#errors?? sure go ahead and live!

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language; s.g.

synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)

Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.

Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.

So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.

He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students. 

In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.

It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.

There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.

The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"

"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.

"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.

Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."

"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.

Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...

Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.

"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."

"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"

Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"

"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"

"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."

Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"

"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."

Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"

"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."

Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."

[imaginedisish]

Heart to Heart (Logan Howlett x F!Reader)

A/N: Okay...here's that car sex request. This one is like pure smut with some exposition. Like...plot...what plot? Listened to "Heart to Heart" by Mac DeMarco while writing this one. Kinda fits. Not quite sure how I'm churning these out so quickly...so I hope this doesn't suck. And! Most importantly: I hope this lives up to the requester's expectations. Enjoy guys!

Summary: Logan doesn't seem like himself on the car ride up to Lake George to meet the other X-Men for the weekend, and you're not going to leave him alone until you find out why (it's car sex, the whole fic is basically just rough car sex).

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, Unprotected PIV (WRAP IT UP!), Oral (f!receiving), fingering, rough sex, fem!reader, AFAB!reader (no other major physical descriptions that I can think of), cursing, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, feelings, pre-relationship (I am a sucker for writing first times), probably some grammatical errors, think that's everything.

Word Count: 3124 this was supposed to be a blurb im not joking

Logan��s hands firmly grip the steering wheel, white-knuckling, fingers wound around the curved leather. Your eyes flicker between his face and his hands.  

He had been like this since the drive to Lake George started. You and Logan were meeting the rest of the X-Men up there—Charles arranged some sort of weekend getaway. You and Logan would be the last ones to arrive, having just gotten off from a mission. 

But something was off about him. He was silent, eyes dead set on the road. The sun had long set, but you still had two hours of the drive to go. You look out the window to a world asleep, lights out, families in beds. You look back at Logan; his face is completely unchanged. 

“Logan?” You mumble, shifting in your seat to face him. Your already-short shorts hike up your thighs, revealing more of the skin underneath. You don’t think twice about placing your hand on his bare shoulder, brushing his exposed skin with your thumb. “You okay?” You ask, but he ignores you. You’re not letting this go. He’s been like this for far too long, and you’re sick of not knowing why. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?” Logan finally lets go of the wheel a bit, his eyes flickering briefly to you and then back to the road. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s the matter?” If he was going to be stubborn, you were going to be stubborn, too. “You can tell me, Lo.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel again. Your hand trails down to his bicep, lingering for longer than you should before stroking back up to his shoulder. You draw circles into his skin, hoping to relax him, but it only seems to work him up. His throat bobs, and you catch him peeking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

You’re not sure where the confidence comes from, but before you can even think of stopping yourself, your fingers gently glide up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging into his hair lightly. Logan groans softly, the sound sparking a fire in your belly. You push it down, reminding yourself that this is just an innocent moment between friends—nothing more. 

“You gonna tell me what the matter is now?” You chide, smirking, thinking you have him exactly where you want him. You lean over a bit more, the air conditioning blasting against your bare legs. Your fingers are still buried in his hair. 

You see the moment when his expression shifts, when his head finally turns towards yours. His nostrils flare. You search his eyes frantically, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Logan I—” but you’re cut off by the feeling of his palm—of his long fingers—on your inner thigh. He keeps one hand firmly on the steering wheel as he swerves into the shoulder of the highway and off into the grass. 

He puts the car in park, keeping his eyes straight ahead, tightening his grip on your thigh and working his jaw as he thinks of what to say. You can feel the heat growing between your legs, a feeling you’ve long denied yourself while alone with Logan. Silence fills the air, the tension of it absolutely suffocating.  

And then Logan cuts through the quiet like a knife. “You have any idea how you make me feel?” He’s turned his body completely towards you now, as if he’s ready to pounce.  

You swallow harshly. “So, you are angry at me. Logan, I have no clue what I did, but I—”

“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” he mutters, lifting himself up slightly to maneuver closer to you. He’s practically climbing over the center console as his lips find the shell of your ear. “It’s just when I can smell how much you want me, and you start touching me like that…” He trails off, kissing your ear lightly. “Do you know what you fucking do to me?”

“Logan—”

He’s not finished. He’s cutting you off again. “I can’t concentrate when you’re around.” His hand slips further in between your thighs, and you shudder under his touch. “Can’t do anything except think about fucking you.” He’s slipping his hand up your shorts, feeling your folds through your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked already, pretty girl.”

You moan as he teases you, playing with you, taking his time. “W-want you,” you stutter, grinding into his hand, searching for more friction. 

He’s got that familiar, cocky smile spread across his face. “I know you do, beautiful.” Even that lilt in his voice is cocksure. He’s teasingly pulling your panties to the side. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your folds, but he’s refusing to give you the relief you need. He’s the one driving you insane now. “You gonna let me fuck you in the backseat of this car?” 

“F-fuck,” you stutter as his fingers finally brush against your bare cunt. You throw your head back as he strokes languidly, lazily. Your words are caught in your throat. You can’t enjoy his touch for long as he pulls away from you. “W-wait,” you whine, sitting up and grabbing his hand. 

He smirks, that teasing grin still spread across his face. “Didn’t answer my question, pretty girl,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your knuckles. He repeats himself: “You gonna let me fuck you in the backseat of this car?” You nod as he brings himself back to hover over you. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes,” you choke out. “Please. Need you so fucking bad.”

He doesn’t let a second go by before he’s wrapping his arms around you and shoving you into the backseat. You fall into the leather and watch as Logan opens the car door and briefly disappears into the darkness before opening the door next to you. He climbs inside, slamming the door behind him. 

He crawls over you, and you use your hips and forearms and back all the way into the door on the opposite side. 

He grabs your hips, keeping you in place, lowering down over you. “’Can hear that little heart beating all the fucking time,” he whispers, his lips inches from yours. His forearm rests by your head, while his free hand slips underneath your shirt and under your bra. His fingers graze over the swell of your tits as he settles his palm above your heart. “Need you, pretty girl.” His hand trails over to a nipple, pinching softly.

Logan swallows your moans with a desperate, starving kiss. His stubble is rough against your cheeks. His tongue slides across your bottom lip, asking for permission to come inside. You open up immediately for him, meeting his tongue with your own, savoring the taste of him. 

You bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, keeping his lips close to yours. You dig your nails into his scalp, raking through his hair. He groans into your mouth before briefly coming up for air. His chest heaves against yours. He’s a panting mess. You’ve never seen him this worked up. 

There’s something different in his eyes now. You can see the lust, the desire, the longing. But there’s something else there. Fear? Desperation? Hunger? He’s yanking your shirt and bra up and over your head before giving you the chance to think about it. He’s taking you in, his hot, solid, fervent hands exploring your body. He’s palming your breasts, pinching your nipples and messaging the pain away. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him tight against you. 

He instinctively recognizes what you’re doing. “’M’not going anywhere, I’ve got you.” He presses a chaste kiss just under your jawline. His nails trail down the side of your stomach, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. 

You can feel his erection against your core, rutting needily into you. You push your hips up to meet his, grinding against him, impatiently searching for more friction.

His hands finally land on the hem of your shorts, his fingers working at your button, and then your zipper. He hooks his fingers into your shorts and your panties, and yanks them down your legs, casting them to the floor. You think he’s going to come back up, but he crawls in between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. 

You can feel his hot breath fan over your aching cunt. His mouth is just centimeters away from where you need him most. 

“Wanna taste you,” he mumbles, his face inching closer to your core. 

You moan as he licks a stripe through your folds, and then another. “L-Logan.” Your hips come up and off the seat. One of his arms latches across your hips, holding you down. 

“Stay there,” he murmurs in between laps. “Tastes so fucking good.” You can’t stay still, squirming under his touch, he presses down harder, forcing you to stay in place. You can feel him smirk against your pussy as his mouth latches on to your clit, sucking the bud in roughly. 

You’re already close as his fingers start to swipe through your folds. “So fucking wet for me.” His words vibrate against your swollen clit. Two fingers prod at your entrance, slowly pushing inside. You’re squirming again, your pussy stretching out to fit around his long fingers. He chuckles against you, the feeling pushing you closer to the edge. 

“C-close,” is all you can stutter. 

Logan doesn’t slow down. “’M’not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he husks between desperate laps. His fingers pump in and out of you, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around him. “Doing so good for me, taking what I’m giving you.”

His words are making it harder to hang on. “C-can’t…” You trail off, your chest heaving. His face is buried deep inside your cunt, each flick, each suck, each thrust more feral and starving than the last. 

“You gonna come on my tongue, sweetheart?” He teases, knowing full well now what his words are doing to you. You clamp down on his fingers, his name a chant hanging in the air. “Let go for me, pretty girl. Wanna know what it tastes like.” 

You’re a stuttering mess, his words piercing that fire in your stomach, the heat flowing freely as he pulls your orgasm from you. The release feels so good, so right. Logan works you through it, his laps slowing down, becoming languid, like he’s savoring the taste of you. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. He pumps his fingers in and out a few more times before carefully pulling out of you. 

He sits up on his knees, sweat glistening on his chest, his hair a tussled mess. He holds out his fingers—covered with your come—and shoves them in his mouth, sucking hard. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. He lazily pulls them out, swallowing, his throat bobbing. “So fucking sweet,” he soothes. “Can’t get enough of you.”

And then he’s hurriedly ripping his beater off, undoing his belt, shoving his jeans and boxers down his legs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock springing up to his stomach. You knew he’d be big, but fuck. 

“You sure you want this?” He whispers, his lips back at the shell of your ear. You bring your hips up to meet his and mumble a yes. 

He lines himself up with your entrance, nudging against you. You can tell he’s holding back, doing his all to take his time, to let this moment last. But you want him. You need him. Now. You arch your back, your chest rising to meet his, your pebbled nipples brushing against his bare skin. The contact feels so good, so warm. “Fuck me, Logan,” you beg. 

He curses under his breath, and suddenly he’s thrusting into you, sinking all the way in, bottoming out. He stays there, unmoving, letting you adjust to the length and girth of him. He’s so big, stretching you out so good. He’s deep already, pushing against your walls, hitting that spot where you need him most. 

“F-fuck.” His composure is melting. “Knew you’d feel perfect. So fucking beautiful like this, always so beautiful.” He pulls out and pushes all the way back in. You cry out his name, and he muffles it as his mouth comes crashing down onto yours. 

He lowers down onto his forearm, closing the gap between the two of you. His other hand grazes over your nipples, trailing down your stomach, slipping in between the place where your bodies connect. His fingertips find your clit, ghosting around the bud lightly, toying with you before drawing long, languid circles around it. 

His thrusts start out slow as he rolls his hips against yours, but he quickly builds up speed. He bottoms out with each pump, plunging deeply, working you open for him. 

“Could stay inside you forever,” he gasps between kisses, sweat coating his brow. “You still have no fucking clue what you do to me,” he whispers, his hips snapping into you. He’s fucking you into the leather, pounding harder, knocking the wind out of your chest. He flicks your clit again and again. He’s losing control in the best way. “Watching you all the time, not being able to touch you, to be with you.” His vulnerability contrasts deliciously with how rough he’s fucking into you. “Think about you all the time.” 

He swallows your whines with another starving kiss. “Always thinking about you, too,” you whimper. 

He smiles against your lips. “Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” It’s a command, the bass of his voice rumbling through his chest. You hum in affirmation, your eyes fluttering closed as pleasure courses through your body. “Want you to look at me when you come.” There’s that demand in his voice again, and so you force your eyes open. “Good girl,” he husks. “So fucking good.”

You’re crumbling underneath him, fighting to keep your eyes open as he pounds roughly into you, his fingers pinching your clit, then circling rapidly. You’re coming undone in his arms, digging your nails into his biceps as you let yourself go. He keeps rutting into you, his pace faltering as he nears his own orgasm. 

“Wanna come inside you,” his lips press against your forehead as he whispers the words. “Don’t wanna leave this pussy yet.”

You shiver underneath him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “P-please,” you mumble.  “Fuck,” he trembles, painting your walls, filling you up. “So perfect,” he whispers, his head coming down to rest on your shoulder, pumping slower as he finishes. “So beautiful.” He kisses your shoulder as he stills, staying inside you for a moment. 

He carefully slides out of you, the sudden emptiness a shock to your system. You want him back, buried deep inside where he belongs. You involuntarily whine at the loss of him. He lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Later. We’ll do more later. ‘M’nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Logan separates from you, the hot, stuffy air of the car suddenly turning cold without him on top of you. He searches the floor of the backseat for your clothes. He worries about you first, helping you get back into your bra, panties, shorts, and top. You sit cross-legged once you’re done, watching him as he dresses himself. 

He smirks, sensing your eyes on him. “Still like what you see?” 

You can feel heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly embarrassed despite everything that just happened. “Always liked you.”

“Think what we just did warrants a little more than ‘like’ darlin’.” He’s right. It does. 

Once he’s dressed, he grabs your hand, opens the car door, and guides you out of the backseat and towards the other side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you slip inside. He’s opening the driver’s side door and getting in a few seconds later, turning the key into the ignition, maneuvering the car out of the grass, and back onto the empty highway. 

He’s got his left hand on the steering wheel as his right comes down to your inner thigh, gripping tightly and pulling it closer to him. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, calm, Logan’s thumb occasionally brushing against your bare skin, reminding you of what he promised: later. 

You finally pull up to the cabin, surprised to see that some of the lights are still on. Logan gives your thigh one more squeeze before popping the trunk and exiting the car. You step out, and Logan already has your duffle bags in his hands. You walk shoulder to shoulder up to the porch of the cabin, your hand coming up to twist the doorknob and stepping inside. 

Storm, Charles, and Scott are in the living room, sitting around the fire, their heads snapping toward you and Logan. 

“What took you two so long to get here?” Storm asks, her brows raising incredulously. 

“Traffic.” Logan spits, his voice firm and unwavering. You hope the room can’t read the embarrassment on your face. 

“Yeah, sure, traffic, at one in the morning on a Thursday,” Scott teases. To your left, you can see your and Logan’s reflections in a nearby mirror. You’re disheveled and messy, but not terrible. And then, it suddenly dawns on you that Logan’s tank is inside out; you can’t help but grin at the sight. 

Charles smiles softly—knowingly. “You two can share one of the rooms upstairs, down the hall, last door on the left.” 

You watch as Logan catches his reflection in the mirror, his gaze quickly focusing on you instead, cocking his head up towards the stairs. 

His steps are hurried, and you try to catch up to him. He beats you to the top and leans in close to you as you finish the climb, his lips brushing the side of your head. “You’re in some massive fucking trouble, sweetheart,” he whispers, now holding the bags in one hand so that the other can snake around your waist. He shoves you down the hall with him. 

“What did I do?” You giggle as his fingers dig into your side. 

“You let me put my shirt on inside out.”

You smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, bub?” You know he won’t like that last bit, but you want to see what he’ll do about it. 

“Remember when I told you I wasn’t done with you yet?” Your breath catches in your throat at his words. “Well, it’s later, darlin’.”

[bonesandchalamet]

you can’t catch me now — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: when you want the plinth prize, and so does he, you’ll do anything in your power to make sure snow doesn’t land on top.

warnings: slightly unedited/ minor grammatical errors + snow isn’t that much of an asshole + minor tension between characters + no graphic details of death + SPOILERS TO THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES!

a/n: typically don’t like to write for villains… but that movie has been on my mind since I saw it 😅

when the plinth prize had a minor change in plans the only person you could look towards was him. snow. he had to have an idea, but by the reaction that took place, the way he shifted in his seat, he’d have had no clue. this must have been some sick joke. but the hunger games was all about discipline and viewers, it’s no shock the plinth prize money stakes were upped.

you’d have risen to the top and fought coriolanus snow every moment you could. academics were easy, but this? mentoring someone to win a game? this was a true test.

leaving the capital, leaves crunch beneath your feet as your pace quickens. how was this fair? to throw children in an arena to fight for their lives, that was one unfair choice the capital made, but this? was a cruel punishment.

you can hear his feet against the pavement. his pace was always rather faster than yours, which is why you’re surprised he hadn’t caught up to you now. you’d had booked it out the capital the second you were dismissed, but the dread of the next few days still lingered the air like bad perfume.

“y/n, y/n—“

“corio,” you finally snap. turning on your heel to face him, he stops. the air in his lungs catches when he sees the tears against your blush colored cheeks. you held your fight for the rights of the district close to your chest, similarly to sejanus; but you’d only ever been the one to push snow to the limits and make him fight back. tomorrow, your tribute could die and Coriolanus would win once again. it wasn’t fair how snow seemed to always win.

“you think I’m happy about this?” his question takes you by surprise. nobody was happy about this, but coriolanus’ songbird made quite the impression with viewers. you’d expected him to gloat in your face, a typical action of his, but todays far different. there’s an eery difference to the coriolanus you saw that morning before the plinth prize was changed.

“I’d expect you to be happy about your bird gaining you views and donations—“

“she’ll die by tomorrow, y/n. your guy at least has a chance to win. he’s strong enough to take on the others. you’ve got the money in the bag.” he runs a frustrated hand through his white blond curls. his bright blue eyes stare into your soul the way they normally do. so tempting to swim in, but you fight the current. you’re stronger than that, and after all these years of fierce competition, Coriolanus was not going to get you like this.

“I know your motives, snow. sympathizing with me isn’t going to get you far.” you spit out the words, spinning back in the direction towards home. if it wasn’t for the capital traffic, and coriolanus, you’d be home by now. you’d be in bed dreading sleep while you worry awake about the next morning.

“motives? can’t we be friends for once—“

“you want my alliance so my guy doesn’t kill her. I’m always a step ahead of you.”

he scoffs. he stands inches behind you, watching you eye the traffic circle for a chance to sprint across towards the grass for the home stretch. the comforting walls of your bedroom were waiting for you, but coriolanus and rush hour were adding to your time.

“alliance? if I’d wanted an alliance I’d have asked sejanus for help, since he has the money we both don’t have.”

it’s no secret to the two of you that money was tight. it’s maybe why you both work harder than the others, because college was in their futures, and your futures were determined by the outcome of the hunger games. the first time you met Coriolanus, you knew he was just like you. tight shoes, shirt that was far too big, and an excitement for the amount of food that capital had to offer. staring into each others souls that first lecture was when you knew coriolanus was not going to be your friend.

“so then what do you want from me? because once this is all over,” you snap your head up in his direction, his blue eyes piercing into your own, you can feel his anxiety radiating off him, “you’ll go back to hating me and begging for some of that plinth money.”

—

anxiety sits at the pit of your stomach. his songbird had run to the fans leaving four remaining in the pact on the hunt for her. coriolanus sits two seats away from you, his eyes haven’t left the screen since she’d gone into hiding.

“she’ll have to come out eventually.” you snap your head in his direction for a brief second, but his don’t leave where the four attempt to get her out of the vents.

you’d be lying to say you weren’t nervous for everyone in the arena. you’d hated how they were pitted against each other for punishment, and having to mentor these people made your attachment towards the games far worse. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep, and frankly if you could, you wouldn’t watch.

there was no exact plan when you met your tribute. he’d been shaken up from the past couple of days and just wanted to survive. you couldn’t blame him, and while you worked on some strategies, it was all up to him.

“she can survive—“ his words were a second too late when the clan began to rattle the vents, using pitch forks and other weapons to get her out. the dust was too heavy for the cameras to see anything, but you’d assumed they got her out by the looks of it, and everyone held onto their seats.

she’d appeared from the dusty air in no time. running for another escape, when Dr. Gauls trick up her sleeve rattled the arena. she had a way of twisting the games, and the game seemed to last longer than she intended: enter the tank the drones were dropping off.

“what is she doing.” you move closer to coriolanus, your voice in a hushed tone so the other remaining mentors didn’t hear a thing. he’s focused on the screen, but your eyes find Dr. Gaul and her wicked smile.

