#you are not here to write a sermon and you sound like you enjoy your own voice

[bupia]

Hey I absolutely love your writing! Could I request a 10, 14, and 17 with Dewdrop and Fem!reader (with a little bit of body worship in the mix)? I am in dire need of a feral-ass Dew. Thanks! ❤️‍🔥

PRAISE KINK

"Please be gentle." “You’ve never even touched yourself?” “It’s my first time…”

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(Fem!Reader: This is about a first time with Dewdrop and it's also HIS first time with a human. dirty talk; swearing; oral sex, m-f; fingering; penetration, p in v; unprotected sex; praise kink; body worship; first time)

Available on AO3

Day 20 | Day 22

Taking a deep breath, you observed the modest bedroom you found yourself in. It was smaller than your own quarters, which struck you as peculiar given that Dewdrop was one of the Papa's Ghouls. You had assumed that the Ghouls would enjoy certain privileges or more comfortable accommodations, at the very least better windows.

The creaking of a door pulled your attention, and you turned to see the shadow of Dewdrop entering the room before his physical presence came into view. As the soft sound of his approaching steps signaled his presence, a nervous flutter filled your stomach once again. Instinctively, you pulled the sheets further up to cover more of your body as you braced for his arrival.

You had made a somewhat unconventional decision, one you weren't entirely sure you could explain to others. You wanted Dewdrop to be your first, a choice you kept secret for fear of the raised eyebrows and questions you'd surely face. After all, who would choose a Ghoul over Papa Emeritus? However, deep down, you didn't regret your choice.

Dewdrop entered the room and but stopped abruptly when he noticed you.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

"Hi..." you greeted him in a low tone.

"Hi," Dewdrop replied. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, I needed to talk to you," you confessed.

"Under my sheets?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Well..." you hesitated.

"Come on, tell me! What are you doing here? Do you know what could happen if someone came in and saw you here?"

Indeed, the possibility of getting caught in the Ghouls' quarters after midnight was a concern. The Siblings were allowed to interact with the Ghouls to an extent, but being in their quarters at this time of night was against the rules, though you couldn't quite fathom the reason for that restriction.

"Surprise?" you said nervously.

"Surprise? Is that all you have to say to me?" Dewdrop asked, clearly not entirely pleased.

"No..." you responded, feeling a mix of nerves and regret.

Dewdrop approached the bed but stopped as he stepped on your habit lying on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, inspecting it, and then turned his gaze toward you.

"What are you..." Dewdrop began, but you interrupted.

"Surprise..."

"No, you need to go," he insisted firmly.

You gazed at him with pleading eyes. You had summoned the courage to come to his bedroom and tell him that you wanted him, and you weren't ready to turn back now.

"Can you please listen to me?" you implored softly.

Dewdrop reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed, his patience wearing thin. "You have exactly one minute."

You took a deep breath and began, "Ok... I'm sorry that I came here like this. I know it's not allowed, and I shouldn't be here, but..." You slowly sat on the bed, letting the sheets fall away to reveal the lingerie set you were still wearing. "I came here to ask you to be my first."

Dewdrop's eyes widened in astonishment as he looked at your face, struggling not to avert his gaze to your revealing attire.

"You what!?" he stammered. "Have you... thought about that?"

"Look," you continued, "I know how things work here. You can ask Papa for it, or you can do it with another sibling, but I... I want you. We had a sermon today about how we don't need to be ashamed of our desires, and I... I don't want to be."

"I can see you're not ashamed of it," Dewdrop remarked, gesturing to your body, causing you to blush.

You giggled nervously as you reached for the sheet to cover yourself, but Dewdrop's hand gently intercepted yours, halting your movement. Your eyes fell to his hand, feeling the warmth emanating from his touch. It was the first time you were being touched by a Ghoul, and you were surprised by the heat of his hand against yours.

“I’m sorry, this was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?” you asked, sighing.

Dewdrop shook his head. “It wasn’t a terrible idea. It’s just that I… I’ve never been with a human before, so… It’s my first time being with a human.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah… so, please, be gentle…”

You moved closer to him, sitting next to him. With both your hands, you held his face and planted a gentle kiss on his mask. Then, you delicately removed his mask, placing it on your lap. He reached for his long yellow hair, fixing it. It was uncommon to see the Ghouls in such a vulnerable state, without their masks.

"Please be gentle with me too," you whispered, bringing your face closer to his.

"Is this really your first time?" he inquired.

You nodded.

"You've never even touched yourself?"

You shook your head.

"Don't worry, I will be gentle with you. And if I do anything that hurts you or anything else, please tell me, okay?"

You nodded in agreement, and he smiled. His face drew nearer to yours, and he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. He then pulled away, looking at you as if discovering a new sensation. With a deeper intensity, he leaned in again, this time holding your face with both hands, engaging your lips in a passionate kiss.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel Dewdrop's warmth and desire. His lips moved against yours with a sweet, cautious hunger, as if he was both gentle and longing for more. The sensations ran through your body, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his mouth.

He broke the kiss and gazed at you with a deep, searching intensity. Slowly, you reclined on his bed once more, and he crawled on top of you. His hand gently caressed your face, and he lowered his head to press a series of tender kisses on your forehead, then your nose, your cheeks, and finally your neck. His soft kisses elicited a gasp from you, followed by a soft moan as you surrendered to the sensations.

Dewdrop's lips continued their journey down your neck, kissing and nipping gently. He moved down to your collarbone, then to your chest, and his hands began to explore your body, caressing your sides and hips. His touch was gentle and considerate, making you feel cherished and desired.

"Can I say how beautiful you are?" Dewdrop spoke softly.

"Yes, you can..."

"Good, because you are amazing," he whispered. "Your body is amazing, your skin feels good under my touch... you feel so good."

His words were filled with admiration and desire. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as his sweet words washed over you. Dewdrop's lips and hands continued to worship your body, every touch and kiss igniting your senses. As the intensity between you grew, his fingers ventured lower, tracing your curves with delicate care. His hands reached for your breasts, gently cupping them in his palms, and he applied a slight pressure, causing you to emit a soft whine while looking at him.

"Is this good?" he asked.

You nodded, and he squeezed them again before lowering his face to pepper the area around your breasts with tender kisses. Your fingers found their way to his hair, intertwining in the locks.

"You are so soft," he whispered against your skin. "So beautiful." His lips pressed a kiss on one of your breasts, and he slowly pulled down your bra, exposing your already hardened nipples to him.

Dewdrop gazed at your breasts, biting his lower lip with desire. He lowered his face again, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and gently sucking on it.

Dewdrop's gentle attention to your breasts and the delightful sensations he caused sent waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching your back slightly, offering yourself to him. The warmth of his mouth, the suction of his lips, and the flickering of his tongue on your sensitive nipple made you tremble with desire.

"Your touch feels amazing," you whispered, caressing his hair as he continued his ministrations.

"Does it?" he inquired.

"Yes..." you confirmed.

He smiled at your response and returned his attention to your nipple, kissing it all around and then biting it delicately. The sensation made you shiver and arch your back, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

His lips left a trail of soft kisses from your breast to your navel, and then lower, descending toward your thighs. Dewdrop's hands caressed your sides as he journeyed further, his fingers tracing the curves of your body.

"Can I touch you down here?" Dewdrop asked, his fingers gently inching towards the waistband of your panties.

You nodded in agreement. "Yes, Dewdrop."

With your consent, he slowly began to lower your panties, revealing your aching core to his gaze. His fingers danced lightly across your skin as he moved closer, and his warm breath sent shivers down your spine.

At that very moment, you noticed a transformation in Dewdrop’s gaze. His pupils seemed to dilate as his eyes locked onto your glistening arousal. His hands swiftly moved to your thighs, spreading them wide and holding them with a powerful grip, raising your legs in the air.

“Dewdrop…?” you called for him, your voice quivering with anticipation.

But he remained silent, lowering his face between your legs and using his tongue to lick your folds, sending a wave of sensation coursing through your body.

"Oh, Dewdrop," you moaned, your other hand instinctively reaching out to hold onto his hair as he continued to explore your wetness with his tongue.

"You're so sweet," he lifted his head as he spoke with a smile on his lip.

Dewdrop lowered his face once more, his lips brushing over your flesh in a sensual kiss. His mouth expertly navigated to your clit, and his tongue began to flick over the tip, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He smiled against your core, his mouth pressing firmly against your clit and skillfully sucking it into his warm mouth, sending intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasped loudly, your hips arching off the bed involuntarily as Dewdrop's tongue and lips sent bolts of ecstasy throughout your body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your arousal building with each passing moment.

"O-Oh, Dewdro-Oh-p," you moaned again, your voice trembling with desire. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Dewdrop continued his sensual assault on your core, his tongue expertly dancing over your clit and his fingers slipping inside you. The pleasure was intense, your moans and gasps grew louder as your body quivered. You pulled his hair, your hips bucking uncontrollably. Dewdrop continued to lavish your core with his tongue, leaving you breathless, moaning his name with a fervor that mirrored his own passion.

You were grinding your core against his mouth, desperate for more of his talented touch. Dewdrop eagerly complied, intensifying his efforts as he delved deeper into your desires, his tongue and lips expertly pleasuring you. The sensations coursing through your body were overwhelming, and you could feel the intensity building.

"Dewdrop!" You cried out, your voice hoarse with need.

He lifted his head, his smile suggestive, and his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I know what you want," he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "But I don't think you're ready for that just yet."

You looked at him, panting and yearning for more. "Dewdrop, please..." you begged.

He grinned at your plea and pressed a gentle kiss to your flesh. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you." With that, he began to kiss his way down your entrance, setting you on a path of continued pleasure and exploration.

He leaned down again, and kissed your inner thigh before moving back to your core. He licked the length of your slit, making sure to pay special attention to your clit.

Your hips rocked up against him, begging for more. "Please..." You begged, breathlessly. "Please, Dewdrop... please..."

He chuckled softly, his amusement evident, before he slid two fingers inside of you, expertly curling them upwards to explore the depths of your desire. Your moans grew louder as Dewdrop's skilled tongue worked its magic on your sensitive core. Your hands reached for the bedsheets, grasping them tightly as pleasure surged through your body. Each lick and kiss was like an electric shock of ecstasy.

"You are so hot down here, so sweet, wet, and hot," Dewdrop whispered, his voice filled with desire. "I can't wait to be inside you."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and your body throbbed with anticipation for what was to come. Dewdrop continued thrusting his fingers inside you, expertly pumping them in and out, relentlessly stimulating that sensitive spot within you.

"Dew... Oh! Please, Dew... I need you, I want you..." you cried out, your voice filled with longing and desire.

He kept up his relentless rhythm, the wet, sensual sounds of your arousal filling the room. You couldn't contain your cries of pleasure as your body began to tremble. Dewdrop continued to work his fingers inside you.

"You want me? What do you want?" Dewdrop asked, grinning mischievously at you.

"I want you to... to fuck me," you whispered softly.

He chuckled softly, his fingers sliding in and out of you. "You want me to fuck you, my good girl?"

"Yes... please..." you begged, the need in your voice evident.

Dewdrop responded by thrusting his fingers faster inside of you, your head rolling back and forth on the bed as the sensations overwhelmed you. He grinned mischievously and removed his fingers from your core, causing you to whimper in disappointment at the sudden emptiness. However, he didn't leave you waiting for long. Skillfully, he undid his pants and pressed something else against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed forward, teasing you with his length.

"I heard this can hurt a little," Dewdrop began. "But we can go slow if you want."

"It's okay... I think I can... handle it," you replied, your voice filled with anticipation.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours, and you moaned into his mouth. Your tongue sought entrance between his lips, engaging in a passionate kiss that deepened the connection between you. He captured your tongue with his, sliding just the tip inside you, causing you to gasp as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. Dewdrop continued to push forward, and your moans filled the room as he buried his length deep into you.

"Ah!" a loud moan escaped your mouth, shattering the kiss.

You let out a soft cry as your hips moved in rhythm with his, pressing back against him, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Dewdrop lowered his head, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, moving down to your shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" Dewdrop asked, concern etching his features.

"No... it's... it's just very good..." you gasped, your breath coming in short, exhilarated bursts. "It's just... mmm... big, I guess..."

He paused there, letting you get used to the feel of him inside you. Then, he pulled himself almost completely out of you, before pushing back inside of you. You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him.

"Oh Satan, Dewdrop..." you moaned, your body writhing beneath him, consumed by the intensity of the pleasure.

"I may... fuck... admit... that I'm controlling myself to do not get rough..." he growled, his voice filled with desire. "Your pussy just feels very tight and hot around my cock."

"Dewdrop, it's okay, I want you to let go," you purred, your own desire surging. "I want to feel everything... all of you..."

With your words serving as a catalyst, Dewdrop began to thrust into you with a deliberate rhythm. He pulled himself almost completely out of you before pushing back in, each time delving deeper than the previous one. With each thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, and you groaned in response.

Finally, he stopped and held himself deep inside you. "So tight," he groaned, and then began thrusting his length inside you again. "So hot." Your walls contracted around him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You nodded eagerly, unable to speak.

"Good girl, then let's see how good you are at taking it," he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

He began to thrust in and out of you, your walls stretching to accommodate him. You moaned, arching your back as the pleasure of his movements overwhelmed you. His hands came up to cup your breasts, and he squeezed it gently.

"Do you like having my cock inside of you?" he asked, his voice full of desire.

"Yes-yes!" you cried out, your voice breaking with pleasure.

You wrapped your legs around Dewdrop's waist, pulling him even closer to you. He groaned, his hips slamming into yours with greater force. His hands remained on your breasts, firmly grasping them. He pinched your nipples between his fingers and squeezed your breasts more roughly, intensifying the sensations coursing through your body.

"Ah, yes, Dew... Oh!" you moaned, your voice trembling with passion. "Yes, Dew... Fuck me... It feels so good... so good..."

The room was filled with your shared moans and the sound of your bodies coming together, creating an atmosphere of intense desire and pleasure. Dewdrop's thrusts grew more urgent and powerful.

"You're so good... fuck! Your body is amazing, you are amazing... fuck... you are making me crazy!" Dewdrop exclaimed, his voice filled with passion and desire as he continued to thrust into you with unrelenting fervor.

He released his hold on your breasts, his eyes fixated on them as they bounced wildly in response to his powerful thrusts. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly as he continued to pound into you with unrelenting passion. Each thrust hit a new spot inside you, and the repeated, powerful movements of his length over and over again sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your entire being quivered with the intensity of the sensations that were building between you.

"Fuck, I never thought a pussy could feel this good," Dewdrop growled.

Your arms found their way to Dewdrop's neck, and you wrapped them around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes locked onto each other, reflecting the intense lust that burned between you. Your breaths mingled, and his forehead rested against yours. Even as you maintained this intimate connection, neither of you showed any signs of slowing down. He continued his relentless thrusts, and you responded by bucking your hips against him. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he sped up his movements, causing you to throw your head back and arch your back.

"Oh... Dew... that's so good, you fuck me so good... Oh yes, yes!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls.

He continued to thrust with increasing intensity, his hips colliding with yours in a symphony of pleasure. Your moans grew louder, each one a testament to the ecstasy you were feeling. Your body responded to his every movement, and you could feel your climax building with every thrust. It was as if he had unlocked a wellspring of desire within you, and you were swept away in the tide of passion that flowed between you.

"Dew... I don't... I don't know if I can handle anymore..." you gasped, your voice filled with both desire and a hint of concern.

He immediately stopped moving and looked at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You met his gaze and nodded. "I... I am..." you giggled softly, the pleasure rendering you breathless. "I was trying to say... You're going... to make me cum..."

His eyes sparkled with satisfaction and desire as he understood your words. The realization that you were on the brink of climax only fueled his passion, and he resumed his thrusts with renewed fervor.

"Ah!" you gasped. "Yes... Oh Dew... you are so good..."

"You are amazing, cum for me, my good girl," he said, his voice filled with desire. "Cum for me."

Your bodies moved together with a sensual rhythm, a dance of passion that left you both breathless and longing for more. Dewdrop's thrusts grew faster and more intense, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you. Your walls clenched around him, and you knew that you were both hurtling toward a powerful release.

"I... I will... Oh... yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...!" you cried out, your body shook beneath him with orgasmic bliss.

The intensity of your orgasm took over, and your hands moved down to your core, rubbing it fervently as your body convulsed with pleasure. You tightly squeezed your legs together around Dewdrop, and he groaned loudly, thrusting into you one final time as he released his seed deep inside of you.

"Fuck!" Dewdrop exclaimed, his voice echoing through the room.

As Dewdrop released his seed inside you, you whimpered in satisfaction, your body still trembling with pleasure. After your climax subsided, he slowly pulled out of you, and you both lay there, panting heavily. The sensation of his seed dripping from you made your legs instinctively close, and he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction. Gently, he kissed your forehead and rolled over to lie beside you. Dewdrop gently brought you closer to him, his touch tender and loving. He held you close, and you cuddled into his warm embrace, feeling utterly content and satisfied.

