering to even open your eyes yet.

"Now that does sound like one Hellva-"

As soon as those words started to form the oh so deafening sound of your daughter Lily crying from the nursery could be head and Simon groaned making you smile and look at him- A almost grumpy pout on his face as he had warmed up to the idea of staying home.

"Mine turn isn't it?-"

You chuckle at this, patting his large chest.

"Yep, Go get that diaper Daddy" Simon rolls his eyes as he rolls out of bed, Walking out of the bedroom to get the screaming baby.

You smile as you also get up, grabbing your and Simon's clothes for the day and making the bed.

Simon walks out of the Nursery with Lily tucked in his shoulder, in only a fresh diaper as she seemed to angrily suck on her pacifier it was moments like this her father- squinty eyed and looking ready to fight. Simon patting her back a bit Before walking over to his sons room and flicking on and off the light quickly.

"Wake up boy- Time to get ready for school"

Simon gruff out, Hearing his son groan and roll over- Now walking over and reaching out and grabbed his son by his leg and held him up upside-down like when someone catches a large fish.

Elijah breaking out in a fit of giggles as he is held upside down, Swimming his arms out with a wide smile.

"You awake now?"

"Yes sir!"

"You really really awake?"

Simon says with a smile as he wiggles the boy over the bed hearing the loud laughter from his son before setting him back down the the bed and ruffling his messy hair.

"Good- You know the drill. Shit, Shower Teeth, Clothes"

He says as he walks out, leaving the kid to do the dailies. He sets Lily in her walker, Knowing the plastic and movement would keep her entertained long enough to get ready for the day.

Before walking back in the bedroom- Already hearing you brushing your teeth in the bathroom as he walks in. Smiling at the sight of you.

"Looking Sexy" He flirts as you continue brushing your teeth- Raising a brow and looking to him as he stripped out of his clothes.

"'Ow? (How?)"

"White around your mouth always looks good-"

You smack his arm playfully earning a laugh from Simon as he jumps into the shower, you finishing up your task as you jump in with him.

A quick wash up before the two of you jumped out to get ready.

"Oh are we still doing Rozlin's party this weekend?" You ask calmly as you pull up your leggings

You couldn't help but look at your husband, He was handsome in a sort of rugged way- The slight curve of his nose which looks to have broken and set, A strong jawline and the thing that caught your eye to this day. The extensive black ink that covered his entire body, highly detailed tattoos that covered from his collar bone to his wrist- It wad nearly every part of his upper body that could be covered by his uniform. That and the delicious compression long sleeves he wore everyday-

"Keep looking at me like that Lov' we may have a 3rd faster then planned" Simon chimed out, Giving you a crooked smile which made your face flushed at being caught.

"Faster then planned? You want another baby already? Lily is barely 11 months old- If you're looking for another you better be pushing" You shot back fast as you pulled on your bra and shot him a playful glare.

Simon laughed at this, Waving it off but you saw that twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh and Remember I have the Buissness trip Lov' wouldnt be able to make the party" He cut back to the topic at hand.

"Oh I forgot, Sorry Darling. I'll just tell Rozlin you can't make it, Sure it won't be a problem"

You shrugged it off, seemingly him doing the same. You walking out to see your daughter running around with her walker, bouncing from area to area like a puppy.

Raising a brow at her energy this early you walk into the kitchen to start with some breakfast, Elijah running to his seat as you made him some cereal and greatful for the automatic coffee machine as you poured you and Simon a cup- already nursing the liquid gold as you slid Simon's cup further down next to the car keys at hearing his boots stomping your way-

"Lad your gonna drown in your Kelloggs-" Simon said as he picked his sons head up from his cereal seeing how he had taken to trying to eat as fast as possible milk coating his face which Simon wipes quickly with a paper towel.

He grumbles as he walks over to you placing a kiss on your lips and picks up his coffee.

"Have a good day sweetie" You say happily as he smiles at this, A soft look on his face as he nods.

"Thanks Darling" He says softly, Kissing your forehead as he heads out, making sure to kiss each of his children heads on the way out as he made it to his car. It was unmarked which was standard for military personnel. Glancing at your little 4 door parked in the front with a small smirk, It made him oddly- happy everytime he saw it?

Pulling out of the drive he headed out quickly before sighing heavily, Making it down the street knowing it was just out of your view before grabbing the face mask be kept in the car, and slipped in on as he drove.

Parking in the well secure parking he killed off the coffee he had set in the cup holder. Making a mental not to bring it back inside when he got home- before jumping out.

Walking through the SIS building, his gaze lazily looking around as officers greeting him with respect and a few Captians and other Agents had already come to him with his assistance which he addressed as he walked-

"Major can I ask a few questions?-"

Giving a almost annoyed nod as the- He checked his badge.. Captian spoke.

He hadn't exactly told you his job, knowing it was still fairly dangerous even from a more office based position. Seeing how Cadet in a office ment pushing useless papers, something he figured would ease your mind far more time the higher status he currently held so he had said that- which maybe was wrong however it seemed a bit too late for that.

Taking the files from the man as he walked in his office and closed the door- Knowing that soon meetings, reports and more annoying shit that he cared to admit was coming his way. Glancing at the files in hand calmly.

Seeing so many pages with simply 'Ghost' written on the front- It sort of made him snort a laugh.

He had dropped the Simon Riley with his Military Callsigh- Having found it too risky on missions after a few close calls. Especially now since Simon Riley was who he was at home-

Here he was Ghost.. And it would stay that way-

Ghost plopped down in his seat with a tired sigh.

Glancing to his desk as he saw the old photo of TF 141 and narrowed his eyes on his former Captian.

Price the cheap bastard had fucked off to the middle of nowhere with a pretty wife well over a decade ago insisting Simon take to getting promotions and continuing-

Which he did- If not a bit begrudgingly.

However he regretted it now- Especially after he married you, He had already gotten to Captian when you two had started to date- and he didn't want to pull you into that either.. Now here he was, married just shy of 11 years- two kids and much more responsibility then he cared to admit.

The only upside being he lived fairly close to the SIS building- Got to go home daily and when he did go on assignments it wasn't for months at a time like before.

Sometimes a trade off is worth it-

Even if it ment the responsibility of overseeing all Special Forces- He began to open the files he glanced at the reports deployments, missions, casualties. Same shit, different day. It seemed especially today-

The Shadow Company.

Still a goddamn headache even after all these years. Rolling his eyes at even reading the name, pain in a ass even after being snuffed out..

Even with the group disbanded, the loose ends had never fully disappeared. Some members had been accounted for—dead, detained, or otherwise—but a handful had vanished. Off the grid. Ghosts ironically enough.

However it seemed there had been stirrings again. A few of his teams having come in contact with the echoed remains of the group.

Now reviewing old and new files seeing if he could make any conclusive matches- However it seemed like there wasn't any relation, These were all fresh faced idiots it seemed.

Grumbling under his breath he shuffled the newer files to the side Ghost scans the photos stapled to the older reports to attempt to identify which had been resurfaced due to the newer files, flipping through them a bit mindlessly before stopping.

Narrowing his eyes at a grainy, black-and-white surveillance image upclose of one of the agents, however the heavy duty tactical helment made it damn near impossible to tell who it was paired with it being incredibly old- Assuming early in the groups career under Graves if not before-

However Ghost turns his head to the side, pulling the photo closer to his face as if he could see into the very moment... Something was wrong-

"The Hell.."

He leans in, eyes locking onto one single detail. Around the agent’s neck, from the photo it seemed to have escaped the gear- a necklace. It was Unmistakable. A silver pendant, A very unique pendant.

Ghost knows that necklace... He knows that necklace really well.

Because it was yours.

Because you wore it every damn day since thw first day he met you.

The same one your grandmother had given you the one you’d never taken off.

His stomach drops. His fingers hover over the image, tracing the outline of the pendant. His mind scrambles for any possible explanation-coincidence, mistaken identity- but he knows better.

His wife.

The woman who sleeps beside him. The mother of his children..

Ghost exhales sharply, jaw tightening as he mutters the only thing that comes to mind.

"...Fuck"

- -

"Lily let go of Mommy's necklace-"

You huff as you walk over to the playpen with Lily, Pulling the silver jewlery from your daughter's hand while balancing the phone on your ear as you set her down- handing her the freshly made bottle of formula which she greedily took.

"Sorry Rozlin, Simon has a buissness trip he can't go to the party"

'It's fine (Y/N) I said it was a casual thing anyway'

You still felt a bit bad, However it was a pool party so it wouldn't be too bad.

'Oh! Before I forget, Do you have the toys for the PTA toy charity?'

You close your eyes as you wince to yourself. Having completely forgotten the even for your sons school.

"Shit- I forgot to grab it.. I know there is a tub in the storage somewhere of all those old toys, Simon was suppose to clear it out anyway. Ill grab them and bring them at the meeting tomorrow"

The two of you exchange quick goodbyes as you get off the phone. Cursing a bit to yourself as you walk off to try and venture into the large storage unit outside. Grumbling a bit as you saw the large lock on the front- Remebering Simon had just replaced it.

"I could just pick this bitch..." You mumble, Feeling that itch. Before sighing and shaking your head.

"No- No.. Lets not use that avenue yet"

You curse under your breath, Marching back inside the house as you know Simon keeps the keys in his office- a shitty habit since you hated to invade his space.

"Hang the Keys up Simon- So I don't have to play 'where the fuck are they'- 'I promise Lov I'll do it'- And look at were we are"

You sigh as you enter his office after mocking his voice in the imaginary argument, seeing the stacks of random unmarked military items. You didn't really pay them mind-

Going to his desk you began to look over it, Wondering were he threw the keys this time. Before something orange caught your eye cocking your head to the side you pulled it out from under the keyboard- looking at the file however one thing caught your eye.

'Top Secret' stamped on the upper corner with the British Royal Marines emblem.

He probably ment to take this with him but you looked it over with confusion, Flipping the folder over in your hands.

'He had said he was some low rank officer that pushes paper- This doesn't look like some low rank shit'

You thought to yourself, Flicking through the file as you see different list, reports, and maps- You knew these types of files well.. Too damn well... These were Special Forces docs and one name kept signing off on them.

'Major Ghost-'

Major... Ghost?... Oh why does that name sound so damn familiar?

Your brain stops, Remebering an encountering a soilder like that only once, Wearing a skull mask as everyone called him 'Ghost'. It had been brief encounter but on that stuck out to you, touching the small scar on your shoulder were his bullet had only managed to nic you before you took cover.

'Huh..'

