#hat man's name is a work in progress

[sagechanoafterdark]

Shoot Your Shot, Cupid

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Word Count: 3,770 Warnings: mature language, unbeata'd, soft Bucky, lets assume Sam set him up for this one, female coded reader, happy ending because we all deserve it, TIME SKIIIIIP, best friend with good intentions that shows up for one job and then disappears, speed dating, one obnoxious man, all the soft feelings.

Hello Kittens, and Happy Valentine's Day. It's been a while since I wrote... well anything and I was working on this for a couple of months but I think it's come all together now. Hope you enjoy it!

This couldn’t get much worse.

Tricked by your best friend.

Nay, betrayed.  

By someone you implicitly trusted.

There would be no forgiving this.

Never, not ever.

The dinner and drinks invitation a few days before the start of February was met with trepidation on your part. All Christmas season you’d feigned interest as Mellony, your best friend, thrust every single co-worker, neighbor, and wait staff at you to find you someone to share the holiday with.

You couldn’t blame her. After all, Mellony was blissfully happy with her fiancée and only wanted the same for you.

All that you could forgive.

But this?

This was a complete and utter betrayal.

A deep and unimpressed frown marred your face as Mellony took the sticky name tag off the table with her perfectly manicured nails. Peeling the back with an ear-to-ear grin and pressed it against your chest. “There,” she exclaimed with joy, lacing her fingers together. “Now you’re all set.”

Looking down at the beautifully scrawled letters framed by little hearts you couldn’t help but curl your lip and whine, “Mel, you promised.”

The blond snorted and rolled her enormous puppy dog eyes, “I never promised anything.” Looping her arm through yours she practically began to drag you through the convention center doors and past the sign that sealed your fate.

Cupids Bow Speed Dating Event.

“Yes, you did,” you reaffirmed. Glancing around the room packed full of men and women in a combination of sweaters, suits, and cocktail dresses. “You promised not to try and set me up with anyone again.”

“This is my speed dating event. It doesn’t count.”

“I can assure you it does.”

“Nooooo,” she practically sang, turning around on her heel with that adorable mischievous smile of hers. “I promised that I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I knew. Everyone here was vetted by my team. I don't know any of these people.”

Grumbling she began tugging you towards the stage as intro music began to play softly from the DJ booth. Mellony paused, gripping your hand tight and looking down at you as the DJ introduced her, “Please, stay? I just want you to find someone.”

“Mel,” you hissed with disapproval. “I don’t need to find someone.”

Whether or not she heard you was unclear as the music swelled and Mellony put on her famous razzle dazzle smile and waved at everyone as she took the microphone and the presentation began. Your eyes swung to the crowd of people, more than three dozen people silhouetted against the stage lights and it made you shiver.

This was going to be a disaster.

Twenty minutes later your mind was glazed over with the audacity of men.

With every new ding of the bell, you found yourself becoming more annoyed. The match-making event progressed easily. People were divided into groups based on results from a questionnaire, something you distinctly remember Mel presenting to you as a fun Cosmo quiz, while one group remained seated the others rotated around the room.

By some stroke of luck, you were one of the people destined to sit. But that also meant that total strangers would be coming to your table to chat with you.

In all your years of singledom,  you’d thought you’d heard it all. Too fat. Too loud. Too smart. Too opinionated. Those were old hat by now, and you weren’t immune to the bitter words from unimportant people.

“I suppose you’re an attractive woman,” the suit across from you said thoughtfully. His eyes never met yours, instead looking around the room likely for the next victim of his charm. “But I’m not really into your hair color. How would you feel about dying it?”

The question hung in the air as you waited for the man to look back at you. When his beady eyes returned to your face you couldn’t hide the disbelief, waving your hand in the air with an icy finality, “Absolutely not. You can go.”

He didn’t wait. Standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor as he haughtily walked towards the bar. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pulled out your phone and began to scroll social media waiting for the next bell in fifteen minutes.

Not the wildest thing you’d ever heard, but the gall of some people astounded even you sometimes. This also wasn’t the first event you’d been to that Mel had put on, you’d come to one or two as she’d begun her match-making service so you knew the ins and outs pretty well. But getting the same questions over and over was getting old fast.

What do you do for a living?

Where are you from?

What’s your family like?

What’s your perfect date idea?

BOR-ING!

Just once you’d like someone to ask you a real question, something thoughtful instead of the surface questions you’d find on social media.

You couldn’t believe you wore your favorite dress for this nonsense.

The bell dinged once again and the shadow of a new man sat in front of you.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said not looking up from the device in your hand.

“Come here often?”

“To a dating event? No,” the words were flowing out of your mouth easily. Canned responses for canned questions.

There was a heavy pause, “You seem bored.”

“That’s because I am.”

A muted scoff came from the other side of the table, “What would make it more interesting then?”

A long sigh escaped you as you continued scrolling on your phone, “If someone would ask me a question of substance, maybe I would give them a chance for conversation.”

Again a long stretching silence from the other side and you had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Alright,” he rumbled, leaning back against his chair. “Then what’s one gift you always wish you’d gotten, but never did?”

That had your thumb pausing on the endless scrolling you were doing. Finally, your gaze flicked up and your brain stopped working for a brief moment as you took in the disgustingly attractive man sitting your opposite.

Coffee color hair, and a chiseled jaw dotted with a five o’clock shadow would be enough to make even the most choosy of a woman’s breath catch. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket in a building that was pushing 80 degrees, which was odd but not overly strange.

But oddly enough you felt yourself getting drawn in. Not by his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, or even the semi-scowl he wore.

No, it was his eyes. Bright blue soulful eyes, that sparkled a little as he sat across the table from you. Eyes that told a story all their own and drew you out of your scrolling for the first time that night.

Pursing your lips slightly you thought, “Hmm, I’d have to say it’s a puppy.”

His eyebrow arched slightly, clearly surprised by your answer, “A puppy?”

“Sure,” you said with a slight shrug. “A puppy is something I’ve always wanted but never gotten as a gift from anyone other than myself.”

“What kind of puppy?”

“Oh I don’t have a preferred breed,” you informed, tilting your head a little at the odd conversation. “But as a child, it was what I asked for every year as a present. But I never got one.”

His lips turned up in a half smile and you thought you were going to melt in your seat, “Asking for one every year and not getting one, sounds a little disappointing. Was that just a Christmas thing?”

“Nah,” you laughed a little, fingers picking at a little piece of lint on the edge of your dress. “Christmas, birthdays, Easter didn’t matter. If gifts were being given, it was at the top of my list. Every year I’d be running to the tree and picking up presents, looking for one big enough. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’d marry the first man to give me a puppy for Christmas.”

A brisk laugh escaped him, his lips pulled into a charming smile that had nervous butterflies leap up in your chest. “A puppy for Christmas,” he rumbled thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The response made goosebumps prickle along your skin and you held back a shiver, wetting your suddenly dry lips, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s a gift you always wanted but didn’t get,” you paused briefly a coy smile stretching your lips.

His smile turned into a smirk as he once again leaned back in his chair, blue eyes darting back and forth over your face as he thought about it. It was going well, your impish smile growing along with his own. That is until his smile began to fall, bright blue gaze darting a little more frantically over your face before he licked his lips and an unexpected tremor sounded in his voice, “I think, I think it was a sled.”

“A sled,” you asked, leaning forward a little in intrigue. “Like a big plastic one with the handles? Oh no, I got it you’re definitely an inflatable snow tube kind of guy.”

A balk of laughter sounded from him, making hidden laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes as they brightened with your playful banter. “Nah,” he exclaimed, waving a hand. “More like a wood and metal one. It had bright red skis and a wooden seat top. That sled was all I wanted as a kid.”

An amused giggle slipped from you, “I had a wagon kind of like that as a kid, it was a radio flyer.”

His fingers snapped as he pointed at you with a little bit of excitement, “That’s it! A Radio Flyer sled, with a rope handle and foot steering bar. Though I don’t think I’d ever get one now. I’m a little too old to go sledding down a hill.”

“Age is all about perspective.”

He snorted, “Tell that to my driver's license.”

Genuine laughter bubbled up from inside of you as you leaned forward in your seat, a teasing retort on your lips. Before you could speak, Mellony rang her little handbell and people began to switch places again. But your blue-eyed stranger lingered at your table.

“Talk to you again?”

He sounded, hopeful. “Yeah,” you croaked out pathetically. “Talk to you again.”

You watched as he stood from your table and made his way across the room to his next table while another man took his place at your own. A feeling of disappointment swelled as you lost sight of him in the crowd of people, the feeling intensifying as this new man briefly introduced themselves before launching into a long Tinder-level introduction.

Two more men sat at your table, barely holding your interest outside of normal pleasantries before Mel rang her handbell in rapid succession. “Alright everyone that’s the first round,” she called from her place at the podium. “We’re going to break for thirty minutes. There are hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at the bar. Please feel free to mingle!”

The room of people began to stand and mill around as an uproar of chatter began. Your eyes picked out a couple of men from your group, pairing up with others and heading to the bar. Cordial smiles turned into pleasant touches and sweetheart eyes as they went.

The Cupids Bow Dating Event was a success and you couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride for your friend.

“Hey, Sourpuss,” Melody greeted, looping her arm through yours. “You having fun yet?”

Your mind drifted back to your blue-eyed stranger, “A little.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this. But the point of speed dating is to, you know, find a date. I was watching you, and you gotta talk to more than one person,” she sassed.

Your mouth turned down to a frown for a brief moment, “I talked to someone.”

“Oh yeah? What was his name.”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you realized quickly you’d never even got Mr. Blue-Eyes name, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t even get Mr. Blue-Eyes name!”

“It’s Bucky.”

Turning around there stood Mr. Blue-Eyes himself, err… you meant Bucky. There was no doubt your embarrassment showed on your face, but the little nervous laugh that slipped out sealed the deal.

Bucky smiled at you, “That is if it’s me you were talking about?”

Wetting your lips you shifted, suddenly nervous before meeting friendly blue eyes, “Yeah,” you squeaked before clearing your throat. “I mean, yes. I’m sorry I missed your name when we talked.”

He was nodding for a brief moment, his eyes darting over towards the bar before taking a few steps closer to you and leaning down. “There’s a restaurant down the street. They’ve got pretty good sushi. You want to get the hell out of here?”

“Oh, my god yes!” The tips of your ears felt hot as you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole but Bucky didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he offered up his right arm and you looped yours into it without hesitation.

Melody’s brow shot up out of surprise, “B-but that was only the first round! There are still two more.”

“I don’t think we need a round two,” Bucky said, the same charming smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah,” you laughed, in a teasing tone. “This round just might go to Cupid after all.”

Three years later.

Lights twinkled in the living room of your apartment, it was god awful early and you’d carefully planned today. Christmas day and you’d been waiting for this moment for two years now. Quickly and quietly you snuck out of the bedroom where Bucky lay wrapped up in the blankets and made your way to the front closet.

It was hard being sneaky when your boyfriend was a super spy. But after a lot of careful planning, misdirections, and a lot of help from Sam, you’d managed to do it and Bucky was none the wiser.

Tiptoeing towards the hall closet that Bucky never used you opened the squeaky hinged door in just the way so it made no noise. Reaching blindly into the black of the closet you felt around, past the dozen unused coats, jackets, scarves, and hats your hand met the back of the closet wall. Sliding quietly until your fingers brushed the cold metal you were looking for.

Jackpot.

Fingers wrapped around your prize as you gave a firm but gentle tug. A pristine, adult-sized, bright red and creamy wood seat Flex Flyer sled emerged complete with an enormous red bow.

Stifling a giggle you set it down.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek tore out of your throat as you jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air.

“James Barnes,” you scolded, heart beating a million miles an hour. “What have I said about sneaking up on me?”

“You were being sneaky first,” he said, brows drawn together as he tried to look around you. “What you hiding doll face?”

“Nothing!” You lied, spreading your arms and legs to hide your surprise gift.

It was at that moment you heard the vibration from Bucky’s phone clutched in his hand, the man tried to not look sheepish as he not so covertly pressed the silence button.

Suspicion immediately filled you, “Bucky? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He shot back, his brow knits in suspicion.

It was a standoff.

The two of you staring each other down in the dark of the hallway in your matching Christmas pajamas. Someone knocking on the front door startled you both before Bucky cursed under his breath, pointing at you, “Don’t follow me.”

His instruction surprised you as he brushed past you in the small hallway. You scoffed under your breath, “You’re in your PJ’s Buck, how far are you going?”

Bucky paused before going around the corner, “I mean it.” There was another soft but hurried knock and he cursed before disappearing.

A tisk of disapproval escaped you, but urgency filled your movements the second he was out of sight. Hands shaking slightly you hurried, pulling the sled out from the closet with as much silence as you could muster before dashing the Christmas tree. Stuffing the sled behind the tree, a few bulbs swinging back and forth as you fumbled to fluff the crumpled bow on Bucky’s surprise.

A cacophony of hushed grumbles and whispers came from the front door, you could have sworn you heard Sam as the door closed with a thunk and the lock turned. In a matter of seconds Bucky was coming around the corner again, an enormous gold box gripped in his hands affixed with a brilliant glittering green bow.

It was clear that Bucky didn’t see you immediately as he juggled the wobbly box and tried to remain quiet as he did so.

“Whatcha, got there?”

Bucky startled, socked feet skidding to a halt just at the corner of the couch as the box wobbled in his hands again. Frustrated and accusatory blue eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

“What are you doing in here?”

“You better not be shaking presents.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll have you know I haven’t shaken a present since I was ten. What’s in the box, Jamie?”

Bucky flinched a little, his one weakness was when you called him Jamie. His shoulders sagged a little as his grip on the box tightened, “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh I’m surprised,” you said with a laugh. The mantle clock began to ding for the early morning hour. Five AM came so early now. “Do you want to open our gifts now?”

Bucky pursed his lips, body jerking as the box tried to throw itself from his hands. “I think now is best.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the prospect of what the box could contain. But your eyes flitted over to the space behind the tree where you’d stuffed Bucky’s surprise and the anxious feeling grew tenfold as you thought about the question you were going to ask him once he’d seen it.

Clearing his throat Bucky nodded towards the Christmas tree and the traditional present opening space. Dutifully you sat down in the chair, eyes darting over behind the tree to where your gift sat. “Um, mine's not wrapped.”

“That’s alright,” he said, setting the box at your feet as it rattled all on its own now that it was on the floor. “Where is mine and we’ll do them on the count of three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers tapping the edges of your box. “Yours is behind the tree.”

You saw his eyes dart over to the tree and then back down to you, “On three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers poised to rip at the bow on top of the gift. “One.”

“Two,” Bucky echoed, taking a step closer to the tree.

“Three!”

Your fingers began tearing at the bow on top of the gift box as it rattled against the floor. Pushing back the loose gold paper and terrible tape job before, POP!

Two of the most adorable brown eyes you’d ever seen stared up at you. You were stunned for a moment, staring down at the cutest little paws and wet nose you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“OHMYGODAPUPPY!!”

The shrieking sob spilled past your lips as you pulled the squirming pup into your arms, its tiny tongue licking and sniffing all over your face and mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as the little bundle in your arms wiggled, squirmed, and kissed your face everywhere; its bottom wiggling so much they tumbled out of your arms and into your lap.

“Oh my god,” you blubbered, holding the precious little one to you. “Bucky! He’s so cute. Oh, it’s a she. She’s so cute, James. Oh god! Oh my god, I love her so much. I can't—I can’t believe this! This is real right? Do I get to keep her? Bucky?”

Looking up Bucky was angled away from you, the lights of the Christmas tree gleaming off of his arm as he held onto his new sled. His fingers found the tag as he stared at it in the dim lighting. 

He sniffled briefly before he began to read, “Roses are red, violets are blue, do me the—the honor—the honor of spending my life with you?”

Teary blue eyes turned towards you as you held the squirming puppy in your arms. “Doll,” he squeaked out with a sniffle as a few tears began to slip. “You…”

Looking up at him from your seat you reached into the side table drawer pulled out a distinctive black ring box and opened it. Inside, a single simple gold band that had Bucky’s breath catching.

“Will you,” you croaked out, clearing your throat a little more and juggling your new bundle of joy in your arms. “Will you marry me, James Buchanan Barns?”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he lowered the sled to the floor, and then himself. Bucky knelt before you, down on one knee, and reached forward towards the little puppy squirming in your arms. His fingers brushed against a tiny piece of string attached to the bow, you’d missed it but he lifted the dangling object for your inspection. A beautiful golden ring with what had to be the most enormous diamond you’d ever seen.

Your shocked watery gaze met Bucky’s impossibly blue eyes, “Only if you say yes too.”

The puppy leaped down from your lap, content to explore their new apartment as you slid down and onto Bucky’s lap. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him harder than you ever had before. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s lips parted briefly with a light moan, kissing one another with dizzying urgency.

Gasping for air the two of you parted briefly, planting pecking kisses against one another lips.

“Is that a yes,” he husked, his hands sliding up and down your back.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jamie.”

Grinning up at you, Bucky cradled you against him, “I didn’t know if you’d say yes.”

 “Of course I’d say yes,” you whispered, holding onto him tightly. “After all,  you did get me that puppy I’ve always wanted.”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he held you tightly and buried his face against your chest, his shoulders shaking in what could only be a relief, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”

END

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 1

Noah Sebastian X Reader Summary: Noah is a delinquent and you are the pastor's daughter.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Masterlist Banner by @flowerynerds

__________

“Why would someone do something like that?” you asked, staring down at the picture on your phone.  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you dad’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I can only guess that he’s clearly lost and hurting.”  You stared once again at the photo displayed across your screen. A black, horned figure stared back at you with the letters HAIL SATA scrawled in red underneath. At least they didn’t finish the last word. Could someone go to Hell for saying that? You weren’t sure. It made you uncomfortable though.

You didn’t like to think about anyone going to Hell. Suffering for eternity with no way out? A lifetime of being burned alive? Your throat started to close up and you knew you had to stop thinking about it too much or you would have an anxiety attack. That happened sometimes when you thought about Hell too much. It’s why you always tried to make sure you were on the right side of the Bible.

“Do they know who did it?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Caught him trying to scale a fence. The paint on his forefinger matched the colors on the wall. He spent the night in custody. They’re asking if I want to press charges.”

“Do you?” you asked.

“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to negotiate his sentence. Some community service would do him some good, don’t you think?”  “I suppose,” you mentioned, not sure where your dad was going with this.  “I need you to monitor it.”

“Monitor what?” you said, not quite putting two and two together.

“The community service. Are you listening?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, shaking your head rid of the thoughts that had crept in. You’d started thinking about Hell again. “Why me?” you asked.  “Because I trust you,” he said. You groaned internally. “I need you to witness to this boy. He’s a lost soul and needs to be brought to the Lord. It’s only for a few weeks. Saturday mornings from eight to noon. I know you can do that.”