"We should probably do it again," Dewdrop said, his breathing still heavy.

You gazed at Dewdrop with a mischievous glint in your eyes and replied, "Maybe I can sneak into your room more times." Your desire flared once more as you leaned in for another passionate kiss.

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost the band #smut #dewdrop #dewdrop smut #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #dewdrop x reader #nameless ghoul #ghouls #sodomizer ghoul #sodo ghoul #sodo ghost #sodomizer #sodo #sodo x reader #sodo smut #sodo ghoul smut #nameless ghoul x reader #nameless ghouls #ghost ghouls

[runnning-outof-time]

Free the Slave | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written for @little-diable ‘s 14k Follower Celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader (AU)

Summary: (Y/N) becomes blinded by opportunity when mysterious preacher, Thomas Shelby, comes into her town that she doesn't see the bigger picture of what's going on at first. But when she’s shown it, she becomes even more intrigued.

Warnings: smoking, discussion of an attempted hanging, impersonation of a religious figure

Word Count: 3832

A/N: I’m…not exactly sure what this is. I struggled to write it because it’s so different from anything I’ve tried to write before, so I appreciate the challenge you posed, Chi (which congrats by the way 14 thousand followers is unreal!!) This is also the story that this moodboard was inspired by…I hope it lived up to the expectations. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: the storyline in this is loosely based off of the show Damnation (which I really need to finish)…I pulled some plot points from it. It’s also inspired by KALEO’s song Free the Slave - I pulled a lot of the lyrics from the song and incorporated them into the story.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Dark days are coming," Thomas Shelby spoke in a firm, ominous tone as he looked out at the people who had gathered before him, "whether you want them to or not. They're coming for you; coming for everyone in this room. You will have to make the choice on whether you want to fight or take shelter and hide. But before you choose, remember this: he who takes shelter is often forgotten about...it is the man who fights for what he believes in that gets to tell his tale," he paused then, hearing sounds of agreement coming from the crowd.

Hearing these reactions spurred him on. This was what he craved; the response from those who so easily subscribed to his word. He held a confident expression as he looked out at the congregation, which was still buzzing over the words that he said. He knew that he had them in the palm of his hand.

"Those dark days are almost here!" his voice cut through the talk of the crowd, bringing the attention back on him, "it will soon be time for us to stand up and fight for what we believe. The day of reckoning is almost here. So I ask all of you...is your conscience clear?" he ended by raising his eyebrows as he asked the question, panning across the crowd one more time. "Think on that," he left the crowd with a parting sentence, leaving his sermon open for the next time he'd step up on the pulpit and speak.

He stepped away from it and was immediately stopped by members of the crowd who were eager to talk about what had just been said. Tommy didn't say much. Instead he nodded along as he listened to the excited conversations; something inside of him churning as he realized just how into his word these people were. He'd never met a more receptive crowd in all of his travels.

A woman standing in the corner of the room caught his eye as he 'listened' to another person drone on about their take on his sermon. He could care less about how they received it. All that mattered to him was that they listened. But this woman...she interested him.

And she stuck around; waiting until all of the other churchgoers spoke to the man who'd just delivered a moving sermon before she decided to approach him herself. "Preacher Shelby," she started off as she stopped in front of him.

"Hello," he greeted her with a nod of his head.

"I was really moved by what you said in your sermon today," she said to him, and unlike all of the other conversations Tommy had stood through before this one, he listened, "people around here are too afraid to be upfront and confront their fate. What you said was right...we can't just let it overtake us. We must do something about it."

"I'm glad to hear that you found meaning in my sermon," Tommy started, a sense of poise in his voice, "too often people hear the truth and want to run away from it."

"I won't run from it," she told him in an assured tone, her words making a look of intrigue form on his face. There was something about this woman. "Preacher Shelby, I think I can help you," she said then, tilting her chin slightly upwards to show the confidence that she had.

"You think so?" he questioned her, his eyebrows raised. She only nodded, biting at her cheek to contain the grin that was threatening to form on her lips. "What's your name then?" he asked her, his lips parted slightly as he awaited her response.

"It's (Y/N)," she happily shared with him, "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

"Well, (Y/N)..." he started off, giving her a once over before continuing, "I look forward to speaking with you in the future."

"As I with you, Preacher Shelby," she allowed her grin to surface, and it stayed present on her face as she stepped backwards, leaving the conversation so that she could turn and exit the meeting house.

Tommy watched her leave, even more so intrigued now than he was before. He didn't get too long to look at her fleeting figure though as another man had approached him and wanted to get into the deeper meanings of what he'd just spoken about...oh if that man knew that there weren't any to begin with.

It took twenty minutes until he was finally able to leave the meeting house. His car was the only one left in the lot, which made the slip of paper sitting on the driver's seat catch him completely off guard. He instantly reached for his revolver that was tucked away inside his jacket, brandishing it and doing a sweep over the land; making sure nobody was waiting to ambush him.

He opened the car door once he found that the perimeter was clear, grabbing the paper and opening it. There were two sentences written on it: meet me by the riverside later on today...I have things to tell you. — (Y/N). Tommy pursed his lips together as he read the note over again. What things could she have to tell me? he wondered to himself, looking up again to make sure that he was still alone and hadn't been drawn into a trap. The land around him was still empty; no trap had been set, which meant that this woman actually wanted to talk with him. And he was interested.

He got into the vehicle after stuffing the note into his jacket pocket and started it before lighting himself a cigarette. He then took a long drag and exhaled the smoke slowly before putting the car into drive and leaving the lot.

——

(Y/N) was already sitting on one of the rocks positioned by the river when Tommy's car pulled up to where she told him to meet her. She watched as he shut off the engine and exited the vehicle. "I'm pleased that you showed up," she stated as he walked over to where she was sitting.

"I'm interested in what you had to tell me," he said to her, his statement holding truth. He was curious about her.

"Have a seat," she told him, moving over on the rock so that there was enough room for him to sit.

He nodded before sitting in the empty space. He looked at her then, and when she said nothing, he began speaking, "what is it that you wanted to tell me?" he asked, cutting right to the chase.

"I need your help," she kept her first statement vague.

"With what?" he took the bait, his eyebrows furrowing together as he asked the question.

"With what they've decided to do to a man in town," her answer was still vague.

"What are they doing with him?" he asked another question, his patience slowly wearing thin. She asked him to come out here...he shouldn't be the one prying for answers.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, ready to explain everything now that she saw he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. "You may or may not know that there's a strike happening in town. The men are protesting the low wages and terrible conditions. A man named Harvey was asked to come back...the bosses told him that they'd give him an increased pay if he broke the strike and returned. He's hesitant, but he has to...he's got two young children to feed and another on the way. His family couldn't keep living on nothing. He was desperate."

"The point of this is...?" Tommy trailed off, a slight amount of confusion present in his voice. Why was she telling him this?

"They're going to hang him, Preacher Shelby," she dropped the bomb, her voice dire, "he's an honest man, and yet they're going to hang him. They say he isn't guilty, but that someone still has to pay. And they won't be pleased until it happens because they want to make a statement...to show everyone what happens if you stray from the cause."

"Why're you sharing this information with me?" he asked her, still trying to figure out where he fit into this situation. Sure, it shocked him to hear that this innocent man was going to be hanged for trying to provide for his family, but at the same time he'd personally taken down men for far lesser offenses.

"Because they'll listen to you," she wasted no time in answering him, her eyes showing how much emotion she had invested into this predicament.

"How can you be sure that they will?" he asked her another question.

"I saw how they listened to you today, as you spoke about the dark days that are upon us. I saw how they lined up to speak to you afterwards. They were moved by your words. What you say holds weight in their minds. They'll surely listen if you tell them that what they're doing is unjust. You just need to get them to see sense," she continued with her pleas, making a strong case for why he should stop them.

Tommy took a deep breath, fingers itching to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket so that he could let the smoke clear his mind. He had little care about these workers' movement...their struggle wasn't affecting him, so why should he go and stick his neck out for a man he'd never met? But yet (Y/N) pleas were weighing on his mind. He wondered for a moment if that was because they solidified the fact that his plan was working, or if it was simply because of the woman who was making them. He'd met few like her in all of his travels.

"Say you'll help me, Preacher Shelby," (Y/N) spoke again after a few silent moments had passed. Her voice had gotten even more desperate in the time that had passed without a decision being made. She hated that she was stooping this low to a man who she'd just met earlier that day, but she had exhausted all of her other options. "Say you'll help this honest man and his family."

"What'll be in it for me?" he asked her then, tilting his chin up slightly as he asked the question that had been burning a hole in his mind since she made her case. It had been hard for him not to ask this earlier...everyone was motivated by something after all.

"Anything," she blurted out without second thought, "I'll give you anything you'd want if you can help this man."

Tommy clicked his tongue at her words, shaking his head slightly. Stupid girl, he thought to himself, making foolish deals with people she hardly knows. "It isn't smart of you to put the word 'anything' out on the table, love," he told her, "someone might just hold you to it," his words were said as a warning, hoping to get her to realize what she'd done.

"I'm desperate," she didn't take it back.

"I can see," he pointed out.

"Will you help me, Preacher Shelby?" she asked him again, no care for his ominous comments present in her words.

She's persistent...I'll give her that, he thought to himself as he thought her statements over. It was unlike his choices in the past, but something was telling him to help her. "I'll help you," he made up his mind, his words making her grab onto his hand and squeeze it out of appreciation.

"Thank you so much, Preacher Shelby. You have no idea what kind of service you is doing for this man and his family," she said to him, sharing her praise for his decision, "thank you," she uttered her thanks and squeezed his hand one last time before letting it go and fighting the embarrassment that was bubbling up in her from making such a brash decision to grab him.

"When is this happening?" he asked her, now wanting more details about the event he'd agreed to stop.

"I...I'm not sure yet," she hesitantly answered him, sheepishness present in the apologetic smile she sent him. She didn't think she'd get this far.

Great, Tommy thought to himself, wanting to bring his hand to his face in frustration, I've agreed to this and she has no bloody clue of the finer details.

"I could get you the information though!" she jumped to tell him before he could back out of the deal. "I mean it, I can find everything out and tell you as soon as I have it," she added, her desperation present once again.

"Ok," he nodded, making her sigh in relief. She was happy to hear that he was still interested. "I'm staying at the inn; room 273. Come there when you find any information," he told her then, hoping that she wouldn't question the fact that he didn't have a permanent residence in the town.

"I will," she nodded as well, "thank you so much, Preacher Shelby," she expressed her gratitude once again.

"Thank me when it's over," he told her, his voice unintentionally holding a grim tone.

——

(Y/N) rushed down the hall of the inn, intently looking at each of the number plaques until she found the one she was looking for. She'd visited this room only a few days ago, but today it felt like she couldn’t get to it soon enough.

She knocked on the door the instant she got to it, and after trying four times, it opened. "Preacher Shelby," she panted, having not quite caught her breath yet, "thank you," she added once she trusted her voice again.

"For?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows, slightly surprised by seeing her at his door.

"You told me to thank you when it's over," she reminded him of their conversation by the riverside, "it's over, so thank you."

Tommy nodded as what they spoke about came back to him. "There's no need to thank me, love...they backed down quickly once I reminded them that judgment would be brought upon them and they would be condemned for hanging an innocent man," he gave her a rundown of how things unfolded.

"So you'll forgive them, Father?"

"Why?" Her question surprised him.

"Because they know not what they do...they're only working for their cause. My goal was to make sure that my brother stayed alive. I didn't want them to be condemned," she said to him, her stomach doing flips at the idea.

"Your brother?"

"That man was my brother," she told him, nodding slightly to accentuate her point. "You stopped them from hanging him. He was able to go back to his family because of what you said."

"Condemnation is up to God to decide," Tommy told her, "have a good day, (Y/N)," he moved to wrap up the conversation, starting to close the door between them.

(Y/N) stopped it before it could latch. "Wait, Preacher Shelby," she said, sticking her arm between the door and the frame.

"What?" Tommy asked as he opened the door again.

"I want to follow your cause...to help out in any way that I can," she said to him, her eyes locked onto his as she spoke.

Tommy furrowed his brows at her statement, letting it sink in before he stuck his neck out into the hallway so that he could look both ways; checking to see if it was clear. Upon finding it empty, he grabbed her forearm and ushered her into the room. (Y/N) gasped at the suddenness, but didn't try to pull away. Instead she followed him in, letting him shut the door behind her before he moved to lean against the chest of drawers sitting on the opposite side of the room. Nothing was said as he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and took one from it, rolling it across his bottom lip before bringing a lighter up to strike it.

(Y/N) watched as he took a drag and exhaled the smoke slowly, letting it billow out around his face. The way he looked at her from across the room made her shudder involuntarily. It seemed as though he was sizing her up, and he was now surrounded by a darker presence, one that she'd never aliken to a man of God. It confused her slightly, but overall made her more intrigued by him.

"Did you hear what I said before, Preacher Shelby?" she asked him, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I said that I want to be invested in your cause...to support you fully. I offered you anything in return for helping my brother, and that offer still stands, although I don't think I could ever be able to repay you for it."

"You don't want to do that, (Y/N)," he told her, speaking in a low voice that caused another shudder to course through her. She saw that he was now gripping the top of the dresser, his knuckles white.

"Why not?" she asked, playing the innocent part to continue to - hopefully - get more answers out of him.

"Because I'm not the man you think I am," he started vague, looking her over once before he continued, "I'm no preacher, and I'm certainly not one who's cause you should invest your time into."

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked another question, still not deterred by his ominous answers.

"I'm a bad man, (Y/N)," he admitted, pushing himself away from the dresser so that he could take a few steps in her direction.

"You saved my brother's life. You must not be so bad," she pointed out, not backing down from him even though he was becoming more daunting with each step he took in her direction. She wasn't afraid though. He almost wanted to laugh at how innocent she sounded.

"Words weren't what got your brother spared...it was my actions that did. I threatened those men; told them that they'd face a worse demise than the man they'd accused if they went forward with it," he told her of how things really went down, moving closer to her as he spoke.

"I don't care how you did it," she said to him, holding her ground.

"You should," he responded, standing toe to toe with her now.

"I don't," she insisted, taking a moment to look him over. She could see his striking blue eyes now. The ice in them was evident and staring into them did not reveal what he was thinking. It did make her more entranced by him though; she’d never seen eyes that blue in her life. "I'm tired of living this life...I'm tired of having no say. You accepted my invite, listened to me, and then brought justice where it was needed. That stands for something. I want you to free the slave in me; to free me from this hell that I've been tangled up in," she said then, her eyes staying locked with his as she watched them flit down to her lips before trailing back up. Seeing that made a fire ignite inside of her, "you don't scare me, Mr. Shelby," she said to him, dropping the religious title but still addressing him formally.

"I don't?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised as he held his intent gaze on her.

"No," she shook her head ever so slightly, a grin ghosting on her lips, "you excite me," she admitted then, her eyes locked with his, watching for how he'd react to her confession.

A grin teetered on his lips as he heard what she had to say. "Excite you?" he questioned, humming to himself before he continued, "I do bad things, (Y/N)...it'd be wise of you to rethink what you've said," he warned her.

"I said I'd give you anything," she reminded him, holding her ground even though she felt like she was going to combust on the inside. These things he was saying were meant to ward her off, but they only made her want him more.

She'd had her eyes on him from the moment she entered the meeting house he was speaking at. No man she'd met in the past had ever come close to the way he was making her feel at that moment. Her learning of his true persona made him even more enticing; now she was just waiting for him to make a move, because it seemed as though he was sizing her up in the way that she'd been doing to him.

His eyes roamed her face once more before he finally spoke again, his words cutting the tension like a knife, "so then tell me, (Y/N)...where's your savior now, eh?" he asked her, his eyebrows raising as he waited intently for her response.

"He's right in front of me," she wasted no time in telling him before she couldn't resist herself any longer and went forward with reaching over to take hold of the sides of his neck so that she could collide their lips together in a haste kiss.

It didn't take long for Tommy to take over, moving her back so that she was pressed against the door, his hands gripping onto her hips as he kissed her with the same amount of intensity that she was putting into her efforts. Her hands roamed up to his head, knocking the peaked cap off so that she could grip onto to the longer stands of his cropped haircut. They kissed until their lungs were burning, and (Y/N) was the first to pull back for air, giving him the opportunity to press a few kisses to her jaw.

"Is there something other than preacher that I can call you?" she panted out, bringing her knee up to brush against his thigh, her actions making him groan in response.

"Tommy," he shared his name in between the kisses he'd been pressing against her skin.