Your breath hitches as you slowly open the file and see a names you had wanted to blank out of your head ... Names of peers you had once traveled with.. Ones you had seen flee like you or die... Slamming the file closed quickly as your heart felt like it was sinking.

Setting the file back you look down at the desk- your eye catching the locked metal draws of his desk, A panic in your chest as you reach up with a shaking hand to search and pull back a paperclip, Bending it as needed as you picked the lock with it.

Cracking it open quickly you see it-

The thing that makes your world shatter and legs give out. Sitting on the floor as you stare at a skull mask... One you had pushed back along with the memories of before who you were today... You reach in and grab it.

'Shit Shit..'

Staring at it silently, slowly rolling up on your feet and walking into the livingroom were Lily was chewing on some plastic teething toys in her playpen, making a loud squeal at the sight of you.

You however sat on the couch slowly, wide eyed as you held the mask almost to your chest.

Zoned out before your phone rang and you almost made you jump from your skin. Picking up quickly as you saw your husband's name-

"Hey Honey?" Your voice was almost watery, still holding the mask in hand.

"Hiya Love- Just called to checkin.."

There was silence again, You being dazed still as if you were speaking to a stranger..

"Darlin' I uh, was wondering something- for.. insurance, did you ever enlist?"

The very air froze in your lungs then..

He Knew..

"I uh yeah for a little bit.. on and off. Was doing some work for a.. weird company at the time. Weird times"

You hear a soft 'Huh' from your husband and a grumble.

"I actually had a question too... I was looking for the Storage keys in your office, and um- I thought you said you were a lower rank?"

There was silence on the line.

"Yeah.. Just uh didnt want to talk about any promotions-" He admitted, His voice stiff and almost authoritative with you.

"Huh.. Strange..."

There was silence once again, Before you coughed and tapped your fingers on your leg.

"What time will you be home Darling?"

You say calmly, slowly setting the mask down and wiping your hands from the invisible stains on it.

"5, I'm picking up Elijah from his football (soccer ⚽️) practice today-"

"Right.. Well I'll see you then Darling. I love you"

You say softly, Running your hand over your hair as you bit your bottom lip.

"I love you too.."

He said softly before hanging up.

It felt like time was moving too slowly- or two fast. You couldn't tell, however you tried to maintain some normalcy as you cleaned up the house, did some grocery shopping and took care of Lily almost trying to distract yourself from what you were sure was the end of your marriage.

When the clock struck 5pm you head the door open and close with enthusiasm- Your son covered in grass stains and dirt come in kicking off his cleats at the door as he jumps up and down excitedly.

Talking about his coach said he was improving and all wonderful things however you stared at your husband. Simon gave a tight smile at you, as you walk over and give him a soft hug at least to give your children the illusion of normalcy, A single arm wrapping around you to pull you close.

It felt different however... Tighter as if he was making sure you couldn't move too much. Seeing how his free hand turned towards you just so you could see the close up photo of a agent, knowing damn well it was you- Your eyes sliding up back to his face.

"Busy Day?"

"Mhm.." He hummed, His hand sliding up from his 'Hug' to the back of your neck softly like he was prepared to kiss you but didnt and pulling at your silver necklace softly to bring it out from your shirt with his pinky.

"Very-"

You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes- Immediately knowing how he figured you out. You glance to the side, Right at the coffee table making sure his eyes followed-

"I'm sorry to hear that Darling"

Simon looks at the mask sitting perfectly on the coffee table, before his eyes flicked back to you.

"I see you have been to-"

You nod, before gently pulling from his hold and turning back to your Children- Fear creeping in your throat as your mind went a thousand miles an hour.

"Mummy what are we gonna have for dinner?" Elijah ask finally as he rushes to the kitchen to probably snag some form of snack he shouldn't be having. However that's the least of your concerns.

"I thought we could have some take away tonight. Nice little treat"

You say sweetly, Smirking at your son jumps up and down in excitement at this. You touching his dirty hair as you send him off upstairs to wash up.

...

You glance to the side seeing Simon staring at you hard.

"... Lov You know- I have the damndest question to ask you"

He almost grits out, You giving a curt smile yourself.

"And what would that be My Dear?"

There was no movement before Simon swung suddently to your left arm, You saw the glint of silver and your pulled back as you pulled your low tactical blade and blocked it fast. Feeling the hit and how it rattled your arm from the force-

Your eyes dilating as you looked to his face and down to his knife seeing the back end facing you, Seeing quickly this wasn't to harm. It was to confirm and see if you were armed-

"You son of a b-"

"Mummy Daddy!"

You both spin around perfect to look at your son weapons behind both your backs.

"Mummy I forgot to ask what Kind of take away are we getting?" He asked innocently and with a big smile.

"Indian" "Chinese"

You and Simon say at the same time. Before glancing to each other.

"Chinese?" "Indian?"

Elijah looks at you two confused, Simon stepping forward as he waved a hand at your son.

"We are figuring it out, Go shower alright?"

Elijah shrugged at this and rushed back to the shower. You sighing heavily and pulling the knife from behind your back as Simon does the same.

"We- Will have this 'Talk' After bed okay?"

You finally say, Simon nodding in agreement before you walked off from your husband who headed to his office silently not before grabbing his mask from the table as well.

Simon going into his office, closing the door behind him as he set the papers and knife on his desk and his mask in hand.

Plopping down as he stared at his mask-

He stared at it, feeling that creeping feeling going back through him. Cold indifference at a lost life that he only showed at work and not at home- pulling his eyes off and towards his hands as he messed with his wedding band.

Simon knew he should have told you about his past, However it didn't want to bring his demons into what he saw as his fresh start. He had always been.. Vague and since you never pushed for it he figured it was a no ask situation. We don't bring our past up and just take this future as is.

However he should have known better.. No normal person who would be fine with just never talking about their past in the fullest... He hadn't even told you about his family which you seemed to have accepted as he did you not talking about yours.

He groaned as he laid back staring at the ceiling.

'This is bullshit-'

You ordered some Indian food for Delivery and stood in the kitchen with your hands shaking, So close to breaking down. Rubbing your hands over your face as you stood in the kitchen.

"This is a cluster fuck.." You mumble under your breath. Before looking to your daughter who was in her bouncer drooling on herself, Staring at her as she looked up at you. Those big eyes just like her father and a goofy smile on her lips.

Feeling like this was your fault, You hadn't really brought up your past much- Had given basics like were you where born, nothing about your family, briefly mentioned you traveled the world and then decided to settle down.

You didn't know how long you stood there.. Long enough for your son to dress himself, plop down in the livingroom and watch some cartoons without a care in the world.

It didn't take long for the food to arrive, you grabbing the large bags of everything and setting up the dinning table.

"Dinner!" You called out, Setting up plates as you dished out everyone's food like you normally did- Simon walking in first eyeing you hard as you returned the same.

You sliding his unopened bag of food knowing he liked to eat out of the tub at times, him walking to you standing painfully close as if he knew it made you uneasy as he grabbed some of the sauce packets.

Sighing heavily you try to ease yourself, Till you feel his hand drift across your back right were your holster was of the hidden knife and you snatched his wrist from behind your back- It looked almost close to a lovers moment.

"Thats stupid and dumb.. even for you" You all but hissed so he could only hear as you gesture with your chin Elijah rushing to the kitchen.

Watching Simon as he smirked at you. Seemingly satisfied as you released his hand. Getting back to cutting up little bits of food for Lily as you set her in her high chair.

You two had been quiet after that-

Painfully quiet.

However it seemed neither of you wanted scare your children you continued with your nightly activities. It didn't mean that both of you weren't tense as you two ate.

"Come on Lili, let's not wear the lentils" You hum softly as you give another tiny spoonful of the curried letals to your daughter who was hellbent on at least distracting you from the tension.

That was till Simon reached his large tattooed arm over and pulled her high chair over and nodded to you and held out his hand for the bits of food for your guys daughter.

"Let Mum eat, I got her"

You two stared at eachother. Almost awkward before you gave a watery smile in return and hand him the pink plastic bowl and spoon.

"Thank you Love "

It had been a fairly quiet dinner besides Elijah talking about everything he could think of, Both you and Simon however doing the normal routine. Getting both kids washed up, Showering- now in seperate showers then getting both children ready for bed.

"Goodnight sweetie"

You say softly, Kissing Elijah head as he fell asleep tucked into bed.

Simon stepping out of the Nursery as well after making sure Lily was asleep. Both of you looking at each other, Before you walking first back to the bedroom and Simon followed behind you. You going to your side of the bed as you rubbed your face from stress.

Simon takes a heavy breath, glancing out of the shared bedroom to make sure non of the kids have decided to jump out of bed for some reason as he closed the bedroom door and locked it.

It was like a heavy suffocating blanket had fallen over the both of you then.

"So.. The Shadow Company?" Simon said first, You giving a slight wince at the name before trying to shrug nonchalantly.

"Temporarily... Moved to KorTac after a bit.. So 141?"

Simon clicked his tongue and nodded.

Now meeting your eyes, and for a second you didn't see your husband- and you felt your chest harden like it wore that Kevlar once more. Simon also not seeing his wife for a second at the hardened look you gave him after a moment.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asks, voice dry, but there’s a flicker of almost sadness in his eyes as he crosses his arms and stares hard at you.

“Dunno...” You say softly with what could only be described as a chill up your spine as you bit your lip like wanting to hold back tears.

“...Should I be worried?”

There was a fallen silence for another second before He reached to his side, Lifting his shirt and pulling the large combat knife from its hidden holster before tossing it to the bed-

You staring at him before pulling up your night slip and pulling the same knife from its hidden holster and carefully set it on the bed as well.

....

Bringing your hands together you begin to mess with your necklace anxiously- Simon staring at you as his first Instincts was to go over and wrap his arms around you but held back.

"Truce?" You ask softly, Simon nodding silently.

"Truce.. Now I do think a conversion is in order"

[funnyjb]

hi! can i request for more postpartum fics? they are sooo good! maybe some happy moments but also sadly reader going through it and joe being there for her? thanks!

Hi ofc!

—————————

Brooks Levi Burrow was born just a few days ago. Your first night in the house with a newborn was smooth sailing. Nothing but cuddles and the sound of a quiet baby.

Your in Laws and your parents have decided to stop by any chance they get to be with you, Joe, and the baby.

“Mom, it’s ok I got it.”- picking up Brooks to put him to bed

“Are you sure, sweetie, I’m happy to do it.”- your mom got up from the couch

Robin and Jimmy along with your father were in the kitchen talking with Joe.

“It’s ok.”- you

“Y/n, hold him up higher.”- your mom

“Mom! I got it. Let me put him to bed and he’s fine, ok?”- you

Your hormones are all over the place but everyone has been getting on your nerves lately. You feel like everyone is all over you and the baby. The parents have been over so much you haven’t gotten alone time in 4 days. 4 days!