You sighed. Your father always did this. You were tired of the guilt trips, but they still worked every time. Besides, what’s more important to you? Sleeping in on Saturdays or someone’s eternal fate? You were being selfish.  “Fine, but I want a leadership role at the youth center this year.”

“Done. I’ll call you later with more details. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You slumped forward. There goes the rest of your Saturday mornings. They were the only day out of the week you actually got to sleep in, since you had Church every Sunday morning.

At least you’d be working closely with Isaac during the week. You melted a little even thinking about him.

He was the praise and worship leader for the campus youth group, and the most attractive man you’d ever seen. You’d kissed last summer, but haven’t made progress on that front since.

You sighed and fell back into bed, acknowledging that this was likely your only opportunity to sleep in for a while, allowing your thoughts to stay on Isaac and go as far as you could before it turned to lust (a sin).

_________

The chilly mid-October wind sent shivers coursing through you. Three weeks had passed since your dad had informed you that you’d be conducting community service. It was 7:56 AM and you were standing, clipboard in hand, next to the marred wall of the youth center, waiting for the delinquents to show up.

Delinquents, plural. Apparently, they caught the guy’s accomplice with the help of security footage. 

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?”

You looked up from the clipboard to see a young man with a friendly smile.

“Name?” you asked.

“Nick,” he answered. You looked down at your clipboard and wrote the time next to his name.

Nick had striking features. He wore a backwards ball cap, a black hoodie, black jeans, and a denim jacket overtop. A nose ring decorated one side of his face. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through a mop of messy brown hair in a way that let you know that he knew it was attractive, before placing the cap back on. He had a friendly, disarming smile that you didn’t expect from a delinquent. It was charming in a sickly-sweet sort of way. 

“Good. Okay yes, you’re in the right place. Do you know where the other guy is?” you asked.

“Noah? Not sure. He should be here soon though. He knew we had this today.”  It was 7:59. You had to report him to your father if he wasn’t there by 8:00. You sighed. Was it so hard for people to be on time? You arrived to everything at least five minutes early and had no problem with it. It irked you whenever people blatantly disregarded rules, but you supposed you could have expected so much from someone who vandalized houses of worship for fun. In your mind, that was just mean.

Your father characterized him as someone who was just sad and hurting. And maybe he was, but he was also a jerk. 

When he still hadn’t arrived at 8:10, you determined he probably wasn’t going to and figured that there was no sense wasting time.

“Okay Nick. You see the buckets and sponges over there? Grab a sponge and start scrubbing.”

“Aye,” he answered and walked off. He was much more chipper than you’d have expected for a criminal. But then again, Jesus hung out with criminals, so they couldn’t be all bad.

You didn’t talk much. Nick got to work quickly and you observed, not knowing what else to do. A semi-awkward silence fell between the two of you and you busied yourself flipping through the pages on your clipboard.

It had all the rules and regulations you needed to follow, as well as the schedule for the next twelve weeks. Nick and Noah were to report to each location by 8:00 AM sharp. Failure to do so would mean another week of community service tacked on to the end of the program. They could potentially shorten their sentence if they demonstrated punctuality and good behavior, but not before they’d scrubbed and painted the wall they’d vandalized.

You’d read through all the instructions several times, yet you still had a feeling you were underprepared for this. Were you really just supposed to watch them? Or were you supposed to help them, too? You deliberated for a while until a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“I’m here for my community service?”

You were greeted by a tall, slender figure with long brown hair hiding a pair of dark, indifferent eyes. He wore a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and matching black jeans with rips on the knees. On his arms, you could see a spiderweb of tattoos extending down to his hands and all the way up his neck.

This, you realized, was exactly what you had in mind when you pictured a delinquent. Everything about him whispered ‘danger.’ He wasn’t dressed all too different than his counterpart Nick, but something about the way he carried himself made him seem much darker. He wasn’t the sickly sweet type. If Nick was children’s cough syrup, Noah was arsenic.  “Noah?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse.  He grunted in affirmation but made no other move. You checked the time. 8:42.

“You’re forty-two minutes late,” you said. He blinked, but didn’t respond any further. “Which means I’ll have to report this.”

He shrugged. “So report it.”

His demeanor wasn’t something you’d ever experienced. In the church, everyone was always friendly and accommodating. It was a stark contrast to his counterpart, Nick, who reminded you of many of your church friends with how willing to cooperate he seemed. 

“Well, grab a sponge and get to work, I guess.”

He did exactly that, wordlessly taking his place beside his accomplice. Together they scrubbed, not making much progress overall. It took them the entire session to reach a state where some of the graffiti could be painted over.

As they worked, you observed. For the most part, Noah remained stoic, but every once in a while, Nick would get him to crack a smile, either by flicking water at him to making some humorous comment you couldn’t quite catch.

Noah’s smile, you noticed, changed his face completely. It was much more innocent than you’d expect. It was rare, but genuine when it did occur, which humanized him to a point you were uncomfortable with, considering how angry at the two of them you still were.

“That’s all the time we have for this session,” you said once it had reached noon. “See you next week.”  Without even saying bye or offering to help clean up the supplies, Noah dropped his sponge and walked away. Nick was a little kinder, telling you he’d see you next week and placing his sponge back in the bucket.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you muttered to yourself, and got to work cleaning up the supplies.

_____________

“So what was it like?” your friend Ava asked.

You shrugged in response. “I don’t know. They’re delinquents,” you said. “One of them was fine, I guess. The other was a bit of a jerk. But it was just kind of boring, really. They didn’t talk much. I just kind of watched them work.”

“A jerk how?” she asked. You could tell she was desperate for more information. She’d been hoping to hear an exciting story about how “bad kids” acted, and you got where she was coming from. You’d always been curious, too.

The church elders (your parents included) had always warned you about who to befriend and who to stay away from. These bad kids who go out drinking every night and get themselves into bad situations. In their stories, they always end up addicted to drugs and feeling lost with God in their lives. These were the people who needed to be witnessed to. But how were you supposed to tell them about God if you were also supposed to avoid them?  It was all very confusing to you.

Both you and Ava had grown up entirely within the church community. Both of you had gone to private school, and while there were definitely some people there who were more misbehaved than the two of you, there were no real bad kids.

The biggest scandal you’d seen is when you found out Jason Carver had sex with his girlfriend. Which, admittedly, was a pretty big scandal because you were under the impression that everyone in that school had taken their purity vows seriously.

You couldn’t fathom what possessed Jason to commit such an outright sin. You were sure Jesus would forgive him, but seriously. What was he thinking?

Although the boys hadn’t been given quite as many purity talks as the girls had, so that could have had something to do with it. Each of the girls in the school were given a silver ring called a “promise ring” signifying their promise to stay pure until marriage. There was a whole big ceremony, too. Getting your promise ring was a huge deal in school. It was basically a coming-of-age ceremony.

You fiddled with the silver ring still on your finger. Ava had a matching one. You two had also made a friend pact where you’d both stay virgins until marriage. Though you weren’t sure how that would work out, because both of you had plans to marry Isaac and both of you were stubborn enough to hold out for him.

Regardless, the church community was pretty close-knit, and neither of you had interacted much with people who didn’t follow the same code of conduct. You could tell Ava was fascinated by the idea but so far, nothing too exciting had happened.

“Both of them drink alcohol though,” you mentioned. “I overheard them talking about a party they’d gone to the previous Friday, and Noah had mentioned he was really hungover and that’s why he’d woken up late.” He said this only to Nick, not to you.

“Wow. I wonder what that’s like.”

“Ava!” You scolded.

“Oh, whatever. Jesus himself drank wine,” and you just shrugged, because you didn’t have an argument for that. She was right. You supposed drinking didn’t go against the Bible. Just the rules your parents had laid out for you.

“Come on, we’re going to be late to practice,” she said. “Maybe we’ll get to see Isaac.”

You picked up your pace.

____________

Isaac was indeed there, looking very Jesus-like with his long hair in a bun on top of his head and his scruffy face. You supposed that might have been what drew you to him in the first place. He wore loose-fitting jeans slung low on his waist, a pair of Birkenstock sandals, and a plain white V-neck tight across his chest. He had a silver cross necklace that matched the silver purity ring.

Isaac was impossible not to fall for. He played guitar in the worship band, had the voice of an angel, and really practiced what he preached. So much so that it had been him to stop your kiss from progressing last summer, saying he didn’t want to do anything with you that either of you would regret. 

A man who protects your purity rather than challenges it? What could be hotter?

“Okay, let’s run through ‘He Reigns’ again,” said Isaac, and he began to strum out the opening lines. Ava was on keys, Darian was on drums, and Josh played bass. You and Isaac sang.

It’s the song of the redeemed

Rising from the African plain. 

It’s the song of the forgiven

Drowning out the Amazon rain.

You launched into a harmony with Isaac. This was one of your all-time favorite worship songs. You loved harmonizing with him. Your voices blended together so perfectly that the act felt almost intimate. Sometimes you’d hit a really beautiful note and you and Isaac would lock eyes and it felt like you were singing to each other.

Every night before bed, you prayed that God would bring the two of you together. And perhaps if you were good enough, he would answer those prayers, so you also prayed that He would be with you to help you not sin as much. Anything to improve your chances.

________

Noah was not thinking about his community service tomorrow. Six beers deep, he was only thinking of how he could see Madison Lewis’s nipples through her silky white shirt and that he’d like to wrap his lips around them if he could.

Madison hasn’t let him hit it in a while. Not that he was desperate. He’s had plenty of women since her, and will have plenty of women in the future. But she was always a particularly good fuck. Something about how unashamedly loud she moaned his name—especially when there were people just outside the bedroom door—really sent him.

She’d been making eyes at him all night, and he had a feeling tonight would be his chance if he played his cards right.

He kept his distance from her. She liked to play hard to get but didn’t want someone that simped for her too hard. He’d have to find his moment. If he knew her well enough, she’d get tired of the charade and present an opening to him, and then he’d move in for the kill.

That’s what set Madison apart. Noah was a hunter. He had no problem getting laid on a regular basis, but most women made it too easy. He barely had to show them attention for them to be practically throwing themselves at him. A good fuck is a good fuck, but he preferred a challenge.

Not that she would be super challenging, but at least she understood the game. Fucking her was like playing chess. There was strategy involved and she knew how to hold her own. The better he played, the more rewarding she’d be. She was reliable in that way.

Plus, she was one of the only women who knew what it was. She didn’t linger. She got in and got out without trying to pretend it was something it wasn’t—or worse, trying to force it into something it was never meant to be.

Too many times, he’d bang a girl who had played it cool with him at first, only to get obsessed and practically stalk him afterwards until he was forced to tell her he wasn’t interested. Whoever it was would cry and make him out to be the asshole, when he had been up-front about what he wanted from the beginning. For some reason, they always believe they were going to be the one to change him. They never were.

And okay, he might be an asshole in the fact that he always knows which of them will get clingy. By now, he’s had enough experience to tell. They come on too strong. They give him too many openings, worrying that he somehow didn’t understand what they were trying to communicate if he responded the first time. He got the hint. He just wasn’t interested. 

At least he wasn’t interested if there were still other options available. If he got to the end of the night and all the good options had been taken, he’d throw them a bone and give them a good time, fully knowing that he was in for a week or two of headaches after they realized that he wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love.

Madison caught his eye and gave him a once-over. He was in. She turned to climb the stairs, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked and he followed, taking one last swig of his drink before setting it down on a nearby table and following her up. 

_________

“Any idea where he is?” you asked Nick.

It was 8:07 and Noah still hadn’t shown up yet. Nick shrugged. “I was with him at Jolly’s party last night, but he disappeared and didn’t come back to our place. My guess is with Madison.”  “I don’t know any of those people,” you said.

Nick laughed, showing a charmingly crooked front tooth. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Why is he going out partying if he knows he has community service in the morning?” you asked.

Nick chuckled as he pried the lid off the paint can. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked.

“Have you been to a party before?”

“Sure.”

“I mean one with alcohol,” he deadpanned. You blushed. “That’s what I thought.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if you’ve been to a party, you’d understand why we go even if we have to get up early. That’s the fun of it. You get drunk. You hook up. You meet new people and you suffer the consequences because that’s what life is about.”

“Life is about more than just partying.”

“Something tells me you could use a bit of fun,” he replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, offended.

“Nothing,” he said, now pouring the paint into the tray and swiping his hair across his face. “Just that you seem a little uptight is all.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t want to prove him right by getting upset about it, so you said nothing.

Nick sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to become a whole thing. I was just teasing.”

“I’m not upset,” you said, albeit defensively.

“Clearly.”

You sat with his comment for a moment.

“I have fun,” you said.

Nick smiled to himself. “I’m sure you have plenty of fun.”

“I do!” you protested. “Just not the kind of fun that ends up in having to do a semester of community service.”

He chuckled again, the smile not once having left his face. “And yet, here you are, with me.”

You didn’t have a response to that.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. You looked up and saw Noah towering over the two of you. “I know I’m late again,” he said. “In my defense I didn’t know that being late meant serving more time.” You noticed the tiniest of lisps sneak out of his mouth on ‘defense’ and ‘serving’ and it further humanized him in a way you wished it wouldn’t.

“You didn’t think there would be consequences?” you asked. He shrugged, removing his hood. His long hair was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck and a deep purple bruise appeared on the skin next to it.

“Shit,” said Nick and gave a low whistle. “Madison?”

Noah nodded without making eye contact with his friend.

“Good for you, man.”

“I’ll remind you that we’re on church grounds. Please watch your language,” you said.

Noah and Nick shared a look that you knew was meant to mock you, but you were adamant. They could behave however they wanted on their own time, but this was your time.

“We were just talking about how Saint Mary over here could use a little fun,” said Nick as he handed Noah a paint roller.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically. “My name isn’t Mary.”

“Might as well be,” said Nick.

At that Noah snickered. “Why does he think you could use more fun?” asked Noah. The fact that this was the first time he was choosing to make conversation with you was not lost on you. And though you knew you’d get teased, it was worth it to establish some sort of rapport, or else how were you ever going to talk to him about God?

“He’s judging me because I’ve never been to a drinking party.”

“A drinking party?” asked Nick. “Did you hear that, Noah? A drinking party!” he said, clutching at his chest in mock scandalization. 

You crossed your arms and sucked on your teeth for a moment. “I don’t think you’re the right judge for what kind of fun I should be having, frankly.”

Nick didn’t speak for a second, then held out his hand for you to shake. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Do you attend this church?” said Noah. 

“Yeah,” you said. “And it wasn’t cool to vandalize it. It’s really important to me.”

“I stand by what I did,” said Noah.

“Sorry Mary,” said Nick. “Won’t do it again.”

“Again, my name isn’t Mary. And don’t think I’m going to let you off easily. It’s because of you two that I’m roped into doing this for the next however many weeks.”

“They aren’t paying you?” asked Noah.

“No,” you replied, pointing to the wall to refocus them on the task at hand. They picked up on the hint and started working again. “My dad’s the pastor at the church that sponsors this youth center. He asked me to do it as a favor to him.”

“You’re dad’s the pastor?” said Nick, eyebrows lifting up on his forehead. His expression turned unreadable.

“Nick,” Noah said, soft but stern. They shared a look you couldn’t decipher and you sensed the tone of the conversation had shifted to one you weren’t familiar with. Noah looked serious. You couldn’t determine what expression was on Nick’s face. Something hung in the air between the two of you and you had a sneaking suspicion you weren’t going to like it.

________

“A pastor’s daughter!” Nick repeated when they got back to their shared apartment.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Noah.

“A pastor’s daughter, though.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Whyyyyy?” Nick whined.

“Forget it, man. I’m not doing this with you again. First of all, you have terrible taste. They always get clingy. Plus, we have to spent the next ten weeks with her. If it goes poorly for either of us, it’s going to be awkward.”

“A hundred dollars,” said Nick.

“And second of all,” said Noah, “you’d lose anyway. I already caught her staring at me.”

“Two hundred,” countered Nick.

“That chick is so prude, she wouldn’t open her legs for Jesus himself.”

Nick laughed at the imagery. “She’s kind of cute though, in a mousy, goody-two-shoes, kind of way.”

“Nick, I am begging you. Do not make this some sort of mission to bed her. There are enough prude women out there that offer whatever kind of challenge you’re looking for. Leave this one alone.”

Nick sighed. “You never want to have fun anymore.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “I just have better things to do than to compete for who can bed the pastor’s daughter. Plus, I learned my lesson from last time. Remember that groupie?”

Nick smiled. “Chelsea.”

“Yeah. Her. She wouldn’t leave me alone for weeks.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah but dude, she came to me as a rebound and straight sucked out my soul.”

“You are so missing the point, man. I’m not interested in your games anymore.”

Nick pouted. “You’re no fun. Guess I’ll just have to make it a solo game.”

“Just wait until community service is over, please?”

“No promises.”

Noah sighed and retreated to his bedroom, throwing himself down on the bed and rolling onto his back. Truth be told, he had already thought about what you might look like under your high-necked sweater. Nick was right about you being cute. And he could definitely use a challenge.

Plus it would be the ultimate fuck-you to the church. Sleeping with the pastor’s daughter? Taking her virginity? Corrupting the innocent?

He actually had some level of sympathy for you. Clearly you were raised in a household where you had to subscribe to that shit. You probably never even questioned your devotion to this made-up religion. You’d never been to a party. You definitely had never gone past first base with anyone. You lived life with such rigidity and fear of wrongdoing that you probably never let yourself stray from that tightrope.

He knew it well. He’d been raised in a catholic household by grandparents that had instilled the same kind of fear in him. Luckily, he got out when he was still in high school, but he still remembered what that catholic guilt was like. And what happened when he broke out. 

All that pent-up self-control? The sexual shame you were taught to have. He knew what that looked like when it finally burst, and you were in for a wild awakening.

Logically, he knew he should stay away. Let you live your life. He wasn’t responsible for saving you from the church. But another part of him wanted to see you freed and felt like he’d be doing you a disservice by not exposing you to the other side.

__________

“I want to go to a drinking party,” Ava whined.

“Are you serious?”

“What? It sounds like fun. We don’t have to drink. We could just go and have a good time and stay sober.”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to risk getting an underage?” The two of you were headed to the World History class you shared on Mondays. She’d been prying you for more information on “the bad boys” as she called them. “And you really want to come home smelling like weed and booze and whatever else happens at those parties?”

“Sex?”

“Ava!”

“I just want to know what life is like on the other side is all.”

You sighed. “We don’t need to know what it’s like on the other side. It’s probably just a bunch of idiots getting sloppy drunk and grinding on each other.”

Ava laughed. “You’re so judgey! God won’t send us to Hell for attending one party.”