"Tommy..." she tried it out for herself, loving how it rolled off of her lips, "I said I'd give you anything, Tommy...just free the slave in me, please," she finished her statement with a satisfied sigh before his lips found hers again.

"Be careful what you ask for, love," he cautioned her, but his words fell on deaf ears as she was already too far gone to heed to the warning.

It was too late to turn back now. There wasn't anything that he could say or do that would make her stray from him. She realized that she was getting involved with a man who was surely closer to the devil than he was to God, and that notion alone excited her. She was invested, and he was going to free the slave in her...starting with making her feel things she'd never felt in her life.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

Listen to the song Free the Slave by KALEO HERE.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[delicateflowerss]

Say Yes to Heaven (Thomas Browne x Reader)

Thomas Browne has always extended his kindness to you. On a late night delivery, Thomas welcomes you into his home, making your wildest dreams come true.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of death and grief, mentions of religion, and possible historical inaccuracies.

A/N: I had to write something for Thomas because he makes me feral. So, enjoy.

The ground crunches beneath your feet as you make your way through the village. The sky has started to darken as the sun disappears under the horizon. A chill is creeping in, making the warmth from each house you visit seem welcoming.

You step into each home, delivering milk into tired hands. Most people try to plaster a grateful smile on their face, but it doesn’t quite reach their eyes. They keep conversation to a minimum and are quick to close the door once you leave, sealing you off from their world. The warmth gone from you so fast, leaving you in the cold air.

You walk up to your last stop, a house nicer than most of the others, with a man who is also nicer than most of the others.

Although the house may look nice, it too has been stricken with death and grief, things you are all too familiar with.

Your fist meets the dark wood of the door, giving it a firm knock. A cold breeze moves past you, goosebumps rising on your skin. Before you can stand in the cold for too long, the door in front of you opens.

“Y/N. Please come in.” He invites you in, gesturing to his home with an open hand.

You give him a nod and a kind smile as you start to feel warmer just by stepping inside.

He returns the smile, but only slightly. You know it’s nothing against you. Thomas has always treated you with a kindness you rarely receive. It’s surprising for a man like him, with the money he has, but it’s true. He’s just had a difficult time lately. You can’t expect him to be back to his old self, he never will be. You know this because you’ll never be the same either.

“Here you go, Thomas,” you say as you hand him the jar of milk from your bag.

His fingertips brush against yours as he takes it from you. You feel a slight tingle, just for a second.

“Thank you very much, Y/N.” His fingers wrap around the jar, and you can’t help but gaze into his icy, blue eyes. “I hope you’re doing well,” he continues.

“I’m doing fine. Keeping busy, I suppose.”

He exhales through his nose, “I understand that perfectly.”

His eyes meet the floor, a somberness taking over his face. You notice this, remembering that his wife’s funeral was only a few days ago.

“Thomas,” you start. At the sound of his name, he moves his eyes back to you. “I’m so sorry about your wife. I know how hard that is.” There’s a heaviness present in your voice. “I also must apologize for not being at the funeral. I-.”

He interrupts you before you can say more. “No need to apologize, Y/N. I understand how difficult it is to step away from your duties.”

Before he says anything else, he places his free hand on your upper arm. It’s a gentle touch, but your breathing grows unsteady.

“If you find any time, you should try and come to church…” He goes on about how it would be good for a woman like you. But all you can do is focus on his warm touch and how his eyes stay on you, like he’s able to see right into your soul.

You clear your throat and take a step back from him. His hand falling off you in the process.

“It’s getting dark, I don’t want to impose any more than I have already.”

He tries to protest but you stop him before he can continue.

“Goodnight, Thomas,” you say before stepping back into the cold, night air. The door closes behind you.

You listen to the pastor’s sermon, his voice raising, trying to keep everyone’s attention on him. You only feel the urge to drown him out. You used to enjoy attending church, finding it exciting and the Christian thing to do. But now you look past the billowing curtains, towards the clear, blue sky, and wish you were in your barn.

You’re not entirely sure why you decided to come today. Since the night of your last delivery, you haven’t been able to get Thomas off your mind. You’ve always thought he was attractive, but you never thought about him like that. Maybe because you felt it was wrong to think about a married man in that way.

But now, his touch is engraved into your mind. You think about how his long fingers wrapped around your arm, and how good it felt, just to feel that slight touch.

You crave more of his touch, and the feeling it brings. It’s something you haven’t felt in a long time. Honestly, you just crave more of Thomas, and the guilt is eating you alive.

Not only does it feel wrong morally to be that close to him. But it feels like a betrayal.

So, for some reason, you decided to come today. You’re not sure whether the reason was to try and feel closer to God or to try and see Thomas again. You want to believe it’s the former.

You were worried you would be faced with hostility from the others, including the pastor, by going to church. But they tolerate you like they usually do, only giving you dirty looks or not a glance at all.

You move your gaze across the room and see Thomas with his son, sitting on one of the wooden pews. You try not to look too long, but you can’t help but take in the way his brown hair is brushed back, the slightest of curls starting to form.

Before you can look away, he catches your eye. You start to feel embarrassed that he caught you staring, but he doesn’t move his eyes away from you. He doesn’t look upset with you or like he’s mocking you, instead he just drinks you in.

You’re the first to look away, hoping no one noticed the two of you. Your cheeks are red for a different reason now.

Moonlight is the only thing that illuminates your path through the village. You never deliver this late into the night. So, you went as fast as you can, not wanting to disrupt anyone’s night.

You arrive at Thomas’s house, your last stop, and knock on his door. You’ve been thinking about this moment since you saw him at church. You don’t really know what to expect, being face to face with him again.

The door opening pulls you out of your thoughts and he lets you in with a smile.

You hurry to explain why you’re so late, the words stumbling out of you. “Sorry to get here at such a late hour, I had a hard time milking Daisy today. I hope I’m not bothering you, Thomas.”

You hand him a jar of milk, scanning his face for any annoyance. That’s the last thing you would want.

“You’re never a bother, Y/N.” That smile still on his lips.

One is brought to yours as well. “That’s sweet of you to say.” Your eyes not exactly reaching his.

The only thing that can be heard is the sound of wood crackling in the fireplace, helping to light and warm the room.

“I should leave you to what you were doing. I have to get back anyways,” you tell him with a sigh.

As you turn around to leave, he stops you.

“Stay.”

You look back at him as he continues.

“Please. Only for a little while. You can sit and rest before you have to walk back. I’m sure you could use it, being on your feet all day,” he explains.

Thomas has always been nice to you, but never has he let you stay longer than a few minutes. Why now?

You feel that sinking feeling in your stomach, it trying to tell you that you shouldn’t be alone with Thomas, and you shouldn’t overstay your welcome. But you feel overjoyed that not only someone wants to spend time with you, but Thomas out of all people does. These feelings go to war inside your mind.

He notices your hesitance. “You’re not interrupting anything, I promise.”

There’s a silent plea in his eyes and that’s enough for you to finally give him a nod, telling him thank you.

“You can take a seat in here.” He leads you into the next room where there are some chairs and a couch. He waits for you to sit down.

You choose the couch, already feeling relief from the weight being taken off your feet.

“I’ll be right back, wouldn’t want to waste your hard work,” he says before leaving to put the milk away.

You set your bag down on the floor, now empty, and take a look around. You notice the fire starting to dwindle, casting eerie shadows on the walls. You smooth out any wrinkles in your gown, not sure what you should be doing right now.

Thankfully, Thomas isn’t gone too long.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m alright.”

He takes a seat next to you, leaving little room between you two on the small couch.

You shift a little at his close proximity before you both sit in silence. It’s a tad awkward but not unbearable.

You realize that you haven’t seen Edward tonight. Usually, you spot the little boy when you’re delivering to Thomas.

“Where is Edward?” You ask quietly.

“He went to bed a little while ago.”

“Oh. I suppose we should be quiet then.” Your voice almost at a whisper now.

“Yes, we should.” The whisper of his voice matching yours. You catch a glint in his eyes, as he doesn’t move them off you.

He parts his lips, wanting to say something, but taking the time to find the right words.

“Y/N, I’m glad you stayed. I must confess, I find your company… bewitching.” There’s a slight rasp in his voice, describing you and how you make him feel.

His wording catches you off guard. Before you can say something, he continues, “It was difficult to lose her. I knew it would be, but I didn’t know that it would be so lonely. I don’t know how you’ve done it for this long, and you’re completely on your own.”

All you can do is listen, your eyes becoming glassy. You’ve never heard someone say it out loud before, being able to put your feelings into words.

“I wasn’t supposed to be. I mean, I was going to get married.” A tear runs down your cheek. “But that winter was hard on him, he didn’t survive it.” You wipe your wet face. “So now I’m a milkmaid.” You let out a sarcastic laugh before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

Now you’re destined to a life of loneliness.

He reaches out to grab the hand in your lap, giving it a squeeze. That warm feeling comes back, it’s both comforting and electrifying.

“I had no idea, Y/N. I’m so sorry…” He continues to comfort you, but your only focus is his large hand in yours and the way his pink lips are moving.

He moves his other hand to your cheek, gently wiping the tears you didn’t realize were still falling. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling, a quiet whimper in your throat.

You hope he doesn’t hear it, but the look he gives you tells you he did.

His eyes darken slightly, and he slowly brings his lips to yours.

Your breath hitches as the kiss surprises you. But it doesn’t take you long to melt into his touch, his soft lips feeling heavenly on yours.

Neither of you realized how much you ached for the other, lips pressed together, both of you finally getting what you’ve been needing.

His hand moves from yours, sliding against your thigh. When his fingers peek under your gown, he moves his lips away from yours.

He asks, out of breath, “Is this too much?”

You think about how this could be a bad idea, how you two shouldn’t be doing this. But you want him too much to stop.

You shake your head, telling him no.

He goes back to kissing you, your hand moving to the soft strands of his hair.

His fingertips brush against your bare thigh, moving to where you need him most. He starts to rub you, his fingers already getting covered in your arousal.

His lips are on your neck now, leaving sloppy kisses. You try to stay quiet, but you can’t help the breathy moans coming out of you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this good, felt the touch of a man.

He moves you so you’re lying down, your legs on either side of him. He quickly unbuttons his vest, throwing it onto the floor. Your gown is bunched up at your waist, revealing yourself to him.

“You’re sopping wet for me,” he breathes out as he releases himself from his pants.

All you can do is whine in anticipation, needing to feel him inside you. You see the smirk on his lips as his leaking tip brushes against your entrance.

When he finally pushes into you, a loud moan falls out of your lips. He stretches you open, and the feeling is so intense.

He stops moving, shushing you and giving you a warning, “If you want me to keep pleasing this tight, little cunt, you’re going to need to be quieter.”

You press your lips together, showing you’ll be quiet.

He continues to thrust into you, and your eyes go to the back of your head, tears kissing them for an entirely different reason now. You feel completely full and as he drives back into you, touching you deep inside. The pleasure is blinding.

When you set out on your delivery tonight, you had no idea that it would end with you being fucked by Thomas Browne.

He sets a steady rhythm as he hits the spots inside of you that has you feeling like you can’t think straight. His face is buried into your neck, his lips grazing your skin.

Your hand is on his back, nails clawing the fabric of his shirt. Hips rutting into you deeper, you can hear the light sighs coming from him as his pace gets faster.

Your walls flutter around him, feeling closer to the edge. He glances down at the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

“You take me so well,” he coos as his fingers find your clit.

You try not to make any noise, but it’s hard when he’s making you feel this good. You yelp at a particularly deep thrust, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

He’s still rubbing your clit and it’s all too much for you. You grasp onto his shirt, body trembling, and you come around him. Hard.

His thrusts are getting sloppier and your cunt squeezing around him just pushes him closer.

You feel him twitch inside you, a moan coming from his lips as a warmth floods you.

You’re both out of breath as he takes himself out of you. There’s a slight amusement in his eyes as he takes in your disheveled state.

A smirk traces his lips, and he says, “I think you should deliver this late from now on.”

#thomas browne #thomas browne x reader #american horror story #american horror stories #ahs

[cardinal-copia-popia]

omg i love how you write Copia <3 may i request some nsfw with dom!Copia ?

Thank you so much!! And yes, you most certainly can! I'm not particularly used to writing him like this, so I hope it's alright!

Mirrored here on AO3

Enjoy, anon!

NSFW under the cut

You had always had a crush on Copia, starting back when he was still cardinal. You would even go so far as to say you were friends, but Copia always kept things professional between you two, though you could not deny that he seemed to enjoy talking with you.

But ever since he ascended, you saw less and less of him. You understood he was busy, but you still missed your chats. He was still polite if he saw you and would greet you warmly, but you never got the impression that he was interested in you beyond simple friendship. There were rumors since his ascension that he had a couple of siblings that frequented his bed, but no one seemed to know who they were. Not that it was anyone’s business, but it made you jealous. Why couldn’t one of them be you?

And then the note arrived at your door, delivered by a ghoul.

Meet me in the chapel this evening.

-C

To say you were excited would be an understatement. You were ecstatic and nervous as everything. You hoped he wanted to meet you for the reasons you wanted, but once the initial excitement wore off, you forced yourself to calm down. No need to get your hopes up, you thought as you stared at the note. Maybe he just wanted to talk. It had been a while since you two had done that, after all.

Since there was no mention of a time, you waited until after dinner to head down to the chapel, when the hallways were mostly empty. The butterflies you felt only got worse the closer you got, but you powered through, too excited and curious to chicken out. Aside from the fact that you at least wanted to talk to him again, he was also Papa now, so who were you to stand him up?

The chapel was dimly lit, but you could still make out the pews, the confessionals, and the altar, but the very edges were shrouded in shadow. You expected to find Copia waiting, but you did not see him anywhere. Were you too late? Too early?

“Hello, Sorella.”

You startled at the voice, spinning around and squinting into the dark recesses of the chapel. You could barely make out the silhouette of a person sitting near the pulpit, a white eye catching the dim light. You could have sworn it was Copia, but his voice sounded different: deeper and more commanding.

“I was wondering how long you would keep me waiting.”

You swallowed hard, now knowing beyond a doubt that it was Copia. Why did he sound like that, though? “I’m sorry, Papa. Your note didn’t specify a time.” You managed a smile. “I’m here now.”

“Sì,” he said, purring out the word. “You are. You have been teasing me, Sorella. Every time I stand in the pulpit, I feel your eyes on me, undressing me. It is quite distracting, to the point I have a… hard time concentrating on my sermons. That is not very nice of you.”

You swallowed hard. He had noticed the way you looked at him? You thought you had been so careful, not mentioning your crush to anyone, except in confession— Oh. Your cheeks heated up. “I-I’m sorry, Papa, I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

He chuckled deeply, a sound that made a shiver run up your spine and arousal wash through you. You had no idea he could sound like that, and it turned you on. Maybe it wasn’t Copia. Sure, he had changed a bit from the sweet, nervous, sometimes stuttering Cardinal whose mannerisms and personality endeared you more and more to him every day to the more confident Papa who was not as afraid to speak his mind and assert himself. But this was… vastly different.

“It’s only a bother because I could not do the same to you.” 

A fresh wave of heat settled over you. Was this really happening? Maybe you had fallen asleep in your dorm room, and this was all a dream. And if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

Copia finally stepped out of the shadows, your eyes widening at the sight of him. He was still in his paints, and he was wearing a suit, one of the new ones that he wore during rituals with those Hell-sent lace-up pants. His white eye seemed to glow with want and lust, piercing through you. It shocked you, but it also made you aware of just how wet you were getting in your panties.

“You wanted to?” you managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Copia continued to walk slowly toward you, his intense gaze never wavering. “Sì. So often, I wished you would stay after mass so that I could take you on the altar. Or when in confession, spilling your deepest, darkest secrets and fantasies unknowingly to me for so long…” He stopped just a few inches away, looming over you. He raised his hand and grazed his gloved fingers along your jaw. “It took all I had in me not to act, to not betray your trust. But now, after all this time… Surely, you must know I want you, tesoro mia.” 

You shook your head, feeling a bit faint and hot and so aroused. “I-I had no idea.”

He suddenly grabbed you and turned you around, holding you tightly to him. You could feel him trembling slightly in his efforts to keep himself under control. “Then know this, Sorella: I want you, and I intend to have you.” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear. “Tell me you want this, too, tesoro mia.”

You, too, trembled in his arms. “Yes, Papa… I want you so badly.”

You could feel him smile as he hummed in approval. “Sì. And you will have me, dolcezza mia… I only ask one thing.” His hand crept down your stomach and hovered over your crotch, not touching you but letting you bask in the anticipation of a touch. “You have told me many fantasies… Where would you like for me to take you first? The confessional, the altar, back to my papal suite, the garden?”

You shivered. “The altar.”

Copia slid his hands to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Your knees felt like they would buckle, but you managed to make your way to the altar. Copia did not follow you right away, however. Instead, he watched you, a small smile on his face. For the first time that evening, he looked fondly at you, making you hope that this meant more to him, that it would become more than just a one-time thing. You nervously stood before the altar, waiting to see what he would do.

