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#'Hi were a bible study group I was-' got damn
gxlden-angels · 2 years
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Me, a disabled person with a cane: *Walking slightly slower than others*
Every evangelical within 5 miles of my college campus trying to hand something out: 🏃‍♀️🏃🏃‍♂️
#lmao I just processed how fuckin funny this was#I dropped my fruity lil pronoun pin out of my bag while getting my keys#and went to get it#I'm walking a cane but I walk fairly fast with it#so I go to get it and notice another person walking at me Fast#I'm thinking oh this person has come to help and didn't realize how fast I could still move#I better stand up and thank them#but no this girl just stands there making no attempt to pick up the pin#so I'm reorganizing myself thinking I can thank her and move along right???#but she's just standing there like🧍🏻‍♀️#so I get all situated and make sure I'm stable to start moving again and all of sudden#'Hi were a bible study group I was-' got damn#So I fix my gay little ID layard and pronoun pin#Make an effort to show I'm getting my key#And start walking again#looking back and saying no but thanks#girl saw my fruity ass with my magnus archives eye cane and thought 'oh yea that one needs Jesus'#Didn't even try to help me when I dropped shit#like girl help#that's like#the first step#I wouldn't have needed the help but her just standing over me was so uncomfortable#watching me struggle to function so she could ask me about homeboy#I've almost run over evangelicals with my walker cause they Will block me so they can preach to me#they hop out the way last min when they realize my ass ain't stopping#I don't run over small children and I don't run over the elderly. Everyone else can fuck around and find out if they want#ex christian#religious trauma
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strayed-quokka · 2 years
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unsupervised || hwang hyunjin
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» summary: there’s a reason you skip church on sundays, but no one would ever know that reason was your friend, hwang hyunjin.
» pairing: hyunjin x reader
» rating: NC-17 minors dni
» genre: friends with benefits, smut
» warnings: porn with like no plot, reverse cowgirl, creampie, possessiveness, sub reader, dom hyunjin, unprotected sex, spanking, mentions of marking, use of a vibrator, lingerie, form of breathplay (?), chocking, bruising, pet names, degrading names, brief crying, think that's it...
» words: 2,345
» a/n: so maybe i am a hyunjin blog… sue me... funnily enough i was working on my sunwoo smut when i decided to deviate a little… said sunwoo smut still coming though cause boyyy 🥵
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Your family didn’t like Hyunjin. He’d never really given them a reason to dislike him, but your father especially liked to say that there was just something about him. 
When Hyunjin first found out your family's distaste for him, he immediately complained. He was sweet and attentive, helping your mother load the dishwasher after dinner, and even helping your younger brother with bible studies. From the outside, Hyunjin was a perfect gentleman and a close friend of yours, so what the hell was he doing wrong? 
He went to parties he didn’t want to attend if you were going just to make sure nothing happened to you and spent hours on homework that you didn’t understand just so that it felt a little bit easier for you. 
Hyunjin was sweet, until the day your friendship changed into something sinful, and maybe then you understood just what that something was that your father had been on about. 
It had been a Sunday morning and you’d felt unwell enough for your family to let you stay home from church. You weren’t nearly as religious and deep in your beliefs as them, but you still went with few exceptions and little complaint. That day had been an exception, and Hyunjin had come over to make you feel better. 
You’re still not entirely sure how trying to make you feel better resulted in him having his cock inside you, but you got addicted to it and he knew it. 
A few months in and far too many Sunday’s missed, your parents were getting suspicious, and on top of it, disappointed. However, your school work wasn’t faltering (second year of university was going surprisingly well), and your behaviour otherwise was more than perfect.
“What’s the excuse this time?” your mother asks as you come down the stairs, still dressed in your pajamas. You sigh, not meeting her eyes as you go to the fridge to grab some water. 
“I have a big project,”
“And that can’t wait an hour because-?”
“It’s a group project and we’ll be in a call,” a half lie. You did have a group project, but you weren’t doing it today, and your father seems to consider that you’re not telling the truth before he gives in. 
“This is the last time,” you nod, though you don’t think it is. It’s not like Sunday’s were your preferred days to have sex. It just happened to be one of the few times that your family was all out of the house and Hyunjin could wander in the front door. After the time he’d attempted to climb up to your window and nearly fell, that seemed to be the better option.
You wait fifteen minutes after they leave to give Hyunjin the clear, using the time you know it takes him to get here, to change into something you deemed nicer for the occasion. 
You’d bought it just yesterday, a lingerie set you hid under your bed just in case. It was a white corset, tight on your waist and pushing your breasts up and together, with a matching white thong. You liked the way it looked, deeming the price tag worth it as you hear the front door shut. 
“Where are you?!” 
“Bedroom!” you nearly want to add where I always am, genius, but you refrain. Hyunjin liked to be rough with you and you didn’t need to play with fire. 