“if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you anyway—“

“there’s no point in bluffing, they’ll die anyway with that tank of snakes.” your voice is strained, the words come out slithery on your tongue, coriolanus turns his head in your direction for the first time today.

his blue eyes were a different shimmer. they bleed with anxiety, and as he rises out of the chair, he pulls you closer to his chest. he carefully lowers his head down towards your ear, mouth hovering over it, “I’m so sorry, but it had to be done. I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

slowly moving backwards from his grip, you run towards the doors. time seemed to slow down. you spot Tigris, she’s rising from her seat, a smile stretched across her face as her, and other students, rush to congratulate coriolanus on his victory, you can hear him calling out your name as the doors slam behind you.

your feet carry you. the sounds of the fireworks and the honks of the cars in the traffic circle don’t phase you, but you’re running to the only place that you know. the only place that’ll play fair against coriolanus snow’s twisted games.

MONTHS LATER

“so you do win after all.”

the sound of his shoes scraping against the floor are different. you used to recognize his patterned steps, the way they scuffed the floor because the shoes he wore were too small.

turning around in your chair, you spot the new coriolanus snow. the man who fell off the face of the capital once Dr. Gaul was made aware of his cheating. now, you sit in the University library staring a different snow.

“I didn’t have to cheat for it.”

he rolls his eyes taking the seat across from you at the table. your notes are scattered amongst the table, and you look the same minus the bags you wear under your eyes. university changed you. and district twelve certainly changed him. working through the ranks to move to district two, only to be summoned by Dr. Gaul for a second chance in the capital. he arrived home yesterday, and made it his plans to find you. which wasn’t hard, since you spent all your life in this exact library anyway.

“I learned my lesson. you caught me.” he raises his hands up in defense, you spot the marks against his forearm. leaning forward, you carefully wrap your fingers around his pale skin, “snake bite?”

“they aren’t friendly in the wild.”

a chuckle escapes your lips as you release his arm from your light grip, “they were friendly to Lucy gray.”

“well she’s not so friendly to me anymore.”

“oh corio, you should know cheating for a girl never makes a good impression.” you smile brightly. leaning back into your seat, you get a better look at him. the buzzcut suits him, bringing his bright blue eyes more to the center of his looks.

he exhales a deep sigh nodding in agreement, “I’m a changed man, thanks to you. you taught me a lot.”

“so what are you doing home, snow? I thought you were out of here for twenty years.” at least those were the rumors you heard. nobody spoke of sejanus or coriolanus much anymore, and while you worried if tattling was the right thing to do, you’re happy to see he came back a better version of himself.

“you didn’t hear?” he asks. shaking your head you gesture for him to continue, “I’ll be working closely with Dr. Gaul. I’m back to the capital, and I’m back to mess with you.”

you wish he could’ve seen how far you rolled your eyes back, but he was long gone after that, leaving you alone to study once again. you knew Coriolanus wouldn’t last twenty years away from you. not since he was practically in love with you.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not Hangman To Her – Jake "Hangman" Seresin

"We are about to embark on an emergency rescue mission," Maverick said. Instantly, all of the pilots straightened up as he continued. "The U.S.S. Reynolds set off three days ago. Their mission was supposed to be simple but it took a bad turn. After a dogfight, three out of their four pilots were killed."

"What about the fourth?" Rooster asked.

"She's MIA," Maverick sighed. "We are close to her last known coordinates. We've been asked to complete a search and rescue."

"Who's the pilot?" Phoenix asked.

"Her name is Lieutenant Y/F/N Y/L/N."

Hangman's heart jumped into his throat when Maverick put the pilot's picture on the screen. His mind raced as his eyes and thoughts were glued to the girl he met in training.

Y/N? There's no way she would be mixed up in all this. She's the best pilot. Whatever happened was not pilot error. Y/N didn't do anything to put her in this position. She's too. . . perfect to make a mistake that would cost her her life or the lives of her team.

"Hangman."

Hangman jumped when Rooster walked by, kicking his shoe. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Hangman said, clearing his throat.

"You sure?" Payback scoffed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Do you know someone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?" Phoenix asked.

"No," he said a little too quickly. "Why would I know anyone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?"

Before his team could tell he was lying, he left the room. He went back to his bunk and slammed the door shut behind him. Hangman frantically searched through his stuff, and at the very bottom, finally found the picture of him and Y/N in training.

~ • ~

"Keep up, Seresin!" Y/N laughed as she ran ahead of me.

As fast as I pumped my legs, I could never outrun Y/N. Then again, I didn't try to. I couldn't help but like the feeling I got when she bragged about being the better pilot. I loved how happy she got as she excitedly jumped around after beating me. I liked that it made her so happy.

"I win again!" Y/N giggled as she jumped and spun around. "Say it. Say that I am faster than you, Seresin. Say it. Say it. Say it."

I pretended to be angry as she jogged around me and chanted for me to say it. I didn't mind saying it but she expected me to push back, so I did.

"If I say it, will you stop circling me?"

Y/N stopped right in front of me. She smiled cheekily at me as she bounced on her toes. "Did you have something to say to me, Seresin?"

"You are the faster runner, Y/L/N," I recited just for her. "You're better than me."

"And don't you forget it!" She giggled as she went back to jumping up and down. Suddenly, her ankle gave out. I instantly caught her and pulled her close to my chest.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice soft.

"I think so," she said slowly.

"Are you sure?" I asked, starting to panic. "Maybe I should take a look at it. Here, sit down and I will. . ."

"I'm fine, Jake," Y/N chuckled as she patted my shoulder.

She turned away from me and stretched her legs as I overthought the last 2 minutes. The thought of Y/N in pain made me want to do anything I could to make sure she wasn't in it anymore.

I'd do anything to make sure Y/N was happy, healthy, and safe.

~ • ~

Hangman snapped out of the memory, his hands shaking as he held the picture. The idea that Y/N was out there somewhere, lost and alone, filled him with more fear than he knew what to do with.

"She's okay," he mumbled to himself. "She's safe. We are going to find her. We are going to find her. I will find you, Y/N, I promise."

* * * * *

The next few hours went by in a blur for Hangman. The ship changed course toward Y/N's last known location. When they got there, Hangman and a few others took off in their planes and began searching the water for any sign of Y/N or her plane.

As he searched, all Hangman could do was think of the worst-case scenarios.

What if they're looking in the wrong area? What if they find her plane but not her? What if they find her but it's too late? What if they find her and get her back to the ship, but can't save her? What if he never finds her? What if he loses her? What if he loses her before he gets a chance to tell her how he feels?

"We got her!" Rooster yelled, pulling Hangman out of his spiral.

"Well, we got pieces of her plane," Payback sighed.

Hangman quickly turned around and flew to them. He started searching the sea for any sign of the girl he was crazy about. Finally, his eyes landed on something that instantly burned into his brain - Y/N unconscious on a piece of her plane.

"I got her," he said, his voice not nearly loud enough. He cleared his throat and tried again but louder this time. "She's over here!"

"Maverick, we got her! We need a search and rescue party now!"

"Stay there," Maverick instructed through their headsets. "We're sending one to your coordinates now."

Hangman didn't move his plane an inch. Instead, he stayed right where he was and kept a close eye on Y/N's unconscious body. He wanted nothing more than to dive into that water and swim to her. Instead, he hovered close enough to keep an eye on her as the ship sent a medical boat to their location. Hangman watched as the divers pulled her out of the water and safely onto the boat.

Once they had her, Hangman sped back to the ship. He landed and instantly jumped out of his plane and ran as fast as he could to the infirmary. When he got there, they were just bringing her in.

"Y/N?" Hangman panicked. His heart jumped into his throat when he caught a glimpse of her unconscious and pale body.

"Woah, stop," Maverick said as he grabbed Hangman before he could run into the exam room. "The doctors have her. They will do whatever they can to help her."

Hangman looked behind Maverick to see the exam doors close, separating him from the girl of his dreams.

"They will come get us as soon as they have any news about Lieutenant Y/L/N's status," he said with a knowing look in his eyes. Maverick wasn't sure how Hangman and Y/N were connected, but one look at the worry in his eyes and Maverick knew there was something.

"I just want to. . . I wish there was. . ." Hangman stuttered. "I just want to help her, Mav."

"All we can do now is relax and wait," Maverick said gently. Maverick studied him briefly before finally asking, "How well do you know Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

"Y/N and I were in training camp together," Hangman sighed as he sat in a nearby chair. "Some guys in our group were giving her a hard time. I defended her and after that, we got close. We ran together, trained together, studied together. We did everything together until we got our orders to ship out. We were sent to different ships and. . . I haven't talked to her since she shipped out. I tried to keep track of her but. . ."

Maverick waited for him to continue, but Hangman got distracted by his memories. Maverick sat next to him and gently patted his shoulder. "The good news is we found her," Maverick tried to comfort him. "The doctor told me that he thinks we got to her just in time."

"That's good," Hangman said numbly, "I guess."

The rest of their team slowly trickled in as they waited. Two hours later, the doctor finally came out.

"How is she?" Hangman panicked as he jumped up and met the doctor.

"She's okay," the doctor reassured. "She's dehydrated, a little sunburned, and has a slight concussion from the crash. Honestly, she should be way worse. She's extremely lucky."

"So, she's going to be okay?" Hangman double-checked.

"She's going to be fine," he nodded. "All she needs is a couple of good nights' sleep and some healthy meals. She should be back on her feet in a few days. I would, however, recommend that she not return to her ship just yet."

"Why not?" Bob asked.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "if we send her back to her ship, they will most likely put her back in a plane. She may be physically alright, but we have no idea how she is mentally. And that's something we can't check or test until she wakes up."

"Thank you," Maverick said, shaking the doctor's hand before he went back to Y/N.

"Wait," Hangman said, jogging to catch up to the doctor. "Is there. . . I was just wondering. . . I know her and. . . I was hoping. . ."

"She's not awake," the doctor said gently, "but you can sit by her bed until she does."

Hangman took that invitation and instantly went into Y/N's room. When he saw her asleep in the bed, his heart broke. He numbly walked over and collapsed into the chair next to the bed. He scanned her, searching for any injuries. She had a pretty big gash on her forehead, pieces of glass were taken out of her face, and she had bruises across her chest from her harness.

With shaking hands, Hangman reached over and gently grabbed Y/N's hand. "I'm right here, Y/N," he whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere until you wake up."

* * * * *

Y/N was unconscious for the next 14 hours. Hangman stayed by her side the entire time. His crew tried to get him to leave, but he refused. He barely ate and didn't sleep as he waited for her to wake up. He was starting to fall asleep when he felt her hand tighten around his.

"Y/N?" He whispered.

"Jake?" Hangman instantly leaned forward when he heard her beautiful voice whisper his name. "What are we. . . I thought you were. . . Where am I?"

"It's okay," he instantly soothed. "What matters is that you're safe. What do you remember?"

"I don't know," she said, shakily. "It was supposed to be a simple mission. But. . . I was shot down."

Hangman tightened his grip on her hand and scooted closer to her. He watched, his heart breaking as she remembered what happened. When the tears started streaming down her face, he gently caught one with his thumb. He kept his hand on her face as he tried to comfort her.

"Y/N," he said gently, "everything's okay. You're safe, okay? We found you and we are going to take care of you."

"Jake?" Her voice broke. He moved his hand from her face and scooted closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"Were you the one that found me?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I just. . . My whole team was there."

"But you found me," she said, already knowing the answer. "Right?"

Hangman laughed awkwardly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I knew it," she chuckled weakly. Hangman felt his face burn as she smiled at him.

"How'd you know?" He chuckled.

"I like to think I know you pretty well, Seresin."

Hangman smiled when he remembered why she never liked calling him Hangman. She actually hated his callsign. She always said it didn't fit him. And when it came to her, she was right. He'd never hang her out to dry.

"Because," she continued, "You always find me when I'm in trouble."

"I would've searched the entire ocean for you," Hangman mumbled. Y/N's face softened when she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"Jake," she whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her. He didn't fight her as she pulled him down so he was lying next to her.

"I'm really glad you found me," she whispered, cuddling into his chest.

"Me too," he mumbled as he looked down and saw the exhaustion in her eyes. "I promise I won't let you out of my sight this time."

She let out a small giggle causing him to tighten his arms around her.

"I've really missed you, Seresin."

He looked at her and watched her eyes flutter closed. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I've really missed you too, Y/L/N."

[ramp-it-up]

Party Games

Summary: You want it bad.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: This wasn’t the kink y’all picked, but here we are. It’s two am. 🥴 Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to That Face.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Reader is owning her sexuality. This is about a nal s ex and it’s enjoyment. Allusions to past acts and partners. A teeny bit of angst, but mostly pwp. Bucky has turned reader out but he’s sprung. Drinking, bathroom s ex, mirror s ex, rough s ex, (but Bucky’s so sweet), oral s ex (f receiving), a nal, praise/degradation kink, allusion to group s ex if you squint. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were having fun at game night. Until the bottle pointed Bucky’s way.

Then the fun turned into need.

“Choose anyone here to do anything with.”

“That’s easy,” Nat laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“No. I’ll give James a pass. He can go with anyone he’d like.”

You were confident of your man.

Bucky’s face lit up.

“Really Doll?”

You hesitated. You didn’t like the way he jumped at that chance. Curse your mouth that ran ahead of your brain when you were tipsy.

You fixed your face as Steve smirked at you two and took a swig of his beer.

“Really James. Live your fantasy.”

Your voice was less confident now.

You held your smile as Bucky grinned and rubbed his hands together, looking around his circle of friends.

He could choose any one of these beautiful people. You'd heard tales of how wild it got with them being in the field before you got together, and even of him and Steve, years ago.

‘Adolescent exploration,’ Bucky had called it.

You lowered your head and braced yourself as you felt him stand up. You didn’t want to see who he chose. You listened, on alert, to the sound of his shoes as he went toward the bedroom door. He stopped, presumably to make his choice.

“Get that ass in here, y/n.”

You gasped and looked behind you to see that Bucky was grinning at you. Everyone started laughing when you got up and skipped toward him.

Bucky pulled you through the bedroom to the bathroom, making sure to close both doors for extra privacy. He chuckled at you.

“How could you even think I’d choose someone else, Doll. You know you’re my one and only.”

You nodded and allowed him to pull you into his arms.

“I know. You know how I get when I drink. I get loose. Create scenarios.”

You shrugged as you smiled up at Bucky, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“You’ve had three beers, Doll. I was counting.”

“You were watching me?”

You angled your neck back as Bucky started licking your pulse point. It was a done deal that you were gonna let him fuck you in your en suite with your friends in the other room.

The question was how.

“Like a hawk, Doll. Was gonna suggest you stop after three. Need you to be sober enough to let me in. You’re a tight fit.”

Bucky’s hand was palming your cunt over your jeans and you ground yourself into the warm metal.

“It’s because you’re so big, James.”

You smirked at him.

“But how much tighter is my ass tho?”

Bucky stopped, pulled back and looked at you, eyes blazing and jaw clenching.

“Fuck. Doll. You want me to fuck ypu like that? Right now?”

Bucky licked his lips, exactly like you imagined the big bad wolf would before he tore you apart.

You whined in anticipation, your core flooding with slick. You whispered your reply to him.

“Yes, Bucky. Please. I- I’ve been thinking about the last time since the last time and I- I need it.”

You reached for him and started unbuckling his belt, a fiend.

Bucky closed his eyes as you went inside his pants and started to stroke him. He was thinking about how you wanted him to fuck you and the way it had you stuttering.

“Please, James. Pretty please?”

When he opened his eyes again, you licked your lips and pouted. How could you be begging for something so filthy yet be so adorable?

His dream girl.

Bucky panted while you handled him, your hand barely closing around his stiff, aching cock.

“Doll…I…”

You watched Bucky’s eyes dilate as he opened his mouth to breathe and you continued to stroke him. The way that you were licking your lips and looking him in the eye made Bucky realize that he was the one that taught you to be bold.

“I’m such a fucking slut for this cock. Want it in my ass, Daddy.”

“Jesus.”

You had Bucky shook. And he admired the monster he’d made.

“Yes, James. Make me your fuck doll. You know what you’ve done to me.”

And it was true.

Bucky Barnes had ruined you.

Turned you out.

Reduced you to a dripping, quivering, distracted mess whenever you thought about it.

You wanted him to do that sweet, dark, feral thing all the time.

All the time.

Something about being impaled on his pretty, hard, huge cock, stretched to your limits, feeling pleasure that was just on the razor's edge of pain and pleasure that had you hooked.

Oh, and when Bucky led you over that edge into that intense pleasure …

God.. you were addicted to it.

That first time, he was gentle, oh so gentle. And, as he promised, he’d made it feel oh so good.

Bucky teased you, pleased you, coaxed you, ate you, stretched you, lubed you, then eased into you so slowly and sweetly that you were on cloud nine the entire time.

And you’d cum harder than you ever had before.

Then Bucky took care of you with a hot bath, food, water, and rest.

The more you did the deed, the more wanton you were for it. You moved, arched, grabbed, and begged for it.

Tonight, the added bonus of people a few feet away had you heated, glowing hot.

And Bucky was like a moth to a flame.

He took you by the waist and brought his mouth to yours, making you open for him in this way first, wanting the tenderness on your lips at the moment. He backed you up to the sink, and left you breathless as he drew away, opening the medicine cabinet.

You were looking down at Bucky’s cock playing peekaboo in your hand as he searched behind you. You looked up when he suddenly exclaimed.

“Ah HA!”

Bucky brought a brand new bottle of lube around in front of you and your heart started beating double time.

Setting the lube down on the counter, Bucky reached for the button on your jeans, sliding your zipper down. His thick, metal index finger traced the slit in your panties, divining your wetness.

“How long were you thinking about this today? Hmmmmm?”

Bucky looked down on you possessively, demanding an account of your intimate thoughts. He took in the lust on your face and reveled in the fact that you really wanted this. His mouth descended toward yours before you had a chance to answer.

Bucky loved making love to you, fucking you, taking you apart and putting you back together. But this kind of connection was the most intimate to him.

It was not just because it felt amazing being inside your delicate, snug walls, but because this uncharted territory yielded just for him. Bucky was not into virginity as a concept, but damn, knowing that he’d made you into this brazen, begging goddess, that you’d let him into a place so sacred to you rendered him a slave to your pleasure, which he could tell was intense.

Bucky turned you around so that you faced the mirror and he pulled up your tank top, exposing your breasts to the bright bathroom light.

“You wore this with no bra on purpose, didn’t you?”

Bucky just stared at your chest instead of touching like you wanted him to, expecting an answer as he pressed his black-jeaned bulge against your ass.

“Yes, James.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he lowered his lips to your neck while his hands came up and played with your nipples, slowly and tenderly circling your areolas. You arched into his hands; you wanted it rough.

The sound you made when he started pulling was everything.

“Eyes open. Watch what I do to you.”

You watched Bucky watch your face and your open mouthed breathing.

When your eyes connected he said, “Good girl.”

You turned your head and kissed him before he grabbed your open jeans and pulled them down your body, kneeling behind you as he took them off.

Bucky sat back on his haunches and looked at you, running his hands up and down your thighs, grabbing your ass and admiring your anatomy.

“So gotdamn beautiful, Doll.”

You shivered as he started kissing your legs, and soon, but not soon enough, licking into your heat.

Bucky’s moans as he participated in his fine dining was enough to make you cum, or maybe it was the anticipation.

It didn’t matter, because by the time he stood up and told you to, “Bend over, Doll,” your knees were already weak.

You watched Bucky tear the plastic off the bottle of lube with his teeth, plucking your own nipples now.

“You ready?”

It was a purely rhetorical question as you moaned in response.

Bucky watched in awe as the cool lube dripped onto your ass and you arched to meet it. A thick metal middle finger quickly warmed both the liquid and you. You let him fuck you there digitally until you begged for him.

“Need you James…please!”