He approached you slowly, looking over you. "I have so often dreamed of this moment," he murmured. He brought his hands up to your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "Please know, tesoro mia, that I am not taking any of this lightly. I have wanted you for a long time, but I have not been… confident enough before."

You felt relief settle over you as his words allayed your fears. "And now?" you whispered.

"Now, I can hold back longer."

With that, Copia kissed you gently at first and unobtrusive. The taste of the paint on his lips was bitter, but at the moment, you did not care. And as you began to return the kiss, it became more and more passionate, with his tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. He backed you up until you were against the altar. Only then did he break the kiss to look at you as he undressed you, starting first with your veil and then the rest of your habit. He was slower in removing your bra and panties as if he was too distracted with touching you to focus on his main task.

"Bellissima," he whispered, his gloved hands caressing your heated skin.

"What about you, Papa?" you whispered back, your fingers stroking the lapels of his jacket.

He smiled sweetly. "What about me, Sorella?"

"Aren't you a little… overdressed?"

He took a small step away from you. "Would you like to do the honors?" You nodded enthusiastically, which made his smile widen. "Then go ahead. One request, though, tesoro… When you get to this," he said, his fingertips playing over the laced-up front of his pants, "use your teeth."

You shivered at his words and in anticipation of doing just that. As you slid his jacket off his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt, you met his eyes. “We won’t get caught in here?”

“I am Papa,” he said. “If anyone wanders in, they would do best to wander back out; otherwise, they will have to deal with me. And, Sorella,” he said, catching your eye with a sharp look. “I do not share.”

Another shiver went through you as you nodded, your fingers trembling. “Good. Because I want only you.”

Copia seemed pleased with your response.

Once you had him shirtless, he stopped you for a moment and kissed you again. You hesitantly touched his chest, reveling in the feeling of his skin and the roughness of his chest hair under your fingers. Copia hummed.

“How I have dreamed of feeling your hands on me,” he breathed.

“How I’ve dreamed of touching you,” you admitted shyly.

Copia smiled. “I know you have, tesoro.” He covered your hand with his and guided it down to the front of his pants. “We have both dreamed of this, too, haven’t we?”

You eagerly cupped him through his pants, making Copia gasp. “Yes.”

He ground his hips into your hand, the front of his trousers getting tighter. Copia’s breath was becoming labored as he worked himself up. “Take them off,” he breathed, his forehead touching yours.

You wanted to kiss him again, but you also wanted to get him out of his pants. You slowly sank to your knees, keeping your eyes locked on his. Copia smiled slyly as you placed your hands on the backs of his thighs and bit down on the leather lace holding his trousers together at the top. You pulled on it and untied the knot there. You could not help it: while your hands were on his legs, you caressed and squeezed his thighs before sliding your hands up to his ass. Copia responded to your groping by letting out a pleased growl and rocking hips to aid you in your attempts to undo his pants; your progress was hindered a bit by how tight they were getting. Your mouth watered at the thought of your prize beneath the fabric of his pants, and you could feel the heat emanating from him.

Finally, you got the laces undone. Copia smiled down at you and gently pushed you away from him. “I will take it from here, tesoro.”

You watched raptly as he finished undressing, your mouth falling open when he took his cock in his hand and began stroking himself. Without any prompting, you leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock. Copia gasped and moved his hand, letting you take over with your own hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and your lips around the head of his cock.

Copia breathed out your name and tangled his fingers in your hair. “So good to your Papa, dolcezza mia, on your knees before me, taking me so well.”

You hummed around him in response. You could hardly believe this was happening, and you did your best to savor every moment, to savor Copia. You committed to memory the pleasured sounds he was making, the way he tasted and felt in your mouth. You figured out just what he liked by letting his delicious responses to your ministrations guide you. But as much as you enjoyed this, you wanted him to fuck you. Thankfully, Copia seemed to think the same. He suddenly pushed you away, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Stand up and turn around, Sorella,” Copia said, his voice shaking. “Face the altar.”

You did as he said, taking deep breaths to try to calm yourself down a bit. You could feel the slick between your legs, now embarrassingly wet from just having had Copia’s cock in your mouth. And now you would finally get what you had dreamed about for so long. You felt his hand slide up your back before gently pushing down between your shoulder blades, making you bend at the waist. You braced your hands against the altar.

Copia stepped up behind you and leaned down to kiss your shoulder. When you felt the head of his cock nudge against you, you could not help but instinctively try to push back onto him. You were aching to be filled by him, your need becoming desperate. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” he asked with an obvious smile in his voice.

“Copia, please!” you whined as he continued to teasingly nudge against you. You could feel him becoming wetter from your juices, nearly slipping into you with each push.

Copia’s grip on your hip became tighter, more possessive, and he pressed his front to your back and touched his lips to your ear. “That is Papa to you, Sorella.”

“Papa…” He reached around with his other hand and grabbed your breast, making you push back even more insistently. “Please!”

With that, he began to slide into you, leisurely rocking his hips, slowly burying himself within you inch by inch. You moaned and whimpered at the feeling of him finally filling you, stretching you, making you his. You felt Copia take a stuttering breath once he was finally seated within you.

“Oh, dolcezza mia…” he moaned against your shoulder. “Nessuna fantasia potrebbe mai essere paragonata…”

He let you adjust to him for a moment before beginning to thrust into you, each snap of his hips accentuated by a grunt. Your panting was interspersed with moans and whimpers. You knew Copia could feel you trembling, and while the feeling of him was overwhelming, his presence behind you was comforting, reassuring. And by Satan, no one had ever made you feel this good. You never wanted anyone else.

Copia grasped the back of your neck, holding you down as he pounded into you. The sound of your fucking and impassioned cries and moans filled the chapel. This was not entirely what you expected your first time with him to be like, with the threat of being caught, but in the end, it only excited you further.

“Papa, I’m going to—” You gasped. “I’m going to cum!”

The pleasure and need for release was building within you to a fever pitch.

“Sì, let your Papa feel you, Sorella! Let me feel you cum around my cock!”

You had a death grip on the edge of the altar as Copia redoubled his efforts.  At any other time, you might have felt embarrassed by the sounds leaving you, but he was making you feel too good. With just a few more thrusts, your walls clamped down on his cock, and you cried out, your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck, amore!” you heard Copia groan. You were too lost in your pleasure at the moment to comprehend the term of endearment. “You feel so good around me… So perfect for me… You want me to cum in you, amore?” he growled in your ear. “Fill you with my seed, make you mine before the eyes of our Dark Lord?”

He held onto your trembling body tightly, his thrusts not letting up. “Yes! Oh, please, Papa!” you managed to cry.

Just a couple of thrusts later, you felt him swell and kick within you, spilling his seed deep. Your moans chorused with his as you felt him bite down on your shoulder, another, smaller orgasm coursing through you.

An indeterminate amount of time later, with Copia resting against your back, both of you trying to catch your breath, he slipped out of you and turned you around to face him. He pressed kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and finally, your lips.

“Thank you, Sorella,” he whispered.

“Copia?” you whispered back. “You… You called me ‘amore.’” You hoped it was not just a heat of the moment thing, but you desperately wanted to know.

“So I did,” he said with a smile. 

“Do you…?” You dared not hope…

“Love you?” he finished, staring into your eyes. “Sì.”

You sighed in relief and sagged against him. Copia gathered you in his arms and held you close. “I love you, too,” you admitted just as quietly.

He hummed lightly, kissing your forehead. “Then you have made me very happy, amore.” His hand slipped down to your hip, caressing it. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

“No, not really.” You were likely going to have bruises on your hips tomorrow, and there was a pleasant ache between your legs, but you felt wonderful otherwise.

“Hm… Come back to my room with me, amore, and let me clean you up. Then stay the night with me; let me hold you.”

You smiled against his chest, reveling in his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat. “You can hold me for as long as you like.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Translations:

Nessuna fantasia potrebbe mai essere paragonata - no fantasy could ever compare

If you have any requests, send them my way! (For more info, check my pinned post!)

#ask #fic request #my writing #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #copia #papa iv #reader

[terrainofheartfelt]

Lit™ Opera Lit - Abridged

for @clarasamelia

Jo enabled me into doing this though I’ve been tempted to for a WHILE, so here, have an Opera Primer Playlist, by me. A few notes before we begin:

This says Abridged, because the original Lit™ Opera Lit on my spotify is….5 ½ hours long, and I didn’t want to throw ALL that at someone new to the genre. So. (It is public on my spotify if you wanna take a peek)

Also, this is not a music history survey, and is therefore very biased to my tastes as a lover of romantic opera and as a trained mezzo soprano. #lowvoicesupremacy

And there is sooooooooooooooooooo much more I want to share so if anyone has any questions or wants a rec of something else please feel free to ask and I would be happy to answer! 

Actually, new ask game time: send me a pop culture media thing and I can relate it back to opera in 6 degrees or less. 

*means I’ve sung it before!

Okay, onto the playlist

Overture – La forza del destino, Verdi

You gotta start off an opera with a good overture right???? And this one is a fave, BY a fave. Overtures are sort of a…musical trailer of everything you’re going to hear in the show before it starts. It’s a sneak peek, it’s the opening credits, it’s a goddamn shame we don’t do them anymore. For real I went to a concert earlier this fall and the orchestra played the overture to The Sound of Music and it was glorious and I remember thinking “they don’t make em like this anymore!” Anyways, idk much about Forza because there’s no mezzos, but it’s a gutwrenching tragedy with glorious music, and this overture FUCKS

“Gira la cote!”* — Turandot, Puccini

First things first, lemme just say this outright, yes, this opera is racist. All white European composers were perpetrators of Orientalism in their music, Puccini being one of the more notorious. As such, opera is a thing that you have to engage with critically, but I don’t want to make that sound like it’s “work,” because I don’ twant to prolong this thing that you have to perform some sort of intellectual labor before you can enjoy opera, but you have to give it the same grace and critical eye you give other media, fuck I run a gossip girl blog, it’s like that, you know? Okay, sermon out of the way, this opera is about a Chinese princess, who vows to never marry because, honestly men have given her very little reason to want to, so she poses this challenge: if a man wants to marry her, he must answer three riddles, and if he gets even one of them wrong, she takes his head. This chorus is the opening of the show, when her latest failed suitor is about to get his head chopped off, the chorus of her subjects love the free show, and are shouting “gira la cote! / sharpen the blade!” and, reader, it fucks. 

“Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém (Song to the Moon)” — Rusalka, Dvořák

It’s the little mermaid!!!!!!!!! No, seriously, it’s based on the same myth. From my sweet Czech prince, Tony, this masterpiece tells its own spin on a Slavic version of the fairytale. This is, effectively, the “part of your world” song, Rusalka begs the moon to pass on a message of love to her human prince. And it is…one of the most glorious arias ever, to the point that sometimes I’m like “ugh, overdone” but really, it’s gorgeous, and when sung right, transcendent. 

“Čury mury fuk” — Rusalka, Dvořák

Ježibaba, aka Baba Yaga, aka Ursula, sings about how she’s gonna poison the beautiful sprite Rusalka. Fun fact: the saying for mezzo roles is: witches, bitches, and britches, because the archetypes low-voiced women always sing in opera are always either witches, bitches, or pants roles (women playing a male character, usually a teenaged boy). I was more a Mistresses and Princesses mezzo meself, so really…just bitches….

“Amami, Alfredo” — La Traviata, Verdi

Verdi is my absolute favorite, my opera blorbo, I love him so very much. The way he writes emotion into his orchestra is just hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng. Anyways. Traviata is perhaps the most popular opera in the world (tied with Carmen). If you don’t think you know it, you do. It’s based off Dumas’ La Dame aux Camellias, and the direct inspiration for the film Moulin Rouge! (though not the musical, evidently, it’s fine I’ve ranted about that elsewhere). AND, it’s featured in the garden party scene in Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement! What you here Anne Hathaway listening to there is the grand ending to the famous aria “Sempre libera,” but to me, the most sublime moment in the opera is this one, in Act II, Violetta’s lover’s father comes to plead with her to leave his son, Alfredo, because Violetta is a courtesan and therefore a detriment to the noble family’s reputation…yeah. And Violetta agrees, not wanting to send Alfredo’s family into poverty or ruin the reputation of his little sister (that she’s never met btw, fuckin catholics), plus, it’s hinted that Violetta already knows that she is dying of tuberculosis (consumption), so she decides to leave and go back to her old life, and when Alfredo returns as she’s trying to write him a farewell letter, she has this outburst of emotion. It’s brief, but, jesus christ—

Amami, Alfredo, quant'io t'amo. Addio. / Love me, Alfredo, how I love you. Goodbye.

"Bevo al tuo fresco sorriso" — La Rondine, Puccini

Another opera based of the lady of the camellias! (She was indeed a real person, Marie Duplessis, I read a biography about her! It’s so fascinating!) This one has a bit of a different plot and play out, but the theme is the same. There’s actually some dispute about there being multiple endings to this opera (Turandot too I guess, but I digress) Magda, a glamorous courtesan of Paris, bored of her gilded cage, puts on a disguise and goes out for the night, and meets up again with the hot young poet who came to her house party earlier that night, they share a drink, meanwhile Magda’s maid has a drink in the same bar with her tenor lover, what results is this, what me and my friends call The Best Quartet Ever. it sounds exactly like falling in love in Paris. No offense, but tswift could never.

"È amabile invero cotal giovinotto” — Rigoletto, Verdi†

Hi, it’s me with my low voice supremacy agenda again. There’s a much more famous quartet, but. My house.  Based off of a play by Victor Hugo, Rigoletto is a jester who has enough of his boss’ bullshit. His boss being the Duke. What puts him over the edge? The scumbag of a Duke seduces Rig’s daughter, Gilda, and now Gilda thinks she’s in love, but Rig has worked for the Duke long enough to know that, best case, she’ll have her heartbroken.  But that is all just BACKGROUND for this scene. Rigoletto hires an assassin-slash-bartender to take care of the Duke for him, so this guy, Sparafucile, gets the Duke drunk, but now, unfortunately, the assasin’s sister, Maddalena, has a crush on the fuck. She demands that her brother spare the duke’s life, but Sparafucile promised Rigoletto a body. So while a storm hits, Spara tells his sister “fine, the next person that knocks on the door, i’ll kill instead.” Gilda, of course, overhears all of this, and decides that what she has to do his take the place of the man she loves, and knocks on the door (babygirl, it’s NOT WORTH IT) †I’ve never done one of these roles, but I have been in the opera!

“Pourquoi me réveiller” — Werther, Massenet

An underrated, imho, French tragedy. Is it because the heroine is a mezzo? Who’s to say.  Based off Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werther, it follows the tragic star-crossed love of Werther, the poet, and Charlotte, the woman who loves him, but for ehr family’s financial security and stature marries another man she doesn’t love. This moment in the opera comes after Charlotte’s two barn-burner arias, when she looks over her letters from Werther and realizes the depth of her feelings, Werther comes to see her in this moment of vulnerability, and recites this piece of poetry. It’s sexy and angsty and the build-up to the explosion of emotion that’s about to take place.  And because I’m me, I’ll just say: it’s dair-coded.