You walk up the stairs to put brooks down.

“Is she ok?”- Robin

Your mom walks over

“Yeah, I think it’s just a lot for her. She has never raised her voice at me.”- your mom

“It’s ok, she’s going through a lot.”- your dad

Joe stands there thinking.

“I’m going to go check on her.”- joe

“Give it a minute, sweetie. She probably needs a breather.”- Robin

Joe nods

After a couple minutes Joe decides to go up.

You were in the rocking chair holding Brooks in your arms. He was fast asleep.

The nursery was decorated with navy’s and creams. The fluffy pillows and stuffed animals stacked in one corner. The beautiful book shelf filled with baby books and football memorabilia on every shelf along with some pictures of you and Joe and some family.

“Hey, you ok?”- joe

You look up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”- you

Joe gave you a look.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired.”- you

Joe walked over to you.

“Want me to take him? You can go hang out in the bedroom for a bit. Get away from the parents.”- joe smiled

“You sure?”- you

“Yes, anything for you.”- joe winks

You hand him brooks.

Joe walked over to the crib and set brooks down.

He stared at his son. In awe of what both of you created.

You stepped out to give him a moment alone.

—————————————-

A year ago

Your family and Joe’s were all at the dinner table. It was a night after a game. Everyone still had enough energy to eat and drink. Joe sat at the head of the table. You were next to him on the side. Joe was engaging in a conversation with his dad about the game. The rest of the parents were talking with the siblings. Joes nephews run wild around the couch not to far from you guys.

As the conversations slowly starts to die down Joes brother starts to speak up.

“So, y/n and Joe when do you think you guys will give this family a new member?”- Jamie smiles

You and Joe look up in distraught

“Um.”- you look at Joe

“Well, we haven’t really been thinking about that right now.”- joe chuckles

“Yeah…haven’t really talked about it. Our focus is football right now.”- you smile and then start to play with your fork on your plate.

That conversation was always a little weird to you whenever someone brought it up after you two got married. Of course you wanted kids with Joe. It was your dream to have Joe the father of your children. You never knew what to say when someone asked you.

You just knew how life would be so different after having kids.

“Ugh, y/n you would be the best mom.”- codi smiles

“Thanks, codi.”- you smile back

When you look back at Joe he is already staring at you smiling.

Of course you had to return that smile.

“Just think about a mini Joe or y/n running around, coming to games, and having dinner with us here.”- Jamie

“That is pretty cute to think about.”- Robin

The truth is you were nervous about becoming a mom. You loved the idea and the thought of having a mini you or Joe walking around filled your heart with excitement, but then again also brought nerves.

What happens if I mess up?

Joe is going to be gone a lot

Not getting sleep the first few months

All of that sent some few nerves.

As the conversation kept going on and you kept smiling at the talk. You needed a moment to relax and think.

“Anyone done with their plate?”- you

You took yours and Joes. Everyone else kept talking.

Placed the plates in the sink and rinsed and started to put them in the dishwasher.

Joe sensed you were thinking about something. Something that made you feel nervous or anxious.

He got up and walked over to you.

He came next to you and helped with the dishes.

“Thanks. You don’t have to. Go enjoy time with your family.”- you smile

“But I want to be here with you.”- Joe

You chuckle

Joe just keeps looking at you.

“You ok? Seemed a little bit out of it at the table for a minute.”- Joe

“Yeah..yeah. I’m good.”- you

“Y/n.”- Joe

“Just…it’s weird, you know? I always loved the thought of us having kids. Seeing them at your games and hugging you when you get home. Running around with them or putting them to bed. It’s just all of it kicks in. Our lives are going to change. For the better of course. But the sleeplessness nights for the first couple months, running around in the chaos, and I mean during the football season you’re not going to be home much. Sorry, this is all stupid.”- you

“No, no, y/n. I get it. It’s a little weird for me too. I mean me? Being a dad?”- Joe laughs

You laugh too

“It’s a little bit weird to think but I do know something. It’s that I wouldn’t want to have my kids with anyone else but you. You would be the best mom y/n. And we will get through it together when the time comes. All I know is that we will try our best and have a great support system with us.”- Joe

You nod

“I love you.”- you

“Love you more.”- Joe

—————————————

“He’s one cute baby.”- Your mom says

All of you guys were now sitting back on the couch. The house was slightly dim. Outside was complete darkness. And there you all sat all in great company and love.

“He really is a combination of both of you.”- Robin

Brooks was laying on your chest. Joe sat closely next to you

“We better get going. It’s getting dark.”- Your dad

“Some with us here, hun.”- Robin

“I’ll walk you guys out.”- Joe

Joe gets up to give hugs

Both parents come over to say their goodbyes to you and to brooks

As the door closes there is complete silence. Joe walks back over.

He sighs as he sits back down.

“I’m proud of you.”- joe

You look at him

“It’s a lot, especially having to deal with the parents. You’re the best mom, y/n. I hope you know that.”- Joe

You felt a tear streaming down

“Thank you, Joey. That means more to me than you think.”- you

“Of course, baby. Don’t cry.”- Joe

You rest your head on his shoulder as he wipes your tear.

The end.

[pastillcs]

i need more people to capitalize on how funny dinners at the wayne manor must be when at least 3 of the bats are dating a Kent.

the first time bruce brings clark home, it's a bit of a pandemonium. half the children have their eyebrows raised, either out of intrigue or surprise, while alfred and dick have the smuggest "i fuckin' knew it" smiles on their faces. damian is the most confused one out of the bunch, having been raised as an al-ghul and probably carrying over some form of internalized homophobia at first.

cass and duke are incredibly supportive, but the glint in their eyes betrays a sense of danger that sends a chill down clark's spine. plus points if they team up to scare the living daylights out of clark on one of his increasingly frequent visits to the manor, with both of them chuckling to themselves after walking off.

"he may be the man of steel, but he's in gotham tonight."

tim and jason are the living embodiments of "what the fuck." in fact, one of the only times tim, jason, and damian ever concede to a truce is after clark's fourth time eating dinner at the house. after eating, clark stands up to help alfred wash the dishes, and the three of them share a Look- reconvening in damian's room once clark had left to debrief on the whole debacle.

"washing the dishes, really?"

"next thing you know, he'll be sleeping over here on the weekends."

"i don't understand why father appears to be so happy with him. the alien has no prospects-"

"don't say that in front of B. you'll break his heart."

"but- !!"

clark isn't the one to sleep over at the manor the next weekend though. as soon as damian (loudly) announces to his family during dinner that his "best friend" is going to be sleeping over for a few days, tweedledee and tweedledum share another Look. dick firmly drapes an arm on either of their shoulders as a warning.

("demon brat has friends??" "fuck if i know.")

grayson and cain end up as the main babysitters for the rest of the weekend, with the latter turning out to be the kids' favorite. (no surprises here, she just lets them do whatever while she reads in the corner; much to dick's dismay. and broken heart.) dami and jon had a blast that night, and if bruce walks into the damian's room to find the youngest bat sleeping soundly with the youngest kent curled up beside him, then that's only for bruce to know.

tim and kon decide to hold off on the whole "meeting the family" gig for a while. when kon asks, tim just smiles and gives him a quiet kiss on the temple. he doesn't mention the fact that he's about 97.8% sure that his two oldest brothers might end up bursting a blood vessel when they find out that another one of them is dating a kent.

(he ends up bringing kon over to the manor a few weeks later to watch jason nearly choke on his wellington after he not-so-subtly kisses his lover on the cheek, shit-eating grin unfurling on his face. it's payback for tripping him during patrol the other day.)

clark, slightly concerned: this isn't illegal, right.

bruce, having already seen this coming: nope. it's fine.

dick: sooo, does this just run in the family then?

bruce does not dignify that line of questioning with an answer.

[withlovemark]

I‘m sorry if I ask too many times but could you write Husband Haechan getting jealous of his son cause you give him more attention than Haechan peppering him with kisses and cuddling him the whole time pls? (make it long if you can pls)

you don’t have to say sorry! again, i love writing for haechan <3 thank u for being patient with me >.<

—

warnings: suggestive

haechan! walked into your house, baby on his hip, proud and excited to show you the matching bear outfits he had bought.

“hi baby bear,” you gasp, practically snatching your son away from your husband, “aren’t you the cutest thing mommy has ever seen,” covering him in kisses, giggles warming your heart, god, you were so obsessed with him. he was perfect in every way. from his eyes that looked exactly like his father’s, to the tiny moles that were starting to appear upon his cheeks, down to his tiny little toes, that was currently tucked into the fuzzy bear suit that was just as tiny as him.

it's been 15 whole minutes of that — just you cooing at your baby, praising him with kisses and cuddles, completely ignoring your husband, who was looking just as cute, maybe even cuter, if he says so himself.

“nothing for daddy bear, huh?,” he scoffs, crossing his arms, finally getting your attention, the pout on his lips so very evident.

“you look cute too,” you divert your attention to him for a quick second before going back to your son, “but not as cute as this little bear, huh, baby?,” you pull your son closer to you, rubbing your nose upon his, before placing kisses on his soft cheeks, causing a bubble of laughter to rise. he was such a happy baby.

meanwhile, your big baby has grumpily walked out of the living room.

haechan was being silly, he knew he was – getting jealous over the little guy that was practically just a mini him, a combination of the love you share.

now, don’t get him wrong, he loves the little man with his entire heart, would take any bullet for him, would catch the sun in his hands if he asked for it. the sight earlier was enough for him to want to put another baby in you. but this was getting annoying. he hasn’t gotten your full attention since the little guy was born, how were you supposed to make another one?

when your baby has fallen asleep, you finally have the heart to let him go, making your way to the nursery and tucking him into the cradle. haechan follows your footsteps, leaning on the door frame as he watches you, “he finally got tired?,” he whispers, afraid to wake little bear.

you turn to the sound of his voice, making your way towards him and immediately falling into his arms as you wrapped him in a tight hug, haechan hugging you back even tighter, “he’s getting sooo big hyuck, it makes me sad,” you mutter against his chest and haechan can’t help but let out a gentle laugh, softly patting your head, as he slowly leads the both of you out the nursery and into the hallway, making sure your steps didn’t wake your baby.

“sorry i haven’t been paying attention to you,” you sigh, “i just- he’s growing so much i don’t want to miss a second,” you pout and haechan can’t help but feel guilty.