Bucky grunted, reaching around for your clit again.

“Give me one more, Doll.”

His human hand was magic as he worked you from both front and back. Once he had what he wanted, he pulled back to take off his pants and looked down at his prize.

“Shirt too, please.”

He couldn’t deny your look in the mirror; Bucky loved how you loved his body completely.

Finally, he was teasing your tight hole with his cock, sparking electricity and rivulets of slick in your core. You could tell he was holding back because his jaw was clenched and his movements were tentative.

When you bent down and pushed back onto him was when his eyes rolled and you saw his head hang back on his shoulders.

“Holy mother of…. Damn, Doll.”

Soon his eyes were back on yours in the mirror as you fucked yourself back on him.

“Remember when I had to beg you to fuck this sweet ass, Doll?”

Bucky looked down at his thick cock breaching your tight hole. Then he pulled you upright and flush against him for control, one hand around your neck and the other in your cunt as he pounded inside your tightness.

Bucky searched your glazed expression in the mirror, your head lolled back against his flesh shoulder as you rode his cock and his metal hand. Three of his warm, vibrating metal fingers were deep inside your cunt as he slowly fucked your puckered hole.

“Now you beg me.”

“Hmmm. Ummm hmmmm.”

You nodded, mouth open for air as you let the pleasure take over you.

“You really are all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yesss Jamesssss…Ohhhhh yesss.”

The third orgasm while he was buried in you made Bucky wild, and he started pumping in earnest, keenly tuned into your sounds for any sign of discomfort. All you felt was his thick dick pulling and dragging inside the most sensitive parts of you.

And pure rapture.

“I can take it. Give it please!”

At that point Bucky had to stop, and pulled your head up as he whispered in your ear. You could feel his huge cock pumping in time with his heartbeat inside you.

“My beautiful complete cock slut. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

They way he bared his teeth as he snarled it in your ear caused you to spasm again as he fully wrecked you now, pumping voluminous amounts of cum inside you.

“Holy fuck!”

Bucky bit down on your shoulder as you laughed, still impaled on his softening cock. You curled your legs up as he carried you over to the shower and turned it on, him finally releasing you to kiss you thoroughly against the shower wall.

“We’re being rude to our guests, Bucky.”

“Wanna invite them to join us?”

You smirked as you turned around and Bucky started washing your back.

“I draw the line at those party games.”

“Me too,” Bucky smirked, “you’re all mine, Doll.”

“Now let me clean you up…”

And Bucky’s hand was between your legs…

As always: If you liked it, please reblog.

[gigabyte-flare]

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go. 

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure. 

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in. 

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them. 

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured. 

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff. 

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation. 

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I��m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so. 

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife. 

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

[tkaulitzlvr]

BEAUTIFUL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom flirts with an interviewer at an event the two of you are attending, he has to make it up to you once he realises how hurt you are.

content: angst & smut

a/n: something small to compensate for my lack of posts lately, just in case i don’t manage to put something out in the next few days - exams finish after this week so i should be back to uploading a little more regularly!! (not proofread yet - apologies if there are any errors i’ll fix them asap)💗

the drive home is utterly silent. i refuse to turn my gaze toward him, despite the annoyingly noticeable glances he throws in my direction as he takes his eyes off of the road every few minutes, attempting to work out how i feel. doing so had never been easy, though now, it seems completely impossible, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. the only hint that i lend to him is concrete proof of my anger, this part of the endless puzzle of my emotions easy to piece together. tom is aware that he has fucked up, the silence buying him time to carefully consider his choice of words to avoid worsening this situation.

the streetlights lining the smooth path of the highway ahead cast their dull orange light into the silent car, melting onto my stern features, starting at my eyes, dark and heavy, dangerously close to letting the tears welled up within them go, trailing down to my lips, curved downward into a painfully noticeable frown. the radio is just as silent, no longer blaring out tom's obnoxiously loud music, instead replacing its heavy bass with the sound of our breathing, tom clearing his throat when the silence would become slightly too awkward.

it started with the two of us attending another event for the band, this becoming a usual occurrence since i had started dating tom, though i didn't mind it. i had always been supportive of the band - it was impossible to not be, supporting the man i love in the career he is passionate about is something i consider to be my biggest achievement, and i would proudly stand by his side no matter what he decided to pursue, as long as his happiness is guaranteed. he knows just how proud of him i am, this one of many reasons why i make sure i can support him in any way possible, and something that comes along with that is being his plus one for any event.

whether it is a good thing or not, our relationship has never been private. since it's beginning, we made it clear to the public that we are together, parts of our lives perhaps too out there, figuring that allowing unnecessary speculation would only worsen the cruel comments coming our way - though tom never really receives anything close to the backlash that i do.

however boundaries are still something that some couldn't grasp. the publicity of our relationship was and still is visible to anybody with a working pair of eyes. it would be unusual to see me without tom at any event, or to be pictured elsewhere whilst he would be playing a show - the two of us are attached at the hip, utterly infatuated, as the gossip magazines obsessed with our lives would say. and this is why i found myself so enraged that one of his female interviewers acted as if i was invisible, though i maintained my stance beside tom as he answered any questions she directed at him. touching his arm playfully whenever he made a funny comment - though her reaction would always be totally exaggerated, tom's responses never warranting anything more than a slight chuckle, tossing her silky brunette hair and adjusting her already very prominent cleavage at any chance she had, she made it evident that she wanted tom.

and he didn't try to stop her. his eyes scanning her body, twinkling with a foreign sense of lust, speaking thousands of ideas on what he would like to be doing in that moment, forgetting that his girlfriend was beside him. to anyone else, it would look like i was a friend, perhaps even an acquaintance standing beside tom, clearly nothing romantic seeming to be going on between the two of us, his promiscuous glances practically screaming the phrase 'i'm available', regardless of the fact that he is everything but.

it is his acts that lead us to the present, us leaving the event rather abruptly as the tears spilling down my face ruined the makeup i had spent hours applying - for him. embarrassment habituated within the pit of my stomach more than anything, the effort i had put in to look my best meaning seemingly nothing to him.

the berlin cityscape encircles my vision as i watch it quickly pass, skyscrapers and flashing lights heavily contrasting to the emptiness in the sky above, reminding me of why i love this city. the view from the tinted windows of tom's ridiculously priced sports car temporarily distract me from the sorrow i feel, providing me with some sense of security as i find myself longing for more and more of it, my mind and its thoughts spiralling far out of control.

the silence was almost painful, indisputable tension between us so palpable it is almost visible, air thick with thoughts best left unsaid yet i am still unprepared to speak to him, not after he had disregarded me for somebody who couldn't keep her hands away from what had clearly belonged to someone else. his hand hesitantly reaches down from the wheel to caress my thigh, this being a usual habit whenever i am in the passenger seat, yet this time he visibly contemplates doing so, wondering how i will react to his small act of affection.

"don't." i mutter through gritted teeth, my voice shaky and uncertain as i move my leg harshly away from his gentle touch, adjusting the material of my dress so it flows below my knees. an exasperated sigh escapes tom's mouth as he moves his hand to touch the wheel once again, not a single word uttering from either one of us for the entirety of the journey home.

i swiftly exit the car, slamming the door shut and quickly rushing inside of the house that tom and i share, deciding against waiting for him like i usually would. instead, i tug my uncomfortably tall heels off, carrying them under my arm as i trudge up the stairs to our shared bedroom, before he has any chance of catching up to me. i don't need his worthless apologies, especially in this moment when i know one small glance into those eyes will lead to an emotional outburst, or my surrender, his soft features enough to make me forget it all, something which this time, i don't want to do.

my body slumps into the chair facing my vanity as i begin to remove my makeup. the wipe traces across the intricate detailing along my eyelids, smudging the deep orange powder across it, ruining the colour as it smudges with the thick black eyeliner above it messily, completely ruining the blend that i had spent at least an hour perfecting. i take a fresh wipe, running it along my lips, watching the dark pink colour gracing them disappear from my face, leaving the natural colour of them in place of it. my foundation had already been ruined since i had rushed out of the event, long streaks where tears had once fell destroying the flawlessly applied base, the movements of my hands becoming much more ragged, channelling my frustration as i rush to remove each inch of makeup from my face, feeling pathetic for bothering to put any of it on in the first place - it clearly wasn't enough. eyes red and raw, glossy with the thin layer of liquid that covers their exterior, cheeks a light shade of pink from the force i had applied when removing my makeup, my reflection stares back of me, a gut-wrenching reminder that i'm not good enough for him, what i see in the mirror quickly making me realise why. i am a mess - my entire appearance disheveled, an unbelievable contrast to the woman tom had his eyes glued to, everything about her utterly flawless, seemingly crafted by god himself

seconds pass, each one painful and silent, allowing me to continue over-analysing every single aspect of my physical appearance, until a familiar pair of footsteps near my bedroom, a lump in my throat forming as i refuse to turn my head once their presence finally becomes much harder to ignore. even when he walks over, eyes filled with regret, my face remains still, gaze staying put as it burns into my own reflection.

"baby come on, don't be like this." he begins, his hand brushing against my shoulder tenderly as he stands behind me, peppering a single kiss onto where his calloused hand had previously been, this simple act of affection almost making me fold. his reflection gazes into mine through the large mirror in front of us, the tension thickening by the second as my heart closely considers betraying my mind, however remembering the way he acted tonight brings me back into my furious state.

"fuck you tom." i bitterly reply, standing up and swiftly moving into the en-suite, noticing the way he follows closely behind me, clearly not willing to give this up anytime soon. i ignore him regardless of how determined he is, walking toward the mirror and slowly beginning to brush my hair, eyeing his reflection as he moves closer towards me, our gazes interlocking, yet i force myself to look away before I foolishly forgive him.

"i'm sorry, please don't fight with me schatz." he pleads, moving toward me and gently wrapping his arms around my waist from behind,  beginning to plant slow and soft kisses along my neck, his thumbs massaging my stomach lightly. his eyes never leave my own through the mirror, staring intently with a look unable to be mistaken for anything else other than admiration, totally different to how he had ignored me earlier on. though it still isn't enough to put out the worried thoughts that occupy my mind, the belief that i am no longer good enough seeming more real than ever.

"wouldn't you rather be doing this to the girl who interviewed you earlier?" i ask blankly, removing myself from his grasp and walking toward the wardrobe, facing away from him and attempting to remove my dress, yet my small hands fail to reach the zipper that starts from my shoulder blades and travels down to my lower back. i am not in any position to ask tom for help as I usually would, instead mentally cursing myself for wearing this dress. he quickly returns from the bathroom, face softening once he registers my helpless state, his frame nearing my own, stopping once his chest is almost pressed firmly against my back.

"leibe you're being ridiculous." he sighs, moving my hair to the side so that it rests against my shoulder, positioning his hand gently on my lower back, the other reaching towards the zipper that i had struggled to pull down.

"get off me-" i begin, just about ready to pull away from his touch and spew out reminders of how much of an awful boyfriend he is, though i am cut quickly off by his steady breathing close to my ear.

"shhh. let me do this for you, then you can go back to being mad at me, okay?" he whispers gently, breath fanning against my skin as goosebumps begin to form along it, his mouth slightly open whilst he begins to unzip my dress at an agonisingly slow pace, exposing my bare shoulders as he removes the fabric from my upper body, his other hand caressing my waist, so gently as if he could break me. he is careful, tentative even, though his movements become undeniably more calculated, going even further once his face leans forward, in line with my shoulder, sinking lower and lower, until his lips hover over the now bare skin. my eyes are on the verge of closing shut, not stopping him just yet, even when both his hands place themselves firmly onto my hips, pulling my body backward so that it is pressed against his own. it is when his lips ghost over my skin, brushing against it so gently i wonder if i am imagining the contact, that i finally snap out of it.

"you said you would undo the zipper, not undress me." i say, the small moment of lust soon lost within the harshness of my words as i utter them, my back still facing him.

he says nothing, clearing his throat and slowly removing his hands from my waist. despite increasing our proximity more than it had been seconds ago, he still remains closely behind me as i grab an oversized t-shirt and fresh panties from my closet.

"can you leave? i want to get changed." i sigh, rolling my eyes and covering my cleavage as i turn to face him. after seeing the way he looked at her body, i tense in discomfort at the thought of him looking at my own. all the times he called me beautiful quickly seem insignificant as i am suddenly ashamed and insecure, almost embarrassed to be so exposed around him.

"what? you always get changed around me. we've been together for four years schatz, it's nothing i haven't seen before." he states, clearly surprised as i usually have no issue being naked around him, used to being showered with kisses and compliments whenever i am exposed around him, yet now i cannot imagine anything worse.

"my body clearly isn't good enough for you tom, i'm sure her's is perfect. i'm sure you'd agree right? the way you looked at her pretty much fucking said it all anyways." i respond, blinking the tears away as they are dangerously close to falling, my gaze dropping from his as i curse myself for acting so vulnerable around him, for letting him get to me this much.

"you and i both know that's not true." he sighs, reaching to wipe the tear falling down my cheek, his pointer finger gently tilting my chin upwards so that i am met with his gaze. "you know what i think of you. you know how perfect you are to me."

i don't respond, scoffing at his empty spews of supposed reassurance. instead, i ignore his presence as i should have done the first time he walked into the room, grabbing my pyjamas and entering the bathroom, quickly removing my dress and slipping on the t-shirt i had grabbed from the closet. i am immediately engulfed in tom's scent, an addictive mix of vanilla and his favourite cologne, this alone almost convincing me to run into his arms and forgive him. this time i know better, returning to the bedroom to find tom gone.

i take no notice, silently thankful for him leaving me alone. i switch the light off, slipping silently under the covers, allowing them to engulf me in warmth. a few minutes later, the bed dips beside me, tom sighing as i turn over to face away from him, instead of moving into his arms as i usually would.

he soon nears closer to me, refusing my attempts at keeping us apart, brushing my hair out of my face and nuzzling his head into my neck from behind, placing a single tender kiss before speaking up.

"please talk to me schatz, i'm so sorry." he mutters into the darkness, awaiting my response, yet i refuse to give him one, not moving from my tensed position.

"you said that your body isn't good enough for me." he slowly begins, turning me on my back in one swift motion as he props himself up beside me, one hand holding himself up as the other gently caresses my cheek. the darkness prevents me from making out his features, though i can still distinguish his dark brown eyes staring into mine. "let me show you. let me show you how beautiful you are."

my speechlessness forces me to do nothing but slowly nod my head, my quick acceptance clearly surprising him as he slowly leans downwards until his lips meet mine. the kiss isn't rough or lustful, it is slow and passionate, carrying every unspoken apology as his lips mould perfectly with mine. as much as i still hold back, still reluctant to let him in so easily, i can't hide it. we fit together flawlessly, our physical contact providing me with the certainty of our love. we are attached, not just physically, but spiritually, emotionally, in any way that two people can be bound together.

without breaking the kiss, he slowly crawls on top of me, caressing my face gently, our desire and hunger for each other increasing by the second, the fire only sparking further within me as i fall further into his touch.

"so perfect..." he mutters against my lips, pulling away only to begin gently kissing my neck, sighs of pleasure elicited from my parted lips as he finds my sweet spot, his tongue circling the area whilst my hands travel down his back, finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift it over his head, his lips capturing mine softly once again. his hands caress my waist, finding my underwear as he loops his fingers around it, pulling it down slowly and throwing it on the floor beside him, doing the same with my t-shirt. my hands fumble with his underwear, pulling it down soon after, leaving our bare bodies pressed against each other, our craving for one another growing with every kiss he leaves against my lips.

he is the sun, and i am the planets orbiting around him. my entire being is his, only being able to function with the reassurance that he is mine, and i am his. every part of me belongs to him, and as i clutch on to him i find myself wondering what I did to deserve him, what i did to find somebody that compliments me so well, no one else providing me with the euphoria that he can.

he parts his lips from mine, staring into my eyes as i find myself in awe of his perfection. his lips are open ever so slightly, the minimal light cast into the room hitting his lips, soft and tempting, directly, the metal ring adorning them knocked to the side as his tongue comes out to rest against it. however my time to admire him is soon brought to a finish as positions himself at my entrance.

"you sure baby?" he asks, eyes scanning my own, searching for any sense of doubt within them. though i am quick to nod my head, muttering a clear 'yes' as my hands grip onto his biceps, studying the way his face changes from caring to lustful the second that his top pushes inside of me. he is slow, sliding into me carefully, though when he bottoms out, he makes sure that every inch of him is inside of me, his own eyes squeezing shut when my walls clenching around him. he starts off slow, maintaining a steady rhythm as i savour every second, holding onto him so tightly as if he could fall out of my grasp. quiet groans fill my ears as he buries his face into my neck, slowly beginning to pick up the pace, inaudible whines escaping my lips, each thrust further fuelling the ecstasy within me.

"fuck…i love you." he mumbles into my neck, planting fast and sloppy kisses anywhere his lips can find, my vision blurring as i am soon overwhelmed with pleasure. he is inside me, his body pressed against me as even the air cannot come between us, yet i long for him to be closer. i know that isn't possible, and god, that hurts to think about.

“right there, oh my god!" i cry out, my legs wrapping around his torso as he delves further into me, hitting the spot where i need him most perfectly, my eyes to rolling to the back of my head, no noise escaping my mouth as i can do nothing but savour this pleasure, knowing that it cannot last forever.

“so pretty baby…shit- so perfect." he whispers, connecting his lips with mine in a sloppy kiss, quickening his pace as i know he is getting closer to his release. his calloused hands gently grab my waist, pushing me into him further as he struggles to kiss back, moaning into my mouth as his pillowy lips hover over mine.

“i'm so close schatz." he mutters against my lips, his rhythm becoming irregular as his hips stutter and i feel him twitch inside me. i sigh in relief, finally letting go of the knot built up in my stomach, mouth falling open as i reach my climax, this enough for tom to come to his own.

“fuck, oh my god…" he groans, throwing his head back as i feel him release inside of me, his breathing becoming heavier. he slowly thrusts in and out of me, muttering inaudible words of praise, riding out our highs before collapsing on top of me, leaving a few lazy kisses on my shoulder. my hands find their way into his hair, gently running through the dark braids whilst his wrap around my waist. the room stays silent for a few seconds, this soon interrupted by tom’s voice, slow and rough.

“i'm sorry for everything. i love you schatz, you know that right?" he says breathlessly, lifting his head from my chest to look into my eyes, any lustful intent within them now fading as they display nothing but pure regret.

“i know. i love you too." i reply, kissing him tiredly on the lips before closing my eyes, close to falling asleep. though i am soon interrupted by tom’s hand over my shoulder, shaking it gently, whilst the other trails to my face, thumb running across the skin comfortingly.

“c’mon, let's clean you up first liebe, then we can sleep." he whispers, smiling weakly when i nod my head lazily, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist, carrying me into the bathroom and turning on the shower, both of us climbing in.

the warm water covers my body, droplets running down it as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a tight hug. it is silent, though the quiet is everything but awkward, instead the reassurance that his embrace brings is everything i need, my eyes closing contently as he begins washing my body, occasionally kissing my forehead and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, before lifting me out of the shower and grabbing a fresh t-shirt, placing it over my head and onto my tired frame.

he collapses into bed, opening his arms out as i fall into his embrace, wrapping one arm loosely around his bare torso, tracing random patterns on his chest with my pointer finger, head resting against it so firmly i can hear the steady thumping of his heart, each faint beat somehow soothing me, until i fall into a deep sleep.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[sweetypouch]

Try Again

Mr. Crawling

Synopsis: Maybe in another lifetime, he could finally stay with you.

Fluff (I want to cry)

Reincarnated!Au

School!Au

Mr. Crawling as a human school boy

Grammar errors (?)

Shortest one I wrote so far

Word count: 848

Being a normal student was just as boring as it gets, yet no matter how much you turn things around, it was still weird how someone could like you. Your personality is just the same as others, you never tried to gain much attention at school, and you weren't someone considered as 'beautiful', to say the least, you were just average.