“I know,” you said, though your throat tightened infinitesimally at the mention of it, because really, who could know for sure? God could be testing you. 

“Just promise me, if they invite you to one, you’ll bring me along?”

You laughed. “I doubt they’ll invite me to one. They seem like they already have all the friends they want.”

“You never know!” she said.

“True.”

Part of you was also curious about what happened at these parties that made them so fun that Noah and Nick still went even when they had to get up early, but another part of you wondered if this was His way of testing your commitment to determine if you were worthy of Isaac.

If it was a test, what would you need to do to pass?

_________

“You’re on time,” you said.

“Who’d have thought?” Noah replied. It was 7:48, and you’d only just arrived at the side when you had spotted Noah walking towards you, long arms swinging casually at his side. He wore a white shirt with a gray hoodie today. You tried to get a better look at the tattoos painting his forearms, but they were so numerous it was hard to identify any specific designs without making it obvious that you were staring.

“Is Nick with you?” you asked.

“He should be here soon. He was showering when I left.”

“Okay. Well, I guess we should get back to work.”  Painting had finished last week, so this week, Nick and Noah were to rake the leaves that had fallen on the ground and in the parking lot. Noah got to work immediately and without complaint.

“How was your weekend?” he asked. You were surprised he was actually speaking to you, considering how distant he’d been the past two weeks.

“It was good. Yours?”

“Good.” 

The conversation fizzled out before it had a chance to go anywhere. It was awkward being alone with Noah. You were trying to stay polite, but he didn’t give you anything to go on, and you were still so angry with him for what he did to the church.

It was so much easier to like Nick. He was at least friendly with you, which made it easier to forgive him. Plus, he seemed genuinely sorry that he had upset you.

“I went home early last night, like you said.”

“What?” you asked, having not processed the information.

“I went home from Jolly’s party early last night,” Noah said.

“Who is Jolly?” you asked.

“Our friend. He plays guitar in our band.”

“You have a band?” you asked.

He nodded. “We’ve only played basement shows locally so far. Nothing major, but it’s fun.” His lisp came out again and your heart softened towards him just a touch.

“What do you play?” you asked.

“A lot of instruments, but in the band I just do vocals.”

“No way,” you said. “I sing in our worship band.”

A small smile broke out on the corner of Noah’s mouth. “I’m guessing our music is a lot different than yours,” he said.

“What kind of music do you play?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s like…heavier than what you’re probably used to.”

“So like, screamo or whatever it’s called?”

Noah chuckled softly. “Something like that,” he said, focusing on raking up a stubborn clump of leaves.

“So why did you leave early?” you asked.

Noah continued to focus on where his rake met the ground in front of him. “I didn’t want to keep adding time on to the end of my service,” he said.

You laughed, picking a leaf on the ground and twisting it around in your fingers by the stem. “Turning over a new leaf, are we?” you asked. You waited for him to look up and notice the pun. When he did, he stopped raking and stared blankly.

“Did you really just say that to me?”

“I stand by what I did,” you said, echoing his words from last week.

Noah stayed still and silent for a long moment, before nodding to himself, and then quickly, without warning, using his rake to kick up a large pile of leaves in your direction.  “Hey!” you shouted, brushing off the leaves that had stuck to your wool sweater. Noah said nothing, turning back to raking. The half-smile never left the corner of his mouth.

Had you misjudged Noah? He had seemed so cold to you at first, but he’d already become much friendlier than he had been that first week.

“So do you think he went back to bed?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” said Noah.

You sighed and fell back into the large pile of leaves Noah had been working on. He continued raking, piling the leaves on top of you.

“You know that’s how you get ticks,” he said. You hadn’t thought of that. You jumped up, brushing all the leaves off you and scanning yourself for ticks. You took your hat off to examine it and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Do you see any on me?” you asked.

“Let me check,” he said, and paused raking. You stood with your back to him, feeling awfully short compared to his towering frame. Noah crouched down to peer at the back of your neck. He lightly brushed the remaining leaves from your shoulders, and then you felt his icy fingers on the back of your neck when he pulled your collar out to check.

“Your fingers are so cold,” you said, voice coming out breathier than you would have liked.

“Sorry,” he said softly from behind you. His voice was gentle as he focused. His fingers pushed your hair out of the way so he could see and tingles erupted over the back of your neck. “Forgot my gloves. Hold on.” You felt him pick at something that clung to your hair. When you turned around, he was inspecting a brown speck pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “I think it’s just a leaf. You’re good.” He flicked the speck away and went back to raking. You, however, couldn’t shake the memory of his fingers ghosting over your skin.

“Did you go to church?”

It felt like a loaded question, but you decided to entertain him. You needed something to focus on.

“I did. Why?”

He shrugged, continuing to watch himself work rather than look at you while he spoke. “No reason.”

“Okay then,” you said, guarded.

“Do you go every week?” he asked after a few more moments.

“I do.”

“And do you like it?” he asked.

“Why? You thinking of giving your life to God?” You meant it to be teasing, but it came out more bitter than you intended.

He smiled to himself. “Just curious as to what you get from it. Why you’re so devoted.”

“It’s not all rules and restrictions, you know,” you said, feeling yourself growing more defensive. “It can actually be kind of fun, and pretty meaningful too.”

“If you say so,” he said. “I just don’t see the fun in being told how to live.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” you said. “I like having some guidelines to live by.”

He shrugged, but didn’t say anything else and you fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s not like that all the time,” you continued after a while, watching him rake leaves into a modest pile. “There’s a lot of encouragement. And it can be really rewarding to devote yourself to a greater cause.”

“Seems like a cult to me.”

“It’s not a cult.”

You’d heard the arguments from people before, especially online. Every Atheist you’ve ever talked to does this same dance. They are upset that you believe in something they don’t like and react by trying to disprove God. Each of them brings up their own version of the same argument, all thinking that they, in their brilliance, have somehow got it all figured out and can change your opinion. They never can.

“Do you follow all the rules?” he asked.

“I try to. Why?”

“Just wondering. So you believe everything that the Bible says is true?”

“It’s complicated,” you answered honestly.

“How so?”

This was the part of the conversation you didn’t like. You were well aware the Bible had a lot of contradictions, and you were willing to admit that some of the stuff in there wasn’t realistic, but most people you talked with couldn’t fathom how you still subscribed to an idea that wasn’t completely perfect.

“There’s a lot of great wisdom in the Bible. But it was written by humans, and sometimes humans don’t always do a good job of interpreting God’s will.”

“So how do you know what parts to believe and what not to believe?” he asked.

“I don’t. I just do my best and hope that God will guide me,” you said.

“I guess I can respect that.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still think it’s bullshit, but I’m not here to tell you what to believe. I’m not the church.”

“Touche.”

He cracked a genuine smile, and you were caught off-guard by how pleasant it was. It was almost enough to distract you from that horrendous neck tattoo.

Just then Nick came jogging up.

“You’re—,” you began, but were cut off.

“I’m late, I know,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “My bad.”

“Well, grab a rake and get to work,” you said, gesturing to where the other rake was leaned up against the tree.

“So what don’t you agree with?” Noah asked, continuing your conversation from earlier.

“Most of Leviticus is garbage,” you said as Nick fell into line between you and Noah and began raking. “Like, that stuff about women not being able to leave their house during their period? Or not wearing blended fabrics? Ridiculous. I think they were all health codes written for the time.”

Noah nodded. “What about homosexuality?” he asked.

That was a sore spot between you and your church. “I don’t think it’s wrong,” you said. “I think if God is love, then love can never be evil. My father doesn’t exactly agree. We get into a lot of arguments about it. It’s something I feel strongly about and have to pray about a lot.”

Noah nodded. “I can accept that. But the church has still done a lot of harm to that community. They should be held accountable.”

“I agree,” you said, moving out of the way so Nick could rake by your feet. “And some churches do outreach to try to heal some of the wounds. One of our sister churches even goes to the local pride parade every year. And they do fundraising to help with AIDS screening.”

“What about your church?” he asked.

You shifted. “My church still has some learning to do.”

“And do you try to educate them?” he asked. “As a pastor’s daughter, you probably have more influence than most.”

“I try,” you said, starting to feel like you were standing trial. “But I’m just one person. I don’t have as much influence as you’d think. I have hope it’ll get better though. I see a lot of churches moving towards a more progressive stance.”

Noah nodded, but didn’t say anything else. You figured that was about as much approval as you were going to get. Still, it was better than nothing.

“I just can’t get over the whole sex thing,” said Nick.

“Nick.” Noah’s voice came out stern and full of warning.  

It took you a few moments to register what he had said. When you did, you inhaled sharply through your nose. Nobody in your social circle ever talked about sex openly, aside from saying how they wouldn’t have sex before marriage. You sensed this conversation could be a dangerous one, but your curiosity was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you’re not allowed to have sex, right?” asked Nick, ignoring Noah.

“Not until marriage,” you said.

“How do you live like that? I could never!”

On the surface level, there was a part of you that was aware that most people in the secular world did not actually wait for marriage, but because you’d been mostly confined to your immediate social circle, you hadn’t actually conversed with someone who was so openly comfortable with talking about sex. You were both intrigued and so far out of your comfort zone that you struggled to keep up.

“I avoid tempting situations,” you said, noticing the hard set in Noah’s jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. His brows were furrowed and he raked slightly more vigorously. 

“How do you not get into tempting situations?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. I just…don’t?”

“Do you just…not think about it? What happens when you’re talking to an attractive guy?”

“What do you mean? I just talk. I mean sure, I might get giddy or nervous, but I don’t like…I don’t know,” you trailed off. “What happens to you when you talk to an attractive woman?”

“I honestly don’t know if I should tell you, sweet child. It might be too much for your virgin ears.”

“Gross,” you said.

Nick threw his head back into a big belly laugh, ignoring the rake for the moment.  “I can’t help it! I love women. They’re so beautiful and…just…sexy.” He said this while drawing a set of hourglass curves with his hands.

“Can’t you admire them without lusting?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. That’s like asking me not to breathe. What’s the point? I’m not interested in being a masochist.”

You leaned against the brick building and crossed your arms, sizing him up.

“You’re not afraid of the consequences?”

He faced you, leaning on his rake. “Consequences? Like STDs or pregnancy? I’m not an idiot. I use protection.”

“No, I mean. Like. Aren’t you afraid of going to Hell?”

“Hell?” he asked, bewildered. “You believe in that?” 

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “Yeah,” you answered. “Don’t you?”

“No!” he said. “I didn’t realize people still believed in that.”

“What about you?” you asked Noah.

“I’m not part of this,” he said, refusing to look up from his rake.

“He knows better,” said Nick.

Noah continued working, but eventually spoke. “I believe it’s something that adults make up to scare children into behaving. Like the boogeyman.”

“It could be real,” you said.

“Doubt it,” interjected Nick. “And if it was, I think it would take a lot more than a few fucks to wind up there. That being said,” he shrugged, and went back to raking, “a life without sex seems pretty hellish to me.”

“Nick,” said Noah with even more bite. “Drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his arms up in surrender. “Just making conversation.” He grabbed his rake and went back to working on the lawn, while you finished out the rest of the shift in relative silence. A strange and curious energy hung in the air between the three of you. It wasn’t a bad energy, exactly, but it wasn’t altogether comfortable.

You reached your hand up to wipe away another leaf from the back of your neck, fingers brushing over where Noah’s had been earlier. The tingles stayed with you throughout the next several hours.

____________

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a war going on. And it’s not a war of the physical realm. No, it’s a war for the soul of the world,” Pastor Jeremy said, in his stern but somber preacher voice.

This was a common theme for sermons. How there is a constant and ongoing battle for the soul of the world, and how Satan and his army are using every tool in their belt to corrupt the hearts of the innocent.

“It is our job,” he continued, “to make sure the devil doesn’t win.”

A message of evangelism. According to many pastors, it was each of our responsibility to save the souls of everyone else. Church goers do this through all sorts of methods. Missions trips were popular. You’d been on one to Guatemala when you were in high school. A group of students went down to build schools and teach other kids about the gospel.

But lately something had been bugging you about this kind of message. Because what if Noah and Nick were right, and Hell didn’t exist? What if it was just something adults told to children to scare them into behaving?

And furthermore, did that mean that your faith was only present because you were afraid of going to Hell? What would your relationship with God look like if you didn’t fear that fate? Would you have one at all?

These questions weighed on you heavily.

“Hey,” said Isaac, nudging you with his elbow. The sermon had ended, and you’d gotten up and started walking out along with everyone else without fully realizing what you were doing. You, Isaac, and a few other students from the campus ministry usually went out for lunch after church on Sundays.

“Hey,” you said, falling into stride with him as he walked into the foyer.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You seemed a little distracted today.”

It was odd of Isaac to comment on your demeanor. You weren’t used to him paying enough attention to you to mention anything.

“Oh. Maybe I was. I didn’t notice.”

He put his hands in his front pockets and leaned his weight on one hip. He looked good in this pose, and it was possible he knew that.

“Anything on your mind?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not that I can think of.”

Isaac seemed to notice the difference in your mood. Normally, you’d be the one asking him all the questions in an attempt to connect.

“I know what it is,” said Ava, sidling up to the two of you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Or should I say who.”

“Ava,” you warned.

“Who?” asked Isaac, his interest piqued.

You sighed in frustration. Ava, for as good of a friend she was, loved involving herself in drama and jumped at the chance to involve everyone else, too.

“Oh, just a couple delinquents,” she said in a teasing lilt.

You didn’t know why you even told Ava about the conversation you’d had with them. You’d like to think she wouldn’t use that information to her advantage, but she hadn’t always been the most reliable friend. Truly, she was as much a friend because of circumstance as she was a friend because you shared any solid connection.

Few people understood what it was like to grow up in a church and be sent to a Christian school. Your graduating class only saw fifteen people. You connected with Ava the most out of everyone, but that didn’t mean you trusted her very much.

And you were right to be hesitant, considering she was currently repeating your private conversation to Isaac simply to gain his attention.

“Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “And who are these delinquents?”

“You’ll have to ask her dad about that one.”

“I’m not listening to this,” you said. “I have sleep I need to catch up on. I’ll see you guys later.”

Truthfully, it was just an excuse to get away from them and clear your head. As much as you usually craved opportunities to spend time with Isaac, you were not feeling it today.

Ava was right. You were distracted because of a couple delinquents—one in particular—and you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t.

Perhaps this was Jesus telling you that you needed to spend more time with him. Perhaps maybe you’d be the one to guide him towards the light?

On the other hand, it could be temptation from the enemy. In which case, you needed to guard your heart.

The only way to know for sure was to pray about it, which you had been doing in earnest, but there was still no clear answer in front of you.

__________

“So I have a theory,” Nick said softly as he took a break from vacuuming the carpet of the worship center. Noah was across the room, headphones on and head bobbing as he dusted the backs of the chairs. He’d apparently given up on trying to tame his friend.

“And what is that?”

“Okay, so it’s maybe you magically just have an inhuman amount of self-control, and I’m not saying it’s not possible, but I’m willing to bet that it’s more likely you just haven’t been tested.”

“Nick, what are you talking about?” Noah asked from across the room.

Nick placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Our conversation last week,” he said. Noah rolled his eyes and went back to dusting, but he let his headphones dangle around his neck, freeing his ears.

“Okay, and?”

“You say it’s not hard for you to avoid tempting situations, but I imagine you probably don’t get into many with the crowd you run with. Like, have you ever even kissed a guy?”

“Why is that any of your business?” you said.

Across the room, Noah sighed and padded over to the two of you.

Nick took the tiniest side-step closer to you. “Just making conversation.”

You took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to play whatever game this was. On the one hand, it really wasn’t any of his business. On the other, you were interested to see where he was going with this.

“Okay, I’ll bite. I have kissed before.”

“One of the church guys?” he asked, shifting his body to face you more. Noah observed silently from beside his friend.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “At summer camp last year.”

“Who initiated?”

“He did, but we’d been flirting all summer before then.”  “And when was this? What happened? Paint me a verbal picture.” Nick was visibly interested, shifting his weight from converse-clad foot to converse-clad foot as he looked at you expectantly. You had to admit that it was kind of cute. Noah remained stoic but attentive.

“It was late August,” you said. “Like I said, he and I had been flirting all summer. It was the last night of camp, and all of the counselors were having an end-of-year party.”

“You were a counselor? Oh man, this is too good.”

“What does me being a counselor have anything to do with it?” you asked.

“Nothing. Keep going.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking that you might not even want to know the reason. “So anyway, we take a walk down to the beach. The sun had already set by that point and it was a new moon, so we could barely see anything. We get down to the beach and decide to go for a nighttime swim.”

“Oh, damn,” he said.

“Language,” you said. “We are in a house of God.”

He made the sign of the cross and put his hands together in mock prayer. “Forgive me. Go on.”

You had to admit, it felt good to have someone hanging on your every word like this, even if his motives were less than ideal.

“Okay. So don’t get too excited. We were still wearing our bathing suits under our clothes from the beach game tournament we’d had with the campers earlier that day. But we get in the water, and he’s like ‘where are you?’ because we couldn’t see anything, and I reached out my hand. He took it and pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. Then he said he really enjoyed hanging out with me this summer and asked if he could kiss me.”

“He asked? Ugh,” Nick scoffed.

“What’s wrong with that? It was sweet. He respected me.”

“It was weak,” he replied. “No wonder nothing else happened.”

“What do you mean by that?” you said, crossing your arms. You had appreciated that Isaac cared about getting consent before he kissed you.

“I don’t know how to explain this concept,” he said, resting his hand on his chin. “Noah? Want to take this one?”

 Noah pursed his lips, debating whether or not he wanted to get involved, but ultimately relented.

“It’s like,” he said, “a guy who asks to kiss a woman is kind of a coward. When you really want to kiss someone, you just do it and risk getting shot down.”

The image of Noah, standing in the lake with you instead of Isaac, tattooed hand grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss flashed in the forefront of your brain before you could shake it away.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I always thought it was like, a sign that a guy respects you.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Nick. “It means he’s afraid of rejection.”

“Is that really true?” you asked, looking at Noah. 

He nodded. “A guy who respects you reads your body language and understands context. He’d know whether you want to kiss him because he’d pay attention to how you’re acting. You wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.”

“Huh,” you said, processing what he had said. You’d never considered it like that before, but looking back, you had put in a lot of work dropping hints to Isaac, going as far as to make it obvious that you were into him.

“How was the kiss?” said Nick. 

“It was nice.”

Nick slapped his thigh and barked out a laugh. Noah cracked his signature half-smile.

“So it sucked.”

“What? No! It was really nice.”

“Trust me,” Nick said. “If it would have been a good kiss, you wouldn’t describe it as ‘nice.’”

“I don’t know if I agree with you. I think a kiss can just be nice sometimes.”

“Yeah, if you’re an old married couple maybe. But it just goes to show that you’ve never actually been properly kissed. And that you don’t know true temptation.”