“I swear these damn stair-” the man stops, his eyes shifting from annoyance to a dark lust as he licks his lips, chuckling lowly as he runs a hand through his black hair, “well, look at you.”
“Thought you’d like it,” he hums in approval, shutting the door behind him and moving closer to you. 
“I got you a present too,” you’re curious now, watching him reach into his pocket before revealing a small bullet vibrator, “I’m going to make you lose all sense.”
He pushes you, hard enough for you to stumble back and fall onto the bed as he throws his jacket off and his shirt over his head, on top of you not a second later. His kisses are hungry and desperate against your lips in a way that excites you, your thighs pushing together from the tension until he’s gripping one of your legs and forcefully pushing them apart, “don’t even try.”
You moan, feeling his large hand grip around your throat as he pulls away, hovering over you, “open your mouth.”
You obey immediately and the amusement in his eyes is clear as he shoves two of his fingers into your mouth, his other hand loosening the grip on your throat while you suck on his fingers. There’s no doubt in your mind that you already look like a mess, but Hyunjin loves you best that way. 
“Imagine if they knew what a whore you are,” you whimper, his fingers moving away from your mouth, down your neck and towards the swell of your breasts. It feels slightly wet from your saliva, and you can feel the arousal cling to your white thong and even along your thigh. 
“Look at you. It’s pathetic,” the day Hyunjin had first learned that you loved being insulted when in such a vulnerable position, marked the end for you. Ever since, he loved to make you feel completely submissive in his hold, especially because he knew that nothing turned you on more. He never missed a second to laugh at you for it. 
Hyunjin pushes the fabric of your corset down just slightly, but it’s enough for your breasts to spill out and for your erect nipples to meet the cold air. He watches you for a second, making you feel smaller while your legs push together and he tsks, “don’t you learn?” 
He practically tears your legs apart, one of his hands pushing your thigh into the mattress with his weight, enough to leave a bruise but you don’t care, while the other moves the fabric of your string thong to one side. Feeling his fingers adjust the piece of clothing and briefly run past your folds makes your eyes squeeze shut, a whimper leaving your throat while your hips push up into his hold.
“Poor baby,” he coos, the familiar mocking tone never leaving him, “it’s even on your thigh.”
You muster the strength to lift your upper body to have a look, but Hyunjin uses the hand that holds your thighs apart to push you back down, hand back on your throat as he squeezes lightly. It makes you dizzy, but you don’t want it to stop, even when he loosens his grip and gives you the chance to signal with your fingers to. You both had your signals, but rarely did you use them.
“You look so pretty like this,” his finger runs over your clit before he spits onto your already glistening folds, using his same finger to push his saliva inside your cunt.
“H-Hyunjin,” he doesn’t answer you in words, rather he lets his hand on your throat move down your chest, his nails scratching the skin. 
“You belong to me,” you nearly cry when he adds another finger, leaning down to suck on your neck, like he needs to mark every bare inch of skin to know that you’re his. 
“P-please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for anymore and it sounds pathetic, the way your voice breaks, but Hyunjin loves it. 
“Please what?” he leans over to one side, and you hear him turn on the vibrator he’d brought, applying light pressure to your nipple. He hisses when you clench around his fingers as a result, and you already know you’re going to come soon. 
“Let me come… p-please,” you beg, feeling his fingers quicken their pace whilst the vibrations continue over your nipples, occasionally more forceful and enough to make you shake. 
“Are you going to come?” 
“Yes! Y-yes,” everything stops. Hyunjin removes his fingers from you and puts the vibrator back down on the bed, and you can’t help the whimper and tears that fall from your eyes, “Hyun-”
“Are you crying?”
Normally, Hyunjin may be concerned, but he knows that your tears are a result of the orgasm you wanted but he wouldn’t let you have, “relax baby, I just want you to come around my cock, is all.”
He stands, removing the rest of his clothing before sitting back on the bed, patting his thigh in a gesture for you to climb on top of him. You do, dragging your body up as he watches you, “shouldn’t I take this off?” 
“No, I want it on,” you nod, feeling his hands cup your ass cheeks whilst you grind against him, his cock slowly pushing into your still clothed folds. Your body trembles as a response, and you swear you may have an orgasm soon just from this alone. He works on pushing your underwear to the side again, letting the tip of his cock move against you slowly, teasing your entrance as he pushes his head inside you before taking the pleasure away again. 
“Hyunjin… fuck me. Please fuck me,” he couldn't say no to that. 
“Turn around,” you do as you’re told, still straddling him as he lets his hand collide with your ass cheek. The sight makes him nearly lose it, and he decides to lose his resolve and push his thick cock inside your cunt. 
“F-fuck, how are you always so tight?” you groan, letting out shallow breaths as you try to adjust to his size, though he barely gives you much time before he’s bringing you further down onto his cock, “good girl.”