So why is there someone confessing right in front of you? As he patiently waits for your response, the poor boy's trembling hands held out a love letter to you, with lots of hand-drawn hearts that you assumed he doodled down.

All you could think about was, "Why?"

He was confused at first, tempted to make a clear point by repeating his sentence once again. The blush on his face never seemed to go away, it only became redder than before.

To him, you were his everything. He doesn't want to waste his time any more! Not in this lifetime!

Even if you like someone, he wouldn't take it as a no. He was given a chance to make things right, to make you stay, to make you love him. Even if you push him away, it could never make his feelings for you fade away, no one can make him stop.

Maybe you just didn't recognize him, after all, almost everything about him changed, except for his memory.

The news definitely didn't reach you. About the intense shaking that happened in the other world, it erased all that has been there like it never existed, including him and the others. He never expected death to make its way to him and he never expected it to end just like that, it was welcoming but he chose not to let it wrap him up, because you're not with him. If given the chance, he wants to live another life with you, and no words could ever tell what miracle lies ahead, all because of his undying love for you.

The next thing he knew, he's back, with a new body, but his spirit and mind were kept inside him, with you forever engraved in it.

He was more than happy that he could finally make himself look more loveable, so you can finally stay and have your eyes directed only on him. He was not scary anymore, he finally had his eyes visible and his skin was just the same color as yours, however, his hair was still the same, and the good thing is he could finally speak in a language you would finally understand. It was all a dream come true!

When he finally found you, he couldn't control himself anymore and tried everything he could to be close to you, without being too forceful or insisting, of course. He doesn't want to reveal his self too early to you. His 'loyal dog' attitude coming back to its senses when he finally found you. His sudden existence was more than weird considering that he was titled as the new student in your class. He reminded you of someone you wish to see again, someone you loved so much that it hurts.

Just try to take a closer look, I'm sure you'll notice the same scar you made when you slashed him with the crowbar, it was painful but it was like a welcoming gift coming from you; a painfully sweet memory of when he first met you.

His towering figure stood still as the wind brushed his hair away, revealing a scar you never noticed he had. His eyes kept its focus only to you, a soft glimmer inside it, dictating just how serious he is.

That gaze...most people would feel scared by how intense he is, but all you can feel is a sense of longing in it, something deeper than any ocean, and something stronger than any tough weapon.

It was probably rude to compare a human to a non-human, but something about him makes them very identical, you just couldn't find the perfect words to describe it.

The only thing you can feel right now is the feeling you've always wanted to feel once again. There's no point in denying it, there was something about him that pulls you even more to that bittersweet mixture of emotions, the feeling was like when you just found the last piece of the hardest puzzle.

Without realizing it, your hands gently took the letter out of his hands, the smile you just formed was a breath-taking view to him. It was beautiful.

He would sacrifice his own identity to you, only if it means to see that smile every day.

He chuckled when you blushed back, taking the letter means yes and it was hard to resist so he gave in and wrapped you in his arms, a familiar warmth that really adds up to your theory, could it be that heaven created a replica of someone you loved? Just for you to try again and make things right? The thought of it sounds ridiculous enough but if it's possible to come true....

Would you love him in every universe?

[seillarium]

melt my heart and claim it as yours

tl;dr. the classic 5+1 fic for my one and only love

pairings : portgas d. ace x reader

notes : mild angst (?), happy ending, no pronouns used (as far as i know) but written with fem reader in mind, no proofread, lowercase intended, a few profanities, english isn't my first language, overuse of italics lol, PORTGAS D. ACE LIVESSSS

word count : roughly 3.5k words

sincerely, sei : AAAAAARGHHH OMGOMG I FINALLY FINISHED IT ACTUALLY HOLY SH 😭😭 anyway, please lmk if there are grammatical errors, or typos, hopefully i don't fumble this, i think it's not rlly good. but to be fair, i was experimenting 😥

I.

you're a new recruit of the whitebeard pirates, having been rescued from an organization that experiments on people—honestly you didn't think you'd live this long with how things were going with your life.

you were hesitant at first, meekly greeting the members of the seemingly kind pirates around you. as far as you knew, pirates were pictured as barbaric, evil, and cruel. but all that you see are warm people that see each other as family. it left a foreign feeling in your chest, one that you can't seem to decipher.

but you have only one thing in mind: do you belong here?

-

your first day on the moby dick was chaos. good chaos, you convince yourself. you were utterly overwhelmed by the amount of people, and holy fuck, did you just get a thousand siblings in less than a day??

they threw a party, for the new nakama, they said. it was heartwarming to say the least, and a small smile appeared on your face for the first time ever since you were put into that hell.

you try to put your mind into what was happening now, 'stop thinking about that, you have a new life ahead of you.' there were a lot of people introducing themselves, though you can't understand most of them. you were dragged, pushed even, as the dining area was suddenly filled. maybe the term 'barbaric' was fitting for them, after all.

the first to approach you one on one was the first division commander; marco. he had checked if you were doing alright, and all you did was smile and nod—biting your tongue, trying not to mention how you think he looks like a pineapple.

the second would be thatch, he was a tad drunk drunk and his mind is cooked. his flirtatious words were slurred. he called you multiple names, he claimed that your smile is quite fetching. you weren't really affected, he is amusing, though.

a few more approached you, some just greeting briefly, some were inviting you to drink (you didn't, the taste of alcohol is shit anyway), and some just gave you a warm "welcome to the crew!"

they sure are a rowdy bunch, you think, as you were leaning on the railing. then another person approached you. he leaned on the railing next to you, copying your position.

when you finally looked at him, your mind short-circuited for a moment. the mysterious man was certainly attractive. he's topless, that's what stupefied you for a second. not that you never saw any other guy who walks without any shirt—this one just has a nice figure, definitely easy to look at.

"hey there! you're the new recruit, yeah? my name is portgas d. ace, it's nice to meet you."

his voice startled you, whoops, you're staring, how inappropriate. he's bowing politely, and it baffled you for the nth time today because; what is this, a pirate crew whose motto is 'we're different from other pirates'?! you had never met a pirate this polite your whole life. you ought to pinch yourself; maybe this is a silly dream after all.

"hello? earth to you, er.." he waved a hand to your face, only then did you look to his face. great, so you were looking at his open tits first?

"(name). it's nice to meet you." you greeted back with a small smile, and he grinned. oh, he looks so... kind. you felt your heart thump—or did it actually stop?

"(name), huh? what a pretty name for a pretty face." oh, cheeky. he's got a coy grin on his lips now. he's like thatch, then. but he succeeded to make you blush slightly.

"thanks...?" wow, way to go! you honestly didn't know what to reply, given that you were locked up for about 5 years with almost no social interaction with others.

he didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked pleased at your answer. though, he did seem to notice your uncomfortable shift. he props his elbow to the railing, resting his cheek on his hand. "you're adorable."

and your mind clogged again, face exploding into a deep red as you furrowed your eyebrows, forming a confused expression. he seems sober, and he says it like he means it. the temperature just skyrocketed, must be from how flushed your cheeks are.

he laughed at your expression, and you found yourself liking the carefree sound and his boyish grin. he gazed at your eyes again, slightly pink cheeks and a grin that screams mischief. more compliments spill from his mouth. looks like you're in for an embarrassing night.

-

once the night ended, ace slapped a hand on his mouth, his cheeks flushed—fuck, he's on fire, literally. he was mesmerized by you, thus, the sudden compliment escaped him. he didn't mean to, but with your reaction? oh he wanted more. he honestly thought flirting would be a good way to take your mind off of things, thank god he didn't fumble. such a miracle you didn't notice how his back was on fire the whole time...

II.

weeks had passed since you became a whitebeard pirate. you learned a lot of things. one, you were living under a rock, literally and figuratively. the lab that you were once in was underground. you've been there since you were 15, causing you to lack knowledge about the recent happenings in the outside world.

two, it was hard to keep up and remember each of their names. your overwhelmed brain is turning into mush at this point, thankfully they're kind enough to say their names over and over again for you.

three, ace. that's it, ace. you learned that he's some kind of lost dog. trailing you everywhere you go, not that you're complaining. honestly if he wasn't sticking to you, you'd be sticking to him.

there's this magnetic pull that drags you to him, seems like you couldn't resist his warm nature. like a moth to a flame you were attracted to him. and you feel yourself burn, not in a bad way—like you were succumbing to his very fire and you think you'll be fine as ashes if it meant you'd be closer to him.

but it's like, his fire flickers when you move forward. he let's you near, but never close. it's like you know about him, but you don't know him. like he's keeping you at arm's length.

that does not stop the flirting, though.

"hey, I'm lost, can you give me directions to your heart?"

"if you were a triangle, you'd be acute one."

"aren't you tired? you've been running through my mind all day."

you're becoming a puddle of goo, it just gets embarrassing to the point you can't even form words.

"hey, (name), do you have a pen and a paper?" he suddenly approached you as you were walking around the ship. you shook your head 'no', surprised he's not making moves today.

"damn, no pen, no paper, yet you still draw my attention." he said with a shit-eating grin and a wink. "...."

"wait! (name)!!"

III.

a day alone with ace in a strange island is absolute havoc. you wonder how it's possible for one person to destroy half of a forest. well, to be fair, he is fire.

"are you a dumbass?!" you screeched, running away as fast as you can while a strange lion goes after you both. ace tried to pet it, you almost did too and out of a sudden everything went haywire.

"i didn't know it would be immune to fire!!" he screeched back, holding your wrist and practically dragging you.

"why the hell did you even try and pet a wild lion in the first place?!"

-

you're now sitting by a bonfire, lit by yours truly. you hug your knees to your chest, watching as the fire dances in the air.

the lion incident has passed, finding out it's actually frightened by water. you crossed a river and found a hilltop—which is where you are right now.

"you still cold?" he asked, sitting next beside you.

"kind of," not really, you're not exactly freezing, you just want more. of him, preferably.

he scooted closer, your shoulders touching. and heat immediately seeps through you. and for a moment you just relished his body temperature.

then the next thing you knew, your whole being was enveloped by his warmth. his arms looped on your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. he sent you a smile, and god, everything about him is warm.

"are you a campfire? because you're hot and i want s'more." and just when you though you could sit in peace.

"ace, you're literally the hot one between the two of us." you answered, exasperated to your wits' end. "aww, you think I'm hot?" you didn't know if you want to slap the smirk off his face or bury yourself 6 foor under.

"n-no?! i mean, you are, literally—" his grin widens. "y-you know what i mean!! and I'm cold.."

"think i can make your heart melt?" oh he did. you sighed, does he really mean all of this? you never really gave him replies, not that you could even form words with how your brain turns into a puddle when he throws you the most cheesy ass pick up line ever. where does he even gets all of these?

"Is it chilly out, or is that just the chill you send down my spine every time I see you?" a scoff escaped you. "it's cold right now."

"well, thank god i brought some socks, you're giving me cold feet." he said rather dramatically, his body sagging against yours.

"do you really mean all of this?" you asked out of the blue. is he just messing with you? is he really gonna burn you after all? maybe his flames would just combust your lonely heart to oblivion, then leave it to heave in the remaining smoke.

"of course." he replies almost immediately, his eyes seeking yours. sincerity swam in his dark orbs, a soft yet genuine smile on his lips. oh. maybe he was just trying to cradle you with his warmth, after all.

-

he takes a mental note to take this more seriously. thus, you didn't fail to notice how his lines were a bit more genuine, it still has a hint of playfulness—but everytime he looks into your eyes, it seems as though he's swallowing each emotion in them, fully drowning in you with those obvious lovesick orbs.

IV.

the night was cold, so was your heart. thatch had died, murdered by the hands of his own family. his own nakama. you sat on your bed, blank eyes staring to the window. it was pouring, as if the clouds were affected by the loss. the raindrops fell harder and harder, jut like the pounding in your chest as his death sinks in.

there were sudden knocks on your door. you didn't have to sit up, you knew who it was. "come in.." you croaked, voice breaking slightly.

the door opened and revealed a disheveled ace. he was quiet as he invited himself in, the familiar scent of your room filling his senses. "hey.." he greeted, yet it lacked the familiar warmth he always held. it was replaced by the bitter cold, gnawing at his insides.

"hey, you." despite his state, you felt warm. everytime the pirate comes into view, your heart is immediately filled with fervor. sparks surging through your veins.

ace wordlessly sat down beside you, head hung low and you know why. "I'm going to kill teach." he muttered, his resentment surfacing with each passing second.

"what?" you gaped, and you don't know whether to let him go or not. you weren't sure if the awful pit on your stomach was something worth noting. before you could speak further, his voice cuts into the air. sharp and determined.

"and you can't do anything to stop me." and for the first time ever, he made you cold. unpleasant shivers went down your spine and your heart dropped to the depths of doubt. and before you know it, protests escapes your lips while you shake him. it's unsettling, how you're holding onto him yet he's so cold.

"i don't care if it's dangerous, he killed thatch, he betrayed his own!" he raises his voice, but you can't find it in yourself to even flinch, still seeking that certain fire in his eyes. it's there, it's ignited, but not the kind of flame that you're looking for.

"i just... didn't want to leave without telling you goodbye." he mumbled, voice softening significantly.

"are you saying this will be the last time I'll see you?" you can't ignore it anymore, tears are stinging your eyes.

".... i—" he hesitated, breath hitching. "of course not, I'll come back for you."

for you.

his words rang in your ears, he sounds so genuine yet so full of doubt. and as your gaze on him lingers, all you could see is a lost boy, his judgement crumbling right before your eyes.

"come back alive, okay? I'll wait for you." you told him with such warmth and affection, your hand cupping his cheek.

at that moment, he looks like he'll break, your warmth seeping through his freckled cheek and straight through his heart and soul. it felt so surreal for him, he's made of fire, but it feels as though you were burning him.

"i don't know, it's like you're already killing me here, 'cause you took my breath away."

sigh.

V.

you're on fire.

not literally, but it may as well be with how you can feel the intense determination and fear in your bones. you stood near pops, the tense atmosphere wafting through the thick air in marineford.

ace is there, at the execution grounds—chained, bruised, bloodied, and regretful. you could see him clearly, yet he feels so far away.

and once the war started, you did your best to avoid the attacks sent to you, sprinting straight towards ace. you knew it was futile, the marines surrounding him far too strong compared to you. but you can't stop.

I'm coming for you, ace. the rapid thumping of your heart is all that you could hear, ignoring his desperate pleas of 'don't come here! it's not worth it!'

ace, ace, ace. you repeat his name in your head like a mantra. ace, ace, ACE. you screamed this time, voice breaking.

you legs stopped once you saw the dark hair of a young boy—screaming his lungs as he calls for his dear brogher, along with the intense surge of his haki. you weren't weakened by it, but you felt a sense of relief as he ran through the sea of marines ready to take his life.

instead of heading to ace, you sprinted to the boy—luffy, you assumed based on the countless stories from his brother. you helped fight off anyone in his way, putting all your trust in him.

you watch as he somehow freed ace. in awe as they fought alongside together, having perfect harmony.

you could only watch as he finally ran, straight to were you and the others were. and you felt so light seeing him, alive and well.

yet, you could only watch, as he was provoked by admiral akainu. you could only scream at him to stop, to just let it go. but of course you knew it was pointless. he's ace, he'll never let anyone dare to throw dirt on the name of his savior. he wouldn't let anyone insult the man who kindly called him as his son.

and thus, you could only watch as magma seeped through his chest. the ring in your ears eating up all your sanity, you couldn't even hear nor feel as the others dragged you away—unaware that you were running to him again.

you only watched as he whispered words to his brother, hugging him helplessly.

then everything became a blur.

VI.

the morning birds chirped, or was it the seagulls handing out the newspapers? nonetheless, the light from the window indicates that a new day is starting.

a new day, as you sat next to ace's bed. you never left his ever since you woke up. his organs were ruined, and you wonder how marco and the others had healed him.

but you didn't care about how. all you could ever care about is ace. he's alive. still, he's yet to wake up.

it's been a week, the familiar routine of sitting next to his bed was slowly embedding in your mind. you want nothing more than to see his eyes again, to see that bright smile that makes you think that the sun was nothing but an irrelevant orb up in the sky.

his chest was filled with bandages—another reminder of an ugly memory. you stared at him solemnly, fingers tracing his freckled cheeks.

then he stirred, and you flinched. your mind went blank. the gears in your head only turned once he gazed at you with those pretty eyes—effectively pulling you into the depths of your emotions.

"why are you crying?" were his first words, his voice was strained, his throat dry. only then did you realize everything was blurry.

"y-you—!" clutching his arm almost desperately, you found yourself crumbling in front of him. "you said you'd come back alive!"

"but i am alive." he said matter-of-factly.

"what if you died?!" honestly, you didn't know nor cared if you were making a point. all you did was sob his name over and over again, you arms coming up to wrap around his neck. crying as the man stroked your unkempt hair.

"...is this real?" he then asked, and the doubtful tone you once heard was at it again. you looked into his eyes, witnessing a broken man who looked as though he couldn't believe what has happened. "I'm actually alive?"

"of course you are! you're here, ace. you're fine." you said, partly to yourself, but mainly to him who looks like he'll break you with how he's holding you.

"you're alive. thank god you're alive, ace." and he cries. he cries and sobs and you don't know what else to do but to hold him.

"do i deserve to live? do i really deserve to survive?" and you felt your own tears falling. he sounds so broken, so lost, so doubtful.

you didn't question why he was asking that, rather, you cupped his cheeks and stared lovingly in his eyes.

"you do, ace." was all you have to say. was all he needed to hear. it won't be easy to remove those thoughts, no. but for now, it was enough.

"yeah?" he sniffled, a lopsided grin on his lips. you kissed his tears away, as he closed his eyes in bliss.

"yeah."

he grinned from ear to ear, and you returned it. and you both sat there, just giggling to each other.

"can i borrow your sunglasses? i can't stare at you too much 'cuz you're hotter than the sun." instead of laughing or blushing like you always do, your eyes softened.

"really? your eyes must be weak then. i can stare at you for hours." and before he could even so much as react, you continued.

"you know, you're like the sun. so bright, so warm. and every time i see you, i don't know whether i should bask in you or to hide because you burn me. god, you set my heart on fire, ace. and i don't care if i turn into ashes as long as i can be beside you all the time." you finished, staring at him like a lovesick fool.

he was out of words, his face exploding in a bright red and you wondered how much restraint he has right now to not burst into flames on the spot. he gaped at you as you stared at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"i love you." he muttered. now you were the one rendered speechless. no words can express how he makes you feel. and you all but grinned, giddy and drunk off of the feeling of his love.

"i love you too." and before you two could lean in and share that sweet sweet kiss, the door opened and you saw the half of the crew falling down from their pile. looks like they've been eavesdropping.

and they didn't even had any shame as they cheered, chanting 'kiss, kiss, kiss!' loud screams of jovial voices filled the cabin once you two actually did.

familiar warmth seeped through your body and cradled your heart. and you had an epiphany at that moment: you belong here, right at this very moment, forever and more.

ps. : NAHHH CAN YALL TELL I GOT LAZY AT THE END im sorry it took so long i procrastinated for like 2 days 🙏 thank you for reading!!

taglist : @captainportgasdace @malxoxo (there's so many of yall who liked my previous post, my lazy ass could never, i might tag yall later tho if i get my energy back <33)

[superbat-lmao]

Damian Wayne stuck in a time loop.

It resets when someone dies, and since Damian is the youngest, it doesn’t matter how rocky his relationship is with the bat-siblings, each and everyone one of them sacrifices themselves for him.

And Damian is pissed off because he doesn’t understand why.

Grayson is obvious, he has made it clear that he feels affection for Damian and has made the most effort into integrating him into the family. Of course he would die for his little brother. And at first, Damian believes he finds this outcome to be the least acceptable.