“I don’t think I like this conversation anymore,” you said. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

“I might be, just a little bit,” he said. You bristled. “And I’m sorry,” he finished. “I don’t mean to make fun of you. I just think you’re missing out on some really important life experiences. And frankly, it’s a shame that the men in your life have failed you so terribly.”

You softened a bit. “I don’t like being mocked, but I suppose you’re right. I do wish the kiss would have been a little bit more…I don’t know,” you trailed off.

“Passionate?” Noah offered. You locked eyes with him and a warmth grew in your stomach. You liked feeling like he understood you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d dreamed my whole life of my first kiss, and when it finally happened, it was exciting because it was Isaac, but—,”

Nick perked up. “Isaac?”

You hadn’t meant to say his name.

“Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Does Isaac go here?” he asked.

“Nick, please. I don’t want any drama.”

“I promise I won’t say anything. I’m just curious.”

“I’m not telling you anything else about him,” you said. “All you need to know is that he kissed me. It was okay. And then he stopped because he didn’t want to get tempted.”

Noah made a face when you said that last part, and you knew there was something behind it, but you didn’t want to ask. He might just join in and make fun of you.

“I’m done dusting,” said Noah finally. “Want me to start on the windows?”

“That would be great, actually,” you said. “Take Nick with you.”

Noah nodded and latched on to Nick’s collar, directing him over to the supply closet where the window cleaner was kept.

You sat on the steps leading up to the alter and crossed your arms over your knees, resting your chin on them.

You were disappointed in the kiss, you realized. They were right, and you hadn’t even noticed until now. After that night, you and Isaac hadn’t spoken about it again. It was as if it had never happened.

You had always surmised you were just better at self-control than your secular peers, and had clung to the identity, basing a level of self-worth on that idea, but what if that wasn’t true? What if they were right about the rest too, and you were missing out on all these important experiences? Were you just naïve?

You supposed that was a good thing. After all, chasing after those experiences could get you in a lot of trouble and lead you down a bad road. But then again, how were you supposed to resist temptation in the future if you couldn’t even recognize it? What would happen when something came along that did tempt you? How would you handle it?

Did you even want to know? 

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[sabcandoit]

As you wish

Spider noir x fem reader

Summary: Spider-Man Noir comes home from a late night saving the world. You cooked dinner for him and as the night progresses on you both find yourselves naked and begging for more.

Warnings: smut. and fluff! but mostly smut and pet names. No real roles are pushed but Noir is a bit more dom and the one in control. Fingering, begging, and lots and lots of flirting. 

A/N: Ugh i'm a slut for this man. Also this is my first fic so !!! Please enjoy!

You were at home, cooking a dinner to share with your husband. Peter was busy at work and usually wasn't back until late. Oh, how you missed his presence during the day. Waking up with him was a treat in itself, but the rest of the day was torturous. It was definitely not easy being married to Spiderman.

You had put Dean Martin’s hits on the record player, lighting a few candles, trying to set a romantic and calming atmosphere. You and Peter had a shared love for jazz. As you continued to put the dishes on the dining table, you sighed, wiping the back of your hand on your forehead. Even through almost a year of marriage, you two still had this honeymoon phase running, never fully thinking it would stop. You smiled, thinking about how gentlemanly and chivalrous he was. You couldn't wait to see him again and wrap your arms around him and kiss his beautiful lips and…

Keys jangled at the door, and a hand turned the knob as a shadowy figure stepped in. Clad in his dark suit, Peter closed the door behind him. You turned to see his masked face looking over at you in the Kitchen. 

“Peter!” You smiled, “Welcome home.” you sweetly walked up to him, snaking your hands around his waist, looking up at him. 

“Ah, hello darling…” he sighed, exhausted. “I see you have dinner all ready.” you could tell he was smiling too even under his mask. 

“Oh yes,” you turned around, looking at the table. As you let go of his waist and stepped back, he watched as you walked over, fixing up your hair as you untied the apron from around you. Peter took off his hat, setting it on the coat stand and pushed off his trench coat. He pulled his mask up, showing his tired face and disheveled hair., and picked off his gloves. His black, buttoned up vest over a black turtleneck now visible as he still sported his black pants and knee-length heavy duty boots, walking towards the diner table. As you placed the platter of roast and vegetables down, Peter pulled out your chair. “It looks delicious, doll” he softly said as he put his hand on your lower back. 

“Thank you.” You replied, sitting down. He then moved over to his chair and sat down. As you ate dinner he sat up, smirking as he complimented the soft music playing. “So… it's a Dean Martin kind of night?” he questioned with his fork in the air. You chuckled and nodded, “You bet.”

 As you and Peter finished eating, you started to stand up, grabbing your dishes as he stopped you, with his hand stretched out. “Let me do that Sweetheart.” He rolled up his sleeves before grabbing the plate in your hands as you walked over to wash more dishes. After he put the dirty plates in the soapy water you were using to clean, he wrapped his half-covered arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. 

“I missed you.” he softly said. You only closed your eyes and breathed in, resting your own head on his. “I did too.” you spoke. As his hands moved up your body, he stood up straight and looked down at your figure. Wearing a simple, mid length floral dress and stockings with your hair falling out of the temporary updo. “I love this dress on you…” he flirted as he hitched up the dress slightly while still caressing your body from behind. 

“Oh Pete, you ought to be ashamed of yourself” you raised your head, feeling his touch getting more and more heated. “Why?” he was quick to respond, you could hear a smirk in his voice. “I should be able to appreciate my beautiful wife…” he continued. You blushed slightly, drying off your hands in a towel as you turned around, now facing him. You looked up into his eyes, him being quite taller than you. Reaching up, wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as his hands continued to place on your waist. You both leaned in, kissing  passionately. 

As you continued to kiss, sweet and simply, your linked arms fell down to his neck. The kisses started getting more intense and sultry, making you both breathe laborly. Parting for just a moment, you mumbled gently “Well, big guy.”, making Peter chuckle and lightly blush too, coming back into the kiss. He eventually made it down your neck, growing impatient. You felt his breath lowering with every kiss. As he did this, you made little noises, not being able to stay quiet. One of your arms came between you two as you started unbuttoning the top of his vest. “Peter…” you groaned. He stopped, looking at you, “Perhaps we should move?”, he looked with a playful tone. You giggled and nodded as he picked you up bridal style. When he did this, your dress only rid up more, showing your upper thighs. He took notice, his eyes traveling over your body. Then he snapped his eyes directly into yours, raising his brows as you blushed.

 Neither of you had to say anything, you already knew what you were both thinking. Peter walked into your bedroom, setting you on the bed and leaning down on you, kissing feverishly. Your hands pushed up on his chest while you made out. He paused to comment, “Oh you doll… so pretty”. 

Your hair completely fell out of the tie you had it in at this point as he undid a few more of his buttons. His clunky shoes were still on, frustrating him as he leaned down to untie them, mumbling apologies to you for leaving your excited bodies behind. You just chuckled as he came back up to you after successfully kicking them off. Your dress was practically useless in covering you, now halfway up your body, showing your tan stockings and panties. He smirked at the sight, uttering under his breath “Woman…”, giving you one chaste kiss before pulling your sheen stockings down. You watched him intently as he did so, rummaging your hands through his vest again, unbuttoning the rest and helping him shrug it off. 

He hummed as he kissed your exposed collarbone, and you moaned lightly, rubbing your hand along his muscular back. He pulled your dress over your arms and head, panting in the kiss as he brought his large hands to fondle your covered breasts. You moaned into the kiss.

 “D’you like that?” he slurred, frantically trying to continue his work. You felt the bulge in his pants rub against your panties and stomach. You boldly brought a hand down to his clothed dick, palming it, making him gasp. He stood up, keeping eye contact with a sinful look as he was still surprised from your daring hand. Quickly crossing his arms, he pulled up on his tucked in turtleneck, tossing it to the floor harshly before coming back down on you again. Your eyes followed his bare chest, hairy and robust, muscles contracting as he moved. Only in your undergarments now, he slipped a hand in your panties. “Already this wet? Wow, you must be pleased.” he mischievously commented. 

You moaned more, desperately needing him. Peter then stuck one finger up your cunt, moving in and out. “Oh.. Ah!.. Peter, please!” you screamed in between heavy breaths. “Please what?” he teased. He was having fun with this, too much fun. You furrowed your eyebrows in irritation, not wanting to play around. As he continued to finger you, adding another digit in, you mumbled “Fuck me”. He partially heard you, an idea coming to his mind. “What was that?” he chuckled breathlessly. You only raised your voice slightly, uttering, “Fuck me…” He definitely heard you this time, but went along with his plan. “Say it louder, like you mean it doll.” he voiced, egging you on. After a few pants and you grasping onto his back for dear life, overstimulated by his fingers, you spoke loud and clear. “Fuck me Peter Parker.” All though he was feeling very playful and very much so liking where this was going, something clicked in him with your last remark. Maybe it was hearing his full name being spouted so desperately from your mouth. “As you wish.” He then retracted his digits from your pussy and stood up again. 

You laid on the bed, exasperated yet completely aroused and ready as he unlatched his belt buckle, slipping it off and pushing his pants down. His dick, large and rock hard, was faced up in his tight, black boxers. Before pulling said clothing down, he ran his hand through his hair with a lustful look on his face. You looked him in the eyes with an innocent, adoring sort of look. When he noticed your stares, he leaned back, already high off of the foreplay. While you watched him, you unfastened your bra from behind and threw it on the floor, sporting a seductive look. “Dear God…” he muttered as he slipped off his boxers. Your eyes widened as you saw his veiny and tall member. How did his confidence never waver? He always looked at you so adoringly, as though you were the only thing that mattered. He was so vocal about it too, calling you all sorts of cute and lustful names. It no doubt turned you on each time, hanging on to his every word. 

All that was left was your underwear, absolutely soaked. He leant back down again, rubbing your hips and sliding down to your panties, picking them off, dragging them down your legs as you collectively panted. You bit your lip as you watched him slide back up to your now barren privates. He kissed it slowly, as though he was praising your body, ascending to your breasts and collarbone. He sucked on one of the nipples, softly stroking and pinching the other one. “Peter!” you moaned. You could feel him smirking against your breast, clearly liking the sounds you made. “Keep making those pretty noises, Angel.” 

You couldn't continue like this, you thought. Every passing second becoming more impatient. His hard on was now edging you, and the sensation making you groan. He finally parted from your chest and led his cock into your vagina, going slow and steady, so as not to hurt you. You whined his name lewdly. This drove him to move more forcefully. He whispered sweet pet names in your ear as he held on tightly to your hips. Little kisses were marked all over you in the meantime as your arms clung to his back, hastily clenching your fists. He enjoyed every minute of watching you. His lips pursed as he slid in and out of you. You both couldnt speak at this point, being too engulfed in the intensity of the moment, but he managed to spill out a quick “Fuck.” and “I love you” as he continued to pound into you. You had no need to beg him to go faster or harder, he knew just how you liked it.

 “Im Close!” you moaned. He kissed and bit on your neck, making you squirm and blush. “Cum for me darling.” he commanded sweetly. With one last cry out, your cum dripped out, being blocked by his member still very much so in you. This drove him mad, and his release was soon after. White fluid, a mixture of both of yours, ran lewdly down your leg and onto the bed. You both continued moaning, still high off of the circumstances. 

As the intoxicating moment wore off, you laid next to each other on the bed, hugging. He stroked your head lightly, playing with your hair and kissing your temple. “My dove,” he called. “You are amazing.” you just closed your eyes, basking in the moment, smiling. Peter mumbled, “One moment dear, let me get you something” as he rolled over and pushed off of the bed, grabbing his boxers and slipping them on. As he walked out of the room, you watched his sinewy back and cute butt. You put your hand at the side of your mouth as you teasingly spoke, “Be quick, handsome!”. He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow and curious smirk. 

He grabbed two glasses and filled them with water, returning back to the bedroom. As he came back in, he saw you throwing on one of his short sleeve button-up (it being very large on you), and your underwear as you stood. “I'm going to freshen up” you explained, walking towards the bathroom connected to your room. He followed you, handing you a glass as you smiled back and thanked him. He stretched an arm out to your waist, grazing it lightly as he spoke in a husky voice, “Such a beautiful girl.”

[musiclover84898]

As you know i’ve been on a tad fiona apple high so im thinking perhaps the reader is the kinda artist that fiona is and she’s preforming in a quiet club. James comes with Kirk (per kirk’s request) and James is really struck by her sorta and ends up trying to talk to her before she leaves so they just talk for a bit and it’s mostly fluff with a few 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 remarks

This is so creative I love it !!! James in a cowboy hat does something to me…I based the title off of one of Fiona’s albums because I didn’t know what to call it lmao. Thank you for your request! 😽

Warnings: Mostly fluff, somewhat-sexual/suggestive remarks. This takes place in 1992

Word count: 1,346

Tidal - James Hetfield

Friday nights were always the busiest, from what I've observed. So any different people would usher themselves inside the small club, sitting at the circular tables or the bar with a glass of wine in hand, chatting and laughing as I performed my songs. It filled me with a sense of pride as I watched the people cheer and applaud for me, a clear sign that they enjoyed my work. I loved what I did, and it felt good knowing that others did, too.

I started my show like normal, the soft, melodic sound of the piano filling out the underground room. My fingers grasped onto the microphone as I began to sing, the lyrics streaming from my lips as the song progressed on. I liked to believe that I was one of those artists who really felt the music they sang and wrote, not the ones who just listened to it. As I continued with the show, it felt like I was the only one in the room; like I was preforming to an empty expanse. I sang better that way, I thought. Slower, more heartfelt songs began to play, hinting at the end of my set.

The door to the club swung open quietly, two men walking in and taking a seat at the bar. I curiously glanced over at them as I sang, my eyes lingering on the taller of the two. He had blue eyes and long, shaggy blonde hair. He was also wearing a cowboy hat, which I thought was quite interesting. We made eye contact; for a moment, it felt like I was singing to him. My stomach jumbled into a knot as we continued to stare at each other, the tension between us growing. Without even thinking, I looked away towards the rest of the crowd to finish out the song. I had to find him after my set, and figure out who the hell he was and what he was doing here at my show..

༄༄༄

I was sitting near the bar, a drink in hand as I gazed at my shoes. The show was a success, per usual; I had received praise from nearly half the bar; their cheering and applause still echoed in my ears. The sound of clinking ice against the glass sent me back to the present moment, revealing the man from before standing right in front of me. My eyebrows raised abruptly, earning a dark, husky chuckle from him.

“You did an amazing job up there, rockstar. I’m impressed,” he said as he took a seat on the barstool next to mine. I bashfully smiled, waving my hand as if I was dismissing his compliments. Nervous butterflies were fluttering in my chest and stomach; why was I getting so damn jittery around him? I took a hearty sip of my drink before settling it back down onto the bar.

“Thank you. I saw you earlier while I was on stage, what’s your name?” I asked. I noticed his outfit and how casual it looked; boots, slightly ripped jeans, and a plain black shirt with the sleeved rolled up to his forearms. Not the attire for a place like a jazz club, I thought. I noticed him take a sip of beer from a tall glass before answering me. He had a horseshoe mustache. It kind of looked like one of the ones you’d see in an old Western film. It made me want to laugh.

“James. James Hetfield,” he began, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his big hand. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” His words hung in the air for a long while, allowing me to absorb his low voice and his piercing, ice-blue stare. His name sounded familiar; extremely familiar, actually, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was because of the strong liquor I had been drinking for the past fifteen minutes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hetfield.” I joked, lightly jabbing him in the arm with a small fist. He laughed deeply, showing off his white teeth. He certainly was very charming, from his words all the way down to the way he carried himself in general. I felt extremely attracted to him already, even though we’d met just under ten minutes ago. We continued to talk with each other about random things like music, and how we both had a hobby of playing guitar. To me, it sounded like he was extremely passionate and serious about it. It was interesting to listen to him explain how he started playing in the first place. After a few more drinks, it was clear we both felt a bit tipsy.

“I bet a lot of men come up to you, huh? You’re really fuckin’ pretty.” He hiccuped, placing a wobbly hand on my thigh for leverage. His blonde hair looked tousled and messy, which somehow suited him even more. His hat was resting next to his nth glass of beer, which was already half full.

I blush as red as a beet, and mutter a “Thank you” under my breath. He must’ve noticed how embarrassed and flushed I looked, because his lopsided smirk grew wider.

“You’re very welcome, baby. How about we come back to my place, hmm? I could show you a real good time, little lady.” His voice sounded a lot more hoarse and raw than before, a clear sign that the alcohol was affecting his behavior. My heart began to thump loudly in my chest, beating so fast I thought it would burst. The hand on my thigh began to travel closer to the hem of my skirt, toying with the black fabric. I sucked in a breath, my teeth chewing down on my bottom lip.

“I really shouldn’t. We’re both shitfaced,” I laughed softly, placing my hand on top of his own. They felt cold, but it was a pleasant feeling. The atmosphere of the room was hot and stuffy all of a sudden; what the fuck was happening? I rubbed my temples with my index and middle fingers, trying to relieve some of the tension in my head.

“And besides, it’s late. I should be packing up my equipment right now.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. I wanted to say yes so damn badly, but I just met this guy. I couldn’t just saunter back to his apartment and sleep with him! I wasn’t that stupid.

“So? You’ve never fucked anyone when you’ve been a little tipsy, sweet thing? It’s a lot of fun,” he taunted in a sing-song tone of voice. “But, if you say so, I won’t keep askin’ you,” he squeezed my thigh before letting it go, taking a final sip of his beer. He leaned down, placing a lingering kiss to my cheekbone. I could smell the alcohol on his lips and the faded cologne on his shirt; the unfamiliar-yet-intoxicating scent made my heart race even more than it already was. I quickly scanned him up and down before peering back up into his half-lidded eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart. You take care of yourself in the meantime, alright?” He told me, tossing on his cowboy hat and making his way through the large room and out the door. As he left, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him before, and how familiar his name sounded. As I slowly refocused on my environment, I could hear people whispering and chatting with each other about the man who had just given me a kiss on the cheek.

“Holy shit, James from fucking Metallica was just in here!”

“Man, I should’ve asked for his autograph. I feel like such an idiot now. Did you see that woman he was talking with?!”

My eyes widened as I instinctively reached for my glass of liquor. I rose the rim to my lips, letting the bitter-tasting liquid fall onto my tongue. A member of Metallica had just chatted me up tonight. I felt a small smile curling onto my lips.

So that’s where I knew him from.