“Pietà! perdon!...O don fatale” — Don Carlos, Verdi†

Verdi wrote this opera for the bisexuals!!!! So, there’s a big ol’ convoluted love pentagon going on in the court of Phillip II of Spain, but what you need to know in this scene is: Eboli, a courtier and friend of the queen Elisabeth de Valois (daughter of Catherine de Medici, fun fact), frames Elisabeth for cheating on her husband with her stepson (complicated, I know). And Eboli is acting out of homoerotic jealousy because she wanted Carlo (the stepson) herself, and what is a rival if not a crush you’re mad about having? After her subterfuge blows up in her face, Eboli throws herself at Elisabeth’s feet begging for mercy (“pietà”), and confesses to setting Elisabeth up, and even, sleeping with the king. Elisabeth is heartbroken and furious at the betrayal, and banishes Eboli to a convent. Once alone, Eboli curses the beauty she was born with that brought her here, and laments that she’ll never see Elisabeth again (GAY). And then, she realizes there’s still a chance to save Carlo, who’s been jailed for treason.  This opera is in my top 5 favorites, and this excerpt has one of my top 5 favorite musical moments, the low strings after Eboli confesses, the pain and betrayal you can FEEL in the strings and it’s so !!!!! I am not capable of being normal about it. I’m listening while writing this and CHILLS (Also, I saw this live very recently and it was extraordinary! And they did something interesting with the supertitles and the acting that implied that – rather than a presumed consensual encounter – Phillip assaulted Eboli, which paints her aria cursing her looks in an entirely new light!!!!!) †I’ve not done this publicly, but it was in my repertoire

“E qual via scegliete?” — Tosca, Puccini†

I tried to keep this brief and not put on too many things, but I can’t not put Tosca on here! This is my second favorite part of the opera (my first favorite is the finale, but that’s like, only 30 seconds, so), and it fucks. Floria Tosca, a famous singer in Rome, is put in an impossible position by absolute dirtbag Scarpia, who takes her lover Mario Cavaradossi political prisoner. Cavaradossi, a republican and therefore enemy of the Italian state, is sentenced to death, but Scarpia promises he’ll set C free if Tosca spends a night with him. She’s heartbroken by this choice, but she agrees. She insists that Scarpia sign the paperwork granting the both of them safe passage out of Rome, and he also promises that the firing squad will fake C’s death to give them a cover to escape. The tension in this scene is delicious, and it builds and builds, and the STRINGS. While Scarpia is writing, Tosca takes a knife from his dinner table. When it’s done and her and her lover’s escape is promised (Scarpia will actually betray her one more time, but she doesn’t know that yet), Scarpia moves to put his arms around her (gross, I know), and says “Tosca, finalmente e mio! / Tosca is finally mine!” and she STABS him. Rather than being raped by this absolute toilet plunger of a man, she KILLS him. She stabs him, and he cries out and goes down, and she taunts him, telling him to “feel the kiss of Tosca” and she stands over him saying “Muori, muori,” in this raw, low voice like die, bitch! It is sooooo thrilling to watch. This is a scene I will never get tired of. In a genre where women characters are too frequently brutalized for nothing, seeing a woman kill her would-be rapist is just — so satisfying.  †I’ve only been in the chorus of this opera

“Ohimè!... morir mi sento!”(Scena del giudizio) — Aida, Verdi

Regrettably, my favorite mezzo recording of this (Dolora Zajick) involves both James Levine and Placido Domingo, both of whom are pieces of shit! I’ve selected Cossotto’s instead, but if you come away from this playlist knowing one thing, it’s that James Levine and Placido Domingo are pieces of shit whose supposed skill is not worth all the pain and misery they caused. And now back to the music! Also, this opera has a racist history that companies are still working to move away from. They could work a little bit faster, tbh. A favorite opera and a dream role for me, tbh. Amneris, daughter of the king, gets carried away with jealousy when she discovers the man of her affection, Radames, is in love with her servant Aida, a prisoner of war who turns out to be a princess of an enemy nation. Amneris’ fury gets Radames and Aida caught. Taken by regret and pain and, let’s face it, more homoerotic angst, Amneris eavesdrops on Radames’ trial before the elders, and her dread builds as Radames refuses to speak in his defense. He’s sentenced to death—buried alive—and Amneris and the orchestra react viscerally to the sentence. Like her pleas for mercy when the scene hits its climax, those pietas…

“O furibonda iena…Quest’ultimo bacio”* — La Gioconda, Ponchielli

UNDERRATED OPERA OF ALL TIME. No but really. This is just…everything. This is a grand opera masterwork by this guy, Amilcare, who was Puccini’s teacher, and so few people know about it which is a SHAME. But, understandable, it’s notoriously hard to produce, and expensive, since the finale of Act II involves sinking a pirate ship…but the MUSIC.  It’s another convoluted and vaguely homoerotic love triangle. Laura and Enzo were in love, then pulled apart. Enzo sought comfort in a singer, known only as La Gioconda, and she is madly in love with him, but when Laura comes back into his life, that’s it for him. There’s ship burnings and evil husbands and a ballet (which you may know as the K-9 Advantix commercial song), but it all comes to this finale. Though she vowed Laura was her rival, Gioconda learns that Laura saved her mother once, and was under her mother’s blessing, noted by the rosary Gioconda’s mother gave her, that Laura always carries with her. So, bound by honor to her mother and desire to see her ex Enzo happy, Gioconda schemes to help Laura fake her death to escape her abusive husband, and gets Enzo to come to them just as Laura’s waking up from her sleeping draught (think R&J, but happier ending).  Enzo comes in spitting mad, thinking Gioconda is responsible for his Laura’s death, and Gio—who’s going through some shit of her own—is ready to let him kill her, and then Laura wakes, and calls Enzo’s name, and the relief in the orchestra is PALPABLE, while Gioconda sings quietly to herself “oh darkness, hide me.” After they’ve reunited, Gioconda tells them the rest of her plan, she’s got a boat to get them out of the city, and from there they can start a new life. Through her own pain and grief, in an act of unbridled selflessness and compassion, she tells them: “Amatevi. Siate felici. / Love each other. Be happy.” and they thank her and promise to remember her. And, I mean, how often does the mezzo get to win like that?

LITTLE WOMEN* (2005) MY BELOVED. It’s not on spotify, but I couldn’t not put this opera on this playlist for you, Jo <333 so, please see below for youtube links. the story is already important to me, and being in the opera when I was in college only made it even more so, and it’s a forever favorite and forever special in my heart. This is the only contemporary opera on this list, and it’s a wide and varied field, but in many ways, it’s a host unto itself (but if anyone wants to hear more contemporary stuff, I’d be happy to share!) Now, LW has a mixed reputation amongst operaphiles, who’s to say why? Misogyny, misogyny is why. But more than that, LW is such a domestic drama in a way that is not really conventional in opera, with its fantasy plots and royal characters and otherworldliness about it, but LW has always been about the small intricacies of family, which is why when Greta Gerwig put in that line about domestic struggles and joys in her film I felt so fucking SEEN. It is a technically challenging work, rife with lots of 21st century music toughness that makes the music hard to learn, but it’s absolutely not inaccessible to listen to. But, you know, call a spade what it is, a goddamn shovel, and LW is an opera with a majority women cast. You can count the men in the show on one hand, and that combined with its lack of a typical “operatic” story, and it’s challenging 21st century sound, makes lots of people keen to dismiss it. But those people, are WRONG. It’s a beautiful opera, meaningful and powerful and it sounds pretty, and I will die on that hill. 

“Perfect as we are” — Little Women, Adamo

Jo has a total of…three? arias in the show, and this is the second. After a meeting of the pickwick club and a chat with Laurie, Jo is in her attic trying to write her next “potboiler,” but keeps getting distracted by what she and Laurie were talking about, mainly, the possibility of Meg being in love with Laurie’s tutor, Brooke. It’s another hint at the main conflict of the opera (which is plainly stated in the next selection). Jo is happy with her family and her best friend, and she doesn’t see why any of it has to change. But it won’t be up to her. I love this one because it goes back and forth between Jo trying to write and find the right words for her story, and monologuing at an invisible Laurie, and her monologue helps her find that word and then she’s back in it. It’s so whimsical and just very her. I love it so much. Low voice supremacy

“Things change, Jo”

THIS ARIA!!!!!! Jo is so upset when Meg decides to marry John Brooke, and she plaintively sings “Why don’t you love me anymore?” and her big sister says, “Of course I love you!....but once I saw him, once he looked at me….I can’t explain it, Jo. I love you. Things end – no,” and that’s the lead in to the aria. She’s trying to explain her heart to her sister, and the poetry of it is glorious and the MUSIC. It’s a plea, really, a begging for Jo to understand her side: childhood was always going to end, and what a happy ending. The “Things change, Jo,” leitmotif is repeated over and over again. It’s the central conflict: Jo versus Change. Laurie repeats the motif when he proposes to Jo, Beth repeats it as she’s dying (her death aria is EXQUISITE I just can’t include it here because it makes me too emotional), and interestingly, when Laurie and Amy are abroad together, he sings the dissonant three-note motif, and then Amy resolves it. “Things change, Amy.” / “And a good thing too.” GENIUS. Adamo is a genius. 

My best friend from college sings this aria and also preaches the gospel of Adamo’s LW to me, and she texted me out of the blue the other day: If someone doesn’t like Things Change Jo…they’re misogynist. I don’t make the rules. And she’s right. It may sound like I’m coming down hard but I have heard so many people (mostly cismen) talk down at this opera and at people for liking it, and I’m over it. It’s good!!!!!! This isn’t me trying to say “you better like this or ELSE” but “I have so much love for this and it means so much to me personally and so I dearly hope you’ll give yourself a chance to like it too.”

“Let me look at you”* (Quartet)

THEE finale! Jo is alone in her attic again, and she finally surrenders, to her grief, to the current of change running through her life. Surrounded by the ghosts of her sisters, she makes peace with each of them, and they sing about how life has pulled them to separate goals, but they will always still have the love between them. I want to cry even as I’m writing this, it’s so beautiful and so meaningful. Jo ends the quartet with the exact same line as the end of her aria above “how grateful I am,” but it means something different now!!!! And she echoes the melody of “perfect as we are” a minute later, when Bhaer knocks on the door and asks if now is a good time, she sings “Now is all there is.” best finale ever. Except tosca, maybe.

I sang the role of Marmee when I was in the opera, but on my senior recital, this was my closer, and I sang it with 3 of my closest friends who were also graduating that year. Our groupchat is still called the March Sisters. And. AND. my friend who sang Meg is getting married next summer, and we are all bridesmaids. She really did find her knight 😭😭😭😭😭

#playlist #music #opera #if you listen please let me know what you think! <333 #on today's episode of liz was a music major and is gonna make it everyone's problem #one of my favorite things about recitals was writing program notes and this scratched that itch so thank you for the excuse and platform #to do this #i have an idea for an opera/shakespeare playlist too if anyone is interested... #proud of myself for my restraint tbh #not too long. still long tho.

[lavender-teardroplettes]

Friendship Bracelets and Stab Wounds 🔪

Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: This is going to be heavily Si and Adam focused with Cain making an appearance in later chapters!

Content Warnings: Religious trauma, mentions of child abuse and neglect, mentions of blood/being stabbed, mentions of cannibalism, general cw for serial killer/yandere themes, nsfw themes (starting in the later half of this chapter). More could be added, but I think this covers the gist of it.

Enjoy! ~

The next week passed by agonizingly slowly for Adam. He had been careful to hide Si’s picture somewhere safe, knowing it wouldn’t hold over well if either of his parents found it. His mother would have probably ripped it to shreds before flying into a fit, and he didn’t want either of that. He knew he shouldn’t be keeping secrets, it felt dirty, but he just couldn’t let this one ray of light go more than he already had to. He was still calling him Cat, he needed something more personal, but it was hard to think of something that fit just right and didn’t sound mean or anything. He pulled Si’s picture out of its hiding place for a moment, studying the smiling beast-kin for a moment as he mulled over the ideas he had. He thought he heard something downstairs, and he quickly put it away and sat back at his desk to finish his homework. The noise downstairs got louder for a moment before he flinched as a door slammed. It was quiet again soon enough, he must have left. Adam sighed out the breath he was holding, putting his head down for a moment. “….Angel….” Si’s face flashed in his mind as Adam thought about their interactions thus far, and it really seemed to fit. He allowed himself to smile for a short moment before lifting his head back up to continue writing. Two more days and he could see his angel again.

Si waited by the classroom for Adam after the sermon was over and he was done saying his goodbyes and thank yous to the members of the church he liked. He was looking at his wrist, admiring his handiwork with the friendship bracelets he had made for himself and Adam. He had to beg his aunt to let him buy the thread he needed- she wasn’t too keen of the idea on wasting money on anything she deemed frivolous- but she was easy enough to bribe with a few more house chores out of Si to make up for it. And, although she wouldn’t outwardly admit it, she was happy to see him make a friend out here after years of not connecting with anyone. It was a shame that this was probably the last time they’d see each other for a while, for whatever reason his parents were having another child and needed to move to a better area for work to support the new baby. Ruth huffed to herself as she watched Si carefully weave the bracelet. The poor kids, she didn’t have high hopes for her sister to manage both of them well if her first spent almost half of the year away from them. Might as well let him have something nice to remember the friend bye, she knew she needed hers.

“Angel, good morning.” Si’s ears flicked at the new nickname, blinking up at Adam as it registered in Si’s brain. “Angel?” Adam nodded with a smile, “It’s what I want to call you instead of Cat. I think it suits you better.” Si blushed and mulled it over in his mind. Is that how Adam saw him? He smiled and rocked on his heels, nodding in approval, “I like it, thank you Addy. Oh! Here give me your arm.” Adam blinked before complying, watching Si as he took one of the matching bracelets off and slipped it onto Adam’s hand, pulling the string to tighten it, “I made us a pair of friendship bracelets! I figured it would be nice cuz that way everyone knows that we’re still friends even when I’m not here!” Adam stared down at the bracelet, Si’s warmth transferring into his own. It was only two colors, red and pink, but the lines were neatly and carefully weaved together in a nice ‘V’ pattern. Adam smiled, admiring it before pulling Si into a hug. “Thank you, I’ll treasure it forever.” Si blinked in Adam’s arms before hugging him back with a smile, “You’re welcome Addy!” The bell rang, and both of them slipped into the classroom to avoid being late. While they were seated, Adam held out his hand to Si under the table, mumbling that it was okay today because it’s his last day. The were sitting close enough that no one would notice, and Adam was quick to let go if anyone got to close- scooping Si’s hand back up once it was safe to. Si thought it was a silly game Adam was playing, or maybe he just felt shy about it. Either way, Si’s hand was ready to be picked up again each time.

The class ended with the teacher having everyone say goodbye to Si, which confused Adam. Couldn’t they just do that on the playground? Then again, this meant that he didn’t have to compete with anyone for Si’s time. He waited by the door for Si to finish speaking with the teacher, and when he came out he was ready to head towards the back of the building until Si cleared his throat, “U-um...Addy…?” Adam froze at the sudden sad tone he heard from Si. He whipped around before jogging back to were Si was standing, frowning at the way the beast-kin seemed to shrink as he looked down the other end of the hallway towards the parking lot, “I...can’t go to recess today. I have to go to the airport now…” Adam’s eyes widened as his expression dropped, “You...have to leave now?” He repeated, feeling the tears start to prick in the corner of his eyes as his fists balled. No. Not yet, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Si looked up at him with tears already falling from his eyes silently. Adam hadn’t even noticed them a second before, when did he start crying? Pushing his own tears back, Adam moved to pull Si into a hug, petting the space between his ears again as the overwhelming need to protect him and stop his tears fueled Adam’s resolve. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll see each other soon…” He tried to comfort both of them with this, but they both knew it would be longer than they’d like. Si sniffed and gripped onto Adams shirt, a free hand moving to wipe some of the tears away, “Pinkie-promise?” Adam smiled and held out his pinkie, “Pinkie-promise.”

--------

Si stared down at his childhood journal with a scowl as he looked down at the Adam he used to know, memories flashing behind his eyes of his first guy friend and crush. He knew he was taking a risk coming back to his apartment, but he NEEDED to make sure that the Adam from his childhood and the one who stabbed him a few days prior were two different people. He wanted to throw up and bash his head into the wall at the same time, anything but fighting the visceral sobs that threatened to escape his shocked form. It was him, they were the same people. His first love is a murder who tried to- is trying to kill him. In a swift motion he snatched the book up and prepared to throw it across the room and destroy it, but before he could he found himself cradling it as he sunk to the floor as he allowed himself to cry. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him to get a grip, but how could you think rationally when everything suddenly comes crashing down on you? He didn’t know what he wanted in the moment, but he had almost wished Adam did kill him just to save him from the pain he was feeling in the present- both physically and emotionally. He thought about the pages and pages that were in this old diary, wishing he could see Adam again, wondering if he still remembered him. Oh god, he groaned thinking about how early preteen him would gush about hoping they’d get married in the future if they ever reconnected. “Bullshit….” He closed his eyes with a huff, sniffing pathetically as his emotions started to calm down and turn numb. Soon all he could feel was a broken heart, and the way his shoulder burned as some of the tears agitated it.

Quickly, he rose to his feat, brushing his face off with his sleeve as he turned the journal in his hands. He had to assume Adam didn’t recognize him, not that he would right off the bat. How long had it been? Sixteen years? Even Si didn’t recognize that it was Adam either, though looking between the past and the present, there wasn’t that much of a difference in his face. Si scowled. No, that was wrong. Younger Adam’s soft and shy demeanor was replaced by something far more ugly- something deadly and cruel. And, despite Adam’s attempts to be quiet, Si could swear he could hear his heavy footsteps coming towards his apartment door. He shoved the book under his bed before quietly slipping away, frantically looking for a place to hide that wasn’t obvious and had something he could use as a distraction if Adam found him. His mind raced frantically as he ran, his eyes stopping at the attic door. It was big enough to hold a few people, so he could try and maneuver his was around Adam and back out the front door if he was found. Si pulled the ladder down and shot up the steps, closing the attic door gently right as the footsteps stopped in front of the door. There was a pause, a few knocks, and the sound of his locks being picked. Quietly, Si cursed the apartment manager for not fixing the bolt lock. If he survived Adam, that guy was getting a huge piece of Si’s mind.