There is also his Father, again, a logical expression of love. Damian can understand why his Father would die for him, even if he doesn’t want him to. Even if, in the first few loops, he wishes that anyone else would die instead. At least it’s a type of parental relationship he can understand in the abstract, even if it surprises him to see its true about himself. That even though he has several older brothers and is unsure of his place by his Father’s side, the man would do anything to protect him. It reminds him of his Mother, even though he’s sure if she were here she’d find a way for the both of them to live.

Brown is the first one to surprise him. They had worked together when Grayson was Batman and he recognized her competence, but he thought that’s all it was. A working relationship between professionals. A mutal, if grudging respect. He is shocked when she dies, how he had no clue she would go that far for him. How he refuses to let it happen again.

If Brown was a surprise, Cain was a shock. Damian thought of her as nigh invincible, unable to be touched. It was clear she was the best of all of them, that she had seen the hit miles ahead of him, had maybe even seen him brace for it. But she had chosen to let herself go down. He feels every bit his age as he begins to wonder if he’s even more powerless to stop this than he thought if his most competent sister chose to let herself fall.

Thomas was confusing. He was new, newer than Damian and not quite sure of himself. They rarely saw each other aside from school due to the mismatch in schedules. Thomas gave him a wide berth, respecting Damian’s space in a way his other siblings failed to do or intentionally disregarded. Damian didn’t think much of him. Couldn’t understand how Thomas hadn’t even paused, had taken the hit as if it was an unquestionable law of the universe. As if they were really brothers and not strangers. It was a sentiment Damian didn’t know how to return.

Todd was the worst. He had seen him, briefly, before he had come to Gotham from the league. His Mother spoke of him rarely, but with pride. He was skilled, if untamed. He avoided the manor and his brothers and their Father. The only one he usually sought was Pennyworth. That is why Todd was the worst. Because he avoided all of them. Because this family had already allowed him to die before and he had come back wrong. A painful reminder that their family has failed. And he fought so hard to remind them all of that failure, every way he chose to keep fighting to live, to prioritize his own life over their Father’s morality. Only to throw it away for Damian. To force him to watch how his brother’s second death shattered their Father and Pennyworth and Grayson in a way that Damian didn’t think they’d survive a second time.

Drake is incomprehensible. Antithetical. A cosmic error. Impossible. There is no love between them, no grudging respect, nothing. Damian can’t stand to look at the person who he feels is a disgrace to the costume Damian now wears. He is the one who dies for Damian the most. The one he can’t possibly understand. The brother he has the least time to question, who gives him the least answers as to his motivations. Who will both die for Damian and refuse to utter a word to him in the same loop. It is madness. Damian needs to prove himself above this embarrassment, and yet Drake chooses to be beneath him. To die for him. It is in spite of Damian’s skill that Drake dies, and Damian hates him for it.

[illuminiscentboba]

akaashi 2, emotionally unavailable reader 1

romance was something you are so over by this point.

you couldn't help but be being overly critical of every mans actions, over analyzing the interaction to try to find an error in his ways or should you say a red flag enough to ward him away to convince your friends to stop encouraging you to let things progress and give him a chance and to convince yourself that he's no good for you. has anyone ever been good for you?

but him...akaashi keiji was as good as it gets in fact much better everytime you learn something about him. he's tidy, and he smells good the aroma of fresh laundry and coffee almost embedded in his skin, observant, actually remembering things you mention to him in passing and wishing you good luck for exams you mentioned to him a week or two ago, he makes sure to greet you whenever you guys see each other, constantly lightening your load when you head places together.

It's nice to be taken care of and you can't completely conceal your smile and appreciation when you notice him doing these things for you. and while you want to give him a chance to get to know you more, you thought the same about someone a few crushes ago and it was as if you flipped a switch in that man by saying you wanted to know someone in depth before doing the deed. He claimed to know you well enough, mentioning shallow surface level information, asking if there was someone else that occupied your mind. you shuddered to think about the deep and charming voice of akaashi sounding cold and his words turning short and bitter.

In fact there he was a few rows ahead of you, seated with his friends, listening halfheartedly to the banter of his friends. It was no secret to akaashi that you closed yourself off from romance. whenever it would come up you would grow quiet, a conflicted expression on your face. What had happened to you for you to disengage from the scene altogether? He wanted to ask...he wanted to know and if he were to be so bold, pursue you and replace those bad memories with good ones if you were open to it?

He paused glancing around the room, didn't he share this class with you? before you could turn away, his ocean coloured eyes found yours and he gave you a smile and it was as if he passed on his warmth to you because you found yourself smiling back, doing a small shy wave of your own.

class proceeded to go on, until finally, you guys got a break. with how depleted your focus was you had to step out your friends accompanying you on your little walk. similarly, he stepped out during the break heading to the washroom lost in his head trying to coordinate seeing his friend at a different university despite his busy schedule when he heard his name.

"I like him but what if it's too good to be true? someone like that in OUR generation? and they like me?! what if we're all wrong or he's secretly evil then what?"

he held back a chuckle at your last remark. the way you flipped between reason and nonsense was adorable to him, and he honestly didn't blame you. hearing the way some of his peers talked about their partner or the women of their lives made him sick to his stomach.

but wait...you like him back? he could no longer focus on the not so private discussion he heard echoing off the walls of the girls bathroom as he stood outside the boys washroom.

he thought you wanted nothing to do with romance? but then again he was also acting too careful and scared to get hurt as well. he constantly found himself holding back his thoughts and being careful with actions to not scare you away. scared of his feelings and losing you. he already did research on emotional unavailability and is aware that people with it may avoid intimacy and get defensive and he loathed the idea of your adorable smile and laughter being replaced by silence or you avoiding him.

but you like him. he hummed, a big tightlipped smile that was a little too giddy to be written off as regular akaashi behavior, completely forgetting what he went left the classroom for. he headed back, already looking forward to seeing you again and being bold. you gave him just the right amount of courage to stop overthinking, and to make his feelings more known. oh right, and to prove he wasn't the sinister man you seemed to secretly suspect him to be.

[voidcat]

— [ 01:36 ] (but if you’re too drunk to drive, and the music is right…)

characters: narumi gen, you, first division (loosely mentioned)

a/n: mentions of drinking and alcohol. can be read as part of the hedgehog's dilemma series bc ngl i kinda wrote it with that in mind. i hate you mari please let my soul be free and take your rabid little brother away from me. sorry for being such good in-law material ig — 1.5k

inspired by mari's bullying comment: "but have u considered the way he looks at u when he's slightly tipsy?"

The dim lights of the bar fall gently on the eyes- something you're more than grateful for.

It's not often the teams go out together after work; let alone even just one section within a division but you'd like to hope the changes within the first division has become somewhat of a routine by now.

The place is warm enough to be of comfort but cold enough to ensure nobody falls victim to alcohol and the sleep it lulls you into. As hours have passed since your arrival, the lively chatter has spread within the space, several booths occupied, everyone divided into similar groups of those they get along well more, or those they wish to converse with. It is calmer now, with the weight of work place regulations and titles gone, just the comfort of a bunch of people, spending their night, taking some stress out in the form of sweet drinks and sour tastes, vibrant colors and heavenly smelling fries, games played with one too many rules broken and words slurred, bodies slowly losing their functions.

You spot Shinonome easily with your eyes, away by the corner, bent by the pool table and holding the cue stick like she came up with the game herself.

A pity, you think to yourself. She was so excited for tonight, especially picked the night and asked to get ready with you, even asking your opinion on her outfit and what accessories she could tweak and add or not. Instead, now hogged with the rest of them, she's teaching them a lesson they'll never forget, ignoring Tachibana's swaying walks and poor attempts to hold his ground.

Still, you think, despite the errors and trials of the evening, you're content by yourself so far. Your seating is near the bar, lest you wish for another cocktail, the volume of the music just right, a soothing and gentle melody carrying you away, reminding you of old days.

A sudden movement by your side startles you just as you bring the glass to your lips. And you notice much to your dismay that what you've assumed to be a pile of several coats and bags is certainly too human-shaped to be that.

From the slouched-over form, rises Narumi Gen, wobbling and swaying in his spot.

Rolling your eyes and breathing through your nose, you still take your sip, bigger than you were planning, and think to yourself that your proximity to the bartender will surely prove itself to be useful.

"H-hey!" Narumi says with a coarse voice, a hiccup mixed in the small word somewhere, sounds like a sore throat, or just dry.

"Fancy seein' you 'ere." He tries again, words still a struggle for him to get out and you try to recall how many drinks he had to end up such a babbling mess already.

"Congrats on your discovery of shapeshift, captain." you say and turn ahead again, a finger grazing over the rim of your glass.

He doesn't seem to pick up on your words and gives you a confused gaze, head tilted to the side so much, he almost falls, a sudden arm shooting up to the table to balance himself, not noticing your vacant hand moving to his direction in case he fell as well.

You take your arm back before he can notice.

In thought, you grab your glass and down the rest of its content in one go, looking at the bartender to notice and making a gesture his way.

The taste of zesty orange still rich on your tongue, you lick your lips, thinking. For some reason, you always overthink when it comes to him.

You doubt the count is much since he doesn't look all too bad. And you are aware, even when these after-work hangouts were barely a thing, he still rarely went out- and his joining rate to them a zero already. From what you know of him, of his life before, it's unlikely he had experience with alcohol to begin with. When you put two and two together, it doesn't really come as a surprise to see him like this.

One part of you is still unsure if he's coming to these as out of some self crafted necessity- that he should be there as the captain if he's invited, or because he genuinely enjoys the company.

The lack of a portable game console or a phone implies the former, and the thought brings a smile to your lips.

Some rustling and movement from the peripheral of your eye and you can somewhat make out Narumi changing his posture, but heed him no mind.

In the midst of your running thoughts, someone comes to take your empty glass away and bring your order.

Two glasses of sparkly, bright orange, a dark and thin straw inside, and you sigh, Narumi's hands working faster than your own, pulling one before himself.

Happily taking a drag of the drink, only to grimace at the sudden taste of alcohol, he coughs a little and you lightly pat him on the back, "there, there" you offer in half concern, half out of habit.

Yellow lights dancing among the corners of the place, it gives the impression of a space hidden and old- nostalgic, in a way. But then again so does the decor, a get-away of sorts.

Typical stools and cushions one could run into pubs back in the day, the never ending sounds of a faint coffee machine working there, clanks of knives from the kitchen here– a haven that is lived and loved. A chance for normalcy, even just for few hours.

Here, you can pretend everything is the same. In the comfort of old posters and within the reflections dirty, rusty bathroom mirrors; you can pretend you are still just a regular person. No life altering events, no losses.

No grief and no prove of lost love to begin with. Here, now, you can pretend you're still young and have someone waiting for you to return home before the sky darkens. Right now, you can let your eyes roam the sticky floors for a cat that looks well too fed to be a stray, fur soft and glinting, a hint of michief in its eyes.

"So~ come here often?" the slurred voice speaks from your side again, earning a 'pfff' from you at the cheap pick-up line.

When you turn to face him, you don't expect to see Narumi half lying on the table. Head resting snug against his palm, a stupid smile on his face– boyish, is best you can muster to decribe.

Rosy cheeks and half dropped lids, and the smile of a young boy still innocent, lost and ready to take on the world if he must looking at you with glee– like you're the most interesting thing he has seen tonight, or in his entire life- the pub the entire world, and you at its center.

This new change to him catches you off-guard. You were ready for anything. Be it a drunken mess, an overly clingy tipsy mess, a little all over the place yet a ted steady despite sleep pouring out of his eyes like the last time.

Nothing, you think, could've possibly prepared you for pink eyes glowing under the dim lights with specs of gold trapped inside the orbs– a smile so genuine, so vulnerable dancing on his lips and his free hand playing with the hem of your sleeve. Dusty pink cheeks that match his eyes and the expression of a fool you fear you might never see in your life again, Narumi Gen stares into your eyes as if there's nothing else in this room right now.

You can feel your mouth open and close with nothing to come out- muscle memory carrying you until so far.

This is bad, your brain signals you, running at a speed too fast for you to catch on- a loss of words, no idea what to do and dreading the very possibility of just sitting frozen there in silence like a deer in headlights.

Seeing movement on your part however, Narumi tries leaning in closer, moving with his folded arm and head still rested against his palm, almost knocking his- now empty, glass off in the process.

The slight tilt of the glass and its clink against the table brings you back to your senses. Hands shooting up towards his direction- to the glass and nowhere else obviously, or so you try and reason, you stall for a second with your hands still in the air.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give him a gentle squeeze, gaze softening at his reaction– heat rushing to his face, the smile morphing into a small expression of surprise,

Your voice comes out in a soft whisper he is certain he never heard of before: "Come now big guy, let's get you home." you say it like this has always been an usual occurance– and for a blink of a second, he sees the outlines of a stranger he just met.

[citruslullabies]

Good afternoon!)

I apologize in advance for grammatical errors in this text, I am writing this through a translator. Thank you >3

Would you please like to write something in the spirit of DogDay x Reader? I have a couple of sketches of small sketches.

(For example, Y/N took a day off from work due to illness, or Y/N was preparing to work from home, but the dog interrupted her or something like that.)

Thank you very much!!🍓

Hello, coming right up!

Also, before I continue on to the writing. If you speak a different language, do not request through a translator! Go ahead and request in said language. It is my responsibility to translate it for you. I want everyone to be able to enjoy my content so please leave that for me to worry about!!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: unspecified

Requested by: anonymous 🍓

Category: sick fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x sick!reader

Word count: 303

Cuddle Time

Your allergies were awful, with red puffy eyes and a red nose. As well as being sniffly, the whole ordeal was awful. Luckily you had a big canine to comfort you.

You sneezed into another tissue as you gagged slightly at the erupting feeling in your throat, wincing and sighing as you hesitantly called into work sick. You didn't want to miss it but your allergies sure did. “Yeah, I'm sorry.. I can't come in today. Yeah I know, really last minute.” You said on the phone with your boss, your nose stuffy and your voice hoarse. Your boss eventually understood, knowing you couldn't control your allergies and gave you the day off.

Dogday was busy tidying up the living room for you, so you went ahead and got ready for bed again. You just wanted to sleep and hope the allergies went away. As soon as your eyes fluttered shut, they were immediately opened again when you felt your bed be weighed down by a bigger body. You whined and looked over at Dogday who just plopped down beside you and started snuggling into you with his arms around your waist and his head against your shoulder.

“Dogday..? What are you doing??” You asked with a sniffle and a groan, wanting time alone to rest and recoup your energy for work.

He just hummed and took a deep breath in, and an exasperated sigh out. “I want to make you feel better.” He said with a hum, warning a facepalm from you as your chest lifted up and down from breathing with annoyance.

“Then make me chicken noodle soup or something..” you grumbled, but knew that he couldn't. His hands were too big for the pots and the lattels. He didn't budge, and just held you close until you fell asleep.

Dogs.

Thanks for requesting!

[reikorun]

KlubOutside Q&A 201-300 [Translation]

Translated by @reikorun

Q201.

2021.09.20

I like Luppi. I was absolutely overjoyed when Luppi made an appearance as a playable character in Blade Battlers 2nd which was released on PS2. In this game, Luppi's arms transform into tentacles and he could extend them to attack. I was surprised because there was no such depiction in the original work. Did sensei also supervise the settings for attacks in this game?

A201. 

I can't recall so I probably didn't touch it. Luppi fighting with outstretched arms is so entertaining to me. I think that outlaw kind of feeling is one of the greatest qualities about games back then.

Q202.

2021.09.20

Of all the characters you have drawn, which one did sensei consider the most difficult to design?

A202. 

Shun Shun Rikka, or rather the image of Orihime's abilities is the one thing which changed the most without quite clicking together. Initially, the story was that Orihime herself would grow Horns and sprout a tail, becoming sort of like a dragon girl.

Q203.

2021.09.20

Sensei, is there any character that you have drawn who makes you think "this guy is insufferable"? 

A203.

There isn't. I draw while thinking “this is so scummy, that's the best thing about it.”

Q204.

2021.09.20

Does Kubo-sensei have any fetish? When I look at sensei's drawings, I can't help but speculate that you like slender wrists and long fingers, regardless of gender. 

A204.

I don't have any particular fetish. I think it's because I draw illustrations using my own hands as reference.

Q205.

2021.09.20

Regarding Ichimaru Gin's eye color, I believe it was red around the early days of the anime, and then changed to blue in the latter half. What does Kubo-sensei think of his red eyes around this early stage? Also, as far as Kubo-sensei's canon is concerned, is it safe to assume Ichimaru Gin's eye color is blue? 

A205.

In the early days, the checks were not being handed down to me so they ended up being red. For the record, the anime related mistakes were errors made by my editor at the time who didn't bring the checks to me. Because of this, I drew Gin with his eyes open on the cover of volume 20.

Q206.

2021.09.20

Rukia's visuals in the live-action adaptation has become quite a hot topic of conversation, but was the matter reviewed by Kubo-sensei?

A206.

I had made it clear from the beginning that I would not be involved with the live-action project, so basically the whole thing was given the okay. Even regarding Rukia's hair, there was a conversation where they said "we'd like to go ahead with this" so I assumed there was a clear vision but it turns out there wasn't. I don't dislike the movie itself. Renji was extremely good.

Q207.

2021.09.27

Kubo-sensei, to what extent do you supervise merchandise and so on? I'm very happy that a lot of BLEACH merch has been released recently.

A207.

I feel like I'm supervising the things my editor can't make a judgment call on. Speaking of editors, they try their best to avoid handing over supervision duties to authors so that they can allow authors to concentrate on their creations, but after the series had ended, I had some free time so my editor has started bringing me more supervision duties than before.

Q208.

2021.09.27

If it were to come true, would you ever wish for a BLEACH anime adaptation, which faithfully follows the original work, to be broadcast by way of a remake?

A208.

I think I would.

Q209.

2021.09.27

It seems that the 2021 art exhibition will only be held at one location in Tokyo, but would it be possible for you to consider holding it at a variety of other locations? I'm really looking forward to it, but I'm sure there are many people across the country who live a considerable distance away and can't make it. It's a wonderful opportunity, so I think it will be easier to visit if it is hosted in various locations. I think it's a really difficult task, but I would be grateful if you could consider it just once.

A209.

I also want to show the exhibit to my parents, so I hope it will be held in Hiroshima.

Q210.

2021.09.27

Even though Byakuya and Ichika-chan never interact in the original work, I can easily imagine Byakuya being an uncle. I wonder why that is?

A210.

I can imagine it too. Byakuya's face whenever he tells her "kamawanu*"…. (*It's fine/I don't mind)

Q211.

2021.09.27

In volume 58, chapter 518, when Grimmjow was trying to interrupt Urahara and Ichigo's communication, Urahara instructed Orihime and Sado to "use the you-know-what to chase him back outside the tent", but what exactly was the "you-know-what"? What in the world is it, that it can throw Grimmjow off balance to such a degree…? I've been wondering about this for a long time.

A211.

It's a device which emits a sound that Grimmjow dislikes.

Q212.

2021.09.27

Is Ninny-chan easier to draw than Noel-chan?? I was curious because there are more illustrations drawn of Ninny-chan!

A212.

This is because the clothes I want to draw tend to suit Ninny better. If you have big breasts, it's probably difficult to find clothes that suit you.

Q213.

2021.10.04

Ginrei is Byakuya's grandfather, but Kyōraku did not mention his name as a Shinigami who has been Captain for 100 years or more, so perhaps his career as a Captain was rather short?

A213.

I forgot to mention him! Let's just pretend it was Shunsui's blunder.

Q214.

2021.10.04

Do you find that characters of a certain age group are easy to draw, and conversely,  characters of a different age group difficult to draw? 

A214. 

I'm not very good at drawing children or toddlers.

Q215.