You mewl at the praise, sat over his hips as you lean onto his legs. He loves the way his cock has completely disappeared inside you, and if it were up to him, he’d move in a heartbeat, but he knows you always like to move first when it comes to being on top, and he respects what you want even if his words towards you say otherwise. 
When you first move, his eyes shut tight and he hisses, feeling you clench around him again as you begin bouncing on his cock, slow and careful first before becoming more comfortable. It’s when you begin to quicken your pace that he can’t take it anymore, gripping your hip with one hand before slapping your ass with the other. You clench around him every time and he smirks, a deep chuckle vibrating in his throat, “you like that?” 
But he already knows the answer, seeing you sink down on his cock drives him wild, but it isn’t quite enough of what he wants. 
He wants to make you scream. 
Hyunjin uses the strength he has to bring his hands around you to cup your breasts, using the grip he has on you to pull you down onto him, arching your back at an angle that has him deeper inside you than before, and he pushes his hips up enough so he can replace your thrusts against him with his own. 
“Oh god. Hyunjin!” he’s relentless, fucking up into you as you grip the sheets and try to steady yourself but it’s impossible. You let him be the only thing that keeps you in place, pulling you down further by your hair and going deeper. 
“Mine. You’re all mine, got it?” you nod, letting him grope your breasts while his other hand finds your throat again, cutting off your pathetic cries and replacing them with mewls and whimpers of pleasure, “you take my cock so good, fuck.”
He releases your breasts and fumbles with something, and it takes you a second to register that he’s reached for the vibrator and that it’s now teasing your clit whilst he’s fucking into you, and it’s embarassing how quickly you come, screaming his name when you do. 
It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your life and Hyunjin feels it too, the way your whole body shakes viciously against him as he tries to keep you steady, still thrusting into you until his own orgasm follows yours, his cum spilling inside of you, a low growl ripping through his throat when he thrusts up one more time to keep it stuffed inside you. 
You both don’t move for a minute, mostly because you’re both so spent that you have to remember where you even are, and Hyunjin is incredibly careful when he lifts you off him, your muscles crying out as you fall next to him. He pulls you into his arms, though he knows it’s only for a little while before he has to leave and come back later under the pretence that he’s visiting you for the first time that day, supervised.
“They’ll be back soon,” he says, but you want to ignore it. You don’t want them to come back, but it’s not a choice, “you should shower.”
“I don’t want to,” he sighs, gently pushing you away from him though it breaks his heart a little when he does. 
“Go shower. I’ll hide the evidence,” you laugh, hitting him lightly though it’s rather pathetic with how your energy is completely wasted. 
You listen to him anyway, standing under the shower and cleaning your skin, and when you come out, your bed is freshly made and your window is open, a floral scent in the air. There’s also a sandwhich on your nightstand with a note, and you realise he must’ve left before he could say goodbye. 
I heard the car so I ran for it. Forgive me, I love you :)
You laugh, shaking your head at the idiot you call your friend, but you’re also relieved at his attentiveness for the noise downstairs tells you you’re not home alone anymore. 
Hours later, you nearly curse Hyunjin for the knowing smirk he gives you when sat at the dining table with your parents, knowing it’s exact intent. 
He’s wants to go again and this time, he doesn't care that your family is home. 
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i am not a hyunjin blog
comments and feedback appreciated. i'm on a writing streak so i'll likely be back with more filth soon also excuse the banner i'm tired and can't afford photoshop anymore 🤧
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jimmy-valmer-official · 6 months
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can u write a fic abt Jimmy pining for Heidi thank youuu
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ask and you shall recieve 🤲🏽 (still accepting requests if anyones interested! :0)
also gonna post it here if you dont wanna hop onto ao3 vv
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Jimmy absolutely thrived when it came to socializing.
After all, it was a combination of some of his favorite things— talking, for instance, or delivering a crafty punchline that, at times, was grossly offensive but funny all the same. It was one of the things that he excelled at, among other things, and he felt as if he could pull words out of thin air.
…Usually.
Usually, because as Heidi Turner stood in front of him casually, sharing her ideas about what their group project should focus on as they stood in the middle of the high school hallways at the end of the school day, he could do nothing but stare.
“ —So I was thinking we could do one about chloroplasts, y’know? Because they’re easy to explain and there’s a bunch of stuff on the internet we could use. What do you think?”
Right, the science project. That was what they were doing. What was this about chloroplasts…?
“Oh, uh…” Science project. Think about the science project.
But his mind was occupied with other things. Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for him to find the occasional person attractive— hell, there were a lot of nice looking people out there— but to call this a simple, measly attraction was certainly an understatement.
Heidi was very beautiful. Cute, even, not to mention undeniably charming. There was just something about her hair, and her beanie with the little flower on it, and the softness of her skin, and her shining eyes…
…Which were staring right at him intently, expecting a response. Jimmy didn’t need to be a high class detective to know that he had definitely missed something.