“hey,” he turns your chin towards him, giving you a soft peck on the cheek, “no matter how big he gets he’ll always be our baby,” he comforts you, “i’ll even give him this bear jacket so you can think back to this day,” he teases, making you laugh as you finally take in his appearance, “he gets all his cuteness from you, you know?,” you murmur, leaning up to finally close the distance between you.

haechan sighs in content as your lips moved in sync, “missed you,” he murmurs against your kiss, “missed you too, hyuck,” you moan, the make out session growing heavier and heavier as haechan’s tongue slips in yours, hands automatically going up to the nape of his neck, bringing him closer until there was absolutely no more space in between you, the hold he had around your hips tightening.

“i’ve been thinking,” he says in between kisses, “hmm?” you whine.

“what if we make another one?,” he says, halting your movements.

“what?,” you whisper, eyes wide, not sure if you heard him properly.

“well, little bear is turning 2 this year and we always said we wanted him to have someone to play with, i’d like to try for baby #2 if it's okay with you?,” he proposes, a smile appearing on your features and he knows you’re on the same page.

“what do you say honey, let me put a baby in you?,” he hums in your ear, hand wandering down the outline of your curves, making your stomach jump.

you share a sweet smile before grabbing his hand and leading him to your shared bedroom.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNING: the aftermath of surviving a suicide attempt. SUICIDAL IDEATION, DEPRESSION, possible past-eating disorder. depersonalization-derealization, detailed writing of vomit.

This story is written from the perspective of a biased omniscient narrator, keep this in mind as you read and don't take everything they say as absolute truth.

Please proceed with caution and consider your personal comfort and wellbeing before continuing.

Nine months of your inception. Within your mother's womb, you were cradled in warmth, your arrival anticipated without reservations—it seemed to matter not if you were nobody, if you were just you. What mattered was your very birth, the fact of your existence. Milestone after milestone was marked—your first word, your first stumbling step—each met with joy, creating an illusion that despite still grasping the basics and balancing on two clumsy feet, you would always be loved.

Lies. They are all lies. As you grow up, you realize the world is not as it seemed, and love is not that unconditional. You have to be something, someone, in order to be loved.

Being human means wanting to be unique, but not so different that it results in being deemed "troubled." Being human means having people insist you have dreams only to be forced to bury them deep and never revisit them. Being human means standing between two contradictions that ultimately make you a hypocrite. Being human is reaching for something and nothing. Being human is always wanting to be loved, loved, and loved.

You long to be an ordinary daughter, with no talents, no remarkable qualities. Just you. With a father who would take you out for ice cream simply because he loves you, not because you got an A in class; with a mother who cooks your favorite meal simply because it brings you happiness, rather than as a means to keep you confined at home during the weekends.

But that doesn’t get you anywhere, you know. There’s no celebration in being ordinary, no celebration in breathing another day. So you turn your life into one long series of attempts to be something worth staying for, worth loving. What a pathetic woman, one might say—always harping on about love, love, love. Shallow. Cliché. But I can’t help that that’s me.

You tried many times to persuade that little girl—who persisted inside you as you grew older, blowing out candles without a cake, with hopes that were gradually pared down until only one obstinate one remained: God, please, just once, I want to be happy. She lives somewhere inside you, permanently; you can’t get rid of her even if you wanted to (there’s something absolute about humans always trying to burn away their past selves—which, you think, is to fool the world that they were born this way).

You dislike her. That girl and her curiosity to keep searching for the light. Like a trapped baby animal, her little hands clawing at your pancreas every time you neglected her dreams—the old, worn-out dreams that you had buried to the depths of your soul. Made only to be forgotten. Unfortunately, she would never understand this—still believing that the world was so benevolent to give her what she desired.

And unfortunately, you don't have the heart to tell her either.

So, here you both are—you and the little girl—dancing in a denial created by one or the other. She in her naivety, you in your rejection of her. A deadly, dissonant duet; a bleak and morbid song that gnaws at your flesh. The burden of her hopes for the future bends your back; your sternum pops as she tries to find her way out of the confines of your ribs.

You dislike her—the girl—but you endured the sting her nails left as she carved red crescents into you. You also refused to let her leave—scooping her small body from the ichor-covered floor as gently as her father had done to her. This was your distraction for her, your coaxing to keep her. So she could only see you through the lying mirror in the bathroom. So she wouldn’t see the reality of who she was growing up to become.

Maybe it's shame. Maybe it's guilt. How she dreams of softer days—with flowers and citrus stains on her dress while basking in the glow of the spotlight, but you've become a rotting fruit, sour, bitter at the end. The blood inside you clots; black ink pours from your heart. Never will you reach that house. She dreams of being the brightest star while, once again, you let her down and-

You left the stage.

Your own consciousness feels like a tidal wave, pulling you back and forth between sleep and reality. The world around you feels hazy, the edges of your vision blurring as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings.

Something wet brushed against your cheek. Confused, you tried to jerk your head back, but the movement only spread the dampness further. You can barely recognize your own voice as it came out as a pathetic whimper of pain. Forcing your burning eyes open, you blinked into consciousness. You shifted again, your brow furrowing as you felt something rising through your gut and throat.

Without warning, you find yourself retching, your body convulsing as you expel the contents of your stomach onto the bed. The acrid taste filled your mouth, and you could smell the vomit staining the sheets beneath you.

It was at that moment that all of your senses rushed back to you. You hold your throbbing head; your body feels weak, and yet, your heart is beating so very fast. Extending your hand, you try to reach the glass sitting on the nightstand and finish it in one go. You no longer care where the glass ends up. Waiting and waiting, you hope the water can do something to alleviate every single pain you're feeling.

To your dismay, it does nothing more than ease your throat of the remaining bile. Your heart is still racing, your hands are still shaking, and your stomach feels like it’s being twisted and stabbed from within. Curling up into the fetal position, disregarding the pool of vomit you're lying in. Your fists are pressing into your abdomen, trying to dull the suffering, but all you get is another of your cries.

You feel like a stinky mess. Your hair is damp, matted, sprinkled with tiny particles of foul, sour smell. For an hour, you lie there like the dead, occasionally letting out a small groan from how torn your stomach is. The nagging feeling of needing to vomit keeps crawling up your throat, but time after time, it would pass, and nothing would come up, just a release of pent-up gas.

An hour later, the pain finally gives in, dulling. You scramble out of bed, walking towards the door, using the wall as support for your wobbly limbs. Reaching the bathroom, you try as hard as you can to ignore the empty pill bottles scattered on the floor and yank the cabinet open. You pop a few activated charcoal into your mouth, hoping it will at least do something. To make the pain go away.

You sit on the bathroom floor, leaning your back against the tiled wall. The coolness of the surface is a welcome sensation on your sweaty body. You are aware of the thoughts brewing in your mind. You try to avoid them and look for distractions around you—a crack in the wall, a thin spiderweb at the corner.

But you’ve never been known for being a good escape artist. One thought slips out, and you’re left crying in the bathroom. You cry for yourself—you think this is the first time you’ve ever genuinely felt sorry for yourself. Funny, to feel so guilty when you’re the one who brought this on yourself. You feel like a narcissistic, self-pitying woman who somehow always manages to paint herself as the victim.

Knowing that you don’t deserve this—everything that led you here and the way you’ve treated yourself. In the rare moments of self-compassion, the many previous versions of you come running to you. You could almost guess what they’re thinking: "You erased me just to create this wretched person you’ve become?"

A chuckle escaped you, devoid of humor, yet full of the arrogance that only humans can possess. But it was short-lived, as tears quickly filled your eyes and broken sobs wracked your body. The untamed flame crawled up and licked your throat, preventing you from speaking. In fear that if you did, you would string together another word you would regret. You guess that's what you are, a human full of nothing but regret.

From how hard your heart beats, you can follow its rhythm without putting your hand to your chest. Thump, thump, thump. You wonder if the sound of its beats is bouncing off your rib cage, broadcasting as if it were an announcement.

The owner tried to kill it, but it survived.

It's unsettling, this feeling. The awareness that you are owed an apology, and yet you are the very person who caused yourself pain. Always looking at your imperfections with a magnifying glass but never acknowledging the good you try to offer. Always yearning to be someone else when it was you who brought yourself here. Despite your disgrace, you should have tucked yourself in as gently as you would have done anyone else.

The silence of your lonely apartment holds up a mirror that has been forced upon you. It demands that you face yourself—to stop seeing what isn’t there, to accept who and how you are. Your virtues and your vices. Your virtues. Your vices.

But with your black-and-white vision, you don’t have that ability. If you're not entirely good, then you're a terrible person, and vice versa. You consider half measures as crime, as inconsistency. Since when did you developed this perspective you didn't know. Given your mother, you suspect it’s hereditary—or if not, perhaps taught at an early age. This makes you realize that you will never make up for how horrible a person you are.

You sat in the bathroom for two hours. Once you feel a little better, you try to find your footing and stagger into the kitchen. The light from the refrigerator you opened casts a parallelogram of light into the dark room. You reach for whatever leftovers are inside, scooping up the cold pasta you made the other day with your bare hands and stuffing it into your mouth. A frown forms at the unfamiliar temperature, but you keep chewing. You quickly swallow, then move on to the next unheated meal.

You don't even know what to hope. You're unsure if stuffing your belly with food will help to calm your racing heart and trembling body, just as it did in the past when you purposefully denied yourself meals.

By some miracle (or perhaps some intricate bodily mechanism that you don't understand), it worked. After two more hours of dozing off in front of the television, you’re no longer sweating, and you no longer feel like you’re going to die right then and there. But not much else had changed. The silence in your apartment lingers on, and the numbness inside you is still there, if not yawning to the point of conjuring your brain into a state of stasis.

Getting up, you make your way back into your room. The sight is almost normal, except for the stains on your pillow and bedspread. You strip the sheets off the bed and throw them into the laundry bin—to your relief, the vomit hasn't seeped into the mattress underneath. You quickly replaced them. Everything seems normal, as if you hadn’t just tried to take your own life.

You always have the same way of arranging your four pillows—the plain one in the back, the two with floral covers in the front. You spread a new blanket on your clean bed before placing a warmer one on top.

Walking to the nightstand, you gather up the used tissue balls and your empty glass. You grab basically any trash you see and carry it out of the room. Reaching the main living area, you scan the room—by the window, at your stretching area, at the brown chair at the far end of the room, at your ivory couch, in between the piles of pillows, and at the perfectly square coffee table.

You lowered your eyes to the overflowing ashtray sitting in the middle. The object looks strangely out of place in your home because you don't smoke. You don't, but someone else used to.

With caution, you approach slowly like one would a wild animal. You stood right in front of the table. In front of the ashtray. The accumulated cigarette butts sit on the ashes that have long since cooled.