2021.10.04

I have been curious about Tsubokura Rin-kun of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute. Rin-kun's hair wasn't filled in when he was in monochrome, I thought for certain he had pale blonde or white hair. However, in the anime his hair was dark brown … so as far as you are concerned sensei, what colors did you imagine when designing him? 

A215.

Was that the color it turned out to be? The image I had in mind is a pale sepia-like color.

Q216.

2021.10.04

Isn't it too bothersome to draw Grimmjow's hairstyle??

A216.

It's too bothersome isn't it? I wonder if you could give him a stiff pompadour instead?

Q217.

2021.10.04

Do you remember the first game you ever played?

A217.

It's "GeGeGe no Kitarō - Yōkai Daimakyō" which was purchased for me together with the Famicom unit itself.

Q218.

2021.10.04

Do you get asked to draw portraits by acquaintances?

A218.

I have always refused all portrait requests from both friends and celebrities.

Q219.

2021.10.11

What is Kensei's specialty dish? 

A219.

It's "Whole Pumpkin Gratin". The highlight for him is the part where he gets to use his bare hands.

Q220.

2021.10.11

When I saw the Playlist on KlubOutside, I was surprised at the wide scope of Sensei's music choices. How do you discover new music?

A220.

SoundHound is my recommendation.

Q221.

2021.10.11

Is the bellyband worn by the Shinigami Men's Association the same as the one worn by Kirinji Tenjirō?

A221.

It's different. The bellyband Tenjirō wears was made by Senjumaru.

Q222.

2021.10.11

Now that I think of it, what does "Whiskrs" mean? I looked into it, and although there are some existing terms, I couldn't find anything in particular with regard to its meaning. I don't know whether sensei came up with the name or not, but perhaps it envelopes some special meaning? 

A222.

It's a modified spelling of the word "whiskers". I came up with the name, or to be more specific, it's originally the name of a store that exists within the BTW universe. Though, this still has yet to make an appearance in the story.

Q223.

2021.10.11

When you go out, have you ever had a fan recognize you as Kubo-sensei and then attempt to speak with you?

A223.

A long time ago, another author wound up uploading a photo of a drinking party I was with to Twitter in the middle of the get-together, the restaurant was identified from the photograph and I was ambushed. It was late at night and I was on my way home alone, so it was really scary. That was probably the one and only time I was approached on the street.

Q224.

2021.10.11

Sensei, have you ever felt negatively about your own work in the past? I am currently creating works with the goal of becoming a designer, but unfortunately I feel embarrassed to display even the things I have created very recently in front of others. How do you overcome this from your perspective, sensei?

A224.

When I first became a manga artist, I felt embarrassed when my editor read my draft right in front of me. If you are creating something that personally satisfies you, you're just not accustomed to showing it to the average person, so you have no choice but to show it to a bunch of people and get used to it. 

Q225.

2021.10.11

Have you ever had a character Awakened in Brave Souls? If so, I would like to know which character it is.

A225.

It's Fierce Battle Aizen. Though, it's more like I just ended up Awakening him when I was targeting others.

Q226.

2021.10.18

In the work, it was never once stated from a  reliable source that Tōshirō's Bankai comes undone once his petals dissipate, but what actually happened when his petals fell away during the period he had an imperfect Bankai? 

A226.

Hitsugaya would injure himself after going through an imperfect growth.

Q227.

2021.10.18

When Rangiku had collapsed, Gin said "the fact that you passed out from hunger, it means that you have it too, right? Spiritual Power." and in Volume 11, there is a description from the exchange between Rukia and Renji that those with Spiritual Power feel hungry. But why didn't Hitsugaya realize he had powers until he dreamed of Hyōrinmaru?

A227.

Because his grandmother taught him that "only children get hungry.”

Q228.

2021.10.18

Why did Orihime's Rikka grow larger when Chad and Orihime returned from training in the final arc? I was curious because no one touched on the matter.

A228.

That's because Kisuke modified it to match her clothes (a cover was installed on the outside of the pins to make them difficult to break), but nobody said anything because they didn't think it was particularly worth mentioning.

Q229.

2021.10.18

When I was looking at "Hirako glasses" which was updated on the Gallery's Graffiti section, I became curious, what is that thing Hirako Shinji is holding in his mouth? Considering the hot drink in his left hand, maybe it's a cinnamon stick or something?

A229.

It's a cigarillo that he's holding in his mouth purely for fashion. I looked into it when I drew it but I couldn't find anything that matched the size I imagined.

Q230.

2021.10.25

Good evening! The work titled "maturity" in the gallery that was released on April 3, 2021, could that be Mayuri-sama?

A230.

It's Mayuri. When I tried to type the title "mayuri", I accidentally tapped on the wrong suggestion and entered that instead, I left it as it is because it's a pain to change it.

Q231.

2021.10.25

Did Ikkaku make the strap that Ichika has attached to her bag in JET?

A231.

That's right.

Q232.

2021.10.25

In BLEACH, how much influence did the ranking results of popularity polls have on a character's level of activity?

A232.

It's irrelevant. I'm the type who thinks "isn't that kind of thing discourteous to characters with few votes?"

Q233.

2021.10.25

Regarding the art exhibition, is it possible to increase the number of venues? I would absolutely love to participate, but due to the current situation, it is quite difficult to travel to Tokyo. Nevertheless, there are many fans of sensei and his work around the world. Although this is a very presumptuous request, I would be extremely grateful if you could consider it. Best regards.

A233.

I'll let my editor know! Murakoshi-saaan!!

Q234.

2021.10.25

Sensei, given that you play a lot of Dragon Quest, I was curious, is "Zaraki" - the district of Rukongai which Zaraki Kenpachi took as his name - based on the spell "Thwack" (*Zaraki in Japanese).

A234.

That's correct. Hold on, have I never mentioned this before?

Q235.

2021.11.01

Is there any reason why Kyōraku-san couldn't grace the cover of a tankōbon? I wanted him to have a cover.

A235.

It's just a coincidence. I wanted to draw it too.

Q236.

2021.11.01

Are Renji's tattoos only on the upper half of his body? Do they not continue down to his thighs?

A236.

They don't continue down. Wait? Have I never drawn his thighs before?

Q237.

2021.11.01

Is the double chant that Rukia recited during the fight against Aaroniero, simply the Sōren Sōkatsui chant split in two, with the Rikujōkōrō chant sandwiched in-between? Or does the substance of the chant change slightly depending on whether each is invoked independently or as a double chant?

A237.

It's a shortened version of Rikujōkōrō inserted between the full version of Sōren Sōkatsui. The effectiveness of the spells will increase if you perform both chants in full, but the time efficiency will decrease, so that would diminish the purpose of a two layered chant.

Q238.

2021.11.01

When a Zanpakutō is inherited from another person like in the case of Tōsen and Kenpachi, will the essence of its soul be overwritten? Or will it be made to mix with the essence of the previous owner?

A238.

Generally it is overwritten, but in some cases it may mix.

Q239.

2021.11.08

Were there any foreshadowing elements that made you go "ultimately, nobody noticed, huh?" up to the end of the BLEACH serialization? If so, is it likely there will be an opportunity to present it somewhere?

A239.

After I've finished playing a game or watching a movie, I like spending time alone thinking about what happened here and there or discussing with others about this and that. I want to create moments like that, so there are some parts where I try to depict things in a way that is not easily noticed, that's why unless someone correctly points it out, I try not to say much. 

Q240.

2021.11.08

Why didn't Ryūken give Uryū the "ken" (弦) character in his name? ×[1]

A240.

Because he was thinking that he didn't want to let Uryū become Quincy.

Q241.

2021.11.08

How far have you progressed in Monster Hunter? If there is a monster that you like among the monsters that appear in this title, please tell me about it!

A241.

I haven't played in a while. In this title I like Goss Harag.

Q242.

2021.11.08

Can I post the photos from the gallery on social media??!?!?

A242.

I guess it's not allowed, going by the FC rules. You can post my dog from Deskside at least.

Q243.

2021.11.15

Have you ever had to change a scene you originally wanted in order to make the depiction more in line with Jump guidelines? If so, which scene is it and how did you truly want to draw it? 

A243.

During the time Jump had a large circulation, extremely graphic depictions were not allowed, so I had to redraw some of the places where Mayuri appears. The first thing I fixed was the scene where his squad members die in an explosion.

Q244.

2021.11.15

There are characters for whom the theme music feels perfect, and on the other hand, others for whom the theme music is unexpected. By listening to each character's song, I feel like I am able to learn more about a character's inner being, it's so much fun! When deciding on a song, which does sensei place more importance on: the lyrics, or the melody?

A244.

It's only about the melody, sound and vocal quality. If it's the case that the lyrics also match, it's just a coincidence.

Q245.

2021.11.15

The market for e-books has grown larger, but when it comes to electronic and physical copy, people often say things like "you should buy the physical book!" What do you think? 

A245.

Either one is fine. Even I read most of my manga electronically now. I like making paper books but I think physical paper copies will become more of a collector's item in the near future.

Q246.

2021.11.15

Kubo-sensei draws many animals, but are there any that you particularly enjoy drawing?

A246.

Right now it's dogs. Since owning a dog, I've started to grow fond of animals, so I feel like I may reach a point where I'm able to draw animals a little better now. 

Q247.

2021.11.15

If there was an entrance song for Chad's boxing match, I wonder what kind of music it would be? If you have a song in mind that you can imagine for this scenario, please share the artist's name and song title with us.

A247.

It would be "Apache" by Michael Viner's Incredible Bongo Band.

Q248.

2021.11.22

An illustration of Tatsuki wearing a Shihakushō exists, did you originally plan to have her transform into a Shinigami? 

A248.

The one I drew for Jump Festa a long time ago, right? That's just an illustration I drew for Jump Festa that one time.

Q249.

2021.11.22

It seems like Rukia often wears dresses in the Human World, is there some reason why? If you have any particular preferences regarding the clothing choices of the BLEACH cast, please by all means, tell us about it!

A249.

I'll give you three example reasons for why they wear what they wear:

Orihime's body type makes it difficult for her to wear a dress.

I wanted to make a physically active Rukia stand out by making her wear clothes that are ill suited for physical activity.

Rukia was wearing hakama in Soul Society, so she's not familiar with fitted clothes.

Q250.

2021.11.22

You may not remember this … but during an autograph signing session, I was the one who announced "I'm getting married to my boyfriend who I initially became friends with through BLEACH!" We broke up at lightning speed after that! (Peace sign.) But sometimes we hang out and are on good terms as friends. Now my question is, what is sensei's favorite color?

A250.

My condolences. It's orange.

Q251.

2021.11.22

In the JET Q&A segment, you replied that the Vice-Captains of the 13th Division ten years later would be Sentarō and Kiyone, but I believe Kiyone was also the Vice-Captain of the 4th Division, so does that mean that they are concurrently serving as Vice-Captains?

A251.

That would be a mistake. Sentarō is the only Vice-Captain of the 13th.

Q252.

2021.11.29

Please tell us how Unagiya Ikumi-san and Ichigo met in the first place.

A252.

Their meeting came about when Ichigo delivered Kaoru, a lost child (and Ikumi's son) back to his mother. (Ikumi encountered them en route.)  

Q253.

2021.11.29

Ichigo remembers the time Orihime carried her older brother Sora to the Kurosaki Clinic, but does Orihime remember meeting Ichigo at this time? When Ichigo entered high school, he noticed that Orihime was the girl from back then, does Orihime realize that it was Ichigo who greeted her at that moment?

A253.

Ichigo is the only one who remembers. Ichigo remembers that scene clearly because he felt a strong sense of one-way sympathy for Orihime, who was on the verge of losing her family.

Q254.

2021.11.29

Sensei, what's the one thing that makes you think "I'm second to none when it comes to this!"?

A254.

My Mickey Mouse impression.

Q255.

2021.11.29

I got the impression that Aizen-sama was often drinking black tea at Las Noches, but I wonder if likewise he drank Japanese tea during the time he was in Soul Society in the role of a Shinigami? Or is it that Western style food and drink like black tea also exist in Soul Society, and he has been a black tea enthusiast since long ago?

A255.

I drew that because I wanted a scene where Aizen eats the same thing as the Espada, but when it came to eating, there were some characters (like Ulquiorra) who I didn't want to depict in a dining scene (at that point), so I merely chose black tea as a compromise, therefore it's not that I was paying any particular attention to tea itself. 

Q256.

2021.12.06

Is it possible for a member of the Gotei 13 to transfer to another Squad at their own behest? Recruitment of Captains or Vice-Captains from other Squads has been portrayed, but what is the situation like for ordinary soldiers?

A256.

It is possible if they make an application and obtain permission through their superior officer all the way up to the Captain. However, If they don't have any accomplishments their superior will reject it so it's difficult for an ordinary soldier.

Q257.

2021.12.06

Do you have a favorite coffee shop?

A257.

The place I frequent the most is Hoshino Coffee. I want to go to Komeda but I haven't had the chance to go yet.

Q258.

2021.12.06

What kind of life did Ikkaku-san and Shino-chan lead in Rukongai? I'm not sure if they're related by blood or not, but are they still family?

A258.

They're ordinary relatives. The Madarame family are a distinguished family and Ikkaku is treated like an oddball.

Q259.

2021.12.06

What do you order when you use services like Uber Eats for delivery?

A259.

The thing I order the most is Starbucks' White Mocha. By the way, I don't use Uber because I had a scary experience in the past.

Q260.

2021.12.06

I would like a YouTube channel or something to be created for Uni-chan. 

A260.

If I could get someone to do the editing for me, then I would like to make one to document my dog's growth, but I don't think I would update it often….

Q261.

2021.12.13

If you were to spend a day with any character from "BLEACH" or "BURN THE WITCH", who would you like to be with?

A261.

I seriously thought about it, but maybe being with Balgo would be the easiest….

Q262.

2021.12.13

Speaking in terms of BLEACH characters, who would you compare the breast sizes of Noel-chan and Cquntnire-san to? 

A262.

It's more or less that I'm drawing Noel like Orihime and Cquntnire like Nel.

Q263.

2021.12.13

What is Kubo-sensei's favorite rock or metal band?

A263.

I haven't been listening to much metal lately…during my high school days, I liked ROYAL HUNT and IN FLAMES.

Q264.

2021.12.13

This is closer to a request than a question, but I would like for you to issue and sell, the currently trending, NFTs with BLEACH illustrations! If that were to happen, I would definitely buy them!

A264.

I'll let my editor know about this also. Murakoshi-saaan!

Q265.

2021.12.13

What is your favorite ice cream?

A265.

Lately, I've been liking HERSHEY'S Chocolate Ice Bars. It's also nice that each bar is small and just the right size.

Q266.

2021.12.20

I have a question regarding BTW Magic. In chapter 0.8 which is a one-shot, Noel-chan uses Absolute Dragon Shatter in Front London, but in chapter 1, numbered Pipers spells known as "Magic" made an appearance. As a premise, I believe that Magic and Absolute Dragon Shatter are alike (as they both use Witch Kits), I suspect that the reason why Noel-chan adopted this unnumbered attack method in Front London may be due to one of the following two points:

1. Magic is an attack method that utilizes the medium of Witch Kits to feed on a special energy similar to Reishi which exists only in Reverse London, on the other hand, Absolute Dragon Shatter is an attack method made for Front London, which does not require this special Reishi. 

2. Given that it was an attack against a Disguiser Dragon who had remained hidden for ten odd years, Absolute Dragon Shatter was used as an arcane means and is considered the highest order of Magic or even a method surpassing Magic itself.

I'm really interested about the relationship between Magic and Absolute Dragon Shatter, will it be revealed within the story in the future!?

A266.

How insightful, I'm not sure whether or not I'll get to write about it in the future so I'll explain. In Front London, you can basically only use spells through items that are "charged" with magical power. The gun-pipe is not a rechargeable item, but Noel habitually fills it with magical power of her own accord, the release of that power is Absolute Dragon Shatter. Only Noel is able to use it. 

Q267.

2021.12.20

The person Ichigo respects is Shakespeare. Given this fact, does it follow that this is a universe where eminent figures like Mozart and Napoleon existed?

A267.

Eminent figures certainly exist within the Soul Society too, but if I were to touch upon that, the manga would end up in a completely different place, so I didn't bring it up.

Q268.

2021.12.20

Do Szayelaporro's glasses have lenses? Since it's a mask, there should be no lenses so I assumed it was the frame alone. However in the anime, there were depictions of lenses reflecting the light and gleaming so I was confused! 

A268.

There is no lens.

Q269.

2021.12.20

Were all the designs of the Zanpakutō which materialized in the Zanpakutō: The Alternate Tale arc, created by you, sensei?

A269.

I came up with some ideas and had an image in mind, Kudō-san designed them, I checked them. They pass for various reasons like being "just as I imagined!" or being "interesting because I wouldn't have come up with this design myself!"

Q270.

2021.12.27

Do you have a favorite character from Dragon Quest numbered titles or spin-off works?

A270.

It's King Grossner (Dragon Quest 10).

Q271.

2021.12.27

I heard that you like figure skating, Kubo-sensei, but do you have a favorite athlete?

A271.

It's Candeloro.

Q272.

2021.12.27

It is mentioned in the novel "WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU", that when Shiba Kaien died in battle, Isshin was the Captain of Squad 10. Why didn't Rukia, who was already serving as a member of the Gotei 13 at the time, realize that Ichigo's father was Shiba Isshin when she was freeloading off of the Kurosaki family? 

A272.

There are two reasons for this: for one, his outward appearance was completely different. Secondly, he was a Captain from another Squad and she was a regular soldier, so they didn't have much point of contact in the first place. To go further, given that there is no way for a Shinigami to have children with a human (only Kisuke knows how), the idea that a "Shinigami may become human and produce children in the Human World" did not occur to Rukia.

Q273.

2022.01.03

I like the accessories (hats, sunglasses, etc.) and clothes that the characters are wearing in KlubOutside's Graffiti, they are exceedingly stylish. Is it possible to put them up for sale? 

A273.

I will let the FC manager know about this. Totani-saaan!

Q274.

2022.01.03

Sensei, do you have any plans to publish, for instance, the yonkoma you drew for the magazine into a single book someday?

A274. 

It might have been published in JET.

Q275.

2022.01.03

When you were writing BTW, who came to your mind first between Ninny and Noel?

A275.

Out of all the characters in BTW, Noel was the first.

Q276.

2022.01.03

When Rukia entered her name into the family register, it's assumed that she did not change her last name, but now that she has become a Captain, it means there will be two Captain Kuchiki, so how do the other troops distinguish between the two when addressing them? Is it possible that she will revert to the Abarai surname?

A276.

Many of the troops differentiate between them by calling them Captain Kuchiki and 13th Captain Kuchiki. 

Q277.

2022.01.10

Did Zangetsu eventually return to being a single blade? The "Ten Years Later" version of Ichigo was implemented in the social game - Brave Souls, and he wielded the "Zangetsu which emerged from a broken Tensa Zangetsu" as seen in the final stages of the Thousand-Year Blood War arc. Zangetsu which was reforged into two swords for Hollow and Quincy, became one as Tensa Zangetsu in Bankai, so I thought for sure it would return to two swords once the Bankai is disengaged.

However, does this mean that Zangetsu did not return to two swords due to the fact that after activating Bankai, Ichigo's Hollow and Quincy powers were absorbed by Yhwach, and that his Bankai was damaged among other factors? Or is it that it's possible for Ichigo to wield both the dual swords and the single sword if he so desires?

It may just be game original staging to begin with, but I was intrigued.

A277. 

Since I haven't described this in detail nor do I plan to portray the matter any further, I'll give you an answer. The two blades of Zangetsu are the "sword" and the "sheath". The correct form of a Zanpakutō is one that has a sheath, and there are only two swords without one: Sayafushi and Zangetsu. What fixed Zangetsu into its "correct form" is the dual swords state, and in Bankai Zangetsu is placed back in its sheath, what emerged after that sheath was shattered is the "True Zangetsu". The shattered sheath was absorbed by Ichigo, so I think he is also able to return to dual blades if he wants to, but I suppose that depends on Ichigo himself.