A.N: I finished this at like 3 am so I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes! This is the last fic I will post before I go into inactivity for a little while. Requests will be closed until I adjust to school and overall just get my life organized lmao. I’ll make a post announcing when they’ll be open again eventually. I hope you all enjoyed reading this!, thank you my love @marchymango for requesting it 🤍 Much love xoxo

© musiclover84898

[mukbangg]

Billy and an ex-outlaw reader who has a bit of ptsd? If you’re still in the market for prompts :)

Omg I have so many of yalls prompts writings in progress....trynna write between school and work. Nonnie, iiiii dk if this is written right might make part 2.

(Me writing during work: you write porn w the same hands you serve coffee ?)

Jesse and his boys were old acquaintances of yours.

Though you never did ride with them, you've crossed paths with their lot quite a few times. What started out as a rivalry had turned into more like friendly competition before you had earned their respect by saving their asses more times you can count.

But when your crimes had caught up to you, resulting in much bloodshed involving your family back at home well...you werent eager to get back in business.

Fact is, you've left your past behind and settled down a little way off a lone town, behind a beautiful spread of a meadow.

A cozy barn, small and snug.

Just like your momma had always wanted.

So when a familiar group of cowboys come trotting through the meadow....let's say you werent all that pleased.

"Jesse,"

You tip your hat at the blonde astride his horse.

"Boys,"

"Well, look who's alive,"

He laughed, swinging off his horse and sweeping you into a crushing hug. You softened with a sigh, patting him on the back.

When you'd decided to settle, he'd kicked up such a fuss, mad that you decided to leave in your prime.

You were like the gang's little sister, or maybe an annoying cousin that swings by every now and then.

"Here lemme introduce you to-"

"Billy,"

You were suddenly aware of the towering fella who had emerged abruptly from the group. Dark curls peeking out from his hat, broad shoulders and a rugged air to him, he was a handsome one. But what takes the cake was his piercing blue eyes, fixed unwaveringly on you.

It would be intimidating if not for how subtly they raked over your body.

"Eyes up here cowboy,"

You mutter to the man lowly, gripping his outstretched hand in a firm shake.

"Replaced me so soon, jesse?"

You turn back to the blonde, raising a brow at him.

"Well doll, Billy heres quite the gunslinger, maybe even better than ya,"

You swat playfully at his chest, a round of laughter rising from the group. Jesse chuckles, before he shrugs, kicking at the ground. You know that look.

"So my boys and I need to lay low for awhile and well..."

He raised his brows at you, a sliver of a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Hell no, jesse, you know I'm out,"

You huffed, shaking your head firmly. Annoyance rises like a whip in your chest, you alway were quick to temper.

"You know that, after what happened...."

"Aw c'mon, just a couple o' weeks? We promise we wont bring you no trouble, we'll even help out-"

You held up a finger, trying hard to maintain your stern facade.

"I cant risk it, such a large group of men, oh I swear to god-"

"Using the lord's name in vain-"

Jesse attempted at a joke before swallowing his words when met with your burning scowl. His group stirs uneasily behind him.

"Just a week?"

Billy's voice rang out. He steps forward, blue eyes pleading as a warm smile crack over his lips. You sighed, ready to turn down his offer.

"Towns people talk, what if they see y-"

"We'll do chores, we'll earn our keep, surely you can use the rest, miss? It's a big place to take care of,"

Now that, was tempting. Your barns not huge but you're only one person, and the day passes quick when you busy about with the chores. And to add on, a group of men you trust does put your worries at ease.

Living away from town always had the threat of robberies and whatnot, especially for a lone girl like yourself. You've hidden pistols everywhere in the house, one slung around your hip, though you're never sure if you'd be able to pull the trigger on someone when it comes down to it...

What a joke, you used to be one of the most feared outlaw with an aim as true as the sky is blue.

Now you cant even stand the sound of your door slamming.

"Fine,"

You finally relented, clicking your tongue with a jerk of your head to allow the group to flood into your house.

They cheered and hollered, Jesse and slapping Billy on the back before heading in.

"G'job butterin' her up Billy boy!"

"Y'better believe I'll be working the lot of you to your bones!"

You huffed after him, before turning back to Billy.

"And you! I swear t'God if any of yall give me trouble I'm coming for you first!"

He leans close, tipping his hat at you with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

"Your wish is my command, pretty,"

Billy brushes past, leaving you all flustered and red in the cheeks , with a looming dread that you've got more than a few rowdy cowboys to worry about.

What did your momma used to say?

Butterflies in your damn stomach.

(Haiii I'm lowkey bad at story stuff might make a part 2...? If yall want? Gimme some ideas what you wanna see in part 2 if you want)

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P3

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

"I think this is the perfect outfit" your manager tells you, as you open the door for her. You'd asked for her opinion on what you should wear, knowing that you'd be in pictures with your friends tonight and you didn't want to come across badly on the media.

"Do you want to drive?" she asked, you didn't normally drink but she didn't know if you'd want to let loose and have some fun tonight where you'd performed so well in the race.

"Erm, no I'll drive. You know what I'm like" you smiled, the minute you passed your test on your 17th birthday you never let anyone else drive.

"Well, seems like your all ready. Bahrain has been a blast, so lets go party tonight and get you ready for Saudi yeah?" she smiles and you both head down to the rental Audi you'd been using while here in Bahrain.

You'd pulled up to the venue that Charles had sent you after you exchanged numbers. Half an hour after that you'd been added to a group chat called 'The Grid Boiss'

𝚈/𝙽: 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝… 𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚌: 𝙾𝚑, 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜! 𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚎: 𝙳𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚈/𝙽. 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚒 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚈/𝙽: 𝙽𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜! -𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝙱𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙! 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚣 𝙹𝚛: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙, 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡? 𝚂𝚒𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚜: 𝙶𝚞𝚢𝚜, 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚎?

You'd laughed at the fact that the whole name had been changed just for you.

"Y/N over here! Come here!" you heard from the left and see a load of flashing cameras as you hop out the car. Your manager had agreed she would park your car while you went in and made appearances.

You walk over to see fans and the Paparazzi, all taking pictures. You start to sign objects thrusted towards you, some getting progressively stranger making you laugh with the fans. You had a few people ask for pictures and hugs so of course you oblige, taking selfies left and right giggling while people ask you numerous questions.

Eventually you say your goodbyes and head into the club, the bouncer not recognizing you, made a scrunched face waving his hand for you to leave.

"I've been invited by Charles Leclerc I'm a" you start but the tall man interrupts you.

"You know how many times I've heard that sweetheart, now lets ,move on and go down the street" he says his hand softly resting on your shoulder.

"I'm a driver, I'm with Audi this year sir. Not a fan" you try to explain but he scoffs.

"Sure you are... and I'm" he starts but Charles and Daniel come rolling out the club dying of laughter, before spotting you.

"Y'N" Daniel shines, pulling you in for a hug and leaning down to place a friendly kiss on your cheek.

"My apologies" the security guard admits. Nodding for you to follow the two guys in.

You take Danny's hand dragging him in, you walk through into the dark room faced by Neon lights and smoke from a machine up at the DJ booth.

"Is- is that Lando?" you shout to Danny and Charles over the music trying to work out in the person in the bucket hat up at the DJ booth messing around with the actual DJ.

"Yes, yes it is" Danny laughs shaking his head.

"Pierre, Alex!" you shout spotting them by the bar.

"Ahhh Y/N you want us to get you a drink?" Pierre smirks, looking behind you a Charles who had an odd expression on his face.

You'd only really given him a short hello when you'd first arrived and it irked him, he wanted you to talk to him, he wanted to get to know you.

But then again, the club wasn't exactly the best place for deep and meaningful conversations.

"Well Charles won today, so maybe let him buy the drinks?" Alex asks also seeing the expression on his face.

"One thing i wont ever say no to is a free drink, however I am driving so no alcohol please" you say twisting round to look at Charles having felt his presence behind you for a while.

"You've been driving all day, and you will drive here and back?" Charles asks, his gaze was so... prominent. It had your head dipping down not to meet his eye.

"I don't trust anyone else to drive" you smile, Pierre grabs you the drink, Charles leaning over you to swipe his card on the reader. He smiled down at you before taking the glass and bringing it to your waiting hand.

"Thanks, love" you grin, nodding you head at him.

"Hey guys, you look amazing Y/N" Lewis says coming over and joining the group, George trailing behind him. You pull him in for a hug thanking him for the compliment before returning it.

"You wanna go dance?" Charles asks placing his empty glass on the counter, looking over you.

"Yeah sure! You guys coming?" you ask the group that you'd situated yourself with for the night.

"Nah, we're gonna attempt to pull Lando away from the booth" Alex laughs, looking up to the stage, Lando was dancing to the beat, headphones on around his neck while the DJ just had his arms crossed watching him.

"Okay, if you need help just come and grab us" you smiled before taking Charles hand, you pull him into the middle of the dance floor.

You both are dancing together, originally you'd been facing each other, just watching each other and the way that they moved. However, as the dancing became more you'd turned around and his hands had swiftly made their way onto your waist.

Between the dancing Charles had gone back and forth getting drinks, having now been on his 4th shot and seventh drink he was beyond drunk.

You pulled him too a quiet corner, so that he could here you a little better.

"Charlie, listen to me. Do you have a way back to the hotel?" you ask, looking around to see if you can find Danny, Lewis or Pierre. The people you assumed that would be taking him home.

"Pierre he took me here" he grins, leaning into you resting his head on your stomach groaning.

"Okay stay here in this seat. I'm going to find him" you direct, you move back onto the dance floor, looking around for people. However, Pierre seemed to not be there, only Alex and George remained, talking to one another.

"Hey guys where's Pierre?" you ask, coming up next to their booth.

"Oh, he left with Lewis, Oscar and Lando a while ago" Alex offers, looking over at George hoping he'll add to the statement.

"Yeah Lando and Oscar were very drunk so they took them home. Why?" George asks.

"Charles is really drunk and he's saying Pierre was supposed to take him back!" you admit, not knowing what to do.

"Well, my cars full. You drove didn't you? Could you take him back?" Alex asks, smiling slightly making you groan.

"Sure, but if he throws up in MY rental, you Pierre and Charles are splitting that" you frown, looking back at Charles who is currently sat in his chair, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

You walk back over, gripping his arm, he looks up at you with a massive grin.

"Come on, lets get you to bed" you tell him, he nods hopping up swaying a little bit in the process.

"You, are very very pretty" he grins, as he leans into you.

"Come on Charles" you laugh, gripping him so he wouldn't trip taking him to you car.

Tomorrow you'd actually talk to him.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch

@hockey-racing-fubol

@laura-naruto-fan1998

@22yuki

@simxican

@sinofwriting

@lewisroscoelove

@cmleitora

@stupidandunnecessary

@clayra-g

@daemyratwst

@cherry-piee

@honey-belden

@moonypixel

@lauralarsen

@vader-is-hot

@ironcowboycopnickel

@itsjustkhaos

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Reader as Scaramoche/wanderer of genshin impact, who has come to our world for a new beginning.

He knows he's a video game/fictional character, he tries not to think of himself as less human than he already thinks he is.

That's why he sees/treats all fictional characters as human because they might exist somewhere.

How the bungou stray dogs cast reacts to reader/Scaramoche/Wanderer all of his in-game appearances.

Sorry for The mistakes, english is not my First Language.

May you live a life full of happiness and affection.

From: your follower from Brazil 🇧🇷

Scaramouche! Male! Reader

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x Male! Scaramouche! Reader

Description: You knew, that you were fictional for that world. But, you were real in Teyvat. Maybe, someone else is real in different world, but not in this.

Warning:OOC. Slight spoilers for Genshin Impact. English is my second language.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words 😊

You, Aether and Lumine were standing on a big platform up in the sky. Traveler's journey was over. And yours will begun shortly.

Lesser Lord's... Nahida's last words, ring into your ears.

"Be happy, [Y/N]. I wish that you find your home in a different world."

You take a step forward, right behind the Travelers. People, who agreed to transport you to different world. People, who gave you your name.

Scaramouche, The Balladeer, Sixth Harbinger, The Wanderer, was leaving Teyvat.

Forever

______

🐾 It took time, but, you managed to fit in this strange world. There were no gods among humans, no elemental powers.

🐾 Only progress.

🐾 You... liked it here. This world feels different from Teyvat. And you really appreciate it.

🐾 Your life was peaceful. At least, before this strange new game appeared.

🐾 When one day you woke up, and decide to scroll through the social media. You were more of a lurker, enjoying dramas, people started here.

🐾 And you saw it. And advertising for a new game. "Genshin Impact". And you saw Travelers on the poster. Poster for a new version. With you on it.

🐾 For the next few days, you stayed away from the Internet. The bittersweet thoughts were sinking their teeth in your mind.

🐾 Fictional. You were not just a puppet. You were a fictional puppet of a fictional character.

🐾 You spend half of the day in the nearest forest, destroying old trees with your Anemo powers.

🐾 And, after that, you didn't think about it ever again. You are here. You are in this real world. And other things should not matter.

🐾 But something changed in your behavior.

🐾 You start treating fictional characters from TV shows, books, anime and manga as real people. You talked to them, sympathies with them.

🐾 Perhaps, there is the world, where they were real.

______

You were relaxing on your couch after a long day of work. You recently finished daily missions in BSD Mayoi and mindlessly scrolling through the channels.

On your small kitchen, the rice cooker was on. Soon, you will have some delicious Chazuke.

You started to nod off. You don't require sleep, but, you enjoyed napping from time to time.

And, suddenly, your phone starts shaking and gloving. Immediately, you summon the power of Anemo. Winds lift you up. Your hat, that you kept on the top of one of the wardrobes, soar towards you and froze behind your back.

The atmosphere compressed under your foot in a singular vacuum. You were ready to attack.

"Please, don't be afraid, young man, we are... HOW?!" you scared Chief Taneda. And Ango. And Mori. And Kunikida. And everyone.

All of you just froze, staring at each other. You lower your feet, still floating in a midair.

You just kept staring at each other. The silence became awkward.

Dazai take a carious step forward and pocked skin of your ankle. You still were floating.

You hear the rice cooker's signal. Your dinner was ready.

You broke the silence.

"Who wants chazuke?"

_______

🐾 The first meeting was... something. And talk after the meeting wasn't better.

🐾 You didn't hide from them, that you also were fictional. You have no reason. And they deserved to know.

🐾 You were hesitant to tell them, where exactly are you from. It's not like you believed, that they, somehow, will use it against you. You simply need time, before trusting them. Even if BSD Cast knew, how it feels to be fictional.

🐾 On the bright side, Atsushi liked your Shimi Chazuke.

______

You looked around your new home. A big home, where you will live with your... new friends. Together.

A distant memory of Niwa and Tatarasuna scraped your mind.

It was so long, since you lived among friends.

And friends should trust each other.

Later that day, during dinner, you finally tell them the name.

"I am from the game called 'Genshin Impact'".

_______

🐾 After some negotiations, you agreed to let BSD Gang watch walkthrough for Genshin Impact. They were curious to see, how you looked like before.

🐾 Because, yes, you had to change your looks, when you arrived here. Travelers insisted on it.

🐾 So, after some more negotiations, you agreed to watch videos with them.

______

Reaction to Scaramouche:

- During "Unreconciled Stars" event:

🐾 They will tease you about your outfit. You are playfully grumble on them, but you don't feel any real anger or annoyance.

🐾 Dazai created few dozens jokes about you, hats, Chuuya and height. He will add them to hundreds of thousands of jokes he already has.

🐾 Jounou will ask if you are a conspiracy theorist, after hearing about fake sky.

- During "Chapter II"

🐾 Twain joked about your resemblance with that one Elmo meme. You used your anemo powers on him. For the next few days, his hair resembles an abandoned bird nest.

🐾 After learning, that you are a doll, BSD Cast stopped the video marathon to talk to you. You were talking for few hours, they were trying to make you believe, that you are no less than normal humans.

-During "Chapter III"

🐾 They were crying. Crying during your backstory part. Crying during part, where you were defeated.

🐾 Expect even more affection in the future.

🐾 Yosano, Doc and Mori check your head for injuries, after seeing you fall down after you were defeated.

-During "Interlude Chapter. Act III"

🐾 After learning about Dottore's role in your past and his treatment of you, BSD Gang was ready to travel to Teyvat and tear him apart. You quickly assured them, that Dottore already paid for what he did.

🐾 They were nervous, when you and memories about you disappeared.

🐾 Thought, that you were adorable, before you gain your memories back. They won't say it out loud.

🐾 Were cheering, when you got your vision. To entertain them, you float around the room.

______

Reaction to Wanderer:

- During "A Paradise of Providence" event.

🐾 Now Dazai will call you only "Hat Guy". Wait, until he learns about "Bongo-Head".

🐾 Kunikida is baffled of you not taking competition seriously.

🐾 Everyone adores yours and Nahida's relationship.

____

You feel better, after sharing your story with BSD Cast. You will wait for the future. When you can share the rest of the story with your friends.

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 7

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 7 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Rosie had arranged for Hal to escort you across town for the event.  

“You'd be an easy target, all gussied up and fancy looking,” she'd explained.  “And Alastor is nothing if not a gentleman.  He'll see ya’ home safe.”

So Hal had put on a bow tie and his least blood stained trousers and the two of you had set off towards the Hazbin Hotel.  It took longer than expected thanks to your heels making the pitted sidewalks an absolute terror to negotiate, but a good number of people were still entering the hotel by the time you arrived.  

“Ya’ got knives on ya?’” Hal grumbled.  

“I've got two in my purse, one strapped to my leg, and Ms. Rosie leant me her sharpest hat pin,” you say, reaching up to fiddle with the accessory in question.  

“Attagirl,” Hal says, squeezing the arm laced through his in approval as you passed through the gates and meandered along the cobblestone driveway.  Hal prattled on as you drew closer to the entrance, seemingly overflowing with paternal advice, but it was hard to focus on his words over the thundering of your heartbeat in your chest.

“- and a kick to the pussy hurts just as much as a kick to the dick.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmured distractedly, reaching into your beaded pearl clutch to pull out the invitation with shaking hands.  

You handed it to the doorman, some sort of egg-like creature with a large chunk of shell missing from the top of its head, providing a clear view of a pulsating yolk where its brain should be.  The egg man called out your name to the uncracked egg beside him, who scribbled on a clipboard wildly before shooting you a dopey smile and thumbs up.

“Don't stay out too late,” Hal said gruffly, patting your hand reassuringly as he released your arm.  “You're opening tomorrow.”

Alone for the first time since the sun came up, you decided to linger in the lobby of the hotel for a bit before following the garishly flashing signs directing visitors to the rear garden.  

With as deep a breath as your girdle would allow, you grasped the back of a wing back chair and gave yourself permission to panic, hoping that briefly indulging your baser instincts would clear your mind enough to stay focused on the task of surviving an entire afternoon on the Radio Demon's arm.  

A few minutes and an uncountable amount of breaths later, you felt the knot in your chest loosen and heartbeat slow to an acceptable rate; still fast, but as good as your were likely to get walking into an event that would likely draw out some of the most powerful demons the Pride Ring had to offer.  