You pinch the edge of the ashtray with three fingers and pour the contents into the plastic bag you carry. Tilting the ceramic, you can see how it has gone gray underneath from the embers and cigarettes that were rubbed against it. There will never be another use for it. You tossed the ashtray in with the rest of the rubbish.

Finishing your frenzied cleaning, you step into the shower and rinse yourself under the cold water. Normally, the steady rhythm of the water flowing would relax your body, and it would be a signal for your mind to wander—to give you something to fret about. But today, there was nothing—just a vast, empty expanse of plain white, awfully quiet like the aftermath of a storm.

You ran your fingers through your hair, searching for a sensation. Nothing. There was nothing. It was as if your hands couldn't even touch your head—like a phantom unable to hold anything because it was from another world and did not belong in this reality.

Though as unusual as it is, you’ve experienced similar experiences before, leaving you somewhat used to it but still not able to deal with it. So, you accept it unwillingly, watching yourself go through your routine: “You” scratched at your scalp with your nails, digging deeper. White suds from your shampoo pooling in the shower drain. “You” finish your shower, wrapping a towel around yourself, and head to the bedroom to get dressed.

“You” sat down on the yoga mat, taking a moment to look in the mirror to ensure you're in the correct position for stretching. Next to the mirror is your duffel bag, filled with your ballet necessities – which has been sitting there for days, untouched because ballet has become nothing to you.

But “she” touches it—the “you” in your body. After finishing her stretches, she stands and rummages through her bag like you always do before class and rehearsal. A meticulous doppelganger, this one. She ties your hair into a bun with the same efficiency as you; glancing in the mirror a second time to make sure everything is perfect before she shoulders the duffel bag and heads for the door.

Wait, what is she doing?

Where is she taking you?

No ballet today—and there will be no ballet in the future. So where is she heading?

A skilled copycat. She knows just which subway line to take and precisely when to get off. You watch her climb the steps you've ascended countless times before, proceeding straight ahead and then turning onto the sidewalk where the crimson-painted flower shop is located. She walks and walks, seemingly unaware that her presence at the opera house will be questioned and unwanted. You want to scream at her to stop, to spare herself and you the embarrassment of rejection, but this invisible glass wall is so thick, it smothers your voice, preventing it from reaching her.

She continued down the deformed corridor, ignoring the surprised looks from the other dancers. At the end of the hallway—right where the open door to the prima ballerina’s dressing room was—stood Henri, his expression not much different from the others as he watched her barge in and immediately sit down at the dressing table like a long-gone queen reclaiming her place.

You hear Henri say your name, but wait for her response. He shuts the door behind him for more privacy before dropping his voice to almost a mumble, “What are you doing here?”

Unbothered, the doppelganger began to arrange her powders and makeup on the vanity table. She glanced in the mirror, making eye contact with the director. “Isn't tonight's show day?” she asked, remaining calm and composed as if she belonged here.

Henri stood there, baffled, the wrinkles on each side of his mouth accentuated by a frown before he called you again. The more he said your name, the more foreign it sounded to your ears.

“We’ve talked about this—Claudine is going to be the one playing the Swan Queen for tonight’s show and the next few performances.” He said in a no-nonsense tone, not up for discussion, not up for full-on defiance.

“You” averted her eyes back to her own reflection in the mirror, then dragged her foundation-stained fingers across her face, leaving a paler shade of her natural skin tone. “Just because I failed at the first show,” she pumped another dollop of the product, “doesn’t mean I can’t redeem myself.”

At her words, Henri opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but didn't. In his silence, the doppelganger saw the obvious cracks in his “inviolable” decision—it carved a smug smile on her face.

“So, where is Claudine now?” she questioned, a rhetorical one.

“She’s…”

“Late again?” she guessed (though it sounded like she was finishing the sentence for him), and his subsequent expression confirmed that her hunch was correct. She arched a brow in a “told you so” manner. “Claudine’s always got a problem being on time, didn’t you know?”

A sharp exhale escaped Henri. He pinched the bridge of his strong nose, muttering a curse under his breath in French. “You’re on,” he said, then approached the chair where “you” were sitting. “But for God’s sake, don’t disappoint me. I have a lot at stake here, and I don’t want any more disasters from you or Claudine.”

Leaning down, he brought his head closer to hers, their gazes locked in the mirror. “Perfection itself is imperfection,” he told her.

Having stated his piece, Henri straightened his back and turned to leave the room, leaving your doppelganger alone. The woman continued her makeup; applying contour according to the White Swan makeup portion, tapping the bristles on the blush and bringing it to fill in your cheeks, and finishing with a setting spray to set everything in place. It was all your exact routine.

Even though you weren't in her body, you could tell what she was thinking as she put the white faux feathers to either side of her head. She smiled at her reflection, proud of the end result of her appearance.

You’re not sure how Henri relayed the news to Claudine, but somewhere out there, she must be grieving for the opportunity that once again slipped through her fingers. Her dream was just a reach away from her—an almost—before it was cruelly snatched away from her. If you were a better person, you would feel sorry for her. You would also find similarities between the two of you.

But you and “she” both know that there is only one person eligible to play the lead role—the story of a swan floating aimlessly can only be played by a bloated corpse of a dreamer girl.

Nothing happened. And you are the Swan Queen.

Around twenty minutes later, a knock came at the door. “White Swan is up in ten!” a voice called out from the other side. The doppelganger turned her gaze in the mirror, examining her reflection one final time. Satisfied, she rose from the vanity chair and left the room to the backstage.

You watched as the swan flocks exited the stage in a graceful, synchronized glide. And then, without hesitation, “you” jumped into the spotlight, and the audience burst into applause at the entrance of the White Swan. Odette, with her arms spread wide like wings, opened her chest and pulled her spine back. She stood on pointe; her long legs took step after step, all in time with the harmonious plucking of the string instruments.

The pale light of the moon cast a silvery hue upon the solitary lake, a place that she and her flock of “swans” had been forced to call home for so long. During the day, they gather under the sheltering shade of the weeping willow tree that stands at the end of the lake. But when evening falls and the shadows grow long, they try to adapt to the unfamiliarity of the soft earth and the limbs of the girl they once were.

It was supposed to be yet another night of her cursed existence. So, when a man revealed himself from the darkness of the shadows and approached her, Odette couldn't help but feel terrified and flee, extending her arms as if she was about to take flight.

Who are you, stranger? She wandered in her thoughts. Was it coincidence that brought you here tonight, or is there another intent behind your appearance? Do you intend to harm me, just like the others who have come before you?

The crossbow in his hand should have spoken volumes (in another life, it would have been a worn and faded all-black leather jacket), should have been enough for her to stop wondering and run. To spare herself from more agony, to spare herself from piling on another curse she would have to endure. She ran—but not too far, still within his reach if he were to pursue her further. The only attempt at defense was her shielding her face with her hand—forgetting that she was no longer in swan form.

The man set down his crossbow and approached her slowly, stating that he meant no harm. Despite his reassurances, she still tried to elude him. Curious, he asked her why she was here. She halted her escape and attempted to stand still, explaining to him that she was the queen of the swans and that there was a lake nearby that was created from her mother's tears. And not far from here, there was a powerful evil sorcerer named Von Rothbart—it was he who cursed her into becoming a swan.

But—

You observed as your doppelganger placed her hand over the spot where her heart beats. "If the one who loves me marries me and swears to be faithful, then I will no longer be a swan.”

So gentle was his touch as he held her, as if she would perish if he were to apply any more force. She had always seen herself as a girl full of resignation, moving through life bearing only what remained of her—devoid of hope since her dreams had already been extinguished. Long had she borne the weight of this curse, believing that no such man—or such love—could ever prove her wrong.

But being in his arms now reignited the dwindling ember in her. She fell to his feet, her frail bone like brittle twigs. Before she knew it, his name spilled from her lips in a plea—for him to save her—for him to love and save her.

When he protected her from the sorcerer, she perceived him as a kind of savior. Were you the one written in the prophecy? To soothe her aching joints and tell her that she was worth saving—that she was not as far gone as everyone had led her to believe. Wide-eyed, she watched him declare his love—his promise to return for her. The scene came to an end, leaving the enchanted lake alone again.

(My heart is an overripe pomegranate; will you be the one to harvest it?)

The crimson curtain fell, signaling the end of the act. You watched as the doppelganger rushed off the stage. She passed by Henri, who stood in the wings, his expression full of concern as his head turned to follow her as she disappeared behind the door.

Entering the dressing room once more, the doppelganger shut the door behind her. Slowly, she approached the vanity table, sitting on the chair. She stared back at her image in the mirror, but her expression was similar to that of someone offering it to a complete stranger. Carefully, she began to remove the pristine white headpiece, placing it on the table's surface. She opened her eyeshadow palette and prepared to do her makeup for the Black Swan.

The white costume had been replaced by a lustrous black ensemble, adorned with sequins on the torso. Her makeup was bolder now, with heavier and more pronounced strokes around her eyes that would be visible even from the farthest reaches of the theater. On top of your head, a new headpiece rests, fancier and heavier.

It didn’t take long before a knock came at the door, and “you” left to return backstage.

With the heavy castle doors opening to the sound of trumpets announcing her entrance, Odile was confident she would win the favor of this prince. In her fiery blood that boiled like bubbling potion in a cauldron, she was well-versed in such things—gracing elegant balls in a flashy black dress that contrasted sharply with the unfortunate girl suffering under her father's curse and captivating everyone's attention without even trying.

Odile was made to be a social butterfly, albeit borrowing Odette’s appearance.

It was a mere game to her, nothing more than a side pleasure. When she caught sight of the unsuspecting prince, she struggled desperately to suppress a victorious smile. Even before she danced, this callow man seemed ready to offer her his heart on a silver platter. No wonder her father was so worried—this prince truly loved the white swan girl.

Poor soul, indeed. To perceive love as something lavish, rather than something to be used and thrown aside at will. How naïve. Odile would never be like that. If she were to speak truthfully, they would make a good pair—this swan girl and this prince.

And no, she had not come here in hopes of his love. Such a thing wasn’t in her lexicon. Love was a repugnant thing. She saw it as nothing more than a tool to manipulate, to control someone—like a rein on a horse, a whip on a cow. Love was a repugnant thing; it left you fretting about what someone thought and felt about you. She wouldn’t allow anyone to define her.

Under no one's critical eye, Odile flourished into who she wanted to be—dancing in whichever direction she desired. Agile, sharp, seductive. Brimming with confidence. Immune to the murmurs and jeers of others—let the dog bark, she wouldn’t allow anyone to define her. She wanted to be a star and she knew she would become the brightest star in the universe.