“Jimmy?”
“Yes, right,” he cleared his throat and tried to get back on topic. Something about chloroplasts, something about a boring project. “Well, I think that s- suh… I think that sounds excellent, Heidi!” What had she said again? “We should get to- to working on that soon very much.”
He seriously hoped that she’d explain it to him again later. He was starting to feel a bit guilty for not listening when she had proposed her idea in the first place. It was a weird, unexplainable type of guilt.
She grinned at him, and he had to blink a few times, blinded as if he had looked directly at the sun. “Great! Okay. Well I’m gonna go home now, then. We can work on it this weekend… I’m free on Sunday. Does that work?”
Her voice was quite nice, too…
“Y- yeah, that works,” he said in a daze, and then he immediately wanted to punch himself. Sunday absolutely did not work. He had a stage play to watch and then he had speech therapy right afterwards, not to mention bible study in the morning beforehand.
Great. And here he was, standing there quietly and not correcting himself at all. The words that usually came so easily to him were jammed tightly in his head.
“Alright!” Heidi exclaimed. Jimmy couldn’t possibly interrupt her now. “Well, I'll see you later then, okay?”
He nodded. Tried to keep his cool. But his smile felt way too affectionate on his face. “Yeah, I’ll c- catch you later.”
When she was gone, he felt simultaneously fuzzy and vaguely disappointed. Which was bad, because it meant that he was no better than a senile cat.
His heart felt funny in his chest, and he waited for her to exit the building, which was mostly empty at this point, before doing the same. Thankfully, he walked considerably slower than her, so she was already gone by the time he was outside.
…Damn it. Damn it.
What even was the science project?
He made his way towards the general direction of his house, and although he had a well trained neutral expression on his face, his mind was spinning with random things like, for whatever reason, brown hair and flower beanies. A soft voice saying who knew what, smooth hands clutching the straps of a purple backpack…
He just couldn’t get the sight of Heidi out of his mind.
He tried thinking of jokes as a distraction, but the punchlines kept slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t even remember any of his scripts despite studying them a million times over. To be honest, the only thing that was clear in his mind was that he already wanted to see Heidi again— but he also really, really didn’t.
Girls were usually just a crutch for him that made him look cooler in the public eye. Because every guy has been in a relationship. He always liked to show his partners off, flaunt a bit, make up lies about what they did together at his house as if they weren’t just doing homework while sitting next to each other.
Normally that was fine. It was normal and acceptable… more like going through the motions if anything— Get together, hang out in public, go to the movies a few times, have sleepovers, and then break up a few weeks later. Over and over again. Not very exciting, to be frank, when it was repeated so many times.
So why did he feel so struck with giddiness at the thought of doing all of that with Heidi? Why did the last step feel more like a bad thing instead of a normal conclusion?
That wasn’t how it usually worked. Surely this was something else.
His heart was beating fast.
And that was also weird. Dating was something that helped your image. It made people look good. It was cool, and that was it. Right?
This… didn’t feel cool.
This felt fuzzy. Warm. When she had spoken to him— and sure, he had heard her talk at some point before, but it was only just now processing in his mind— it had felt like his soul was dipped in honey and placed on a small paper boat in a pond. And that was way too warm to be a simple charade in the making.
… And far too sappy to be even slightly cool.
He sighed, long and drawn out, stopping in his path for a moment to glance at the sky before moving forward again.
It was going to be one hell of a night, that was for sure.
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ironwoman359 · 3 years
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This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!
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(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)
So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:
Author (Who wrote it?)
Audience (Who was it written for?)
Context (What is written around it?)
So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:
22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).
The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.
The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.
The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.
The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.
I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)
Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.
I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3
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sinner-as-saint · 4 years
Text
You Know Just What I Need.
Head of Security!Reader x Bucky Barnes AU.
Run-through: Freshly out of uni, Bucky Barnes comes back to live in his family home. Given he’s the only son of a billionaire, he needs security around at all times. And his dad puts you in charge of his son’s safety until he comes home from a business trip. You intend on doing your job as perfectly as always, but what you didn’t know it that Bucky is a spoilt brat who is only interested in pestering you and making your life a living hell… until eventually you are left with no other choice but to teach him a lesson in order for him to learn how to behave.
Themes: spoilt brat!Bucky, smut, fluff, slight dom!reader,
a/n: I was re-reading my bodyguard!stucky au the other day and I thought, what if the roles were reversed…? Enjoy!
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“He’s here.”
One of the guards spoke through the comms, signaling you that Bucky Barnes was here. You were in the monitor room upstairs, watching over all the live footage of security cameras placed around the Barnes’ property. You observed the one at the gate and watched how the expensive car made its way through the gates.
He’s here.