“Whatcha doin’ in here, toots?”

Adrenaline crashes through your veins, undoing all of progress you'd made in centering yourself as you spin to face the man addressing you.  You recognized him, of course.  Not because you'd personally watched any of his many works, but because of the plethora of billboards bearing his face and other, more delicate parts, that loomed tall over every corner of the city.  

“The garden party is, y'know, in the garden,” Angel Dust said, tone acerbic as he rested a full watering can on a jutting hip.  “So what're sneaking around her for?”

“I'm not sneaking,” you rush to defend yourself, fiddling with the cuff of your sleeve nervously.  “I'm just… lurking.”

“Ain't too sure there's much of a difference between the two.”

“Sneaking implies some sort of underlying mischief.  I assure you that I'm simply waiting here.”

“Oh?  And what're you waiting for?” Angel Dust asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he crossed one set of arms across his chest.

“An excuse to leave,” you say dryly, casting a wary glance out the open double doors leading out to the patio.  Something about your response seemed to set Angel Dust at ease, because the next time you looked at him he was smirking down at you, suddenly more amused than distrustful. 

“You and me both, girlie,” he snorted, unfolding his multitude of hands to smooth down nonexistent creases in his floral halter top and leather hot pants.  “I can't stand all this hoity-toity bullshit.  It's exhausting playing nice with folks who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.”

“I think I'd rather burn anyway,” you said, wrinkling your nose distastefully at the thought.

“No promises, but I'll keep your preferences in mind,” Angel Dust snorted, beckoning you down the hallway with a wave of his willowy arm.  “Why don't you come outside with me?  I'll show you the best parts of the garden- all the ones I planted, of course.”

The gardens at the Hazbin Hotel could be generously described as eclectic; an absolutely miss-matched and uncoordinated array of plants that honestly had no business being in the same hemisphere as each other, let alone the same garden bed. 

“Charlie had the grand idea of givin’ everyone their own chunka’ land to cultivate,” Angel explained, pointing at various sections of the garden.  “Husky put in the lemon tree so he can have fruit to stock the bar with and all the goddamn mint that won't stay where it fucking belongs!”

A surly looking catman casually flipped off Angel as you passed by, likely the one responsible for unleashing the minty scourge if Angel Dust's playful sneer was anything to go by.  

“Satan below, I love that man,” Angel sighed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray before continuing down the rough cobblestone path. “Anyway , all these pretty blossoms belong to moi-”

You nodded in sincere appreciation.  “They're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Course they are!  They take after their daddy,” Angel Dust cooed, blowing kisses at a cluster of puffy white chrysanthemums.  

“I didn't know Earth flowers could even grow down here,” you murmured quietly, struck nearly breathless by the beauty of the blossoms.

“They can't.  Not naturally, anyway,” Angel explained, flicking an aphid off the petal of a perfectly symmetrical dahlia.  “But having Lucifer constantly hangin’ around definitely comes with some perks.”

“I didn't think I'd ever get to see them again,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to banish the tears welling in your eyes, frustrated at how they made your vision blur when you wanted to remember everything with sharp, crystal clarity. 

“It's like seein’ an old friend again, innit?” Angel smiled knowingly, having gone through a similar experience when the scraggly stalks he'd obsessively tended had sent out their first, tentative buds.  “Now, c'mon.  You gotta see the rest of this place.  Shit starts gettin’ fuckin’ bizarre.”

‘Fucking bizarre’ didn't even scratch the surface of describing the rest of the garden tour.  Your next stop was Princess Charlotte’s sad plot of withered and wilted plants. 

“She bought every half-dead plant at the nursery.  Thought she could rehabilitate ‘em,” Angel had explained with a long suffering sigh. “I don't wanna talk about the symbolic implications of that, if ya’ don't mind.”

The next section was a barren stretch of land without a single plant.  Rising from the ground instead were hundreds of insects skewered on sharpened sticks; everything from tiny house flies on toothpicks to large horned beetles impaled on whittled down twigs. 

“Niffty,” Angel Dust had offered up with a helpless shrug, as though the single name provided any sort of reasonable explanation for the eerie tableau.  Deciding that you didn't actually want Angel Dust to expound on the situation, you simply nodded and continued on your way down the row.  

The air quickly soured as you left Niffty's sacrificial plot, the ground on either side of the path softening with every step; eventually shifting into a churning, fetid swamp.  The understated appeal of the shoulder high cattails and thick swaths of pillowy moss were lost on you, distracted as you were, by the thick cloud of gnats that swarmed the area. 

“Whose area is this?” You grumbled peevishly, swatting at the bugs flittering around your face. 

“Why, this area is my handiwork,” Alastor's familiar voice called out from behind you.  Both you and Angel Dust visibly stiffened at his sudden appearance, turning in unison to face the Overlord.  

“Alastor,” Angel Dust greeted flatly.  “What're you doin’ all the way out here?  Don't you have some rich schmuck to schmooze?”

“Always,” Alastor sighed dramatically.  “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“You must never fuckin’ sleep then,” Angel groused, folding his many arms in front of himself defensively.  

Alastor ignored his barb and instead extended a hand out towards you, wiggling his fingers expectantly.  

“Come along now, dear.  I'm not sure how you managed to slip by me, but you've deprived me of your company long enough.”

“Wait a minute,” Angel bellowed incredulously, eyes impossibly wide as he watched you place your hand tentatively into Alastor's; his spindly fingers clamping around yours like a vice as he guided you closer to his side.  “You're Alastor's guest?”

“She's a fair bit more than that,” Alastor grinned, undeniably smug as he guided your small hand into the crook of his arm; turning his head to give you an unmistakable, pointed look.

The performance has begun.

Tag List:

For the first time ever I have been requested to create a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added!

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan

[udretlnea]

The Divine City: Some Slices of Life

Part 1 (here) \ Part 2 \ Part 3 \ Part 4

“Amor Fati - ‘Love your fate’, which is in fact your life”

Friedrich Nietzsche

On the early morning of August 2nd, the grapes glistened like jewels as the rising sun reflected off of the morning dew. Their size and color was telling. It was time to harvest them.

The grapes of the Divine City were big and purple. Henry smiled to himself as he plucked several clusters of grapes with one hand. With Volksfest arriving this month, so too does the harvest. Naturally, this meant that the pumpkins were also ready; the wheat, ripened earlier in July, was in the middle of being gathered.

Sometimes, Henry imagined the farmlands to be as vast as half the continent. To him, this was his entire world (ignoring the bi-weekly trips into the city for the house). The farm boy thought about what it must look like to visitors; waking up at the crack of dawn, toiling in the fields, tending to the animals. It was all honest work that he deeply admired in his gut. 

A part of him thought it was romantic. There was just something about all of…that which made him feel warm and fuzzy. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain in his palm made him cry out. He pulled back his hand and clutched it close to his chest. Henry frowned at a particularly sharp branch, then slowly uncovered his palm.

He sighed in relief. It didn’t break the skin which means no blood. Good.

As he stared down at it, he saw he’d dropped a cluster of grapes. Tutting, he brushed it off and put it in the basket with the others before moving on. He looked around him.

In distant fields, neighbors were making quick progress judging by how far down they were on their grapevines. Meanwhile, he still had three quarters of his section to go. If he wanted to finish early, he’d have to go into overdrive.

 And so like all teenagers who wanted to finish early to play, Henry shut his mind off and went to work. That way, time would pass quicker. Before he realized it, Henry finished harvesting and placed his buckets of fruit in a cart with the rest. Then he jogged as quick as he could to the city.

Getting there took around ten minutes, but he made it to his destination. A boarded up hole in the wall leading to the inside. He recalled his dad calling it a service tunnel. For what, he wasn’t sure, but it sure did him a good service by allowing Henry to sneak past the entrance. 

The Divine City lacked a proper name because nothing could really describe it in one word. At least, that’s what Henry thought as the cart passed the gate after a brief stop. He could feel his excitement building up. It was almost difficult to contain, like trying to cover up an overflowing bucket of water.

He wandered around almost like a kid in the candy store.

Stores were already putting up signs advertising their wares. Henry noticed a man strongly hammering on a giant sign that proclaimed it sold the best high-quality wine. 

Not even several days in, and competition’s already started, huh? He quietly chuckled to himself. Resting a knuckle against his cheek the farm boy imagined himself of drinking age, entering one of the pubs. It was a pretty image that he entertained while the cart kept going. 

The taste of wine was something he had to fabricate from scratch. One of the downsides to being a teen was his lack of experience for everything; he was aware of his naivete to an extent. But he believed he made up for it with his good natured rascalism. He wasn’t going to apologize for being himself - unless it actually harmed an innocent.

Finally, the cart stopped. Henry hopped off and jogged away. There was something he needed to do here before the morning rush.

Henry ducked into an alley. He remembered the way - or more accurately he remembered what the store looked like and memorized the route for that singular place. And ONLY that place. 

It was a small antique shop sandwiched between a cafe and a hat store. The appearance was somewhat dull, but no less interesting.

Henry opened the door and was greeted with a pleasant chime. Almost immediately a rough voice yelled out, “Welcome to Timeless Treasures! How may I help you?”

A giant wall of muscle stepped into view. He wore a green plain apron over a white collared shirt and dark blue slacks. A nametag reading “Havel” was tagged on the apron’s left. In Henry’s opinion, his massive frame made for a funny image among the delicate looking and priceless antiques; he wisely kept that thought to himself.

“What is up, Havel my good man?” Henry asks casually as he saunters up to the counter. “I’m here for my super special thingy-mabob.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Aye. I’ll have your ‘thingy-mabob’ in a jiffy. Stay there and don’t touch anything.”

Henry does so. He waits for two minutes when Havel comes back holding a moderate sized wrapped box; the bright teal green and the golden ribbon made it pleasant looking. The teen excitedly reaches in his pocket to place a somewhat heft pouch. It lands on the counter with an audible thump. 

Havel picks it up and counts it off quickly. After he’s confirmed it’s the exact amount, he puts it under the counter. In that moment, Henry feels his chest glow warm with pride; all those months of saving his allowance combined with doing odd jobs paid off. He could almost imagine the look on his parents’ face when it was time to reveal his gift.

But that is in the future when Volksfest truly kicks off.

Henry gives the owner a brief thanks then heads back the way he came. To his amusement, he found the morning rush just starting to form; he turned to a cart parked in front of another cafe - seriously, how many cafes does a city need - and snuck back out the way he entered.

Henry ducks out of the service tunnel exit without a sound. The walk back home is silent. Around him, signs of life make itself known. Squirrels climb down to forge for food while the birds begin singing their songs. 

The breeze blows through hair and branches and the sunlight warms his skin. All of this reminds him that he is living in this moment.

He sees his house and vacantly wonders if they'd even love his gift. Doubt creeps in and weighs heavily in his gut, threatening to spill. Then, anxiety sweeps in and soothes his worries just as quickly. His parents and siblings will love it. In that he must have faith.

Before he even realizes where he is, he’s opening the door. His nostrils are assaulted by the sugary smell of cinnamon and dough.  So far, nobody seems to have noticed him gone.

He gives a silent thanks to Her Grace, though even now his guard is on high alert. Quietly closing the door, Henry sneakily climbed up the stairs. His room was empty.

He seized this opportunity by hiding the present underneath his bed. For added protection he covers it with some old white cloth.

Now satisfied, he dusts himself off. Henry turned around-

POMF

-to be hit harmlessly in the face with a pillow.

When Henry swats it away, a young boy with dirty blonde messy hair frowns at him.

The boy opens his mouth to reveal gaps in his teeth. “There you are! Where were you? I've wanted to play Upholders ever since we finished harvesting!” 

Before Henry can reply, his little brother grabs his wrist. He gives no resistance.

Thus in the morning of August 2nd, Henry was dragged away to play with his younger sibling. As the sun continued to rise over the horizon, its light managed to reflect off of a lone cloud in the otherwise clear sky. It observed the city almost like a hawk.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A/N:

The Divine City by @yuriisclumsy

Volksfest: “╰[A Volksfest (pronounced [ˈfɔlks. fɛst]; German for “people’s festival”) is a large event in German-speaking countries which usually combines a beer festival or wine festival and a traveling funfair.] 

Volksfest begins in Autumn – August to November – because it is harvest season.

Please let me know your comments, thoughts, and critiques? Literally, anything to help improve my writing. I need to see if I can consistently update on a project and build on something pre-existing pleasingly.

Speaking of, you’ll get to learn more of these characters after this work. As I said before, this is set-up; we’ll introduce them all first before getting into the real character exploration stuff.

(ALSO FIND IT ON AO3)

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

???: Done and posted. That...wasn't so bad.

???: Hm. Now comes the tricky part. Consistency's always a muddle-fudging issue. Oh. I see we're censoring our words now. Lovely.

???: Sir, I must ask: is this... post-commentary just copying the original?

'Sir': P-34, the Greeks did this thing where they commented on the action of a play. They called it a Greek chorus; also, it's what I named the lab after. Besides, these four squirts are gonna need someone explaining their actions. Though, buying a gift at an antique shop for their parents? Novel.

P-34: Yeah...if I were him I'd buy his parents something practical. Or tasty. Mmm...like potatoes dipped in cheese.

'Sir': I...remind me: were you always this hyperfixated on potatoes?

P-34: You tell me. You made me.

'Sir': Hmm...eh. I guess my little brother was rubbing off of me that one time. Whatever. Who's next.

P-34: Uhh says here...some female youth from the core section?

'Sir': Upper class. Lovely. I need to practice writing those. I'll go pull up files for any examples we recorded. Tomorrow.

[aothotties]

Drunk Texting

Heyyyyy! Im Rachel, the other half of AOTHOTTIES. Like she said this is very much 18+ so minors DNI :)

I hope you enjoy this fic about your ex, Connie drunk texting you :)

CW: NSFW, oral (f. receiving), lil bit of overstimulation, pet names (daddy,papi,mami,baby, etc), creampie <3

also all the stuff in italics is flashback :)))) & there is a tiny crumb of Spanish in this cause Connie is literally Dominican idc.

Bitch fucj yoi

I hat evrythif about u 

Baby plse i muss you sm

I nevrw ment the things isaid to you

Fine syipid bitvh dont reply i literlt dont care 

Thats why i fckd spooo many bitcjes since i lefy your sorry ass

Y/N please answer me

You stared blankly at the multiple texts you received from your ex, Connie. You knew he was drunk, it seemed to be the only thing he did since you broke up. Messages like this were a common occurrence at this point.

Constance, get a fucking grip please 

You get a gril. You mak me sivk

Im begging you to get yourself together 

Shut up

I missyou sobmuch

Y/N im sorry

You’re fucking pathetic

Mami….

Turning on DND, throwing your phone to the opposite end of the couch you decided you were done with this sorry ass conversation. This was every fucking day. Connie spends the morning completely unbothered by you but by nightfall, an influx of jumbled messages that get progressively worse as the night goes on. If you're lucky you'll get a 10-minute-long voicemail that ranges from sweet words of him expressing his love to you all the way down to him cursing your name as he explains how much he hates you. You understood the apologies and the million i-love-yous, you deserved it. You were the best thing to ever happen to him and you both knew it. It was the anger and hatred that got to you. It didn't hurt your feelings, but it pissed you off. How could he be angry when he's the one in the wrong? He was the one that hurt you and he didn't deserve to be angry, you did. 

“Why the fuck are YOU angry, dickhead. You make me so fucking mad”, you mumbled to yourself as you thought about the day you broke up

“Baby, text my mom and let her know i’ll meet her at the airport at 8am and remind her not to forget my passport this time. And do your best to say it in spanish you know her ass can't speak english”

You were sad your man was leaving you to go to DR but his grandfather had passed and he was going to his funeral and to spend time with his family. His parents invited you to tag along but you weren't able to get the time off work at such a short notice. 

“Ok so i tried my best but i promise you she probably will know its me trying to speak spanish”

You laughed as you placed his phone back on the charger next to you. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled and he continued playing his game as you sat next to him watching him lose for the 3rd time

His phone dinged next to you. You picked it up assuming it was his mom, but it was from an unsaved number.

“ what she say?” he asked also thinking his mother had responded

“It's not her it's just a random number”“Who is it?”

“I don't know I'll look”

Papi, te extraño.

Y extraño el bicho que me diste la ultima vez

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You didn't speak Spanish, but he had taught you enough to understand exactly what was happening. You couldn’t believe what you were reading as you felt tears well up in your eyes. Before you could even speak another message came in. a picture of her ass in the smallest thong you’ve seen with “Connie ❤️” tattooed on the cheek. At this point you couldn't stop yourself from crying.

Remembering seeing that image on his phone brought you to tears. “Dirty cheating bastard” you mumbled while you got up to wash your face in the bathroom. You kept replaying that moment in your head no matter how much you hated it, it was a day you'd never forget.

“Connie what the fuck? Are you serious?” yelling as you tossed his phone at him. He paused his game and shot you a confusing look then you watched as a guilty look washed over his expression when he looked at the phone

“Mami please, i can explain”

“Nah. save it. Get all your shit and get the fuck out”

You unplugged his xbox and removed it from your dresser. You tore through every drawer grabbing anything that was his and tossed it directly at him 

“Y/N please listen to me. It's not what it looks like Y/N i promise you. Baby please, look at me, please listen”

His words went in one ear and out the other as pain boiled over into anger and rage. The closet contained most of his things and you yanked the door open and began tearing all his clothes off the hangars, some ripping in the process

“Oh my god, Y/N you have to hear me ou – “

“I don't have to hear shit” you cut him off not wanting to hear another word out his mouth. “What can you even tell me right now? You're just going to explain something I can clearly see. There’s some bitch in DR you fucked when you stayed with your grandparents over the summer. Right now, she's eagerly waiting on you, missing the dick you gave her last time.”

Connie looked shocked and sad at the same time. He’s never seen you so angry before, you've always handled your emotions so well but this was the first time seeing you completely blow up

“Oh you thought i wouldn't understand what she said?” you laughed in his face. “ i know enough to see you're a piece of shit, get your shit off the fucking floor and get out connie” you tried to walk out but he grabbed you and pushed you against the wall

“No Y/N let me explain,please” tears ran down his cheeks as he begged you to listen. You tried to squirm out of his grip but he was too strong

“ i don't want to hear –”

“No please listen”

There was no escaping his grasp and you found yourself stuck listening to what he had to say.

You stared at your pathetic expression in the mirror as water trickled down your face. Could you really be here crying over a cheater? Was it seriously still affecting you after 5 months? Defeated, you slid down the wall in the bathroom and pulled your knees to your chest. With your face buried in your hand the tears began spilling as you continued to relive one of the most heartbreaking moments of your life 

“Y/N i know it looks bad but this is a misunderstanding”

It made you sick just looking at him. A cheating piece of shit staring down at you trying to make up some lies to get him out of the situation. If it wasn't for him having you pushed up against the wall you would have walked out, not even caring to listen.