Q278.

2022.01.17

I've always wondered about this since reading volume 12, but was there a physical relationship between Aizen and Hinamori? I think it's more fitting for Aizen to not engage in this sort of thing, so I'm on the side that says it didn't happen.

A278.

I won't answer this because I think it'll be more fun to leave it unanswered.

Q279.

2022.01.17

Is Hōzukimaru a rare type of Zanpakutō which always requires the sheath for its Shikai.

A279.

That's right.

Q280.

2022.01.17

Kubo-sensei, when it comes to TVs, are you in favor of wall-mounted? Or do you prefer freestanding?

A280.

Mine is attached to a wall storage unit with an extendable arm.

Q281.

2022.01.24

Upon being granted a letter, does the Schrift allow abilities to manifest based on the nature of an individual? Or does His Majesty already know what they are before granting it at the epithet stage. 

A281.

Yhwach can see words almost as if they were engraved on the individual's body. Those who are bestowed Schrifts, which were previously lost through death in battle and so on, are discovered from the words engraved on them and then given power.

Q282.

2022.01.24

Do Yōkai and Yōsei exist in the world of BLEACH?

A282.

It would be more fun if they did.

Q283.

2022.01.24

A color version of the BLEACH e-books exist, but does Kubo-sensei decide on the color scheme and such?

A283.

There are parts that I check and parts that I don't (I only check what my editor asks me to check), but even the parts that I do were decided upon rapidly in the intervals between my work schedule during serialization, so when I look at them afterwards, I often come to think "was this the kind of color I chose??”

Q284.

2022.01.31

Sensei, if you had the opportunity to be involved in a project in the future, what sort of creative work would you like to be involved in? (Live-action film, animated movies, manga, dramas, YouTube, etc.)

A284.

If I could get involved with the story aspect, then it would probably be a game.

Q285.

2022.01.31

If you could actually sell any kind of merchandise at the fan club shop, what kind of items would you want to sell?

A285.

Bracelets with the text from the opening poems.

Q286.

2022.01.31

Is the reason why Uryū was not affected by Auswählen connected to Uryū's grandfather?

A286.

There's a bit of a complicated setup regarding this, but it might appear in the anime adaptation of the Thousand-Year Blood War arc. (Depending on the composition.)

Q287.

2022.02.07

It has already been decided that the Thousand-Year Blood War arc is getting an anime adaptation, but will there also be an anime adaptation of the side story novels? I'd especially like to see "WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU" in the anime which depicts Rukia and Renji's marriage and the progress of Ichigo and Orihime's relationship.

A287.

Ah, I see. If there is enough room, then it may be possible.

Q288.

2022.02.07

Is it not true that Gigi is a girl? It kind of seems like Yumichika only said otherwise to provoke her.

A288.

Giselle is a man.

Q289.

2022.02.07

Who was the one to slash Rukia from behind during the first invasion by the Sternritter?

A289.

The plan is to depict this in the anime version.

Q290.

2022.02.14

Is the giant spoon used by Hikifune Kirio of Squad Zero actually her Zanpakutō?

A290.

That's correct.

Q291.

2022.02.14

During the performance of the ROCK MUSICAL BLEACH, Kubo-sensei personally talked to Tsuchiya-san, who played the role of Gin, about Gin's true intentions and purpose, as he was having a difficult time interpreting the character, and Gin's true intentions had not yet been revealed within the story at the time. I remember there was an episode which went something like that, but in so doing, did you also discuss everything which occurred with regard to Rangiku and Aizen? Also, did you not have any reluctance to divulge information which has not yet been revealed in the story?

A291.

I feel that we talked about things like how Gin viewed each character rather than the story itself. If it is necessary for the performance, then there is a possibility that I may also convey undisclosed information to the voice actors so it's not limited to this particular occasion.

Q292.

2022.02.14

Is the "table with English language BLEACH quotes suspended inside its transparent legs" which you wrote about in the cover flap comment of Volume 44, still being used? I would love to see photos of sensei's favorite furniture and more!

A292.

I use it when I'm composing my drafts at home. The tabletop is in disarray, so I hope a photo of the legs will do.

Q293.

2022.02.21

With regard to the role of a Shinigami, it involves cleansing Hollows of their sins by way of a Zanpakutō and sending them to Soul Society in peace, but was this role simply to extinguish Hollows until Nimaiya Ōetsu showed up?

A293.

It was only after the creation of the Gotei 13 that the role of a Shinigami was properly defined.

Q294.

2022.02.21

At what age did Chad get his tattoo? Was it when he moved to Mexico? Or did he get it inked in his own hometown in Okinawa? I would be grateful if you could tell us.

A294.

He got his tattoo in Mexico when he was 9 years old.

Q295.

2022.02.21

I heard that the Lost Agent of the Shinigami arc concluded earlier than planned, is that true? If so, I'd like you to tell us about the story you were actually planning to write.

A295.

You mean the rumor that I was planning to compose an episode for all the classmates but I got bored and decided against it? If so, then it's true. I feel like I mentioned that in a character book or something.

Q296.

2022.02.21

Have you ever wanted to draw Oiroke manga? (*Manga with light erotic content.)

A296.

I'm not confident that I'd be able to draw it well.

Q297.

2022.02.28

In the BLEACH PS2 game "Bleach: Erabareshi Tamashii", techniques such as "Hadō #20: Shōtenkyū" and "Hadō #26: Gōensai" made an appearance, but were these Kidō Kubo-sensei's ideas or the creations of the game staff? If it's the former, I'd also like to know how to write it in kanji!

A297.

I had no involvement with that so they're the creations of the game staff.

Q298.

2022.02.28

I really love the relationship between Ichigo and the store manager, Unagiya Ikumi, and you can sense in the air how Ichigo suddenly turns back into a child. Please tell us if there was anything you paid extra attention to when creating Ikumi-san.

A298.

Ikumi is a character that was born because I wanted to create a place for Ichigo where he could be himself outside the Kurosaki home due to a plot development, that is, the sudden loss of a place where he belongs in the Lost Agent arc.

Q299.

2022.02.28

In "BURN THE WITCH", it seems that each division is armed with a different type of weapon, but in the event that they change affiliations, like how Bruno encouraged the witches to do in the story, do they undergo training with new weapons?

A299.

They train with new weapons. It is also among the Director's faculties to ascertain an individual's suitability for a weapon and then offer an invitation to them.

Q300.

2022.03.07

Is the thing under Hisagi's left eye, tape? A tattoo perhaps?

A300.

It's a tattoo.

Translation Footnotes:

×1. 弦 means bowstring and is in both the names of Sōken (宗弦) and Ryūken (竜弦).

[elysiansparadise]

hello ~ I am not sure if you did this one yet, but I will ask you just in case: what are your thoughts on Mercury in the 6th House? I’d deeply appreciate your perspective on this. 🌟

I’d like for you to know how often I look forward to reading your posts, for they are incredibly insightful and neatly noted. I’m certain many would agree with these sentiments. please do keep up the amazing work! I hope your New Year will bring you a series of wonderfully memorable events ~ !

Hello love! Thank you so much for the support and taking the time to write that note down, it makes me very happy. 🤭💗

Mercury in the 6th house

We find one of the best positions for Mercury, since being in this house, it favors the native with a surprising intellect and eye for detail. They don't miss anything, they have an analytical, active mind, even restless at times. They enjoy a good mental challenge and always seem willing to learn from those things that spark their curiosity. These natives are usually excellent at planning, managing details and solving problems. Likewise, they can fall into the multi-talented archetype, since they can develop many different skills throughout their life, due to their need to stay busy and know how to do things on their own. They may have particular talent for design, writing, any type of communication, drawing and other activities where precision is necessary. They have an aptitude for learning new skills, including those that are job-related. These natives are willing to acquire new knowledge and continually improve their abilities of all kinds, and can be very perfectionist and demanding of themselves. They are very good people at planning, and very rarely go unnoticed, because they seem to be one step ahead... or simply because of their observation skills they can accurately predict the actions of others or the outcome of things.

They have the ability to handle multiple tasks at once and often put themselves under a lot of stress by wanting to do too much at the same time. Although it is worth mentioning that natives with this placement are usually efficient and capable of managing several responsibilities simultaneously. There is a tendency to be meticulous and careful in their work. People with this position seek precision and avoid mistakes. They stand out for being people who tend to approach problems rationally and look for practical solutions, they dislike unnecessary drama and to beat around the bush. They are prone to nervous system conditions, anxiety, having problems sleeping, and/or dealing with a lot of stress throughout their lives. I have seen both cases, from being either very careful with the issue of health or forgetting to take care of yourself due to your multiple responsibilities. They may feel great interest in topics of self-improvement, personal care, health, animals, environmental preservation, exercise, and both physical and mental health.

They can stand out a lot in the school and work environment, especially in the latter, as they can be workers with excellent ethics and who constantly look for workshops or other ways to work and perfect their skills. They may work in a place with a lot of gossip. If Mercury is well aspected, it is very likely that you will have a cordial relationship with your co-workers, while if it makes tense aspects to Pluto, Neptune or Mars, aggressive communication or rivalry is likely to be common. Even if they know how to work in a team, they usually prefer to do it on their own, as bad experiences with teamwork can be common, making them feel that only by working on their own they reduce the margin of error and ensure that they will not be rushed in the deadline. It is worth mentioning that although they know how to work well under pressure, they would prefer not to do so in the first place. They are objective people who listen carefully and investigate before speaking, they hate jumping to conclusions and prefer to give their opinion once they know everything about a certain situation. Their advice is very useful and, although they only pretend to be practical or state the obvious, they end up saying just what the other person needs to put their feet on the ground or better understand a certain situation.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[manamania]

Untouched: Part One

Pastor Lemuel Childs x OC

Synopsis: Pastor Childs has been lost this past year after what his family and the parish went through. But when a young woman comes into town, aimless and without guidance, the Pastor takes it upon himself to be her shepherd, and lead her out of the darkness... And into his arms.

Warnings: older man x young woman, religious exploitation (kinda), religious trauma, eventual smut, angst, OC is a virgin, Pastor Childs is not a great person but he sure is hot as hell, I apologize for any spelling errors

@justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @hiddlebatchedloki

Word count: 6.2K

315 miles between here and there. 1,663 feet between the home Virginia knew, in the town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and the old house in West Virginia, where her uncle used to live. If dwelling like a hermit is considered living at all, she mused.

By the 302nd mile, her rusty old truck, another inheritance by her father, had ceased to run, sputtering and spitting as it slowed to a stop on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. Virginia hadn’t been reckless, she had paid attention to the meter and was heading towards the nearest station when the tank was near-empty. She knew better than to overestimate the distance an empty tank could take her. 

“Crud.” She muttered, hopping out the side of her car and slamming the door shut. She had a spare gallon in the back, but when she picked up the red jug only to find it empty, she cursed and threw it back into the truck’s bed. 

Her phone was well-charged, though the lack of service made the attempt of contacting any help impossible. And so, Virginia knew she was stranded. Stranded somewhere in the woods of West Virginia, on the side of the road with the sun going down faster and faster. Damn autumn, why did the daylight have to go so quickly these days?

She would have to wait out her isolation inside her truck and flag down the nearest car. Virginia must’ve seen something like this in a horror movie before, a young woman stuck in the woods, at the mercy of the nearest stranger or strangers. It was getting colder by the minute, and after half an hour, she was shivering. 

“I’m gonna die in West Virginia… Great.” She shuddered. 

The house her uncle left to her ought to be a damn mansion if merely getting there cost her life. It should have impressive architecture, fountains, a zoo of lions, tigers, and bears. The toilets should be made of gold and the food imported from all over the world. The harder she shivered, the more Virginia cursed her uncle’s house.

Then, there they were. A pair of twin headlights floating between the trees far off in the dark. Perking up, Virginia sighed in relief and hopped right back out, waving her arm at the oncoming vehicle. It was another truck, rusty and old like her’s. Perhaps even the same year.

“Thank goodness!” Virginia said, pulling closer at her pathetic excuse of a coat. 

The truck pulled over to the side, just a few yards ahead of Virginia’s. The driver parked it but didn’t shut the engine off. Soon, a figure exited the driver’s side and shut the door before slowly walking over to her. 

“Are you alright, ‘mam?” 

She couldn’t see him at first, but the voice suggested her hero was male. He was relatively tall, looked like he was dressed warm, and had a thick Appalachian accent. Must’ve been a local.

“Uh, yeah, but my truck’s outta gas. I was heading to the nearest station when it crapped out on me.” Virginia said, standing close by the driver’s door. “If it isn’t any trouble, would you be able to take me to the gas station? Or maybe to-”

“No trouble at all, miss.” The man said, waving his hand. “I can drive you to Slaughter’s, she’ll assist yah.”

Slaughter’s? Virginia paused. What kind of a name was that? Perhaps she was inside of a horror movie. 

“Thank you, sir.” She said, forcing a smile. “Let me get some things.”

“Take yer time.”

Virginia grabbed her satchel from the passenger seat, The one possession that contained all forms of ID and basic needs, such as her phone, a couple of spare pads, her wallet, and a tiny booklet of sermons, a gift from her father. 

She followed the stranger back to his truck and climbed into the passenger side, shutting the door carefully while he slid into the driver seat. Getting a better look at him, the man was rather handsome looking. He had a proud forehead, dark hair that grew only just past his ears, combed back over his head neatly with slivers of gray here and there. His cheekbones were defined, lips soft-looking and sun-kissed skin aged with lines. He must’ve been in his late forties or early fifties. 

“Thank you so much, sir.” Virginia said as he put the car in drive, slowly merging back onto the dark road. “I was afraid I would’ve had to wait all night for someone to come along.”

“You’re lucky it was I who came along, miss. These woods aren’t exactly kind to standed women.” He said. While it was a warning, his soft-spoken voice suggested he didn’t mean to scare Virginia, merely inform her. “The name’s Lemuel, by the way. Lemuel Childs.”

Virginia repeated that name in her mind. Where had she heard that name before? Surely they had never met before. And yet, Lemuel Childs plucked the chords of her memory, as if she was trying to recall the tune of a song she used to know. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Childs. I’m Virginia Godwin.” She said,

“Godwin?” Lemuel’s brow furrowed as he stared ahead at the road, illuminated only by the lights from his truck. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Joshua Godwin, would you?”

Virginia perked up. “He’s my uncle! Well, he was.” 

Poor uncle Joshua had suffered a sudden stroke only two months ago. He was buried in their family plot in Gettysburg, but he had lived in this backwater town in West Virginia most of his life. 

“We heard about that. My condolences.” Lemuel said, glancing over at Virginia with a sorry expression. “He may not have been part of the congregation, but we always kept him in our prayers.”

A religious man? Of course he was, Virginia thought to herself. She had nothing against men of God, being a Christian woman herself who knew her good book well enough. But she always felt weary around the type who felt the need to announce to others about their good will, always praying for those who didn’t ask for it.

After Joshua’s wife, Virginia’s aunt Grace, had passed about fifteen years ago, he had pulled away from God. It was a stark turn around, being that Joshua used to preach himself at his local Methodist church. But Grace’s death had stripped him of his faith and confined him within his humble home, no longer interested in the outside world or what God did with it. In a way, Joshua had already been dead for years.

“You’re with his church?” Virginia asked Lemuel.

He shook his head. “We’re a small congregation, but we’re firm believers in the Full Gospel.” 

So they were Pentecostals, Virginia realized. Being raised a Methodist, she understood the importance of one’s personal relationship with God. But speaking in tongues and divine healing always seemed borderline occult to her. She wasn’t one to judge how others express their belief in the Bible or God, given those who did weren’t dangerous to others. But she had reservations about those who preached against modern medicine and rejected man’s ability to reason outside of the word of God.

“I assume my uncle was rather unfriendly towards your congregation, then.” Virginia said. The last memory she had of her uncle Joshua was when he ripped her mother’s Bible out of her hands and threw it against the wall, cursing God. “He was very, erm, critical of religion.”

“Yes, he was.” Lemuel chuckled. “Unfortunately, those who’ve lost their way are more prone to slapping God’s hand away than accepting his love. But we aren’t the ones who should pass judgment on them.”

Hate the sin, love the sinner, Virginia remembered. It wasn’t for man to judge man, but for God to judge man. Of course, man did so anyway, because who else would carry out the word of God? Virginia liked to believe that God had forgiven her uncle and saw through his grief before he passed onto the other side. It was better than believing in the alternative.

“And you? Have you accepted Christ as your personal savior?” Lemuel asked. It was a loaded question, sure, but Virginia wasn’t shy of expressing her love of God and his Son.

“‘He who believeth in me though he was dead, yet will he live.’” She recited. 

Virginia hadn’t attended church in years, but she still knew all the sermons she sat through and read growing up. All the times her mother made her sit at the kitchen table and memorize each page of the Old and New testament weren’t for nothing. It didn’t matter if Virginia understood what she was reading, just as long as was reading it. Knowing the good book front to back gave one credit amongst their congregation, according to Virginia’s mother.

“I take it you’re a Methodist like your uncle was?” Lemuel said, not at all impressed by Virginia’s quote. Reciting the Bible didn’t indicate one’s faith. Merely that they knew how to read. 

“Well, I’m… Sort of figuring that part out myself.” She confessed. 

Truth was, Virginia was a Methodist in association only. It was the only denomination she had been familiar with her whole life. But after leaving church and keeping her faith all the more personal, she had found herself lost. That aimless wandering was what brought her to West Virginia, to this mountain where Lemuel and her uncle lived. She believed that God had sent her on this path, to accept the inheritance and shack up in her uncle’s house, away from her parents. 

Lemuel was intrigued by Virginia. “Ain’t no shame in being lost, so long as you’re open to pathways revealed to you.”

Virginia knew a veiled statement when she heard one. Lemuel, like many other preachers and priests, believed their way of worship was the correct one. She had believed the same thing when she was still a practicing Methodist. 

“May I ask what brings you to our side of the mountain?” Lemuel continued.

“My uncle left me his house in his will.” Virginia sighed. “His will stated, ‘do what you will with it. Sell it, burn it, live in it if it’s still habitable by the time of my passing.’ I’m checking it out to see which of those options are more probable.” 

“I see.” Lemuel chuckled. “He did have an interesting sense of humor from what little interaction I had with him. Now, I know we’re little more than strangers, but if I may, I believe that the Lord’s given you an opportunity to start something here in this community.”

A bold statement from a stranger, yet his shockingly accurate presumption of Virginia’s motivation for leaving Gettysburg touched her. She believed the same thing, that this opportunity was the Lord’s way of opening a door for her, urging her to find whatever she was looking for in the mountains of West Virginia.

Lemuel also had noticed the chain around Virginia’s neck, the pendant hanging from it a small, silver Jesus on the cross. She was a woman of god, she must understand the importance of God’s mysterious will. Or perhaps, he was just searching for a reason for this young woman to stay. It had been a while since a new face came to their remote town. More people had died or left than moved in, which Lemuel never resented until recently.

“I believe so too.” Virginia agreed with him. “I’m a little nervous about this whole ‘move’ though. I know absolutely nobody here.”

“Well, how about I tell you a little about myself. I'm the pastor at my parish, a small but dedicated congregation. We’re always welcome to newcomers, if you ever find yourself in need of some guidance or just want some company.”

Virginia wasn’t itching to go back to church anytime soon, but seeing that she was inside a preacher’s truck and he saved her from freezing to death… “How could I say no to my rescuer?” She said, 

“See, now you know the local preacher. Not a bad start, eh?” Lemuel smiled at her before turning his eyes back to the road.

“If the others are as kind as you, my anxiety won’t be so bad.” 

“I should warn you ahead of time, though, our way of loving Christ might come off as intimidating.” Lemuel confessed. “It might seem intense or scary, but our methods aren’t dangerous, despite what others might say.”