The red lip of that doppelganger curved upwards into a smile that was almost identical to the one the girl from the club had. If she were speaking verbally instead of in pantomime, you were sure her voice would sound exactly like hers.

Odile danced and danced, eluding the prince's grasp. But, unlike the timid Odette, she seemed to indulge in the thrill of the chase—a prize rather than a prey, toying with the man who so desperately desired her. Love was a repugnant thing, indeed. She continued this dance of cat and mouse. This game in which she knew full well who would emerge victorious.

(Instead of her falling at his feet, it was he who knelt before her.)

The doppelganger launched into the 32 fouettés, her body spinning with speed and precision. You hear the applause of the audience. The muscles in her legs rippled beneath the fluffy, black tutu as she spun and completed the variation.

You couldn’t remember how you made it backstage, but you find yourself on your knees—your stomach twisting itself into a painful knot. It's the same sensation you experienced hours ago—the unfinished consequences demanding your attention. Your knuckles turn white from how tightly you're clenching your fists, and your face turns a deep shade of red as you grimace in pain.

The sound of multiple footsteps is heard as several dancers and crew members rush to your side, including the director—Henri. You can hear their concerned voices, one of them asking if it was cramps and another already rushing to find the medicine box they keep on hand. The backstage area turns into a chaotic scene, with you becoming the focus.

“Mon dieu!” Henri exclaimed. “What is happening? Tell me, where are you hurt?”

Trying to hold back your pained voice, you spoke in a breathless tone, “It's—it's nothing. I… I just… I need a moment.”

But Henri wasn’t buying it. Turning to one of the other dancers, he said, “Get Claudine. she’ll have to take over the rest of the performance.”

“NO!” You screamed, face flushed with a mix of pain and anger. How could it be so easy for him to replace you? How could he abandon you and find someone else who doesn't even know him as well as you do, thinking that is enough to fill your place? After hours of feeling empty, you almost forgot how burning anger can be. “I can do this. I know I can! Just give me a moment. I can finish this.”

Forcing yourself to get up as you had done a thousand times before, you bit your lower lip to hold back the excruciating burn. You clutched your abdomen, focusing your brain only on putting one foot in front of the other as you made your way down the corridor and into the dressing room.

When you turn to face the mirror, there you are waiting—you in your body. Slowly, you walk to the vanity, sinking down in the chair and hunching forward. You allow yourself a maximum of twenty seconds to steady your breathing, as well as to allow the suggestion to convince your mind and body that the pain isn't as excruciating as it feels, so it can stop exaggerating it.

Gritting your teeth, you reach for the cotton pads and makeup remover, wiping off the heavy, dark eye makeup of the Black Swan. The white is stained with black, tossed aside in a nearby trash bin. Then, you grab the same eyeshadow palette and use the brush to apply it across your eyelids.

As you lean in toward the mirror, your eyes narrow at a small patch of black that you missed—a stubborn remnant of the Black Swan makeup. Instinctively, you try to scrape it away with the tip of your nail. The action stings, causing your eyes to water. You try again, but the stain remains as a blemish on the supposedly pristine White Swan makeup. It will never be as clean as it was at the start.

At that moment, you did the last thing you thought you would do. You laughed. Tortured by the agony in your stomach and the stubborn black stain that marred your appearance, you laughed. You’ve never felt so alive—pain made you feel truly alive; anger made you feel real. Throughout your existence, you’ve seen yourself as a girl full of resignation, moving through life bearing only what remained of you. But now? Now, you’re filled with resentment, with betrayal. Up until now, you've been grieving, but now your grief has turned into anger.

Staring at your reflection, a mix of loathing and pity fills your heart. Why did you make me like this? What did I do wrong that you made me like this? Is it because I am a horrible person? Who made me a horrible person? Why did you let me live if I am such a horrible person? If I am truly irredeemable, why did you let me live instead of letting me die?

You laughed again, as if daring yourself to find a trace of real amusement in it. There was none. You kept laughing, your eyes locked on your own gaze in the mirror, waiting for that genuine spark of joy to ignite it—it never came. It was then that you realized that every time you performed this little “act,” the only person you had been fooling was yourself. Your lips began to wobble, a shaky breath escaping you as you lowered your gaze, your head bowing slightly. The stinging tears dripped onto the surface of the vanity table, dampening it.

When you stepped back onto the stage, the world was inundated in an overwhelming light, so bright that it almost burned your eyes. The flocks of swans around you scattered in pandemonium, aware of their imminent doom. You dance the dying swan—feeling every flabbiness of her joints, the trembling of her limbs as the curse seeped deeper into her blood – forever transforming her into a swan. The infamous Tchaikovsky score swelled around you as everything grew more intense.

In the hope of a happy ending, you find yourself scattered. If this were a pain of your own causing, perhaps you would find satisfaction in self-destruction. But this is not the case. The betrayal inflicted upon you is flaunted—paraded as a display of how foolishly you placed your trust. The artificial moon hanging overhead seems to gloat in your suffering.

You felt your steps lighten as you made your way up. As you reached the edge, the orchestra played to a climax, the drums echoing throughout the hall. Turning to face the prince, you met his gaze one final time before launching yourself off the surface.

The drums reached a deafening volume as you hit the mattress. Instantly, your surroundings seemed like a fever dream, with phantom sensations all over your body. You could hear the hurried footsteps of someone rushing towards you and the touch of something warm against your cold, sweaty forehead. “Something’s not right,” they said, “call an ambulance!” they shouted. It was odd how panicked they sounded when all you could think about was that empty chair in the front row—the one reserved for the man you were still waiting for even now.

Deep within your consciousness, a memory surfaces from your first recital in elementary school—where the younger you stares at the empty chair right next to Mother’s. It should've been occupied by the man the eight-year-old you had been waiting for—Daddy. He had promised to bring you flowers, to come and watch. Yet, the chair remained empty.

In both of those broken promises, somehow you find consolation. There's a peculiar reassurance in knowing that you’ve survived through something similar before, so you’ll overcome this one too. This is how most humans continue on, accumulating wounds atop wounds.

When you open your eyes, you blink against the blinding fluorescent light that illuminates the unfamiliar white ceiling above you. Confused, you sweep your gaze around for answers, trying to make sense of your situation. It takes you a few minutes to finally realize that you are in a hospital, on a patient bed, and connected to a dripping IV hanging from a steel pole next to you.

Memories of what had happened flood back into your mind, and instinctively, you search for any traces of pain. Strangely, it's nowhere to be found. You're unsure if this numbness is a product of another episode of detachment or if the pain has been dealt with. Nevertheless, you're grateful for it.

You furrow your eyebrows and reach for the call button. Within moments, a nurse appeared with her tired face, making you wonder how long her shift has been. It's just the two of you in the room, provoking the "stranger danger" in you until she flashes you a warm, kind smile that instantly dispels your concerns. She slowly approached your bed.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

Shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, you wonder how to answer the question. “I feel strange” is the best you can come up with. “What happened to me?”

The nurse's expression shifted. “Well now, it seems you may be suffering from a touch of… medication poisoning, love.” She meets your gaze,  indifferent to the awkwardness you feel. “Luckily, it appears your liver is still in good shape—if we'd gotten to you even a bit later, the outcome might have been different.”

It wasn't hard to understand what she was implying. The difference. Of course it was poisoning, you scoffed inwardly. There was no way you had taken those pills and mixed them with alcohol and not expecting this. But you couldn't bring yourself to admit it out loud, not with the nurse watching you so intently so you just nodded wordlessly.

“Now, while this may have been unintentional, I’m afraid the psychiatrist will still need to have a chat with you, just to make sure everything is on the up an’ up.”

Your head shot up at her words. “Psychiatrist?”

“Yep,” the nurse emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop. “We've seen cases like this before. Sometimes it's an accident, sometimes..." She paused, considering whether to continue, but ultimately decided not to. “Anyway, we just want to be absolutely certain you're getting the proper care and support you need so you leave the hospital healed an’ happy.”

Forcing a chuckle, you tried to play it off as nothing more than a simple silly mistake. “It was just a bit of a mix-up, that's all. I took some pills and had a few drinks; nothing to worry about, really.” You give her a sheepish smile, hoping it will convince her.

But then again, you know that being here means there’s little you can do to avert the truth. They have their ways of uncovering the real story—they had access to all sorts of analyses and evidence, and you’re sure they've probably already run tests on your bodily fluids when you were brought in unconscious. These people have spent years studying biology and chemistry, yet you believe you can fool them with half-baked excuses and foolish smiles.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you murmured, voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. “It was just an accident, I swear. I never..”

The poorly constructed lie might seem very obvious to the woman—especially with the way you’re behaving right now. Fortunately, she didn’t call you out on it directly. If she suspected something, she didn’t voice it.

“This is just standard procedure, a’igh? Nothin’ to be afraid of, I promise!”

Fairly speaking, since she entered the room, this woman has displayed nothing but kindness and non-judgmental advice. She is a good, reassuring person, and you wish you could be a better patient for her. But you are not.

The immeasurable fear inside you has spread and seeped too deep for someone to pull you out. A psychiatrist. The thought of someone competent to dissect your head like an organism under a microscope—to effortlessly pinpoint every sore spot and chronic abscess, uncover the roots of your actions, and link them to your past and present selves. To have them write down a diagnosis of what's wrong with you, a label that ties everything together, fills you with both dread and impotence.

And what if, on the flip side, there was nothing wrong with you at all? What if this was all just a product of your own design—a wounded person’s need for another wound?

Out of concern, the nurse offered, “Would you like me to have her come in?”

“Her?”

“Sorry! Uh, seems when you came in, the first emergency number we had on file was disconnected. So we had a go at the second one on the list. Sabrina, right?”

At the mention of your cousin's name, you're reminded that you've listed her as your second emergency contact. While the thought of disturbing her honeymoon period is met with a pang of guilt, you find yourself nodding in agreement.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. “I… I would appreciate that.”

“Alright, love, I’ll fetch her for you straight away.”

As the nurse exited the room, a hush fell over the space; the only audible sounds were from the soft purr of the air conditioner and the muffled voices from the hallway outside. You adjust the pillow behind your back to find a more comfortable position. Waiting, your eyes keep darting towards the door for Sabrina to come through that door.

When the door finally creaks open, you feel a surge of relief, expecting to see Sabrina's blonde hair and cheerful presence. For her to rush to your bed and hug you just like she used to when you were children.