“Look ok, we broke up that summer, remember? And I was kind of upset, so  my uncle decided to take me out to clear my head and I met her at a club. Y/N i don’t even know her real name. She goes by a nickname and I never even talked to her enough to find out – “ he was interrupted by you getting even angrier than before.

“So you don't even know this bitch? You just stuck your dick in the first person you saw when you got there? And don't give me that “we broke up” bullshit, Connie we talked the entire summer you were there and you know this. You called me every day to tell me how much you miss me and couldn't wait to come back so we can work on ourselves, just for it to be lies. You obviously didn't miss me enough to stop fucking around.”

“This was before that, it was when I literally first got there. Before I called you that one night, remember when I called you and we spent the entire night on the phone? That's when we started talking again. I had met her before that night and it was dumb but yes, I slept with her. But it meant nothing baby i promise you”

He started crying again as he was explaining what happened. You felt nothing while watching him fall apart in front of you. Even though he was practically falling to his knees there was something in your gut that made you feel like this was so much deeper that what he tried to make it 

“It was still  wrong, connie!” ,you found yourself screaming at this point, “if you KNEW you were on the island fucking with someone why would you even call me again? You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing!”

“Y/N, please listen, it was nothing. It was a stupid summer fling –”

Just like that..he told on himself. The situation he tried to pass off as a one-time quick fuck was actually a long term fling that lasted the entire time he was on vacation. 

In that instance you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. Tears began flooding from your eyes and you barely found the strength to whisper, “so it happened more than once?”

He swallowed hard before responding, “Yes Y/N, it did. And I know we were still talking but we still weren't technically together so i didn't think it was wrong. And she got the tattoo without even telling me, okay? She made it more important than what it really was. And when I came home I never spoke to her again. I can show you the messages i do not talk to this girl. I'm not even sure how she knows I'm coming again.”

With every word he spoke your heart broke more. He wanted to dismiss the situation and downplay it. This was obviously more than a summer fling to her and he must have given her reason to believe so. Connie was the love of your life and you never expected him to do something like this. You knew he was the one when you first met him. He treated you better than anyone ever had and no matter the ups and downs he was patient with you. He understood you were constantly at war with yourself, but he always calmed your storm and brought silence to your chaos. Yet here he was, standing in front of you, trying to justify infidelity. Anger arose in you again and you felt rage you've never felt before.

“Get your sorry ass out!”, you screamed as you slapped him across the face. He clenched his jaw and balled his fist and for a split second you though he was going to hit you back. But then he released the tension in his body and dawned a cold demeaner

“You know what Y/N, fuck you. And fuck this relationship. You're trying to make me the bad guy for acting single when i was….single. And as I'm here in front of you apologizing trying to show you that it was nothing, you act like the hard headed bitch you always are. I can't keep dealing with your bullshit, Y/N. so ill gladly get the fuck out because truthfully i fucking hate you.”

He grabbed your hand and slipped the ring off your finger then he turned to walk out of the closet as you stood there shocked. He had never spoken to you like this in the 4 years you were together. You had so much to say in that moment because how could he have the audacity to be angry right now, but you were unable to speak. You stood, dumbfounded, as you watched him grab his keys and walk out the door.

After that you didn't hear from him for 2 months straight. He reached out to you to genuinely check on you but in those months you had begun to heal and love yourself. You started therapy and worked closely with her to get over what he said and done. When you ignored the first message the angry, drunk, message started. 

You continued to sob on the floor. In these 5 months you gained so much strength, but you still had nights like this. Your broken heart still lingered no matter how much you thought you were over it and him. Every part of you still loved him and you wished you never saw the messages that day. You'd be married to the love of your life if you didn't. But instead of a happy life with him you were sitting on a cold floor crying so hard it was difficult to breathe. You decided to indulge in his coping mechanism. You pulled yourself up off the floor and went into the kitchen. You swung the freezer door open and grabbed the bottle of crown peach, it was his favorite and you avoided drinking it so as to not remind yourself of him. But you felt different tonight. In some sick way his favorite liquor made you feel as if you still had a part of him with you. The smooth liquor burned as you drank it straight from the bottle. As the liquor began coursing through your body you had an urge to text him. It was your turn to send the angry drunk texts and give him a taste of his own medicine. 

As you feverishly typed you heard your front door unlocking. Your best friend had a spare key but it wasn't like her to show up unexpected. You shrugged it off and locked your phone, taking her surprise visit as a sign you should just leave him alone. You heard footsteps through the hall that grew louder as they approached the kitchen. You turned to greet her but was shocked at the sight before. Connie, with bags under his eyes, was standing right in front of you, looking at you as if he’d seen an angel.  A few seconds of silence had passed as neither one of you knew what to say. A small part of you wanted to run into his arms, kiss him and tell him how much you missed him. But he cheated on you and told you he hated you. And he had to leave your house immediately.

“Connie leave. I forgot you still had your key, but you can leave it on the counter before you go”

There was no feeling in your voice and no expression on your face. You couldn't show him your hand and he had to believe you were over him. He started walking closer to you with tears pooling in his eyes.

“Y/N, i missed you so much. I'm sorry for barging in like this but I just had to see you.” words were spilling out of his mouth and he walked closer, “I'm a piece of shit okay? I know what i did was fucked up and not a day goes by that i don't regret it but baby i promise you she was nothing. I was wrong for being with her while promising you we’d get back together and I feel like such a dick. I hurt the only person I've ever loved and I'll never forgive myself for that but Y/N i can't stop loving you. I don't deserve it but please forgive me, please tell me you still love me as much as you did before this”, he sobbed, “i don't want to be with anyone else. I want you to marry me, Y/N. you're supposed to be my wife, we’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring he had given you before. He grabbed your hand to put it on your finger but you pulled away. At this point you were crying too. Those are words you wanted to hear this whole time. You spent many nights crying into your pillow wishing he’d call you to say that exact same thing to you. You wanted to take him back but you knew better than to give in

“How can we be together again, Connie?”, you spoke through tears, “I'll never be able to trust you again. You broke me, and I don't know if I can forgive you.” 

He grabbed your hands, fell to his knees and looked up at you as he pleaded, “Y/N please! I need you, I can't go on without you. I'll apologize every day for the rest of my life so you’ll forgive me, mami please I'm so sorry. I never meant the things i said to you before i left, i could never hate you, mami, you're the love of my life. The drunk texts were stupid, and all lies. I haven’t been with anyone since you because I can't get you off my mind. Please, please give me another chance, baby i promise i wont fuck it up this time. Please, I'll do anything to get you to forgive me” his sobs were uncontrollable as he begged for your forgiveness.

You looked down at him as he begged and cried. Unsure if it was the liquor in you or the lack of dick since he left but you became aroused at the sight in front of you. This man looking so pathetic on his knees, crying and begging for you to be with him again made a pool of wetness form in your panties. You stepped closer to him until his face touched your pelvis and you quietly thanked yourself for not wearing pants. 

“Anything?’ you seductively asked. Connie grabbed your hips to pull you closer as he took a deep breath of your scent. A bulge formed in his pants as your sweet smell filled his nose. He began kissing your clothed clit. A soft moan escaped your lips from the pleasure and was in this moment you realized how much you missed having his face between your thighs. His tongue darted out of his mouth and he licked your cunt through your panties. You whined, desperately wanting to feel his tongue again.

Connie grew hungry and couldn't bother to take your panties off. He moved the soaked fabric to the side and attached his mouth to your swollen clit. You let out a high pitched “baby” as the pleasure consumed you. His tongue licked from your hole up to your clit then back down. He continued this as your moans grew louder. The sound of your wetness echoed through your kitchen and Connie's dick pressed hard against the fabric of his pants that were now wet from his precum. 

He started to fuck your hole slowly with his tongue and you moved you hips up and down, grinding yourself on his face. Connie knew you loved this and knew it would bring you to your peak.

“Mm papi, just like that. please don't stop” you begged as your budding orgasm came close to the edge. “Cum for me mami, right in my mouth," he responded between licks. You put your leg over his shoulder for balance as you drew closer to your climax. His hands squeezed your thighs as your cunt clenched around his tongue, he knew from that alone you were about to cum for him. “Fuck baby, im cumming ah –” you shivered as your cum spilled into his mouth. He licked your juices making sure to not waste a drop.

He stood up and crashed his lips on yours. Connie kissed you as if it were the first time, the passion was tense between the two of you. You missed each other and your bodies missed each other too. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up. He started kissing the spot on your neck that he knew would make you melt. You threw your head back and moaned his name, knowing that would awaken the beast in him. He carried you to the room you once shared and laid you on the bed. You spread your thighs as he crawled between them. You could feel his dick pressing on your core and started grinding on him. 

“connie , i need it” you panted, grinding on him even faster.

“Un uh mami, you know you have to give me another one before i fuck you. Don't act like you forgot the rules”

He lifted your shirt and kissed from your neck to your chest. He brought his lips to your left nipple and pinched the right then switched to ensure they both got love. He planted kisses down your abdomen until he reached your cunt. He removed your panties wasting no time before latching again to your now sensitive clit. 

“Fuck mami you taste better than before. I missed tasting your sweet pussy every night” 

“ i m-missed squirting - mmm - on your face” you brokenly responded through your moans. You passed your fingers through his short silver hair, instinctively pushing his face deeper into your pussy. 

The overstimulation from his mouth was too much. “Connie baby! Too much – daddy please!” tears ran down your face as you squirmed under him. Your thighs tried to close to escape the stimulation, but he pinned your thighs to the mattress, “you can do it mami, one more time, just for papi. Can you give me another, princess?”, he slid his fingers in your cunt and curled them to hit your g-spot. His mouth found its way back to your clit as he finger fucked you harder. “Papi, ‘m gonna cum again” your body began shaking and your climax washed over you. You squirted on his face and he lapped it up as it spilled out of you. “good girl” he whispered as he came back up to kiss your cheek.

He slid off the bed and dropped his pants, taking his boxers down with them. Your mouth watered as you watched his dick spring out from its confines. He crawled back on top of you and lined his tip with your entrance, soaking it with your slick.

“Baby please don't tease” you begged as he rubbed his dick up and down your folds. Pleasure overcoming him, he slid into your cunt, sighing at the feeling of you clenching around his length. 

“Diablo, mami” he groaned as he came down to kiss you. He slipped his tongue in your mouth and deepened his strokes. You felt his tip hitting your cervix causing you to jump at the feeling.

“connie – fuck right there baby you're hitting it just right” you whined.

Hearing you say those words drove him insane. He picked up his pace and began bullying his dick into you. Your moans turned to slight screams and his groans grew louder.

“Oh mami”, he sighed, “i missed this pussy so much. You feel so good on my dick.”

Your walls began spasming as you reached your third orgasm for the night. Your hand clung to his back leaving scratches. Connie was fucking into you like a wild person. The look in his eyes was feral and the only thing on his mind was how good you felt taking his cock.

“ ‘M cumming papi, ah-, mm cant take it baby'.  you were a mess, tears staining your face, drool pooling on your chin. Your fucked out expression brought connie to his peak.

 “I'm gonna cum inside you baby. You want that? You want to feel me cum inside that tight little pussy?”

“Yes, cum inside me please baby, wan’ to feel your cum inside of me”

He groaned loudly as he came deep inside of you, hot ropes filling you to your brim. He slid himself out slowly and stared at your cunt, watching his sticky cum spill out of your fucked out hole. He rolled off and laid next to you. He pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you

“ i really am sorry Y/N for everything” he said while tracing circles on your back

You grabbed his jaw and turned his face towards you then planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I know baby. Lets work on us, i want to be with you forever.” you whispered as you broke the kiss

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and closed his eyes to stop his tears from falling.

“I love you”, he whispered.

“I love you too” you responded as you drifted off to sleep with the love of your life

[jellazticious]

“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

[iridescentxstars]

-> 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 [PROLOGUE] .ೃ࿐

➳ published: 09.11.24 ➳ banner & divider credit: @wongyuseokie || beta: @pars-ley ➳ circus!au || supernatural!au || genre: horror || dark || smut (future) || angst || rated: m ➳ pairing: various idols x reader (none in this chapter) ➳ summary: during the month of october, a mysterious narrator appears in the bar of a quiet town to tell its patrons about the story of the bang bros travelling circus. who is this person and how do they seem to know so much about a legend that has been around for decades? ➳ word count: 2.5k ➳ warnings: mentions of character death, mentions of mass murder, graphic descriptions of fire and destruction, making a deal with a demon ➳ author's note: all female characters with flower names are actually y/n characters. since the prologue mentions them all at different times, it is easier to distinguish them like this. the individual stories are reader insert. ➳ taglist: @sanjoongie @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu [if you want to be +/- please let me know]

your thoughts and feedback are always welcomed and are always appreciated. let me know what you think of my work so i can continue to give works and know they are enjoyed.

“Come one, come all, and see the Bang Bros Travelling Circus! In town for one night only, see all the magic and wonders, the freaks and the frights! Don’t miss out on a spectacular evening that’ll leave you on the edge of your seats!”

“Gather around now and let me tell you about The Bang Bros Travelling Circus, established circa 1920, an upcoming circus that many would travel to see. Started by the Bang Brothers, Chan and Chris, they recruited the best of the best to join their growing family and travel around the country – with dreams of the world.” 

“This story, the one I’m about to tell you, is not one of joyous dreams come true but about one man’s need to keep his family together – and how he’ll do absolutely anything to achieve it.”

1924 – The Fateful Day 

The sounds of children laughing rings through the air as Chan wanders through, checking on the progress. It’s their favourite time of year; with leaves shifting into deep reds and burnt orange, the world around them embraces the warm tones and it becomes a picturesque beauty unlike the cold that follows soon after. While winter is never a friendly season – autumn is what suits them the best.

It’s also spooky season, the time of year where they can unleash their inner freaks and give visitors a fun little fright and delight

While the circus has only been on the road for the past few years, the attention they have garnered has allowed their reputation and family to grow. Chan is proud of it, the little family of misfits, all working together and uniting against all odds. While his twin brother, Chris, is part of the Bang Bro name, it’s known to anyone who sees the dynamic of the family that Chan is the one who runs the show. The older twin, the one who shoulders all the responsibility and takes care of those around him like a parent would their child.

Chan and Chris, while sharing the same face, have always been the opposites to each other. Chan, a blonde, was knowledgeable and could have found a respectable job but felt he was always destined for more. Chris, the darker haired brother, enjoyed getting into trouble a little too much and lived more carefree than Chan did. Standing side by side, Chan was a little shorter and Chris was more muscular but it is always clear who was in charge.

Especially those who knew that the circus began to keep Chris out of trouble, while allowing Chan to chase the dream he’d always had.

Putting on his top hat, Chan twirls his cane with one hand as he makes his way over to see Rose stretching, one leg held up in the air in a way that some would consider unnatural. He takes a moment to look over her outfit; the red and black corset she wears fits her body snugly, the skirt short and showing off her legs, and her hair is plaited down her back, tied with a red ribbon. Wow, Rose is beautiful. A woman who comes by once in a blue moon with the purest personality anyone could have. He’s always struck by her beauty, his heart racing as she turns to face him with a bright smile, “Chan!” She waves before running towards him. Dropping his cane to wrap both arms around her waist, he lifts her, twirling her around. “Jongin said that we have sold out the midnight show!”

The Ringmaster; so in love with the contortionist. The diamond ring he carries with him is a constant reminder of the love that he holds for his pretty Rose. A weight close to his chest, in his left breast pocket, waiting for the right moment to propose. Rose and her best friend, Jongin, had joined the Bang Bros Travelling Circus once the twins had gotten established. They became fast favourites due to their friendly nature and magic tricks. Children love them, always surrounding the duo whenever they are wandering the grounds. It helps push their popularity with the public, a family friendly circus with something for everyone.

If he’s honest, Chan had fallen in love with Rose the first time he laid eyes on her, her smile caused the blonde to fumble over his words. Even after all the time they’ve spent together, he’s still at a loss whenever he sees her.

“It was love at first sight, a romance that should have lasted the ages.”

“Apparently the mayor will attend.” The woman’s feet gracefully land on the ground as the couple part. 

“The crowd will be the biggest we’ve ever had.” Chan beams, pride filling his chest as he thinks about how all their hard work is about to pay off. A turnout like this will set their name in stone and allow them to travel further than they have before.

As the couple wander and discuss the upcoming show, arms linked, they come across Jongin arguing with Luna; the circus fortune teller. People scurry past and duck out of Jongin’s way as he waves one of his throwing knives in the air. Luna chews her bottom lip, visibly upset at the words he’s hurling her way. 

“Hey!” Rose detaches from Chan’s side and rushes over to her best friend, easily dodging out of the way of the sharp object in his hand before separating the two. “No fighting amongst family, remember.” She smiles, an attempt to ease the tension, and the taller man runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

“She said I shouldn’t do my fire breathing act tonight.” Jongin’s eyes narrow at Luna, who looks away remorseful. “I’ve been practising for weeks, perfecting it. Tonight is the best night for it.”

“Did she have a premonition?” Rose looks over, watching while Chan settles the other woman down. Luna looks in their direction, nodding her head in acknowledgement which causes a slight shiver to run down Rose’s spine as she looks back at her best friend. “Maybe you coul-”

“I’m doing the act, Rose.” His assertive tone makes it clear there’s no arguing with him. She nods, taking a small step back giving Jongin room to calm down. He’s not always like this, she knows that better than anyone.  He is a fair and kind man, warm and welcoming… but everyone gets nervous before a big night. It’s understandable, right? “This could make the rest of our lives, I’m not going to do anything to ruin this.”

“I know,” she smiles at Jongin and pats him lightly on the shoulder. He wanders over and apologises to Luna. The fortune teller was simply doing her job and while not every premonition happens the way she sees it, she tries her best to aid them all.

That’s what family is for.

“Everyone!” Chan announces to the large crowd, arms spread wide as he welcomes them to tonight’s final show. “Thank you all for coming. Shall we introduce tonight’s acts?” 

There’s a roar of cheers as the performers walk into the ring. Acrobats, magicians, a beast tamer and more, the circus has gained a wonderful collection of talent that Chan is proud of. There’ll be more to come; more who want to be a part of their family but right now, this is perfect. Of course, there are some who don’t usually perform for the masses like Chris and Luna but that doesn’t stop them from being involved in a night like tonight.

They all know how important tonight’s show is, the publicity that they’ll achieve, especially as the mayor and his entourage are in attendance.