You walked out of the room and made your way downstairs, on your way to meet your boss’ only son. You were the head of security, working for Mr. Barnes. You led an entire team who helped you in directing the rest of the staff employed by Barnes. Whenever your boss was away – which was always – every decision regarding the properties and companies went through you first.
Security processes, new policies, and most financial decisions, legal or illegal transactions – basically everything needed your seal of approval when the boss was away. You and Mr. Barnes had a comfortable bond since day one, he trusted you immensely, which is why you had been handed over the responsibility of taking care of his son, Bucky, until the latter’s father comes back from a business trip.
Basically the son was your responsibility for the coming weeks. Rumor had it that the young man was a nightmare; the complete opposite of his father. Since your job allowed it, you stalked him on his many social media platforms as soon as you received the phone call from your boss, just to get an insight of what you were getting into. You spent hours scrolling through the many pictures Bucky posts all the time. And so far, you gathered that he was; a brat, a party animal, spends his father’s money like it’s no one’s business on expensive cars and clothing. He enjoyed the finer things in life.
Oh well, you thought to yourself, this one is going to be quite a handful. Besides, rich kids hate security anyways.
 You got downstairs and found some of the guards standing at the foyer, you joined them and they all gave you courteous nods. You noticed how they all stopped slouching as soon as you approached them, they stood straight. You smirked a little. Your job did require you to be somewhat intimidating and controlling, but you liked it. You quite enjoyed the power which came along the job.
In less than a minute, he finally walked through the doors; the one and only – Bucky. He entered the house with a gait which radiated arrogance. You refrained from rolling your eyes at him and his almost visible cockiness. But, you expected no less.
Dressed in all black, leather jacket and boots; you had to admit he was an attractive young man.
“Well, well, there’s nothing better than coming home after 5 years and being welcomed by a group of guards!” he sassed, looking at the guys. And you saw how he did a double take when he saw you. He did that thing that most men do when they see you for the first time; stare.
Perfect hair, minimal makeup, bold red lip, high heels for the aesthetics and wearing a tailored black suit with a white button down shirt – you looked great and you knew it. So you let him stare, just like you let all of them stare. Only not many men approached you, most of them were intimidated.
But Bucky wasn’t one of those, no. Bucky was shameless, and cocky and confident. He walked right up to you, eyed you up and down and smirked.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, surprising you a little. But surprising the rest of the guards even more. They all turned their heads in sync to look at the exchange between you and Bucky. Because no one ever dared to talk to you like that before.
You smirked and tilted your head up just a little, looked Bucky right in the eyes. “Y/N. Head of security. My team and I were appointed by your father to keep you away from trouble until he gets back home. Because you’re unable to do so on your own despite being a grown man.” You answered with a straight face and nothing but sarcasm lacing your words.
Bucky was a little taken aback, usually women melt under his stare – but not you. He heard a chuckle or two come from the group of guards who stood nearby and he felt a little, just a little intimidated. But he liked that. You were fiery, and he was digging it. “Anything else, Mr. Barnes?” you asked again, breaking his little reverie.
He shook his head. “No.” he still had that damn smirk on his face.
You faked smiled at him. “Very well then, Wilson will show you to your room. He and Quill will be your bodyguards for the days to come.” You briefly explained, and pointed to Sam and Peter.
Bucky spared them a dirty look and by the time he looked back at you, you began walking away. “Hey, wait!” he called out after you. You stopped and turned around, refraining from rolling your eyes again. Bucky smirked, and walked over to you again.
“Why can’t you be my bodyguard? You seem badass enough for that. Besides, we could really have a lot of fun together you and I.” he finished with a wink.
You flashed him another faint, fake smile. “Mr. Barnes, you should know that I have a lot more important things that require my attention. My team needs me to help run your father’s company while he’s away. I can’t possibly do that and babysit you at the same time.” You leaned in just a little and whispered the last sentence just so the guys won’t hear you.
Bucky chuckled as you stared at him for another second before turning around, leaving him behind again. And oh did he enjoy watching you walk away. He had never had any woman be so uninterested in him before. So this was very new to him. And he was intrigued.
 Like you said, his two bodyguards showed him to his room where he spent the rest of the day. He thought of you, shamelessly, while he showered. Self-abusing himself under the warm water as he thought of your bold personality, and those irresistible eyes of yours… and your red lips, and your body… and the way you carried yourself, confidence and power surrounding you. He had only met you hours ago, but he wanted you. Bad.
He made a mental note to pester you and annoy you until you finally give in. because he was Bucky Barnes, whatever he wanted he got. And right now there was nothing more he wanted than you. Bucky didn’t know exactly where or how this would go, but one thing he knew for sure – he had to have you.
---
The next two days were absolutely terrible. Actually, the days were fine; it’s Bucky who made them terrible.
It started out when your boss called you, asking you if you could stay under the same roof as his son. For the latter’s safety and well-being, because there was no one else he trusted around his son more than you. Not having the heart to say no to the old man, you agreed.