The sound of Adam’s voice cutting through his apartment like a knife caused Si’s breathing to slow to an agonizingly painful speed, and he had to wince to keep himself from whining about how his shoulder burned in response. “Come out, little devil, I know you’re in here. Did you really think it was a good idea to come back to your home? I thought you were smarter than that, was whatever you came here for worth it?” Adam looked around the apartment as he taunted his prey, noting how shabby it looked compared to his own room. Well, not everyone could be as rich as successful as he was, but this meant that it wouldn’t take long to find where Si was hiding. Where to start was the question. There weren’t a lot of options, and he wanted to drag out their fear a little longer. Slowly, he stepped further into the apartment, listening for any sounds that would give Si away. He noticed a door open down the hall, so he’d make his way there first, checking the hallway closet and bathroom first just in case Si was stupid enough to hide there. It seemed like he wasn’t. Adam’s eye twitched as he felt over the knife in its holster, itching to finish this game of cat and mouse between them once and for all and end the temptations he felt for the beast. He peered into Si’s bedroom. There were clothes scattered along the floor, but other than that his room was pretty clean and lined with hammocks full of stuffed animals with a set of hanging fairy lights. Adam looked around, frowning at a familiar corner of the room he had seen in Si’s videos. He shook his head to clear his mind of the images he had seen of Si and the fantasies of him replacing the various toys and vibrators he had watched him use. This wasn’t the time, he needed to focus.

Si’s laptop was on his desk, untouched and undisturbed, so he didn’t come here for that. Adam looked around for anything of significance. Surely Si wouldn’t risk being found by him just for a change of clothes- he must have been in this room for a reason. Scanning the room again, he checked Si’s closet, closing it immediately with a blush when he noticed some of his work outfits hanging along with his regular clothes. Frustrated, Adam opened the closet again, avoiding looking at them as he shoved them aside to see if Si was hiding behind them intentionally. Even now, Adam felt like he was purposely enticing him, and while Si wasn’t in the room, it was full of him for Adam to fantasize over and long for. Adam frowned as he slammed the closet door. Just what about them made him feel this way? Something was bothering Adam in the back of his mind on top of all of this, like a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something since really taking in Si’s features while doing research and background checks. He noticed a considerable gap under the bed and lowered himself to check there. His eyebrows furrowed at the tub of toys, ropes, and various other items he had seen Si use caught his attention first. He was about to stand up again when he noticed a book tossed halfheartedly next to the tub. Bingo.

Without looking closer at the tub as he reached in for the book, he pulled it out and sat down on Si’s bed, examining it in his hands, “Seriously? You came here for a diary?” His laugh was dry and devoid of humor as he flipped it open, “What’s so special about this?” He skimmed past the pages, smirking at how horrible the handwriting was at the beginning. Adam read few of the dates in an uninterested manor before something catches his eye- it was a photo of himself as a child. Adam blinked down at himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but it sure as hell wasn’t a picture of him. Adam’s mind raced as he read the entry below it, “Addy, my best friend at Aunt Ruth’s church~! <3,” and right below that, in much neater handwriting with a much later date signed at the bottom, “*my first crush >///<.” Adam’s blood ran cold as his brain processed the information. Without thinking, he continued looking for mentions of himself, landing on a page that had their bracelet taped to one of the pages: someone had cut it and Si wanted to save it according to the entry below it, accompanied by sad faces and a rain cloud. Suddenly the world stopped as Adam’s mind finally let him remember just WHO Si was. Si’s childhood self flashed in Adam’s mind, smiling and excited to see him, before it’s forcefully and violently replaced with the scene of Adam’s knife being buried in his shoulder next to the highway. He must have kept turning the pages as his brain processed everything. There was a mention in the diary that Si had wished Adam was his first kiss, and that’s what broke him as he remembered how Si got away. They had both got their wish in the worst way- and it was all his fault.

Adam’s brain kicked back in like he was hit by a donkey, and he shoved the diary into his jacket. He need to find Si and….No, he needed to call Saffron. Si was still in the apartment, he knew this, but he needed to stop his manager from doing anything before something worse happened. For the first time in who knew how long, he felt his throat close up with the intense, bitter taste of guilt. “A-angel?” He called out, cursing at himself for using the old nickname before hearing a noise somewhere outside of the room. It was thud- a reaction, and a confirmation. Adam’s eyes went wide as he rushed out of the room, listening closer for another sign that Si was there. His eyes scanned for other potential hiding spots before he noticed the attic door. Of course, he was hiding up there. Adam could scold himself later for not thinking about it, and he reached for the door before throwing it open, “A-a…..Si….? I-...It’s okay, you can come down...I-I’m, I’m not going to-” He was cut off by the sound of labored breathing and wheezing. There were a few coughs as he heard Si gasp for air, and Adam scrambled up to steps onto to see his first love struggling to breathe on the floor in a sick, ironic repeat of events from the past. Adam rushed over, flinching at how hot Si’s body felt to the touch. If his fever was that bad, his wound must have been badly infected. He scooped up his body, surprised Si had any strength left to try and push him away once Adam’s face come into view. In his haze, Si was struggling to tell the past Adam and the current one in front of him apart, but his mind knew he didn’t want to see him, let alone let Adam touch him. “Get….away….Ad…..dy.” Adam knew he was out of it, but why did Si have to call him that now? Adam wanted to scream as a hole burned into his heart as he tried to hold Si closer, mumbling apologies into his hair.

Speaking was a bad idea, because the world slipped away from underneath Si quickly as Adam carried him downstairs, pulling out his phone while walking to the front of Si’s apartment flat. Saffron picked up quickly, “Did you-” Saffron blinked at the receiver as Adam cut him off, “NO- no we’re not doing that anymore. Before you say anything, I need a safe house and a favor; someone who knows how to deal with infections.” Saffron noted Adam’s demands with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure what had happened between them, but he could tell that the situation was becoming more complicated. “I trust you’ll fill me in later, I’ll send the car to your location, meet it in the back of the apartments and do try not to cause any unwanted attention.” Adam didn’t say anything in response before hanging up, making Saffron click his tongue. He really did spoil the boy too much, it put a sour taste to his lunch thinking of the many possibilities to what just happened. Saffron knew that Adam didn’t have an infection, so, why was Adam calling for Si? He knew he should have handled this himself instead of letting Adam deal with what was quickly becoming an obvious weakness for him- but as a fellow killer he knew Adam would be furious for taking his prey from him. The last thing he wanted was for Adam to hate him after carefully crafting such a delicate and fragile arrangement that they had, and Adam was integral for things to continue on as planned. Looking down at his plate, Saffron sighed again before standing to clean up the leftovers. Up until the call, he really was enjoying his meal, and he had finally picked out the perfect wine to pair with it. Such a waste of a delectable specimen. The idea of not being able to taste the sweet, almost cotton candy like flavor of Si’s blood again, made the current flesh too bitter to enjoy anymore. Let’s just see what you had in store for him this time, Si.

#si writes #friendship bracelets and stab wounds #fanfic #you and him game #you and him #adam yah #chapter 4 is fighting me but I'm pushing through it because AHHHHH I NEED TO GET TO A THING

[royal1asset-if]

Building up on Luna's married life series:

I noticed Luna was exhausted with her kids lol... How will she react if MC after coming home from work would give her very relaxing massage and bring her flowers?

You know anon, you gave me an wonderful idea, I think after I'm finished with Royal Assets I think I will make a mini series about the RO's in regards to their married life.

Stay tuned for my Patreon maybe this what will I write in there but it's not yet final

So without further ado let's read it in Luna's eyes 😊😊.

(Luna's POV)

Keep calm and control your breathing, there's no use in getting angry, as your mentor says; "Let anger take control and you're bound to make mistakes" holding a wooden cane just like your mentor and your mind going nuts, Dante prepared you in every way possible except for one thing.

Richard: MOMMMMM, NICK IS HITTING ME WITH HIS SWORD!( Grunts of pain in the background)

You sighed, motherhood is a very challenging thing, you thought when you attend some sermons on how to be a mother you thought they are exaggerating when kids are born cute in the world but give it time and they will become little monsters.

Nick: I did not(Hitting Richard again).

You raised the can and tap it on the ground rocky ground, it's noise silencing the two.

"SILENCE!( you commanded)

At your voice they obeyed you, you don't if you should be thankful or spiteful of this.

Whenever Dante trains you he uses a cane to give commands but that sound kind of traumatizes you, when you were taking a power nap and heard a falling to the ground you will be jolted awake and body ready for war but still you cannot argue with the results.

Going back to the present you look your children in the eye.

Luna: Listen kids self control is very important as well as patience and I can tell that you already failed at this(Scolding your kids)

Nick and Richard: Sorry Mom(In Unison)

Luna :It's alright but listen attentively ok(Smiles)

Kids: YES,MOM(Making cute salutes)

Luna: Very good, 1st form(Taps cane) 2nd form(Taps cane) 3rd form(Taps cane) 4th form(Taps cane)

You know that you shouldn't train these kids in these type of things but seeing the world for what it's truly is.

Luna: At least if were gone, you can defend yourself little ones(Watching the kids repeat the 4 forms)

(Several Training hours later)

MC: I'm home( opening the door and seeing that the fam is not there)

MC: Damn it Luna they are just children for god sake( Going to the training grounds)

The day pass quite productively, you see that the kids mimic the forms very well but still needs some more work along the edges.

You heard MC stomping and making his way towards you.

MC: Moonpie(Little edge in their tone) Kids(Favoritism).

Kids: DADDY(Throwing the wooden swords and rushing to MC)

MC: So did any fun activities with Mommy today( So that's how it feels to speak ill of someone)

Richard: WE HAVE LOT'S OF FUN MOMMY TAUGHT US WHERE TO STAB OUR ENEMIES!( Poking the air)

Nick: YEA DAD AND MOMMY SAID THAT WE'RE GOING IN THE FOREST TOMORROW AND SHE WILL TEACH US ABOUT PLANTS!( Jumping up and down)

MC: I see, well kids why you don't go inside and see the gifts I have for you(ushering the kids and giving you the death stare)

At MC's copying your signature death stare, you can say that they mimicked it perfectly, the raised of the brow, the lip shut in a line.

Luna: So that's how I looked like( You ponder),

MC: Alright Luna, you should stop teaching the kids on how to kill people( Crossing his arms)

Luna: Correction I'm teaching them how to protect themselves from people.( You defiantly raised your finger)

MC: Regardless the kids should enjoy their childhood and that's were here so that we can protect them(Voice raising)

Luna: AND WHAT IF WE DON'T, WHAT IF WERE NOT THERE WHEN THEY NEEDED US THE MOST( Shaking in anger and voice cracking)

MC: Moonpie you mu-(Got cut off)

Luna: I LOST SO MUCH ALREADY AND IF I LOST THE KIDS OR YOU, I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WILL DO!( You shout at MC and started to cry)

You cried and let your emotions go freely, you felt MC hugging you deeply and soothing you.

MC: We here moonpie and we will be there for the kids.(Rubbing your back soothly)

Luna: You can't promise that( you say between sobs)

MC: But we will try but in the meantime let's not train the kids on how to kill we can teach them some defensive techniques but no killing(Agreeing with your training idea)

Luna: That's fine by me( You breaking of the hug)

MC: Now let's go inside and have a fun day with the kids and after we tucked them in bed at night---(Trailing off)

Luna: I know where you going with this( Finishing his sentence in your head)

MC: Moonpie you have a dirty mind you know that, I was trying to say I will cook dinner, prepare your bath and give you a massage(Counting his fingers)

Luna: Really? That's all were gonna do all night?(Raising your eyebrows)

MC: You know were not pure and innocent Luna but why ruin the surprise if you gonna find it out later and trust me "I will lay out all the plans and fundamentals on bed"(Winking and licking his lips)

Luna: Can't wait (Getting close for kiss on the lips)

MC: Someone's excited(Leaning close)

Nick: MOMMMY RICHARD STOLE MY CANDY(Shouting loudly)

Richard: DADDY NICK IS THE ONE WHO STOLE MY CANDY FIRST(Shouting also)

Luna: Well it looks like the kids are asking for our help right now(having a fun idea)

MC: I heard(shoving Luna weakly) and I'm gonna help my kid beat your kid(Running towards the house)

Luna: And you said that we should help them equally(Rushing after MC)

So reader, I hope you enjoy this snippet and it's up to you how will that story end.😊😊

Don't forget which side you are rooting for,

Team Moonpie(Luna & Nick) or Team Firefly(MC & Richard)

#royalasset #character asks #ask me stuff #ask me anything #Luna

[anangelofheaven]

Sermon 18

Usually, I'd refer to a specific Bible quote to kick things off. And today was a pretty good one, Romans 8:15, which reads "The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption." 

The message there should be clear. In case it isn't, it's that God's laws empower you, not render you powerless. I've touched on this subject many a time. 

Yet life provided too superb a situation for me to pass up opining about, just yesterday in the Serpent's Tavern. So, rather than explore a subject in abstract by drawing on random scripture, I thought I'd touch on those recent events.

A group of mortals in the Serpent's Tavern were talking about forming up and targeting angels and demons. They were discussing who they'd go after, how they'd amass power, and how it was going to be their time to rule down here.

The notion was laughable. As the saying goes, in fact, "man plans and God laughs." And we angels laugh with Him.

Mortals will never have power down here. For one, they've been sent to Pandemonium for torment. For another, any power they wield comes from us. And lastly, as mortals, they're fundamentally flawed.

This isn't to say the angels have power either. We may be perfect instruments of God's will and aware of that fact, but we're fallible when He needs us to be. We can be slain, have children that turn into evil giants, even cry and get things wrong. Besides, we're down here in Pandemonium. This isn't our turf.

It's the demon's territory. But do they have power? No. They have the least power of all. Sure, they make the mortal souls down here their playthings. And yes, they've got supernatural abilities. But the entire reason demons fell is because they were jealous of mortals. And there are few clearer symptoms of weakness than jealousy.

No, there's only one power in Pandemonium, and it isn't the Lord of Lust, Asmodeus. It's plain, old 'deus'. It's God. He's the only power in Hell. He's the only power in heaven. He's omnipresent and omnipotent. He's all things that were, are, and will be. And only He has any true power. The rest of us, we're just kids at His table, able to feel nourished only when we follow His example.

The mortals' discussion of how they'd rule hell literally made me LOL. And it reminded me of one of my favorite philosophical and theological conundrums, posed by Saint Augustine. Augustine, who is one of my favorites for many reasons, particularly his youthful attitudes toward sex, asked, "if God is all places at all times, but is also all powerful, does He have the power to create a box big enough to contain Himself?"

Augustine couldn't really come to a conclusive answer. That is because, with an infinite system, all things are possible. That fundamental definition is referenced by the practice of Zen Koans, the little puzzles put forth by Zen sages to evoke both a logical notion and an illogical notion simultaneously, giving forth an experience of the paradoxical and the divine.

For the answer to whether God can create something bigger than infinity is "yes." Much like, within infinity, all answers are, ultimately, "yes." Limitless possibility multiplied by limitless time and space equals all things being true. That's God.

Yet things are as they are, aren't they? You're reading the writings of an angelic tavern dancer, sitting in your bathrobe with spots of Ben & Jerry's on it, listening to Halsey waft in from your neighbor's apartment. They are exactly as they are to you in that moment, and will never be different. And that moment, now that you've experienced it, is gone, never to come back, just like this moment is gone, and the next, and the next. That's mortality.

Follow God's example. Be the sound of one hand clapping, the diamond on the muddy road, the one hand clapping. Be as infinite as you can be, and enjoy it while you can. Soon, just like this moment, you'll be gone too.

#fantasy #god #godisgood #pandemonium #second life #angel #art #female writers #roleplay #writers and poets #halsey

[coldhardbinch]

Woke up with some things on my mind yesterday and decided to write something Real for once 🙃

Church has always been my family business.

One of my earliest memories is giving my mother attitude while she pulled into the church parking lot. I’d spent the morning trying to convince her that I was too sick to go to church (I was not remotely ill) and she looked at me in the rear view and said, “You’re getting to that age where you don’t want to go to church.”

I don’t remember the whole lecture (I was probably about 3) but the gist of it was that this was not a feeling I was allowed to have. As the pastor’s kids, we were never supposed to be anything but thrilled to be at church. Nevermind that we were there more often than anyone, or that from the second we pulled into the parking lot, we were being scrutinized by the bitties and the deacons, so maybe we didn’t really feel all that welcome here. Them’s the brakes, kid. You’ll go to church, you’ll stay late, and you’ll enjoy it.

When I was a teenager trying to flake out on praise team practice, my father said to me, “The Bible says if you don’t use the gifts God gave you, He’ll take them away.” I went to practice and learned to sing simple songs about a simple faith. I could sing of Your love forever. My brother-in-law led us on his acoustic guitar every Sunday morning. My brother ran sound. My sister corralled her five children into church clothes, then the van. When she was late, I had a perfect view of the whisperers, the gossips, the Did You Notice crowd.