As Chan introduces everyone, nobody notices one lone man, a hood keeping his face hidden from sight, sneaking out of the tent, the entertainment causing enough of a cover for him to disappear and create chaos as he intended. Christian Yu, a killer currently wanted for the murder’s of several upperclassmen, had heard about the mayor’s plans for tonight that presented him with a rare opportunity. An opportunity that doesn’t come around very often since the mayor typically refuses to go anywhere like this. His usual place being in his office, surrounded by men sworn to protect him but who could deny a special invitation to a show that’s making headlines?

It seems fortune favours everyone tonight.

While the masses are distracted, captured by the pretty contortionist slotting herself into a small box, and on the edge of their seats when the magician pushes sword after sword into her, Christian makes his way over to one of his hiding spots. An amused smile spreads across his lips when he finds his toys are all there, ready for him to place and set alight. Loud cheers erupt from the big top, the main tent, and he figures he better hurry, not wanting to allow the mayor to leave the tent before the fires have spread.

One. Two. Four. Seven. Twelve… “A couple more for good measure,” Christian says to himself as he places a few of his incendiary devices around the tent itself. “That should be good enough.” 

He lights the final one, the designs meant to allow him time to escape but not every plan prepares for every possible outcome – especially when in a populated place.

While Christian is trying to sneak away before the fires start, a low growl sounds behind him. He stills, feet frozen in place as he tries to figure out the best course of action. He’s not afraid, not entirely, but he’s also not trying to be a tiger’s dinner in the middle of his escape. Christian finds the beast tamer with one of the big cats coming out from the tent, heading towards the cages. 

“What are you doing?” Soyeon exclaims, barely able to keep the tiger from lunging at the intruder. “Wha- Oh my!” She notices the device and Christian’s perfect plan goes up in smoke. As well as the circus.

It happens so fast, the tiger manages to break free, pouncing at the fleeing man and knocking loose one of the ropes securing the tent, as Jongin is midway through his fire-breathing act.

The crowd’s cheers turn to gasps of shock and cries of surprise, as part of the tent sags and catches fire. People start to panic, keen to get out. The roar of a tiger nearby feeds into the hysteria and the crowd begins to push and shove towards the main exit… only to find that it’s been blocked from the outside. Part of the tent begins to collapse and the fire traps the crowd and several of the performers inside, the commotion causes people to fall over, to be trampled on but nobody stops to help. Every single one of them is trying to escape. Trying desperately to survive. 

Nobody wants to die but there’s no way out.

“Rose?” Chan calls out, hearing the screams echoing around him as his lungs fill with smoke, “Rose?!” He coughs, pushing towards the back of the tent where the performers would usually rest and wait their turn.

“Lily?” Hyunjin, one of the acrobats, is in there already, searching for his counterpart. “Chan, have you seen Lily? She was going to grab some water from the carriage before our-” Hyunjin starts coughing, his eyes burning from the smoke and Chan pats him on the back, covering his own mouth.

He can’t find anyone. He doesn’t know if Rose escaped. He should have rushed to Jongin’s side to make sure he was okay. He should have done more than what he did but the crowd’s piercing screams and the sudden chaos overwhelmed his senses and all sound logic vanished like smoke. He can hear the screaming from outside as well as inside, as the tent fills with smoke… something must be happening out there too…The heat, the smoke, the noise, it’s all muddling his mind.

He needs to get out.

He needs to save his family.

Hyunjin collapses next to him, coughing so hard that he’s turning red in the face, or is it the fire? Are the flames playing a trick on him? 

“We need to get out,” Chan looks around as the tent collapses and falls in on itself. There must be something, anything, that he can use to help them escape. They can’t stay here, they can’t. There must be some way out. He’s turning every way to look for something but it’s hard to concentrate when he notices that those trapped inside screaming, their sounds slowly start to fade. Their cries are dying down… or is it because they are? “Hyunjin, we need to go.” Chan tries to lift up his friend, trying to get him to move but he’s met with dead weight. “Hyunjin,” He urges, finding it hard to drag the other man whose body is limp, unmoving.

No, no, no! It can’t be. He can’t be…

“I’ll be back…” Chan lays the man down, brow furrowed as bile burns his insides before swallowing it back down. He knows there’s no use dragging his body through the flames, that on the other side of this burning tent, Hyunjin will still be dead but he can bring him back. There must be a way. His Ringmaster coat is pulled over his head as he rushes for the burning walls muttering a incantation under his breath, not stopping even as the heat sears his skin, the sting becoming unbearable that he grits his teeth in pain but manages to break through the flames.

Don’t look back. As Chan stands up and discards his burning coat, he can feel the heat against his exposed skin, a new cacophony of sounds surrounds him. The circus ablaze and the relentless flames are destroying everything around him. Don’t look back and dwell on the destruction – look forward and find a way to save them all.

The horror around him is terrifying. Chan’s seen a darker side of life, he’s dabbled in it out of curiosity but he’s never fully experienced anything like this. The smell of burning flesh makes its way into the cabin as the Ringmaster’s shaky hands drop the ingredients into the bowl of bubbling liquid. All he can think about is how he should have done more to save them.

“I’ll do anything,” Chan promises to the ominous voice summoned from a spell. One which he has been avoiding ever since he got the book. He knows what it’s capable of, the power it can provide and the cost it’ll take on his soul. But what is there of him, if everything Chan has loved goes up in flames tonight? 

“Save my family, save the circus and I will do anything you want.” 

The sharp blade of his knife slices over his palm,  the cabin grows hotter as the flames surround him.

His world is on fire and now, he has nothing left to lose.

Ding Dong

“Ah, time already? I guess our story will have to continue next time. No, no, don’t fret my little birds. There’s much more than you could possibly know but I can’t tell you everything at once, can I? Otherwise, you’ll never come back~.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Dreamboat Chapter 5

Summary: Y/N, her brother Steve, and his best friend Bucky all moved out West for a new start after Y/N was almost caught up and hurt in a rival gang fight.  Steve wasn’t in shape to fight in the war, but Bucky was drafted.  While out West, Y/N finds herself in trouble again from the local bar owner.  Steve is suddenly drafted for an experimental division of the army, but leaving Y/N alone isn’t an option.  Bucky comes home needing help, and Steve comes up with a crazy compromise.  

Warnings:  mentions of violence, war, unwanted advances, graphic imaging, eventual smut

*Y/N/N= your nick name

Previous chapter Next chapter

Y/N was living a daydream, she had to be.  There was no way this man was real.  That weekend they had tried every position, seeing what worked best since he only had one arm, laughing at what didn’t, and learning all they could about each other in this context of their relationship.  Every day from then on she would nearly run home from work just so she could walk in and find him waiting for her on what was now their bed.  

Justin didn’t bother her anymore.  He didn’t appear out of nowhere or follow her to work, and she figured that at last he’d finally gotten the message that she wasn’t available or interested.  

She was worried about Steve.  They hadn’t received any new letters recently, and she started to stress.  When she and Steve hadn’t heard from Bucky in a long time she had been scared, but he came home.  Who knew what happened to Steve?  She tried writing to the army, to his battalion leader, but never heard anything back.  There was a strange story of a Captain America going around, a man who was beating the Nazis back and making a difference in the war, but she never paid enough attention to it all.  

Weeks later she started to feel sick.  Winter was in full swing and she figured that maybe she was catching the flu, but it progressed from flu-like symptoms to throwing up at the drop of a hat.  While she was at work she ran to the bathroom for the fifth time that day and her boss approached her.

“Okay, you, come with me,” Dr. Banner said, gripping her arm and pulling her down the hall when she came out of the bathroom.

“What?  What’s wrong?” Y/N said, keeping her mouth turned away so he wouldn’t smell the vomit on her breath.  

“You’re getting tested,” he announced with no room for argument.

“Tested?” she asked as he veered into an exam room and had her sit on the table.

Dr. Banner pulled out a cup and set it next to her on the table.  “Go piss, then bring it back to me.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide when she realized what he was wanting to test her for.  “I…that can’t be…wait…”

He pointed to the bathroom that was connected to the exam room and then walked out.  Y/N went and peed in the cup, closing it firmly before walking back out.  Dr. Banner was already waiting for her.  She handed the cup to him and he nodded.  “I’ll be back soon,” he sing-songed as he walked toward the lab.  

Y/N went back to work in a daze.  She tried to focus, but her mind kept wandering.  Was she?  Could this actually be happening?  It wasn’t like she and Bucky had tried to stop it, by any means, but it still seemed like a possibility that was a long way off for some reason.  A little later Dr. Banner caught her in the hallway, pulling her back into an exam room.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Barnes,” he smiled.  “You’re pregnant.”

Y/N gawked at him.  “Are…are you sure?”

“Hogben test confirmed it,” he nodded as he leaned against the counter.  “When was your last menstrual cycle?”  Y/N thought back and told him and he did some quick calculations in his head.  “Then you should be due near the end of September,” he said.  

Y/N nodded, still feeling dazed at the thought of being pregnant.  “Thank you,” she said.  Then she looked at him in fear.  “Are you going to fire me?”

Dr. Banner chuckled.  “No.  You’re one of my best midwives.  We’ll see how your pregnancy goes, and depending on what you need as it progresses, we’ll decide when it’s time to let you rest.”

Y/N frowned but nodded.  “Okay.  Thank you.  I’ll try to get to the bathroom faster–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dr. Banner said.  “Just go home and rest.  Take care of yourself.  Get your vitamins.  You know how all this works.”

Y/N gave him a small smile.  “Thanks Bruce.”  He winked at her and walked out of the room.  Y/N got home a bit earlier that day, Bucky looking worried in the living room.

“Babydoll, you okay?” he asked, immediately walking up to her and reaching his hand up to tilt her head up so he could look her over.  “You weren’t feeling well this morning.  You shouldn’t have gone to work.  Did something happen–”

“I was sick,” Y/N explained.  “I got sick a few times at work.  But I’m okay.  I’m…it’s…” she paused.  She was unsure how to broach the subject.  They hadn’t talked about children or having a family at all.  He’d always been good with kids, from what she’d seen as they grew up, but she didn’t know how he would feel about it now.  But looking up at him, she couldn’t think of a better man she’d want to have babies with.  She decided to just bite the bullet.  Her eyes started to fill with tears and Bucky’s frown deepened, his eyes widening.  “It’s okay,” she quickly reassured him, her hands smoothing over his shoulders.  “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

Bucky froze.  His eyes were wide and his mouth agape as he stared at her, the only part of him moving was his eyes as they flitted back and forth between her eyes.  “Pregnant,” he whispered.  Y/N nodded, her hand moving to his hand on her neck, pulling it up towards her mouth and kissing his palm.  “My…baby,” he said, his eyes slipping down to her stomach.

“Our baby,” Y/N said, pulling his hand down to rest on her stomach.  “You’re going to be a father.”

Bucky finally blinked and snapped his head back up to look at her.  He smiled as his hand caressed over her stomach.  “My babydoll is gonna give me a baby,” he murmured.  He was looking at her like she hung the stars and it made her even more emotional.  “Why are you crying?” he chuckled.  “Are these happy or sad tears?”

“Happy,” Y/N whispered.  “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded, his smile widening.  “Yes, babydoll, I’m happy.  I was just shocked at first.”  He leaned down and kissed her, his hand coming back up to her face to cup her cheek.  Y/N kissed him back passionately, her hands running through his hair.  “Mmh, you’re excited today,” he mumbled against her lips.

Y/N giggled.  “It’s the hormones,” she breathed, kissing down his cheek to his jaw then to his neck.  

“Ah, and here I was thinking you were just happy to see me,” Bucky teased, his hand slapping her butt.

“I am,” Y/N said, nipping at his collarbone, making him moan.  She pushed him to their room, fumbling with his pants.  “And it seems you're happy to see me,” she said, feeling him harden in her hand.

Bucky huffed a laugh as she pushed him back on the bed then sunk to her knees in front of him.  “I’m always happy to see you…Mama.”

[uss-edsall]

I’d seen some severely injured troops. . . but none were as horrifyingly mutilated as the soldier who was wheeled down the ward’s center aisle one afternoon. Our collective curiosity was only natural, so those of us who could get out of bed did so and took a very slow stroll past the guy’s bed. All evening long he had a stream of curious and concerned onlookers flowing in his direction. It was a shockingly grim sight. . . It was enough to turn a strong man weak. And make no mistake about it—he was in pain. Real, deep, genuine pain. He constantly moaned. There was no stopping him. All the drugs the hospital had to offer were ineffective against his unrelenting misery, and his moans were an ever-present reminder of his torment. There was no escaping them. My first reactions upon seeing him were, How did he manage to live, and Why did somebody save him? The latter may sound cruel, but what life was there for him if he pulled through? In this case, I believe it would have been better for all concerned if he’d died on the battlefield. He lived for about ten days. During that time all the bullshitting on the ward ceased, and he became the main topic of conversation. His presence had a sobering effect on us. It became an unwritten rule—as long as he was alive we would show respect. He’d earned at least that from us. . . Our pains seemed small in comparison. At first we thought he’d make it, but as the days passed all the signs pointed to his death. The doctors, who normally checked his progress twice a day, began making trips to his bedside every hour. We knew his condition was deteriorating when we saw a priest visit him twice in two days. We saw the end coming. Four days before he expired. . . a woman entered the ward. She had on a hat and a long wool coat—a mom’s coat. She looked like anybody’s mom in that coat. . . She hesitated for a moment, then walked down the main aisle and turned in beside that guy’s bed. When she saw him she knew right away that it was her son. Her hands flew up to her mouth, and I could see her trembling all the way from my bed. . . The woman was in fact his mother, and his parents had scraped together just enough cash to send only her. The nurses and doctors were very pleasant and accommodating. They brought her a big chair and allowed her to sleep right there next to his bed. The nurses brought her food and drink throughout the days, and she rarely left his side. She talked to him in spurts, softly whispering in his ears at times. He lay there motionless the entire time, except on one occasion. I happened to look in their direction as she was hunched over close talking to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but suddenly he turned his head toward her voice. He didn’t utter a word; at least I didn’t hear him speak, if he did say anything. Somewhere in the recesses of his shattered mind he must have realized that it was his mom speaking to him. His mother jumped slightly at the unexpected movement, a look of surprise and hope spreading across her face. But that was it. He didn’t move again. Something woke me up around two o’clock the morning that he died. It was completely dark on the ward, with the exception of the light at the nurses’ station and the light next to his bed. . . just about every patient was awake and staring intently as the drama unfolded. Unfortunately, we all knew that there would be no happy ending. A priest scurried in. . . to administer the last rites. Doctors and nurses shuttled in and out of the light, doing their best to save him or make his passing as painless as possible. They worked at a measured pace, but the air of death rushed in, and soon it was over. The moment of his death was almost visible, like the air around his bed suddenly chanted into something tangible, something touchable. I never even knew his name.

Reflections of a Warrior: Six Years as a Green Beret in Vietnam, by Medal of Honor recipient Franklin D. Miller and Elwood J. C. Kureth

[rottenpumpkin13]

Yo umm... can we have a day where Lazard and Rufus swap places? Like Rufus looks after soldier and Lazard handles the VP matters and looks after the turks

The Switch

After both the director and the vice president were exhibiting signs of stress due to their workload, the rest of the board thought it would be a good idea to have them switch for a day.

*Rufus settles down in Lazard's office*

Rufus: So far everything's running smoothly. Hm, I guess maintaining SOLDIER is less of a difficult job than I had thought.

*Sephiroth walks in*

Sephiroth: I'm ready for our session.

Rufus: What? Is that a thing Lazard does?

Sephiroth: Yes. To combat my discomfort in opening up to people, Lazard has me vent my thoughts and frustrations to him for an hour every day. Afterwards, he provides advice.

Rufus: ...Alright. Have a seat and tell me what's on your mind.

*Sephiroth sits down*

Sephiroth: Last night I saw the hat man again.

Rufus: The WHO?

-

*Lazard swings by the Investigation Sector's training room to see how everything is progressing*

Lazard: Good morning! How is everyone—

*Lazard stops. Everyone is doing target practice at busts of President Shinra*

Lazard: ...

*Tseng leads him to a cushioned seating area*

Tseng: Director, you're right on time. How would you like your popcorn?

Lazard: Oh my god.

-

*Genesis barges into the office*

Genesis: Some scoundrel vandalized my banners in the main hallway. They drew mustaches all over my photos and I demand they be punished.

Rufus: I'm sure it was just some harmless prank, Commander. I'd love to look into it, but I'm very busy right now.

Sephiroth: I've been conditioned to obey and follow orders no matter how gruesome they are, being forced by my own psyche to detach myself from the bloodshed. My fear is that I will one day grow tired of feeling numb and find joy in the brutality, that I will burn everything to the ground to keep myself warm.

Genesis: Why does Sephiroth get your attention and I don't!?

Rufus: Because he's TALKING ABOUT MURDER.

-

*Lazard is looking over Rufus's finances. He notes that a considerable amount of money is going towards AVALANCHE*

Lazard: AVALANCHE? As in, the terrorist organization!?

Tseng, panicking: No, that's the name of a brothel in sector eight.

Lazard: Tseng, there's over 500,000 gil this month alone. You're telling me he's spending all this money on company?

Tseng, panicking: He's needy.

Lazard:

-

(simultaneously)

Sephiroth: Am I a man? Am I a weapon? Am I truly nothing more than a machine of meat and bone, doomed to meet an inevitable human death while doubting the validity of my emotions?

Genesis: Infinite in MYSTERY is the gift of the GODDESS. We SEEK it thus, and take to the SKY. Ripples FORM on the water's SURFACE. The wandering soul knows no REST.

*Angeal walks into the office*

Angeal: Why are Sephiroth and Genesis allowed to hang out in here while I'm stuck with all the work?

Rufus: BY ALL MEANS GET THEM OUT OF HERE.

-

Having enough, Lazard decides to come back to the SOLDIER floor. As he steps off the elevator, he finds Zack drawing mustaches on every Genesis banner in the entrance.

Lazard: Zack! How hasn't Rufus punished you yet?

Zack: Last time I saw him he was having a nervous breakdown and threatening Sephiroth with a stapler.

*Lazard rushes back to his office*

[milkweedman]

Man....I lost my hat :( fell out of my bag on the way home from work last Friday.

I have realized that the 2 projects/pieces I've lost (this hat and an in progress sock) have been hand combed fiber that took forever. I'm wondering if ive been cursed and considering not using combs in the future to avoid losing my items.

Anyway, given that my hat is gone, I very much need another one before the rain comes again. I have some ideas for improving it--namely to do much lower tassels, as they were too high and prevented me from resting my head on things. Also, I had positive ease and it became too large between washes and I would have to wash it prematurely just to fix how much it stretched out. I'm not sure what I can do about that but I'm considering a couple of buttons, nd it can button smaller when necessary ?

I'm considering using the shetland moorit fleece bc I have so much of it, and it's good enough carded. Would need to spin some. The older gray Jacob would also be good tho, plus I have some green I could use. Idk. I will think on this.