But when it dawned on you who the person was, your sense of relief dissolved as you sharply inhaled. It wasn't your cousin—it wasn't Sabrina. The middle-aged woman stepped through the threshold, the shape of her eyes bore a striking resemblance to yours. It was, you prayed, the only trait that you had inherited from her. From your mother.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull @olives10 @cricricorner @idrkman @strrynigghts @mims900

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[jjunberry]

now playing 📽️ “the confessional”

🎞️ the start of a new priest has sister y/n in shambles, her mind plagued with unholy thoughts.

staring 🎬 priest!seonghwa x sister!reader

⭐️ genre smut,religious elements (catholic)

warnings 🎥 catholic themes, blasphemy, public sex, oral sex (fem reviving), masturbation (m&f), pet names, reader is a virgin, unprotected sex, etc.

wc .ᐟ 3.4k mlist .ᐟ

leaves were falling from the trees as cool rain drizzled outside. it was autumn, one of your favorite seasons. the church always looked so beautiful this time of year. you eyed the black cadillac as it pulled up in front of the church. “sister y/n come quick, we have a new father arriving,” sister carolyn ushered you to the double doors. two sisters opened the doors, allowing the tall man to enter. he removed his hat revealing his long black hair. a smile taking over his beautiful features.

heat over took your body, and suddenly you felt constricted in your habit. you watched him carefully, he smiled and greeted mother agnes. “hello sisters, allow me to introduce myself. i am father seonghwa,” he smiled at us. his voice was smooth like velvet. every one greeted him, introducing themselves. “sister y/n will show you to your chambers,” mother agnes guided you closer to him. you smiled softly at the tall man. “please follow me,” you gestured towards the doors.

his presence was large behind you, nervously you turned down the hallway leading him to his room. you stopped in front of the door, allowing him to open it.

“this is where you’ll be staying, is there anything else i can help you with father?” he turned to me with a smile, “no i think i’ll be okay for now, thank you sister,” the way he said sister, had your body tingling. “if you need anything at all please feel free to ask, i’ll try my best to be of assistance.” you smiled and began to leave. you were stopped by seonghwa grabbing your hand, “thank you sister, i’ll keep that in mind,” he brought the back of your hand to his lips, leaving a delicate kiss.

your cheeks became warm, you brought your hands together in front of you and smiled before scurrying away. you met the other sisters in the chapel. mother agnes was preparing afternoon prayer. “sister y/n i trust you showed father seonghwa to his chambers?” mother agnes said turning towards you. nodding you replied, “of course mother,” she smiled and motioned you to settle in for prayer.

as autumn turned to winter, the church quickly took a liking to father seonghwa. he won over the church goers, the sisters, everyone. especially you, his smile, his voice, his hands, everything about him had you captivated. you his favorite little sister. always assisting him with tasks, during church and outside of it. you were at his side as he greeted members of the church. “hello mrs. lee,” he shook her hands. “father seonghwa, you’ve brought so much light to this church.” her frail voice stated. he smiled at her kind words. “thank you, have a blessed day.” he watched her leave.

once the church cleared out, he turned to you. “thank you for your assistance sister y/n, i couldn’t do this without you.” your cheeks got warm at his words. “nonsense father, you’re a fantastic priest, a leader we needed.” he grinned, “you flatter me sister, you’ll make a man very happy,” he patted your shoulder before taking off to his chambers. you could still feel his touch on your shoulder, still smell his scent. once the doors to your chambers were closed you quickly stripped out of your habit. laying in bed, thoughts of seonghwa clouded your mind. unholy thoughts of him, him touching your body. kissing you with his soft plump lips.

your nails traced down your body, stopping just above your cunt. hesitant you hovered over yourself. this was wrong but the ache in your core was to much. “forgive me,” you whispered before sliding your fingers in your panties. a small gasp left your lips as your fingers worked your clit. you imagined it was seonghwa who was pleasing you like this. his words echoed in your mind, “you’ll make a man very happy”. a soft moan left your lips, your fingers circling your clit faster. the only man you wanted to make happy was him.

your hips jerked, your orgasm washing over you. heavy pants escaped your mouth, as you came down from your high. the orgasmic bliss was quickly replaced by shame and guilt.

you couldn’t look him in the eye after that night. the plan was to slowly take a step away from him, it was silly of you to think he wouldn’t notice. he caught onto you right away, unfortunately. he watched you, and was soon to realize your act of avoiding him. with a handful of bibles and old scripts you quietly walked into his office.

the plan was simply to go in, put the books and scripts back and get out. you hadn’t counted on him to be at his desk. “ah sister y/n,” his sudden voice cutting through the silence scared you. your body jumped at his voice, the things in your arms fell to the floor. papers scattering all over the floor. seonghwa was quick to his feet. “my apologies sister, i hadn’t meant to frighten you,” his hands reached to collect the papers.

“it’s quite alright father, i should've knocked and alerted you of my entrance.” he smiled and handed you the papers. “nonsense sister, i retired to my office early you were not aware,” you smiled softly and stood, turning to the bookshelf. seonghwa stood and leaned back against his desk, watching you place the books back in their rightful place. “you’ve been avoiding me sister,” his words had you freeze. your fingers ghosted over the spine of the final book.

“i- i am not sure what you mean father, i’ve been working diligently with the others,” seonghwa smiled at you, as if he knew the lie was coming before you said it. “please sister, you and i both know lying is a sin.” throat suddenly feeling dry, you swallowed before speaking. “may i request a confession?” your voice was barely above a whisper. seonghwa pushed off the desk, standing tall in front of you. “what troubles you sister?” his eyes scanned your face.

“i must not say here, i seek to confess.” seonghwa nods. “of course sister, after service tomorrow evening.” you nodded before going to the door. “sister,” he called out stopping your movements. “no amount of sin can keep you away from me okay? all is forgiven please do not avoid me,” his eyes were pleading.

your heart was beating fast, “of course not father, i will not avoid you.” he smiled at your reassurance and watched you leave his office. a breath escaped his lips, his heart racing. he quickly walked to the door locking it. his feet carried him to his desk. arms stretched, he braced himself. his right hand slowly slid down his abdomen, stopping above his trousers. slowly he started to stroke himself, images of you clouded his mind.

his hand pumped faster, all he could imagine is your hand working him. his mind showing him what could be, you bent over his desk, you under the altar his length down your throat. a deep groan escaped his throat as his hot sticky cum shot out of his cock.

seonghwa collapsed into his chair, deep breaths escaping him. his body spent, his mind still reeling at the thought of getting you alone.

you sat there, in the front pew during service. seonghwa stood at the altar giving a service to the members. they hung onto his every word. your eyes followed his hands as he delivered his sermon. after every few words his eyes caught yours, so subtle that only you noticed. “amen,” his voice. his voice like velvet. the crowd copied his words before rising from their seats and clearing out. he waved goodbye to them before the double doors of the church closed and locked.

“another wonderful service father seonghwa,” mother anges said. she motioned her hands up for us to stand. “thank you mother agnes,” he bowed and smiled. “sister y/n, i trust you’ll help father seonghwa clean up before you retire to your chambers?” her eyes found yours. “of course,” you nodded before going to the altar.

gathering his supplies you watched carefully until all was cleared. once it was just you and seonghwa, he went into the confession booth. the door to his side closed. taking a deep breath you set off towards the open side of the booth, using your right hand you made the sign of the cross before the old door creaked as you closed it. the window separating you opened, the only thing showing was the light. you took a deep breath, “bless me father, for i have sinned,” your heart started racing.

“father i’ve sinned, i’m so terribly sorry. i had unholy thoughts, lustful visions that i acted upon, i tainted myself in your name father forgive me,” you cried. seonghwa’s eyes widened at your confession, his sweet sister not so innocent. “what were these lustful visions that plagued you?” his voice was deep. “i-i seen you, visioned you touching me, pleasuring me,” a cry escaped you. “oh father forgive me, i was weakened and i am sorry,” your cries the only noise in the booth.

the door to your side opened, the soft light from outside shined in. “father?,” you questioned. “you’re resolved of your sins, i forgive you,” his hand held your cheek.

you looked up at him, tears falling. his crashed his lips to yours, pushing you further back into the booth. the creaky door closed behind him. you responded quickly, kissing him back. “this is wrong,” you whispered once his lips left yours. “this is where all sins are forgiven,” he replied before kissing you again. his hands roaming your body, just as you invisioned he caressed you. you leaned against the wall, as seonghwa kneeled before you. with the eyes and appetite of a starved man he lifted your skirt, peeling your panties down.

a deep guttural groan escaped him, he dove in, inhaling you. “you smell so sweet, so divine,” his nose buried in your cunt. “please allow me the honor of tasting you,” he begged. a whine escaped you, you nodded unable to speak a word. his mouth attached to your awaiting cunt, his long tongue licking a strip up your pussy. waves of pleasure washed over you, you couldn’t help but roll your hips to meet his tongue. “s-seonghwa please,” you begged. all thoughts leaving your mind, allowing seonghwa to take over. his hand reached for your breast, squeezing it. another moan left your lips, he pulled away from you. his chin covered in your juices, shining from what little light was inside. “you taste heavenly,” you bit your lip to stop the moan. seonghwa was feasting on you, like he’d never eaten before. greedy for the taste of your cunt.

“seonghwa i cannot hold on any longer, i- i must,” he sucked harder at your clit cutting off your sentence. your fingers locked his raven hair in a death grip. your body tensing up as your orgasm washed over you. seonghwa pulled back, resting on his knees, his chin soaked in your cum. your eyes went wide, and you quickly pushed your skirt down. “f-forgive me father,” you stepped out around him.

he watched you run off down the hallway. his mouth still soaked in your cum, he licked his lips. your sweet taste sending blood straight to his cock.

you were missing from breakfast, mother agnes told him you fell ill overnight. a stomach bug, he knew though. he silently ate his breakfast, staring at your empty seat across the dining hall. he had to find you, once his breakfast was finished he excused himself and set out. your chambers were downstairs as was all the other rooms, yours further down the hall. he knew, he visited your door plenty of nights since he’s started.

his fist came to your door, knocking lightly.

slowly the door cracked revealing you, dressed in a white nightgown. your hair laid over your shoulders, eyes going wide once you realized who was at the door. “father seonghwa, this is highly inappropriate,” he stuck his hand up silencing any chance of arguing. “we are far past inappropriate now sister y/n, please forgive me for my actions last night,” he leaned against the door frame, “but i simply could not resist the temptation any longer,” his eyes trailed down your body. you looked up at him, eyes innocent but he knows the sins you’ve committed. his hand came up pushing the door opened further, you stepped back allowing him. the door closed behind him and he leaned against it, his eyes taking you in.

the sound of the lock clicking cut through the deafening silence. “please,” he slid down to his knees, “please allow me to have you, allow me this, y/n i may be a man of god, but at the end of the day i am just a man,” his arms were now around your waist, his chin resting on your stomach.

tears welled in your eyes, “seonghwa, i cannot, i must not,” you looked up at the ceiling. “please y/n, i need you like i need air,” his words did nothing to help you resist him. how could you? here he was begging for you, needing you. you looked up, ignoring the tears falling. “dear father in heaven forgive me,” you pushed his shoulders back, leaning down kissing him.

his hands slid up your legs, pushing your nightgown up. “please,” he mumbled, standing on shaky legs. you leaned your forehead against his. “have me seonghwa, i am giving my innocence to you,” he groaned, smashing his lips against yours. he lifted you walking towards the bed, laying you down gently. his lips ghosted over your neck, your nipples hard and poking through the thin lace of your night gown.

his slim fingers slipped the thin lace off your shoulders. he eyed your breasts, nipples hard. his hands traced your shoulders before cupping your breasts. your back arched at his touch. “you are so beautiful,” his lips left kisses down your chest “absolutely beautiful,” his kisses trailed down your body.

seonghwa was worshipping your body, leaving kisses and touching every part of you he could. “please, please seonghwa,” your desperate voice cut through the quiet. “what is it you need me to do? i’d do anything for you,” he rested above you, his hips resting on either side of yours. “i need you to take what’s mine, and make it yours,” your pleas had his cock hardening. the bulge pushing against his dress pants.