When I moved away from home, I comforted my parents by telling them there was a good Baptist church in my new neighborhood. I never went. When they asked, I lied. Sometimes, when I can get a Sunday off. Eventually, they stopped asking. I rarely called, anyway. I sang in the car, with my friends, in dive bars for karaoke and began to believe that maybe this was somehow my religion. 

My sister and I came out to each other via text on the same night. She made a joke about leaving her husband and dating girls. The kind of joke I recognized. I texted back: “So, girls, huh?” and soon we were laughing. “Girls are so pretty!” “Who isn’t obsessed with boobs?” 

She left her husband that year. My parents’ adjustment period took some time, some difficult conversations, some days where I was too mad at my mother to speak to her at all. On Thanksgiving, they held a big breakfast that included my ex-brother-in-law’s new wife, my sister’s new girlfriend, and her three kids. I video called in for moral support. My father made sure I was “there” before starting a little sermon about our family’s new normal. Change is hard but can be good, or something. I was out of practice, hadn’t heard him preach in years, tuned out a bit out of habit. Near the end, he turned to whoever was holding the phone showing my face, and credited me with helping to make these changes happen. I just kind of smiled, not sure how to respond. A response I've given him many times. Then everyone went back to their bacon.

That Christmas, I came home and came out of my own closet, to much less fanfare. Everyone kind of Knew, You Know.

I think about that Thanksgiving more and more as my siblings’ children grow up, become their own people. Be allowed to be their own person at all, rather than the Optics Approved Pastor’s Kid. They wear their hair and makeup in ways my parents would never have allowed us to, in defiance of gender norms and sometimes good sense. Openly read books, watch movies, listen to music that I remember having to smuggle past my parents. They go out to plays that have nothing to do with Christmas, Easter, or any part of the Bible. They go on out-of-state school trips, far from their parents’ watchful eyes, without a single religious official around to remind them that Jesus Died For Them.

I think of those little babies, now full-fledged People, running unsupervised through Disneyland. Out with their friends with no fear of being Caught Dressed Like This. Standing up to their dick of a youth pastor. Going away for college. Prioritizing themselves over the 24-hour family business that is being the pastor’s family. And my heart swells to bursting. There is so much in this world that I can’t shield them from, that I simply cannot change. But seeing them spared a few of the specific lonlinesses of my youth heals some part of me I’d forgotten was even broken.

And I think about that Thanksgiving, and all the lonely ones I spent away from family, knowing I would have felt lonlier with them. I think I may always be a bit of a stranger to my family. I think that’s how I prefer it. But I know that I made my family a little less lonely for the next generation. When I see my father’s eyes in my face and so many others, it no longer feels like the gaze of a vengeful god.

#she writes #prose #religious trauma hits different when it was literally your job

[kingofthewilderwest]

okay like. when someone asks, “Keep me in your thoughts and prayers,” that is not the time to detail what your religious affinity is and whether or not you’ll be praying for them. The person needs comfort, support, and attention focused on their struggles, not a theological statement about yourself backlashing against or uplifting religiosity. Just say, simply, “I’ll keep you in your thoughts!” or “Will be praying for you!” or whatever is applicable to what you’d do.

#not to be rude but I've seen some people do that on others' posts recently and it's like #completely diverting from the issue #and if your statement is to some degree 'naw i don't believe in your gods' rather than a 100% #'i love you and i wish you the best' #then you are maybe saying some unnecessary stuff #and some people might not be bothered about it #but other people would #so it's just #better #not #to #say #at that point in time #if you say 'keeping you in my thoughts' then you are not attributing yourself with anything religious trust me #that's why thoughts AND prayers are options-- the entire point is to include people of all spectra #this also goes for religious people going on a grandstanding gesture instead of focusing on the needs of the individual #you are not here to write a sermon and you sound like you enjoy your own voice #just play it safe #just give love #sorry I know this is a nitpick but like just think about your audience and think about your context please #saying this with love #I just don't want folks hurt by responses that can intentionally or unintentionally come off as insensitive to the person who's scared and #asking for help #religion #non-dragons #blabbing Haddock

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

#lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x reader smut #angst #smut

[tingleparker]

Reap the rewards

Arvin Russell x Fem!Reader

Requested?: Yes! Thank you @Iwant2combust <3 hope it did your request justice.

• Warnings: Religious themes, Being followed? If you have watched the film, preachers a bit of a nonce :)) but nothing full on. Slow paced in the beginning. No spoilers. 

• Summary: You were no longer the new comers in town, though you find the new Preacher making you feel uneasy. That is until you notice him following you, so you make a quick plan to get some help from a Russell boy. 

• Word count: 1.7k

A/n: lads, Arvin is just phew 🥵 anyways, writings a bit rusty but enjoy! <3

Check out my other works here! or send a request here!

Though only moving into town a week ago, you were no longer the newcomers; a new preacher had come into the small town of Coal Creek. This had sent your mother into a frenzy, stressing out about the dishes needed to be cooked for this reverend for the upcoming sermon. You weren’t into the whole praising God and thanking the lord, kind of thing; you had seen what it had done to your mother. Your father leaving early into your life, your mother praying constantly and heavily but it did her no good. Years of continuous praying for the return of your father or blessings to come down onto your small family were engraved into your mind but it did absolutely nothing but maintain that dark cloud over the pair of you. Your father never returned and with becoming short with money, your mother had planned to move you two slightly down south; selling your current house before buying a cheaper one down in Coal Creek.

The sunny day had come, the sermon was being held in the town's church; families lining up to meet the reverend as well as bring the offering of meals. You stood next to your mother, huffing at the sundress you were forced into by her, as she glared at you before putting on a smile looking forward. As you waited in line, you studied the building as well as the townsfolk. Plates of food slowly racked up onto the front tables as each family brought an offering to the Reverend, his wife alongside him as you snuck a peek over the family in front to see the new folks in town. Shifting your gaze over your shoulder, your eyes find a boy in an off-white button-down, hands in pockets and a similar non-caring expression you had on. A smile begins to form on your lips as he realises your staring, making eye contact before he gives a slight nod. With this your mother harshly grabs your arm pulling you forward as you realise he had been nodding for you to move forward.

“Lovely to meet you Reverend” Your mother politely greets, a nervous smile on her face as she offers her plate.

As the preacher begins to taste the meal your mother had worked hard on, his eyes flickered to you. The look in his eyes along with how he had licked at his fingers made you increasingly uncomfortable, finding your shoes more pleasing than to stare into the man's eyes.

“I’m going off for a walk Ma!” You yell out before walking out the door.

You needed to get out of the house, wanting to explore the town as well as get away from the constant murmurs of your mother praying. Your feet began moving as you walked into town, a calming breeze around you and you felt at peace with your own thoughts at that moment. Walking around the small town, you don't realise the time as the sun began to sink; the sky dusked. Though it wasn't too late where you would be surrounded by the darkness, you knew it would be a good time to start heading back home. Passing back through the town, it had become distinctively quieter than before. Your ears perked up at the constant sound of an engine rumbling nearby, which was unusual as there were only cars which drove past in a swift speed but only ever so often. 

Taking a quick look behind you, you spot a slow driving car; a flashy white vehicle. The same expensive-looking vehicle that you had often seen parked near the church, the same car that Preacher Teagardin owns. You whip your head back around to look forward before picking up your pace. Like hell did you trust this man, the same look he gave you during the sermon flashed through your mind as goosebumps formed along your arms. You looked around trying to spot somewhere to duck into and hide out or at least feel safe, the low rumble of the car still following at a leisurely pace behind you. As you notice bright lights through the increasingly darker world, you let out a sigh of relief before hastily making your way over to the store. It wasn't much, a small grocery store but it would do; there would be workers there at least. As you push the glass door open and walk in, you notice a bored-looking employee up at the front counter as well as a single customer in the small isle. You see through the store's windows that the Reverend parked outside the building, peering in; causing you to briskly look away from him hopefully without getting noticed. You took a deep breath as you approached the single customer, dressed in an open white button-up, blue cap adorning his head. There was a grimy feeling you could feel as you knew the Reverend's eyes were on you through the glass. This made you make a rash decision; you hoped this man was better than the Preacher. 

As you come to stand beside the man, your hands creep along his waist as your arm comes to wrap around his body. 

“Hi there, I’m Y/n. Sorry, this is a bit weird, I just need some help. Only for a couple of minutes, I promise.” You greet and plead as you lean up to the stranger's ear, seeing that the Reverend has come into the store. 

“And what kinda’ help do you need?” The man asks, finally tilting his gaze towards you, you realise it was the same Russell boy from the sermon.

“I-I know it might sound stupid.. but I just- I get an off feeling with the new Reverend is all. He’s been behind me all this time, just uneasy is all” Looking down towards the ground as you respond, feeling dumber as you say it out loud. 

Hell, this was a Preacher after all. This man was supposed to be a minister sent by the Lord. You didn’t believe all that but growing up with a heavily religious mother you knew some things, and those facts could not be filtered out.

“And what’s in it for me?” The question snapped you back to the reality of being in the store, your mind ticking for ideas.

A smile emerges on your lips as your hands move away from his torso. Only to move facing the boy, hands snaking up behind his neck to clasp together. The movement gaining you a questioning eyebrow raise by him. Though a curious stare, his arms also wind around you; resting on your hips.

“How ‘bout I get you some dinner some time? Just you and I, no creepy Preacher around.” You offer, unconsciously playing the nape of his neck.

“Arvin Russell, at your service ma’am” He teases, though you let out a sigh of relief bringing his body even closer to yours for a grateful hug. 

“So what brings you to this store, this lovely evening, Arvin Russell?” 

The pair of you stand there intertwined for a few minutes, getting to know each other. He was cute, the way he spoke lovingly of his family and his determined personality he had made you feel at ease; almost forgetting about the older man wandering around the store as well. That is until you see the man dressed in his suit walk past the two of you, making eye contact with him causes you to hide into Arvin's neck. 

“How ‘bout I give you a ride home huh?” Feeling the vibrations when he had spoken this question, you were not going back outside to walk home so it was a simple choice.

You give a slight hum of approval before placing a gentle kiss on the skin of his neck. You pull away from him, watching a light blush rise onto Arvin's skin as you smile. Starting to walk away from him and towards the door. Before you could make it out though, you’re tugged back.

Arvin's fingers clasping yours, holding your hand as well as holding the door open for you to walk out. You let out a slight giggle before the two of you walk out the store hand in hand.

Though just before you get to Arvin’s car, he spins you around. Back coming into contact with the side of his red vehicle, a small laugh leaves your lips as you forget about the grimy man in the suit who had followed the pair of you out the store. Without another word, you feel his hands fall onto your cheeks as his lips press against yours. Unconsciously your eyes flutter shut, hands moving around Arvin's neck and lips moving in sync to his. You don't notice the time that passed as the two of you lock lips until you're only slightly parting for air. 

“What was that for?” You ask out of breath, forehead still pressed against his.

“Putting on a show darlin’” Arvin responds with a smirk, before you have any time to wonder what he meant when you hear a car ignite its engine.

You peer around Arvin to watch Preacher Teagardin reverse out of the parking lot and drive away into the distance. You let out a relieved laugh as you lean slightly forward to peck those lips that were recently on yours.

“So about that dinner?” The young boy cheekily asks, a smirk on his face.

“Well, we got time now don’t we?” You slyly respond as you take the blue cap off his head and place it on top of your own. 

You move out from under Arvin and open the passenger's side door, letting yourself fall into the seat. You smile as you watch the boy stand there for a moment grinning before jogging around the vehicle and entering the driver's side. As the two of you drive down to the town's diner, you couldn’t bear to imagine if you ended up in the Preacher's car instead. Though you looked over to the side, seeing the boy driving, taking in his stunning side profile. The golden light of the sunset bouncing off his skin, as he looked ethereal. 

You know Arvin notices your staring though without taking his eyes off the road, he slips one of his hands into yours; intertwining your fingers.

For the first time in a long time, you thank god. 

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell imagine #arvin russell imagines #arvin russell x you #tom holland x reader #tdatt fic #tdatt x reader #tdatt #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x reader

[sweetestlamb]

If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart. 

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy! 

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni. 

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.” 

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge. 

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”  

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability. 

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time. 

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin. 

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving. 

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?” 

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this. 

“Okay.” 

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him.  She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement. 

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.” 

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.” 

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him. 

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences. 

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first. 

It’s your fault she’s dead! 

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love. 

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it. 

“Because I want you to stay.” 

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now. 

She’s all in. 

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe. 

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know. 

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her. 

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.” 

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen. 

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her. 

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so. 

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.” 

“Cha-young ah.” 

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance. 

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.” 

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait. 

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused. 

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes. 

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.” 

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight. 

 If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.” 

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags. 

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact. 

“Are you drinking the tea?” 

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone. 

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head. 

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away. 

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines. 

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting. 

The things she did for him. 

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers. 

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough. 

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies. 

You are already my home.  

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day,  she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that. 

Loving him feels like coming home. 

#vincenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano #CCFC2021 #chayenzo #chayenzo living rent free in my mind #soft hours

[engineer-in-space]

a simple call of the wild review that is totally professional and not way too detailed by me (February)

It's gonna be a bit of comparing to previous powerwolf albums/songs and remember everything is my own opinion. If you disagree/agree we may talk about it in a civilized way, I actually love talking to others about this shit!

But otherwise (hate, insults, etc.) you can keep your opinion somewhere where I can't see it :) Also, the album has barely been out for a day and things change with time and I may grow to like certain things more. (but there's not too much that I don't like tbh) But I hope you enjoy this metalhead-gremlin's ramblings!

Faster than the flame

I had to listen to it quite a few times before I could say anything about it. It's a powerful start into the new album, however, it is (as previously stated) powerful but didn't blow me away like the first songs on the previous albums. (Fire &forgive, Blessed &possessed, amen & attack - wait am I just now noticing a pattern here? oh my god. Anyway.) Maybe I got that personal feeling that I want it to be Fire & Forgive, which is, of course, not possible and would be boring. So i think I'm not even critizing the song but rather the order of the songs.

It feels like a typical powerwolf song; both lyrics and instrumental. Fast, heavy, something about flames and burning - awesome. The two Latin parts (I think it's called the pre-chorus? man, I have no idea and will just throw around these words because my internet connection is too bad to look this up. But if you listen, you'll know which parts I mean.) already give me goosebumps. I also really, really liked the bridge (again?? idk??) aka the "flame, flame, burning wild in heavens name" part. This was the most memorable part for me after the first time listening. Of course, the guitar arrangement throughout the whole song is just... god bless. I must say that using the word "pastor" is dangerous because my stupid brain keeps thinking Attila is singing about "pasta" again... Oh well, moving on!

Beast of Gevaudan

Man, I've been listening almost non-stop since it was released as a single! At first, my head was comparing it somewhat to army of the night but after a few times this feeling was gone and it became an awesome new idea/song. The choir and orchestra part are so well placed and support the rest of the instrumental and Attila's voice perfectly. Again, much fast, very powermetal. I've grown very fond of the guitar solo. The lyrics tell us a little about the story of the beast and I. Love. Storytelling. In. Songs. Glad matthew finally came around to put his idea out there!

This song also has a video, which left me speechless at first. I love Attila's acting so much??? And making this sort of their own story of Jesus was such a cool idea. Production is high quality as well (didn't expect anything less after The Sacrament of Sin MVs) and there were really nice shots in there. I doubt that I will get tired of this song and this video anytime soon!

Dancing with the dead

That choir stuff in the beginning, following by that awesome guitar riff already had me. I couldn't stop listening to this one either. This might be, in my opinion, the most catchy song on the whole album. The intruments are in perfect harmony with Attila's heavenly voice. The transition into the guitar solo is so damn smooth and well done. I'm having a whole crisis about how good this song is.

The lyrics are interesting too! Again, there's a story to be told. As far as I can interpret it, being introduced to some darker powers and growing to enjoy them, despite previously having lots of faith, is what's going on here. It has this slight feeling of... corruption (in a good way of course). This makes me want to go dancing (with the dead)

This one also has a video! Once again, very high quality. Every band member had their "special moments/shots" and just looked stunning. But Attila left them all behind this time. Slow dancing, in a suit, with that smirk on his lips??? Well done, my dude.

Varcolac

This one's dark and heavy. It brings me back to the good ol' times of Lupus Dei and Bible of the Beast. Just with more orchestra, choir and overall harmony. It makes me so happy that Powerwolf is using so many real life legends and figures on this album! And they did such a good job with them as well. If this song was alive, it would be a scary beast.