Virginia didn’t know what he could possibly mean. Speaking in tongues, while might seem odd, wasn’t scary. Unless they were sacrificing virgins and eating babies, they couldn’t have been that intense. She smiled politely and shrugged. Whatever their methods were, Virginia believed if their love of God was evident, it didn’t matter how they showed it. Right?

Lemuel brought Virginia to Hope Slaughter’s gas station soon enough. The place was still open, thank goodness, and an older, worn-down woman in a coat was inside, standing at the counter with a vacant expression as she flipped through a book.

“Hey Sister Slaughter.” Lemuel opened the door for Virgina, who thanked him under her breath as she stepped inside the shop. 

Hope looked up from her book and closed it, shoving it under the counter before standing up straight. She didn’t smile, she didn’t even say hello back. She wore a cross around her neck, and while Virginia assumed she was part of Lemuel’s parish, this woman didn’t seem happy to see her preacher.

“Pastor.” She replied dryly before her eyes landed on Virginia. “Who’s this you got here?”

“This here’s Virginia Godwin. Her truck’s on the side of the road just fifteen minutes up Wind Whisper.” Lemuel explained. Virginia noticed he had trouble keeping eye contact with the older woman, who’s eyes bore into his soul. 

“Couldn’t call a service yourself?” Hope asked Virginia.

“I would’ve but there was no reception.” She answered, put off by Hope’s glum attitude. Whatever beef she had with the preacher wasn’t her problem, so why was Hope gruff with her? Especially since she needed help? 

“Alright. I’ll have my husband Zeke retrieve your truck and bring it here, fill ‘er up, and get yah to wherever it is yer goin.” Hope said. “But you’ll have to shack up at this here station until it arrives.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly fine!” Virginia said, relieved that this cold woman was at least helpful. She turned to Lemuel, who had been standing beside her, keeping his head down. “Thank you again, Mr. Childs. You really saved me tonight.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Godwin.” He smiled, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening. “Again, you’re always welcome at our parish.” Lemuel placed a gentle hand on Virginia’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly before leaving her at the counter, waving goodbye before exiting through the front door.

Virginia was a little sad to see him go, finding his company far more warm than Hope’s. But just as promised, her truck was delivered to her, filled up, and she was finally back on the road to her uncle’s. The whole time, Virginia thought of Lemuel, his deep, hickory-smoked voice, and those hazel eyes that looked at her with the feeling of pure belief, as if he already knew she would say yes to him and show up to service.

But before Virginia left the shop, Hope had said something to her. Something ominous, darkened by the withered grunt of her thick accent, like she was a witch in an old, mountain tale. Virginia couldn’t remember exactly what it was, being she was itching to leave the gas station, but she recalled the mention of Lemuel’s name.

...

Just as Virginia suspected, the house was mostly vacant. Uncle Joshua wasn’t one to hoard or collect. It was exactly the same as it was when Virginia was there last, The floors were all carpeted, save for the tiled kitchen, which was tiny. The walls were made of wooden paneling, the one couch and armchair were made of brown velvet, and the entire place still smelled of cigarettes, despite being vacant for months. 

There was a stack of mail by the door that Virginia had to push aside to get in, most of the letters coming from banks, local shops, and even some from her own mother, Helen. Virginia didn’t know why they still communicated, given they hated each other. 

There were no plants, no paintings or picture frames on the walls, save for the single frame on the side table next to the armchair, which was of aunt Grace. There were no instruments either, which was odd because Virginia remembered her uncle being an impressive cellist and pianist. Perhaps he sold the family piano and his prized cello after Grace died.

There were two bedrooms, one was converted into what used to be Grace’s art studio, sketch pads, canvases, and supplies strewn about the room messily. The other bedroom was plain, with the one queen sized bed, two bedside tables, one with a lamp sitting atop it, the other used as a bookshelf. There was a wooden dresser against the wall furthest from the door, and a chest at the foot of the bed, a folded afgan resting on it. Virginia remembered that afgan, aunt Grace had knitted it. 

The one bathroom was grimey but bare, with only a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a comb, and a single bar of soap sitting on the sink. Uncle Joshua didn’t even have shampoo or body wash. He did look very hairy when Virginia saw him in the casket, which aligned with the fact she couldn’t find a razor.

She was grateful that the dwelling was bare enough for her to make small improvements upon it. Virginia didn’t need much, just a few potted plants, an air freshener, a radio, and maybe even a television set for the living room. 

But the first thing she did was mount the wooden cross she took from her childhood bedroom onto the wall above her late uncle’s bed. While he might’ve forbade God from his home when he was alive, Virginia was eager to welcome Him back in with open arms.

“Lord, bless this house and may its previous inhabitant find peace in your love and grace. Amen.” She whispered to herself during her prayers that night.

And in her dreams, Virginia found herself once again seeing the preacher’s face. His enigmatic smile hadn’t left her mind ever since the ride to the station. There was something about it, how the way he looked at her gave way to the most confusing feelings within Virginia. 

She dreamt that Lemuel was leading her down to a stream by the hand. When they got down to the edge of the water, he turned to her, smiled, and placed his hand over breast. His smile was as tender and kind as it was in the truck. It was as if he believed his touch was purely innocent and sweet. Virginia wanted more, but Lemuel didn’t move. 

The next morning, she decided that day was all about distraction.

A woman’s ability to turn a house into a home was revered for a reason, and she would continue that tradition. It meant having to go out into town to get some things, but Virginia welcomed the adventure. She was curious to see what this small town had to offer. And it would give her the chance to meet more locals.

There was an antique store, a market, a nursery, a second-hand store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 90’s, a tailor, some small family-owned restaurants, an auto-repair shop, a butcher, and a barber shop. While Virginia wandered around, familiarizing herself with the town, she couldn’t help but notice how tightly-knit all the people were when conversing. It seemed everyone knew everyone and everyone knew that Virginia wasn’t one of them.

“You the new inhabitant at Old Joshua’s?” The old lady at the antique shop asked her when Virginia purchased some paintings and a basket of fake ivy to place over the fridge.

“Yeah, he was my uncle.” She told her. Guess word gets around very quickly in this tiny town.

“My condolences.” The old lady grunted. She wasn’t going to miss Old Joshua for sure. “He was… Well, I’m glad he’s resting peacefully.”

“Thank you, ‘mam.” Virginia said with a forced smile. 

If this was how every conversation in this town was going to start, she’d rather shut herself inside and follow her late uncle’s lead. She took her purchases under her arms, along with the receipt, and bid the woman goodbye before heading for her truck parked outside,

In her haste to escape the shop, Virginia had collided with a figure. “Oh, sorry!” She sputtered, dropping the fake plant onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, hello again, Miss Godwin.”

It was Lemuel. Of course it was. He bent down, picked up the fake ivy basket and smiled politely at Virginia. She awkwardly smiled back up at him, believing this moment was a test set by God to see how she would handle herself in Lemuel’s presence.

“Pastor Childs!” She cringed at herself, feeling stupid for running into him like a mindless bull. “I’m really sorry, I was just about to throw these into my truck.”

“Redecorating, I see.” Lemuel commented, walking with her to her truck. “Bet that empty house has been desperate for a woman’s touch.”

“You have no idea.” Virginia agreed, placing the collected paintings into the truck bed. “Here, I’ll take that.” Lemuel handed her the ivy basket, which she placed on the passenger seat. 

“It’s nice to see you out and about. Bet our town seems incredibly small and unimpressive compared to wherever you're from.” He said, resting his hands in his pockets. 

“Well, I never really liked overly-populated areas. Too much noise.” Virginia crossed her arms over her chest, trying to warm her hands under her arms. “Also, the mountain’s incredibly beautiful in the daylight. I could take or leave the woods at nighttime, though, it’s pretty scary then.”

“Well, I hope you don’t have a habit of wandering around in the woods at night.” Lemuel joked. 

Virginia shook her head. “Just when my truck isn’t running.”

Lemuel hummed, amused by her quip. In truth, a traditional man like he preferred it when women were driven, not driving themselves. Not that he believed women were incapable of the skill, just that they were meant to be taken care of, especially by their family. This lonely woman, without a man and without her parents in a new town… What was her mysterious past? Why did she come to their community alone?

“Have you thought about my offer?” He asked. 

Virginia, in her loneliness and need for something to warm her body, had only thought of Lemuel in terms of satisfying her needs. She didn’t like the idea of attending a service where she’ll only be reminded of her lustful dream. She was already struggling with repressing the memory at the sight of him now.

“When’s the service?” She scratched the side of her neck. 

“Tonight, just outside of town. I can write down the address for you.” Lemuel offered.

“Oh no, I can just look up the location.” Virginia said, taking her phone out of her coat pocket. 

Lemuel sighed sheepishly. “It wouldn’t be on any GPS, I can guarantee that.” 

“Oh, really?” Virginia’s brow furrowed. “This place exists, right?” 

Lemuel laughed. “It’s a small dwelling, but it is real, I can assure you, Miss Godwin. It’s just remote.”

“Okay.” Virginia wondered what wasn’t remote on this mountain.

“How’s about I drive you there myself? I can pick you up this evening.” He offered.

Virginia wasn’t one to turn down a polite offer, and she wasn’t in the position to further distance herself from the people of this town by denying their preacher’s kindness. She would accept his offer and go home to her cross that hung above her bed and pray for strength.

Lemuel kept his promise, his truck driving up the gravel driveway. Virginia had spent the rest of the day cleaning things out, rearranging furniture and scrubbing down every inch of the kitchen and bathroom. By the time the preacher arrived, she had just plopped herself down on the velvet couch, which had been vacuumed, and was resting. She didn’t even have time to change into nicer clothes. In fact, after all the grinding, Virginia didn’t feel like going to service anymore. 

“Hello, Mr. Childs.” She greeted him at the door. “Please give me a few seconds, I’m not yet dressed.”

Lemuel could see that, as she was in dirty jeans, an oversized t-shirt, and without shoes. “You didn’t forget, did you, Miss Godwin?”

“Oh, no! I lost track of the time. Please, come in. I won’t be two minutes.” Virginia opened the door to Lemuel and stepped aside, letting him enter.

He looked around, admiring how clean the space was. The floors were cleared of the dust and scattered mail, the walls were nicely decorated with scenic paintings of the mountainside, and of course, the familiar ivy basket sat atop the fridge in the small, but well-organized kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just be in my room.” Virginia said before rushing down the hall, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Lemuel didn’t sit down. He was too curious about Virginia’s new home. And while it was small, smaller than his own house, it was comfortable. It smelled nice, seeing that she had purchased a vase of flowers and set them on the kitchen table. Lilies, fragrant and white. 

There was little to nothing in the kitchen, save for some apples, a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and some canned corn. This couldn’t be all she had to eat, could it? Lemuel figured she had stocked up when she got here. Perhaps she didn’t have time with all the tidying up she had to do.

Virginia emerged quietly from her room, her feet light and silent on the carpeted floor. She spotted Lemuel in her kitchen, looking around but not touching anything. She liked watching him, admiring his side profile. He was a simple preacher yet there was something regal about the way he stood.

“I’m ready when you are, pastor.” Virginia spoke, breaking Lemuel’s concentration.

He wouldn’t say it, but he was pleased with how she freshened up. She wore a long deep blue skirt paired with a baby-blue blouse that covered her modestly. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a braid that hung down over her left shoulder, with some loose strands falling around her face, framing her cheeks.

She was young and beautiful, Lemuel couldn’t deny that. He had put to bed his feelings of attraction after his wife passed years and years ago. His eye wasn’t known to wander, focusing his heart on the Holy Ghost. But Virginia, this mysterious woman from outside the mountain, standing before him in blue the Virgin Mary, bashful in his presence, gave him that familiar sensation he was once familiar with. 

Lemuel smiled and escorted her out to his truck, opening the door for her like a gentleman. On the drive, Virginia remained silent, looking out the window while Lemuel drove. He wanted to compliment her, tell her she looked nice and that he was happy she was accompanying him to service. After the loss of multiple members within the past year, including some close to home, it felt nice to bring someone new and willing into the church.

Then, he remembered her bare kitchen. “I’d like to have you over for dinner after service, if that’s alright with you.”

Virginia was happy her face was turned away from Lemuel, for her cheeks were flushed. Dinner? She reasoned that it was merely a polite gesture. Lemuel had only been kind to her since he rescued her from the side of the road. But dinner, presumably alone with him, was so intimate. 

“It ain’t forward at all, pastor.” She said, her hands fiddling with the tips of her braid. She then ceased the child-like tic and placed them flat in her lap. What was she, a shy school girl? “Thank you for inviting me. For everything you’ve done, really.”

“Everything I’ve done?” Lemuel glanced over at her. “Now, I didn’t do what any other man wouldn’t have done, Miss Godwin.”

“You’re the only one in the community that’s been so open and so welcoming.” Virginia said. It was true, most other members she had interacted with while running her errands were rather distant, especially when they knew of her relation to the late Old Joshua. 

“Well, I know what it’s like to feel alone and in need of a kind soul.” Lemuel said. “Our church has suffered hardship. We understand what it’s like to be thought of as strange and unusual by others. And I’ll admit that history has made us hesitant to accept outsiders. But make no mistake, we’re just as devoted and loving as any other congregation.” Lemuel said, turning the truck onto a narrow dirt road that led deep into the woods.

Ahead was what looked like a shed with a neon cross above the sliding doors. Next to it was a sign that glowed “Holy Ghost Church.” Lemuel was right, it was a very remote and small dwelling. The lights were already on inside and Virginia could see some men arranging chairs.

“This is it.” Lemuel shut the engine off, turning to Virginia. “I’ll introduce yah to the boys.”

Virginia wondered if ‘the boys’ meant the gruff, burly men that came out to meet them. She recognized one of them, Hope Slaughter’s husband Zeke who said a polite “hello again” to her. The others were Hank, Aaron, and Otis, all fellow parishioners who were obviously fond of Lemuel. Zeke, however, seemed rather demure in the pastor’s presence, exhibiting the same hesitation to engage the same way Lemuel shied away from Hope Slaughter at the gas station. 

“This here’s Miss Virginia Godwin, Joshua’s niece. She’s moved into his place on Pinewood.” Lemuel told them. 

“Nice to meet y’all.” She smiled to each of them. “Your pastor was kind enough to invite me to your service. I hope that’s okay.”

“We’re always open to newcomers.” The oldest man, Hank, told her, offering his hand to her. She took it and he squeezed it between his calloused palms. “You’re very welcome, Miss Godwin.”

“We was sorry t’hear ‘bout yer uncle.” Otis said. “Was no believer, but still…”

“Thank you.” Virginia was tired of all the condolences, even if she had to accept them. 

“Well, let’s get to fixin up. Can’t have this church half-set when the others get here.” Lemuel said, gently slapping Hank’s shoulder before leading them inside.

Virginia’s eyes were instantly drawn to the crates at the other side of the church. There were red lights illuminating the crates, which had mulch inside them. Getting a closer look, Virginia then saw that these crates contained snakes!

“Woah.” She stepped back away from the sight of them. 

The other men were casual, gathering around them to observe the animal. Lemuel looked over his shoulder, seeing the look of shock on Virginia’s face. “Don’t worry, they ain’t gettin out.” He assured her. “Not until we handle them.”

“Handle them?” Virginia asked, stepping closer to Lemuel’s side as they approached the crates. The snakes were being fed live quails, their tails rattling before they struck their prey with a hiss. Virginia flinched at the sudden bite, sad to watch an animal kill another. “These are part of the service?”

Lemuel didn’t expect Virginia to immediately accept their form of worship. It was only natural for newcomers to feel fear and confusion at the sight of a dangerous animal. He and the other parishioners had handled the snakes for so long now, it was second-nature to be around them. 

“We show our devotion to the Holy Ghost through our unyielding faith. Faith that even in the presence of serpents, we are protected in his love and strength.” Lemuel explained while they watched Aaron, a man no older than thirty, lead another quail into one of the other crates. “We respect them, but we do not cower to them.”

Virginia hoped that whatever this service entailed, it wouldn’t involve her having to go near one of those things. “Snakes terrify me.” She confessed, looking away from the animals. “Forgive me, pastor, I-”

“We do NOT cower before them, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel moved in close, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder while he leaned in, lowering his voice. “Look upon these serpents and give not into fear. But feel the embrace of the Lord’s protection, for his love is greater than any evil.”

Virginia felt pulled to him as he comforted her, his lips close enough to her cheek that she could feel his breath wash over her warm skin. She wanted to curl into his side and listen to him while he preached softly, assuring her of the Lord’s will. 

Lemuel walked her over to the crates, allowing her to hold onto his arm as they went. It was natural she didn’t want to go near them. But if she wanted to understand the people of this community, she had to see how they expressed their faith. And in Lemuel’s care, she would be safe. Or so he believed.

Virginia looked over the crates and watched as the snakes consumed their prey, squeezing the quails before unhinging their jaws and devouring them bit by bit. It was violent yet peaceful, for the snakes took their precious time as they ate. They didn’t seem bothered by the presence of the others who watched over them, too distracted by their meal. 

“You will not suffer, Virginia.” Lemuel whispered, the first time he ever referred to her by her first name. “If you accept Christ as your personal savior and allow him to guide you on your path, you will be made clean again in his image.”

“Clean again?” Virginia breathed, eyes fixed on the coiling creature beneath them. What did Lemuel mean? Was Virginia being a Methodist really so sinful in his eyes?

Lemuel had made an incorrect assumption about Virginia. He assumed, given she was so beautiful and young, that she had not been a virgin. Most unmarried women these days were open to sexual experiences, whether they believed in the consequences or not. 

“I didn’t mean to imply-” Lemuel stepped away from Virginia, feeling foolish. “My apologies, it isn’t my place to make such presumptions.”

“It is not.” Virginia frowned at the pastor. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not unclean.” She lowered her voice so the other men wouldn’t hear. She got closer to the pastor, who now looked incredibly guilty. “I was raised a Christian, pastor. My methods of worship might not live up to your standards but my devotion to Christ is no lesser than yours.”

An unsoiled woman? Lemuel thought as he looked at Virginia. Her face was red, from anger or embarrassment he didn’t know. But he had overstepped the line, not just as a pastor, but as a new friend. 

“Forgive me, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel tilted his head forward, an apologetic bow. 

Virginia chose to sit close to the stage during the service, though she immediately regretted it when Lemuel called on her, asking the other parishioners to welcome her. The others said their hellos and warm welcomes, offering her kind smiles and words of encouragement. Virginia spotted Sister Slaughter a few rows back, sitting next to her husband Zeke, whose head was down. That couple always seemed to appear on edge, especially in the presence of Lemuel. What had happened between the couple and their pastor?

During the evening, Virginia would soon learn of Lemuel’s style of preaching. He was loud and passionate, just like any pastor she had seen before. He jumped up and down, riling up the congregation with his sermon, lifting his arms up to the ceiling as he shouted out “Amen!” The others responded to him well, raising up their arms, moaning and crying as their pastor continued, evoking the Holy Spirit. 

Virginia couldn’t deny she felt elevated, as if she could rise off the ground and ascend to Lemuel’s preaching. His energy was contagious, his voice genuine and proud, and his words moving. She couldn’t help but shout “Amen” back at him, her eyes closed and mouth agape. 

Then, Lemuel bent down over the crate to the side of the stage and opened it up, reaching in and picking up the snake gently. He held it up in the air as he continued to preach, his body shaking with excitement while the congregation collectively raised up their hands and praised the Holy Ghost. 

Virginia felt as if time slowed while she watched Lemuel handle the snake. He looked right into the animal’s eyes without an ounce of fear in his body. She had never seen such an act of true faith before. He was so certain that God was protecting him from the dangers of the snake. And while Virginia was skeptical before, now she was starting to believe that maybe… Maybe Lemuel was right.