“tell me y/n, have you ever pleasured yourself? have you let anyone in, any object in?” he asked removing his cassock, then his shirt leaving him in just his dress pants. you shook your head, “n-no only the outside, i didn’t think it would be seen as a sin if i didn’t go inside,” your cheeks heated as you looked away. seonghwa used his finger to guide your head, the two of you making eye contact. “do not be ashamed y/n, you did the godly thing, you saved yourself, for me,” he stood from the bed removing his pants.

his cock springing free smacking against his abdomen. a small gasp left your lips, “w-will it hurt?,” you asked looking at the man above you. he caressed your cheek, “of course darling, but i will try my best to be gentle and make the pain pleasure,” you nodded at his words, completely trusting yourself to him.

seonghwa slid his hands up your thighs before spreading your legs, giving him a clear view of your glistening cunt. his fingers traced your pussy, the wetness soaking his fingers. he pushed a finger inside, he eyed you before slipping in a second. his fingers moving in a scissoring motion, stretching you. “oh seonghwa please,” you pulled him closer. his fingers worked your entrance in an attempt to prepare your virgin cunt for his length.

he pulled his fingers from you, sucking the juices off. “it was only a night but i missed your sweet taste, like honey,” he stood from the bed. you whined when he moved, “patience my darling, i have something that will make this easier for you,” he dug in the pockets of his cassock. seonghwa pulled out a small bottle of holy water, you eyed him as he opened it pouring some on his cock. he pumped his length getting himself fully erect.

he then pulled you by your ankles, he stood at your entrance. you gasped feeling the cold holy water saturate your cunt. “do you want this?,” he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slit. with a moan you answered, “more than anything,” with your final permission he pushed inside. the holy water acting as lubricant. allowing him to slip in easier. “w-wait,” the stretch still burned. seonghwa stilled his actions, “tell me when you’re ready,” his forehead rested against hers.

you nodded allowing your body to adjust to his size, your arms wrapping around his back. “okay, i’m ready,” you looked at him nodding once you noticed the worry in his eyes. seonghwa pushed in fully, his length filling you completely. you moaned feeling him, feeling so full of him. seonghwa grunted his pace slow and deep, you could feel him deeply inside you.

the two of you connected in body and soul. the old bed squeaks as his pace increases. seonghwa’s hands gripped the headboard as his hips snap against yours.

“you feel so good, so good,” his moans are loud. “a glimpse of heaven i’ve gotten being here with you,” your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders. “you are what i was meant to do, you are my divine path,” you said your hips rising to meet his thrusts.

“let us finish together,” he whispered. you nodded, letting your orgasm wash over you. seonghwa’s hips stilled, his hot cum filling you. his head rested in the crook of your neck, both of your bodies coming down from the high. he left kisses on your neck, pulling back and kissing your chest.

“thank you for allowing me to be the one,” he kissed your lips. “you are my divine path,” he kissed you. “as you are mine,” you kissed him.

a banging on the door caught your attention, white hot shame filled your body. seonghwa was quick to dress before answering the door. the cardinal and mother agnes stood on the other side. “see to it you are dressed, and find yourselves in my office.” he stormed off, mother agnes following.

you held the sheet over your chest, tears welling in your eyes. “w-what will become of us?,” you sobbed. seonghwa rushed to you taking your face in his hands. “do not fear, we will over come this, this is our divine path, god wants this union,” his words brought comfort to you.

the two of you sat across the desk. the cardinal sat before you, a deep set frown on his face. “what you’ve done is blasphemy, a crime against our church, a crime against god.” his hand slammed down onto the table. “cardinal, may i speak?” seonghwa asked. the cardinal motioned for him to continue. “speak your lies, your sins,” seonghwa cleared his throat.

“i believe this was our divine paths cardinal, god wanted us to find each other, i knew i came here for a reason, a reason other than spreading the word of god,” seonghwa took your hand in his.

“she is my divine path,” you smiled at him. “as he is mine,” you spoke proudly, holding his hand. the cardinal stood. “regardless of divine paths, you went against the church, you should he lucky i am not casting you out,” he turned looking out his window. “sister y/n must go to another church, join other sisters, atone for her sins,” seonghwa stood abruptly his chair pushing out behind him.

“this is not all on her cardinal, i went to her room, i initiated everything,” he looked at you. “she resisted me, i,” you stood taking his hand. “with all due respect cardinal, it’s very stereotypical to assume the woman wanted it,” the cardinal slammed his hand on the desk.

“do not speak out of turn sister.” he yelled. seonghwa pushed you behind him. “with all due respect cardinal, we will take our leave.” “you two are a disgrace to this church, to god, go spread your blasphemous sins else where,” the cardinal yelled. seonghwa grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him. “pack a bag darling, we will take our leave,” you nodded.

with your bags packed you placed them in the trunk of his black cadillac. you had no idea where you’d end up, but you knew this was god’s plan for you, for seonghwa.

credits 📹 this was not meant to be disrespectful, its simply fiction and does not reflect real priests or nuns…please do not burn me at the stake….. anyways i hope you all enjoyed this,, im really proud of this one :))

special thanks to📸 @jjunbug @ghstzzn @innocygnet @heechwe @nenemura @babymochibeargyu @tinycatharsis @jellymochii

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

love , echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

[samirahmed125]

Today is a very happy day. I came to tell you that we received good news about my brother, whom we lost in the war. He is alive. He is in the occupation prisons. He is not dead. Do you know what feelings are inside us and how we received this goodness? My mother cries, ululates, prays, and prays to God. My brothers, my father, and my loved ones are all astonished and in disbelief that my brother is alive. Praise be to God. My friends. Please, as my brother returned to us, give me back my feet and make us walk again. Your support for me at this time and in these beautiful minutes will be the best gift🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💔

@ot3 @a-shade-of-blue @opencommunion @dykesbat @90-ghost @feluka @fifthnormani @femmefitz @figurante-no1 @fernsehgerat @akajustmerry @squuote @determinate-negation @g0at0ad @ghostofanonpast @hotvampireadjacent @hungwy @hellspawnelf @hellootoodlesxoxo @harley-angel @hoppyz @humorstaff @junglejim4322 @jolyne-best-jojo @komsomolka @landlessbud @paper-mario-wiki @prinnay @pissvortex @prisonhannibal @polkadotmotmot @oneofthosecrazycatladies @one-time-i-dreamt @umberandmochaagate @yujateaandpi @robinwithay @turtletoria @tamamita @tigerisout @r0zeclawz @extremelycursedimages @wellwaterhysteria @mortalityplays @nogender-onlystars @newporters @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses @beserkerjewel @buttercuparry @virovac @chilewithcarnage @c

[a-very-tired-jew]

Having an elder Jewish father in the throws of alzheimers means getting phone calls each week with him tell you all about the Jewish foods and goods he found at his local supermarket and how excited he is. The joy in his voice as he rediscovers it each week and calls to tell me is palpable and I love it, but it's heartbreaking because we've now had this same conversation every week, sometimes twice, for over a year.

Some days he's lucid and catches himself and realizes he told me this the week before, but those days are few and far between.

I'm just happy that he's happy and he gets to have fried matzah while being fried and watching cartoons with his little dog.

[merakiui]

Nightware Azul means return of Otjisan Azul O.O oooor CEO Azul and Childhood Crush Darling who he "accidently" runs into at a bar, sleeps with, then she wakes up in his home, unable to leave. Why would they want to, Darling has everything she would ever want and, more importantly *his wife* (the Twst Version of Vagas Weddings)

On a side note are you going to do an Azul B-day drabble or Fic?? (Just Curious I'm so excited for his B-day)

I LOOKED IT UP AND……. “QUICKIE WEDDING”???? :O omg to think there was such an expression!!!! AAAAAA just imagining that with Azul,,,, vows made entirely under the influence of alcohol, so when you wake up the next morning he’s readying the marriage paperwork for you to sign. >:) and why wouldn’t you agree when you’re sober? After all, he can provide you with everything you could ever need~ you’ll want for nothing. And because Azul is so self-conscious (and also possessive and greedy), you never have to worry about him cheating or thinking about anyone else. He only has eyes and love for you!! <3

Logically, it’s a very good deal. He has more than enough money, a stable job (CEO of a very thriving business), he’s attractive, he has a…personality :^) whether good or bad is up to your interpretation… he’s good with managing money and investments, he’ll spoil you endlessly, he adores you, the sex is going to be amazing (both when he’s making love to you and when it feels like nothing but feral breeding hehe), you’ll be marrying into a very good family (the Ashengrottos will love you so much), etc etc!!

This card with the Tapis Rouge Azul hairstyle……… the two most ojiisan cards in the game. The summer wear card is also a high contender for ojiisan vibes, but then that’s just single father Azul who will definitely trick you into a timeshare. >w< it’s amazing either way,,, his old man charms……

Because I couldn’t resist I wrote a short fic for him. It’s mostly just sugary-sweet smut with subtle yandere undertones. I’m very happy to have something prepared in advance for his birthday. :D tako deserves to be spoiled. \(//∇//)\ but after seeing this card I really want to write cannibal sex with Azul and an octo-mer darling….. but that would quickly turn into angst and I want tako to be happy on his special day. >_< he can be devoured another day……