The typical metal elements and orchestra/choir parts are very well balanced. And the organ throughout the whole song is fitting. It supports the dark and sinister feeling of the whole thing. My favourite part may be the "And as army we bing fire..." parts! Man, I just love werewolves. Also, I think Attila's famous gibberish singing made a return in this one!

Alive or undead

Oh boy,here we go. The piano in this one is incredible. "Here we STAAAAAAND!" Goosebumps and shivers. Everything about this is so emotional andreading the lyrics while listening just makes me want to cry, ok?! T_T Powerwolf has become so flexible, exploring different ways to make music. This could have been some kind of typical powermetal song but it's not and I'm glad about it.

Even if it's a little different, they never stray to far from what makes them special. The few parts, reminding one of typical church music would not have been necessary but are appreciated! They know when to leave out the guitars and go slowly. What bothers me a little, is that it somehow feels like Attila's voice had a tiny bit more potential up to the chorus. It could've been a little bit softer? if i can put it that way. But honestly this song is raw emotion and everything still fits together. If you thought their first ballad was emotional, buckle up, this one kicked me right in the feels.

Blood for blood (Faoladh)

Powerwolf ventures again into the folk metal territory and successfully conquers it! Could be a headline of something. Anyway, this song is a very worthy successor of Incense & Iron! It just makes me happy, its melody is so light - combined with your typical Powerwolf lyrics. Perfect song to start jumping up and down! It radiates motivational energy. Just like Dancing with the dead, this song has a very smooth transition to the guitar parts.

The melody is strong but still easy enough to quickly get into it! I can barely sit still and write this aaaa. Seriously, I am just happy with this song and will go jump and headbang a while to it!

Glaubenskraft

I have returned from jumping and oh no. It's a German song. Bold of them to go all out on that Latin beginning... it works really well though! It might be because I'm German but this song hits hard. Very hard. It's not easy to make this language sound good and ( if you don't happen to know much about German) the lyrics consist of a bunch of old words and grammar you wouldn't normally use anymore. But they made it fucking work!!! The quiet verses only make the pre-chorus and chorus itself heavier and blow me away. And SOMEHOW this super epic song with (made up, at least I'm pretty sure they don't exist like that) Latin words is about.. you know what Powerwolf writes about a lot. And I LOVE that. It's so subtle and only if you read into it, you're like "wait a minute".

This song has a feeling of corruption too. But not in a good way this time. It feels evil and intimidating and - honestly, I can't get enough of it. Everyone of my neighbours will think I'm some kind of weird Christian fanatic because I WILL yell "Glaubenskraft" just as much as I yelled "Stossgebet". Worth it, tho.

Call of the wild

The song with the same title as the album! (or the other way around, whatever.) This song is just catchy from the beginning to the end. Like many other songs its fast and hard. Just how I like it. Don't take that out of context.

The lyrics and instruments go wild (haha get it), with a really neat Latin pre-chorus. It's very fun to listen to. Personally, it makes me feel like I belong to the pack. That we're strong together, that we can say fuck it once in a while and just go crazy. The chanted part near the end of the song reminds me strongly of Sanctified with dynamite (ya know "die, die dynamite" and "call, call, call of the wild") and it's really cool they pick up on old things once again. Be it intentional or not. It's a reminder that they still are who they were back then - and their music is still fucking incredible.

Simply an epic song, strong vocals, strong guitars. I really, really like the intro. Attila has to sing so many words in such little time, does he even need to breathe now and then?

Now I'm wondering what came first; the album title or the track title? Chicken or the egg?

Sermon of swords

First of all: WHAT IS THAT OMINOUS VOICE IN THE BEGINNING. Mark me down as horny and scared. Ahem.

I really like how the verse and the chorus have their own theme and melody going on and yet they're connected. The chorus is super catchy too! And just say it yourself "Sermon of swords", how cool does it sound??? The choir in the beginning is a really neat introduction into the whole song. The lyrics match the whole album, very much a soundtrack to go on a crusade to, like Raise your fist, Evangelist or Christ & Combat. Just... "AAMEEN!" Ok, I'm actually going insane here, calm down, Feb. These might be my favourite lyrics of the whole album I think?? (unless I said that somewhere else already, then i have more than one favourite.)

The whole song has a more "classical" feeling to it, not only in the Powerwolf sense but also in the Heavy Metal sense in general. BUT. Orchestra and choir are prefectly mixed, especially supporting Attila in the chorus. The guitar solo is really cool and sounds very Greywolf-y, if you know what I mean. It's just Matthew's style.

Undress to confess

The name of this song says it all. This is your friendly reminder that no matter how much they preach about Jesus or the Devil, Powerwolf should not be taken too seriously. When I first saw the title I couldn't help but chuckle a little.

The melody is pretty catchy and easy to remember, the organ and general approach reminds me of Demons are a girl's best friend. I absolutely love how the lyrics are on that thin line of somewhat poetic and ridiculous. Let me provide two examples here: "all the world we posess for desire and sin we carress" - man, this sounds pretty.

And there's also "dressed to hide the dark, and obsessed to ride him hard on the.... crucifix." Yeah, I... I don't know what I expected here. Anyway, this is how you describe church sex without actually using explicit words. (why are you booing me, i'm right)

Still really nice to listen to and have a good time!

Reverent of rats

We arrived at the last song of the album! And here we picked up on the speed and power again! The way the organ is played during the verses makes it so... sinister. Again, this piece reminds me of Lupus Dei. The verses keep the sinister feeling while the chorus picks up more... drama? An epic melody mixed with epic words make my soul ascend to heaven.

This guitar solo is also the absolute good shit. It might be my favourite from all the songs of this album?! Additionally, the drums? I don't know why but they really stand out here. Love how fast paced they are.

Aaaaand that's it! If you've read all the way through holy shit, you are actually a badass. Thank you for staying with me, my werewolf friend. Maybe we'll meet where the wild wolves have gone. But always remember: Metal is religion.

#powerwolf #call of the wild #album review #well sort of #come talk to me about it i love the whole thing!!!!

[xpao-bearx]

《Original post here》

Part 2 HERE

SUMMARY: [Supernatural TWD AU] In which Negan is a kinky incubus, Rick Grimes is your secret guardian angel, and Daryl Dixon is a gruff monster/demon hunter. Three drastically different men who can only agree on one thing: making you theirs.

PAIRINGS: Reader x Negan, Reader x Rick Grimes, Reader x Daryl Dixon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please be prepared and do NOT report.

NOTE: This is actually my first time ever writing an xReader story series as well as writing on Tumblr (I usually only write on Wattpad). As such, it probs won't be perfect though I would SERIOUSLY appreciate your *respectful* feedback and support!

I understand writing xReader content can get a lil tricky, so please just keep in mind that not everything Y/N says or does would be something that you'd do IRL or even approve of. Also, sometimes I may not help but put a teeny bit of myself in Y/N...

Lastly, I recently got back into the TWD fandom after a looong ass time and I'm taking a while re-watching the whole show. So I apologize in advance if my portrayal of any of the characters are rusty or I may not remember too much of the events from the show, but I promise to do my very best and hope y'all enjoy~!! \(^o^)/

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @blccdyknuckles and @negans-attagirl 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 1

The sounds of laughter and easygoing chatter filled your ears as you walked closer to the church, a light breeze blowing through your F/C floral dress and the sun blinding your eyes. It was Sunday, most residents of the small town of Alexandria having gathered for mass.

It was a day like any other; peaceful and happy, children giggling and chasing each other around as their parents socialized outside before church could start.

Your heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you were just about to enter the building before a familiar voice called out.

"Y/N!"

Spinning, a huge smile instantly reached your ears as you saw none other than Carl Grimes waving enthusiastically at you as he jumped out of a car. From the driver's seat, his father soon followed as he stepped out.

Rick Grimes--dedicated sheriff of this fine town. His usual uniform forgone, instead replaced with a casual navy coloured suit. His baby blues met your E/C, flashing you a bright smile of his own that rivalled the sun itself.

Carl was running towards you now, and once in front he gave you a big hug.

"Settle down, cowboy! It's as if you haven't seen me in forever." You chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair affectionately.

"That's 'cause it did feel like forever." Carl pouted, eventually letting go as he looked up at you.

Before you can reply, Rick patted Carl's head and greeted you. "Hey, Y/N. How are things?" He asked in that endearing Southern accent of his.

"Just fine." You nodded, grinning before you couldn't help but let your gaze wander around a bit. "No Judith?"

It was then that Rick's smile faltered, but just barely. You nearly didn't catch it. "No. She's with her mom."

Rick was divorced from his ex-wife, Lori, after he discovered her cheating on him with his also now ex-bestfriend Shane Walsh. After the divorce, Shane and Lori quickly moved to the neighbouring community of Woodbury together and agreed on joint custody of the kids.

It really made your blood boil; you've interacted with Lori only a few times before so you didn't really have much of an opinion on her...that is, until, you learned what had happened between her and Rick. You knew it wasn't any of your business, but you cared about Rick a lot and he sure as hell didn't deserve to get cheated on.

"Oh." Was all you could say, quite stupidly. Your cheeks reddened, mentally slapping yourself before clearing your throat. "Will I see her in the daycare tomorrow, though?" You were a daycare teacher and even though you loved all of the kids, Judith was your favourite. She was simply such a sweetheart.

Rick nodded, his smile softening. "You got it."

You couldn't continue the conversation as the bells rang, making you jump out of your skin. Carl, noticing this, laughed which made you playfully roll your eyes before slinging an arm around him as all of you went inside.

♡♡♡

You took your place near the back of the church with Carl and Rick. Once everyone was settled and done singing, the service began and Father Gabriel stood on top of the podium. A few minutes into his sermon, the interruption of a motorcycle revving loudly outside sliced through the air. Gabriel flinched in surprise, and it was obvious he was desperately trying to keep his cool. Finally, when it was silent again, you found yourself biting back a smile knowing all too well who had caused the ruckus.

It seems Rick knew, too, judging from how his jaw clenched and his hands turned into tight fists.

The doors were thrown open, making Gabriel flinch once more and some of the congregation turning in the pews to look. But poor Gabriel quickly fumbled with his Bible, raising his voice just a tad to regain their attention.

There was a low whistle accompanying the approaching footsteps, but the congregation did their damn hardest to ignore the latest visitor.

"Damn... I assumed the church would be a lot more welcoming than this." A husky voice whispered, and you at last couldn't hold back as a smile broke through.

"Negan." You whispered back, turning slightly in your seat to see he has taken the spot behind you. His leather clad arms lackadaisically resting on your chair, the musky scent of his cologne invading your senses oh so wonderfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What? Is it really that surprising, darlin'?" He grinned, presenting a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "I go to church."

"Not all the time." You pointed out.

"Ah..." He chuckled softly, hazel eyes twinkling. "That's 'cause Father Creepy McGee over there is just that. Creepy. As. Shit."

You bit the inside of your cheeks, suppressing your laughter. True, Gabriel did have his moments, but he wasn't that bad. That didn't change the fact that Negan knew exactly how to tickle your funny bone, though.

He was new to Alexandria. It was a lovely town, but since it was relatively small not a lot of people want to move here not unless it was families looking for their children to grow up in a safe environment. Which was why it was quite a shock to find out that a single man like Negan chose this destination, and even more so when he took everyone aback with his infamous pottymouth and rather inappropriate charisma.

He had moved just a couple of houses down from yours, and you made it your mission to befriend him. Right from the get-go, he had piqued your interest and curiousity. He was different from everyone else--even possessing an air of mystery about him--and that definitely intrigued you. And also, perhaps you were just too nice and didn't want him to feel outcasted. Although, that didn't seem like an issue to him at all.

"Want one?" You were brought back to reality when you saw Negan's hand outstretched with a pack of cigarettes.

"Dude, we're in church." You reprimanded, frowning.

Negan didn't say anything, only cocking a brow and still with that same shit-eating grin. You sighed, finally giving in as you swiftly grabbed one and stashed it away in your purse for later.

"Y/N." You turned to the left, Rick's icy gaze piercing you. "Pay attention."

"R-Right. Sorry..." You mumbled sheepishly.

Carl, who was sitting in the middle of you and Rick, had dozed off. Rick nudged him, but the brunette only groaned softly and snuggled into Rick's chest. Defeated, the sheriff sighed and was just about to listen again to Gabriel before Negan cut in.

"Rick!" Negan purposely raised his voice, knowing it would get a rise out of the other man. "Didn't even see ya there. Howdy, cowboy!"

Rick grimaced, and it looked like he was just going to ignore Negan though he knew that if he did that then Negan would just irritate him even further. "Good to see you, Negan." He forced himself to say.

"Only you can say that while giving me such a deadly side eye, Grimes." Negan snickered. "How have you been? How's the wife?"

Rick flushed, his fists in a tight ball again and it looked like his nails would be digging into his skin. You abruptly swung into action, placing a hand on Rick's own.

"Rick..." You said gently. "It's okay. Calm down."

Rick did, his shoulders drooping as if a heavy weight had been lifted. He can barely pay any attention to Gabriel now, then you suddenly stood up and grabbed Negan's arm.

"We need to talk. Now."

"What, we going for a quickie?" Negan smirked, but that soon faded when he saw your serious expression. He sighed dramatically, reaching his full height as he towered over you before following you out.

At this point, you didn't care if people saw what transpired or would even start gossiping. No one, not even Negan, was allowed to harass Rick. He has helped you through so much shit--more than you'd like to admit--and you at least owed him this much.

Once outside, next to where Negan parked his motorcycle, you exploded. "What the fuck is with you?! You leave Rick alone, or I swear to fucking Christ I will--"

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horses, missy!" Negan guffawed, his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, I like 'em feisty, but goddamn! Watch your fucking language."

"Tch. You're one to talk."

"Did you just scoff at me?" He raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets as he slowly drew closer to you. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, tilting his head slightly. "No one's ever fucking scoffed at me and didn't regret it soon after."

You frowned, letting out a huff as you met his gaze challengingly. "As if you'd do anything to me."

He was silent for several moments before chuckling, leaning back against his motorcycle. "You're right. I have too much of a soft spot for ya." He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it then taking a drag. He drew his head upwards, puffing out the smoke. "Whaddya say we just forgive and forget? I truly am sorry. You can even tell Rick that I am metaphorically down on my goddamn knees begging for forgiveness~"

"I'm not forgiving or forgetting anything until you actually face Rick and apologize yourself." You muttered. And without another word, you spun on your heel and strutted back inside the church with your head held high.

Negan's intent stare lingered where your ass had just been, taking another long drag and letting out a small laugh to himself.

His eyes suddenly glowed a crimson red, a smirk playing on his lips.

Oh, he really did pick a GREAT one.

#The Walking Dead #TWD #The Walking Dead AU #TWD AU #Alternate Universe #AU #Romance #Smut #Mature #Story Series #Reader #Female Reader #x Reader #Negan #Rick Grimes #Daryl Dixon #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM #Andrew Lincoln #Norman Reedus #Incubus!Negan #Guardian Angel!Rick Grimes #Monster/Demon Hunter!Daryl Dixon #Negan x Reader #Rick Grimes x Reader #Daryl Dixon x Reader #Reader x Negan #Reader x Rick Grimes #Reader x Daryl Dixon

[empyreanwritings]

A Different Side to You

Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)

Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language

Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection​ writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx

Divider by @whimsicalrogers​ - check them out bc their edits are amazing x

"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"

Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.

You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.

For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.

It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.

"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."

"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."

"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."

Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"

Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.

The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.

You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."

"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."

He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.

"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."

"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.

The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.

You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.

You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.

Touchy, touchy, you thought.

Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.

He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.

"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."

You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.

He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.

"What are they doing?"

You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.

"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."

"You can't just let them-"

"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."

He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."

"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"

"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"

Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.

Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.

You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.

The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.

Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.

"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."

She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.

You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"

"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body.  He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."

You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.

"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"

"Several."

"Ones that aren't centuries old."

"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"

It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?

You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.

He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.

When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.

"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."

"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.

"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."

You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."

Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.

You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.

No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.

So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.

The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.

If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.

But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.

The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.

"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"

You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."

"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."

Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.

"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."

Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.

He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.

"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."

"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."

You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"

"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."

A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.

You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.

You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"

Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.

Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.

"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."

You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.

"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."

Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.

The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.

You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.

None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.

The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.

Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.

She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.

"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."

"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."

"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."

You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.

"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."

As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.

"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."

Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"

"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."

Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.

"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.

"And what is that, my dear?"

You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.

Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."

You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.

The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.

You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.

Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.

"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Well I heard-"

"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.

You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."

"Please don't."

Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.

You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.

Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.

"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."

"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."

"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.

Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.

"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."

Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.

He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.

As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.

You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.

You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.

The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.

Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."

"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.

"About my feelings for you."

You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure, you're not."

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.

"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."

"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."

"Then let's get out of here for a bit."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."

You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.

"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.

The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.

When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.

"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"

"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.

You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.

He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.

"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."

"You haven't done that already?"

You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."  

"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."

"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"

Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."

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