Bucky was excited when he heard this decision made by his father. And suddenly, all of his shirts went missing. He paraded around with just his sweatpants on, purposely entering and leaving the room which you were in several times just to get your attention.
Sure it was annoying, but you couldn’t complain much; he was fit. Now you knew why he had so many girls around him all the time on all of his social media posts. The guy was hot!
He annoyed you even more by constantly flirting with you, without hesitation. Or he would do this thing where he would purposely walk by you, and make sure his body brushes against yours each time. But you worked for his dad so there was nothing you could do or say. However no matter what he did, he was never disrespectful.
He even tried to have your number, to which you denied at first. Then he thought he blackmailed you by saying what if he gets in trouble one day and how he should have it just in case. And you rolled your eyes and gave him your number just so he would shut up.
But he didn’t.
Given you had to live with him, you settled in one of the many guest bedrooms. You chose the one on the ground floor, trying to be as far away from Bucky’s room as possible. But still, he annoyed you all through the night by texting you incessantly. And it was always cheesy texts which made you question how is he a 25 year old adult;
‘I can’t sleep. Come cuddle me?’
‘I know you’re awake. Are you possibly thinking about me? ;)’
‘I would sleep better with you here with me yk’
‘I’m all alone… in my bed… thinking of you… with my hand wrapped around my big… Bible because I pray to God that one of these days you respond to my messages jfc’
 You would never respond to any of his messages. You would just laugh and turn your phone on silent each night before going to bed.
It’s alright, you told yourself, I can keep him safe and ignore him at the same time, right?
 Wrong.
A few days later, Bucky received an invite to a prestigious party being held in the city by one of his father’s closest friend and long-time business ally. And given his dad wasn’t here, Bucky was the one who would have to go in his place, he couldn’t possibly miss it.
But there was a problem – Bucky needed a date.
 “Absolutely not.” You denied him right when he came into the study room, where you were dealing with paperwork, asking you to be his date for the party tomorrow.
He sighed dramatically. “Why not? If you go as my date, you could keep an eye on me as well.” He approached you by the book shelf and stood a little too close. He leaned in and whispered, “Because I tend to misbehave a lot.” He breathed in your ear in his deep, velvety voice.
And you felt a tingle dance down your spine when he whispered in your ear, but you convinced yourself it was nothing.
You thought over it. His dad had specifically asked not to let him go anywhere on his own. Plus, you wouldn’t trust him on his own. Lately even Sam and Peter had been complaining that he could be unmanageable.
“Fine.” You agreed on going as his date to the party.
---
The lavish party was being held at an equally grand mansion.
You should have known it was a bad idea to come here as Bucky’s date. Because not only was he absolutely shameless and flirty, and annoying but this spoilt brat also took the liberty to tell everyone that you were his girlfriend before you could stop him or correct him.  
And soon, you two became the talk of the room; he noticed that the men gave him envious glares while you noticed that the ladies gave you envious glares.
“We look great together.” He whispered in your ear and proceeded to lean down and kiss your cheek and pulled you closer while the two of you were slow dancing, after he begged you to. And you had to keep fake smiling as you looked up at him with nothing but annoyance in your eyes.
You kept your hands around his shoulders while he smirked and placed one of his hand right on your butt. “Come on, admit it.” He said, full of cockiness.
You gently moved his hand from your ass to the side of your leg, where your thigh holster was, with a handgun in it. His smirk disappeared for a few moments as he felt the gun through your stunning evening gown and you smirked this time, looking up at him.
Just for show, you leaned in to kiss his cheek as well. “Try that again and I’ll shoot you and make it seem like an accident.” You whispered in his ear and pulled away to fake smile at him.
Bucky chuckled. “Can’t tell if you threatened me or turned me on even more, babe.” He whispered, winking at you and you rolled your eyes at him.
 You left the dimmed dance floor as soon as the song ended. And you went to grab your clutch and went to get a drink at the bar. You sipped on it lazily, then noticed that Bucky wasn’t by your side yet; annoying you like he had been all night. You turned around, expecting to find him near you somewhere. But you didn’t see him.
You panicked for a moment. But then your phone rang in your clutch. You answered it immediately once you saw that it was Bucky.
“Where the hell are you?” you whisper-yelled through the phone.
He chuckled. “Aww, miss me already? Can’t even leave you for a few minutes? Jesus, you’re so obsessed with me.” He sounded just as cocky as ever. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had that damn smirk on his face right now.
You sighed, less worried now that you knew he was alright. “Bucky, where are you?” you asked, your tone serious.
“We have a problem.” He answered.
“We?”
“Well I do, but you’ll have to fix it. It’s bad.” He spoke again.
You sighed again. “Everyone here already thinks I’m dating you. What could be worse?”
He fake gasped over the phone. “Wow that hurt. Okay but seriously, I spilled my drink all over my shirt. I have another set of clothes in the car. I need your help, please.”
“Where are you?” you asked, clearly annoyed but you had no other choice but to help him.
“Upstairs’ library.”
You ended the call in his face and sighed again. You swallowed the rest of your champagne and asked one of the guards who came with you to go get Bucky’s clothes. You managed to hide from the crowd and get to him in less than a few minutes.
And there he was, standing in the middle of the spacious library. Shirtless, hands in his pockets. And with his signature smirk on.
“That was quick.” He sounded amazed, “Can’t away from me for long, can you babe?” he tilted his head to the side and gave you one of his famous smirks.
You rolled your eyes at him and handed him the shirt and tie on a hanger. “Seriously, get dressed.” You wouldn’t lie, you did check him for a few seconds because sure he was an annoyance, but he had a body to die for. Abs, Adonis belt, a sinful trail of hair starting from his lower stomach all the way down to-
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, stare all you want.” He sounded cocky once he caught you checking him out. He leaned in closer, “I’m all yours.”
You sighed again, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh please. I don’t have time for young, immature boys.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles and turned around to leave. But he stopped you again.
You turned back around to face him as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “What?” you sounded like you were done with him.
He didn’t say anything, he just lifted the tie up to your face and gave you another idiotic but somewhat adorable grin.
Of course, you should’ve known he couldn’t tie his own tie. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he didn’t know how to knot his own shoelaces. You grabbed the black tie and walked up to him, throwing it around his neck and stepped up closer to tie it into a perfect knot. He stared at you the whole time.
“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he pointed out, with a big smile on his pretty face.
You glared at him, then looked back down to focus on getting the knot right. And he spoke up again, “I said, you’re really pretty y-,”
You cut him off. “I heard you the first time. I’m seven years older than you, so quit it.” you clarified, thinking the age gap would be a turn off for him. But it was quite the contrary.
He smirked when he heard that you were older. “That’s hot.” He commented, and honestly you expected no less from him. You glared at him again and he casually wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. So close that his lips almost touched yours.
You tried ignoring how your heart fluttered.
“I have a gun on me right now, I suggest you behave before I do something we both regret.” You spoke monotonously, as always and he just smirked.
“I get all tingly when you threaten me like that, babe.” He was incessant.
You abruptly tightened the tie way too much on purpose and his eyes widened for a second as he struggled to breathe for a moment. You pulled his face closer to yours by tugging on the tie. “Enough.” You whispered, looking him dead in the eyes and making it just a little uncomfortable for him to breathe.
You let go of him after a few seconds and walked away without another word said. And once again, he didn’t shut up when he should have. “You look even better when you’re walking away!” he called out after you and it took you all your willpower not to turn around and punch his perfect, chiseled face.
---
As you expected, Bucky didn’t give up trying to annoy you. Even days after the party, he wouldn’t stop following you around and annoying you at all times. But you had to put up with it, because you knew that the closer he is to you, the better you can watch over him. But oh God was he annoying.
He lazily walked over to the couch where you were sat at in the living room one afternoon. You were replying to some emails for work, and filling in Bucky’s dad at the same time. Of course, through text you made it seem like his son was perfect and well-behaved, when in reality… well, not so.
Bucky sighed dramatically, trying to get your attention but you purposely didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so you kept typing. He groaned and plopped down right next to you on the couch, and you didn’t have to turn your head to look at him to know that he was shirtless again, with that damn smirk on his pretty face.
“I’m bored.” He complained, whining like a child and he was sat so close to you that he was almost leaning on you. He casually placed his hand on your knee and you immediately slapped his hand away.
“Bucky, I’m working.” You said, using your ‘don’t disturb me’ voice. But he didn’t care. He never cared.
“But I’m bored.” He whined again, and took the liberty to just shut your laptop while you were clearly in the middle of some serious work. You didn’t want to waste energy on telling him off so you just closed your eyes, calmed yourself down and turned to face him finally.
He grinned like he won something. “Okay. What do you want?” you asked, keeping a polite face on so as not to give him one of your famous resting bitch faces.
He smirked. “You.” he answered with a wink and you rolled your eyes at him. And he quickly mumbled an apology that he didn’t mean and sat up straight. “Okay, let’s go out. I need to buy some stuff.”
You stared at him with a straight face, and sighed; agreeing. “Fine.” You stand up and walk towards your temporary bedroom.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I need to change.” You replied, without turning around.
He smirked to himself. “You don’t need to look extra pretty for me. I already like you quite a lot.” He didn’t get a reply this time, not even a glare. He just heard you sigh really loudly and slam the door of the bedroom shut really loudly. He chuckled to himself.
 He waited for you at the stairs by the front door. And he had his sunglasses on so you didn’t see the way his eyes widened when he saw you step outside in another outfit; a bit more casual than your usual suits.
Black, long-sleeved turtle neck with a grey colored pleated tennis skirt. You looked… hot.
“Staring is rude.” You sasses once you noticed he was indeed eyeing you up and down.
He smirked as you walked past him and got down the stairs, making your way to the car which was waiting for the two of you.
“Didn’t take you to be a skirt kinda girl. You’re more like a sexy suits and guns kinda girl. I mean, I love it.” he took the liberty to comment on your style.
You stopped right before you got into the driver’s seat and faced him with another fake smile. “Yeah well, it’s practical. You can’t see the handgun in my thigh holster, can you?” you smirked and got into the car.
Bucky took a few seconds to process everything. As if your appearance and you being out of his league wasn’t torture enough, now he had the image of you with a thigh holster permanently in his brain. And oh was that doing things to him. He didn’t even know he liked older, badass women until now.
Now, he was crushing on you harder than he intended to.
-
He was just as audacious and flirty in the car as always. He said he wanted to shop so you took him to the chic and expensive part of the city; where the rich kids usually go to spend mommy and daddy’s money.
Sam and Peter were in the car as well. Because Bucky was unpredictable, and you could always use more security guards around him given he was an absolute man-child. And to annoy you even further, as you walked beside him from store to store, he held your hand in his.
You would always let go of his hand, but he’d reach out to grab it again tighter each time and at some point you gave up and let him hold your hand. Again, you couldn’t have him wander off on his own so the closer he was to you, the better. Sam and Peter followed you two, trying to blend in as much as possible.
Bucky kept carelessly buying everything that fit his aesthetic; shoes, watches, jackets and everything else he didn’t bother checking the price tags of. And while he was being a difficult client, trying on everything and making a mess, you just stood there on your phone – occasionally looking at him and rolling your eyes at how extra he was.
“Do you really need that many shoes and watches?” you complained, stepping out of yet another store and already making your way to the other one. You were getting tired, and you weren’t a women who quite like shopping in general, so Bucky was just too much.
“Hey, don’t judge. I have a rep to maintain, besides I…” Bucky kept talking as you entered the next very expensive looking boutique, your hand still in his but you zoned out completely as you caught the stare of another pair of familiar blue eyes right upon stepping into the building.
Steve.
You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him so unexpectedly. But then again, it wasn’t too surprising because he was a man with expensive taste as well. You lingered around Bucky while he looked around, but all your attention was on Steve – who stared at you. Or maybe he was staring at Bucky more.
Eventually, Bucky grabbed a ton of clothes and went on try them; leaving you behind. Sam and Peter were right outside in the car, but that meant that you were alone inside the spacious store and there was nowhere for you to go as Steve began walking towards you. For a second you debated stepping out and joining Sam and Peter in the car while you waited for Bucky, but it was too late, Steve was too close by the time you thought of it.
You panicked, but you had perfected the calm and composed face so you put that on as he got closer and closer. You knew there was no way you could avoid him now.
“Y/N, hey.” He greeted you with a smile.
You returned him a fake one. “Steve, hello.” You kept your voice steady and monotonous, not letting your irritation and uncomfortableness show.
He stepped closer like he was an old friend, invading your personal space like it was nothing. Then again, he never cared much about you. “How come you’re here? You don’t even like shopping.” He pointed out, surprising you with how he still remembered that little detail about you.
You maintained the fake smile on your face and crossed your arms over your chest out of habit. “Yeah well, people change Steve.”
He chuckled dryly. “Is it that boy you came with? Did he bring about that change?” he asked, clearly jealous and bitter – like he always was.
You smirked. “That’s none of your business.” You were still calm but you could see it in his eyes; his anger slowly building up.
He scoffed. “What, you’re dating young boys now? He looks too young for you, seriously Y/N.” Steve commented, rudely and stepped closer to you – forcing you to take a small step backwards. “You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” he whispered, reaching out to twirl a lock of your with his fingers.
You didn’t know what to say to him, but luckily you heard Bucky’s voice speak up behind Steve.
 Bucky stepped out of the changing room with the piles of expensive jackets and sweaters he intended to buy and he stepped out with a grin, excited to see you roll your eyes at him. He enjoyed annoying you for some weird reasons. But his smiled morphed into a frown the moment he saw another man standing too close to you.
Bucky dumped all the clothes on the couch nearby and stared at the guy. Slightly long hair, facial hair, dressed in a sharp suit; the good looking bastard was talking to you, and Bucky didn’t like it. He approached the two of you, eavesdropping like it’s no one’s business.
“…You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” the guy said, while toying with a lock of your hair.
The audacity, Bucky thought to himself, I haven’t even touched her hair yet.
“She doesn’t need anybody. Now back the fuck away from my girl.” Bucky said out loud, not bothering about whether the workers heard or not. They probably did given they were most likely eavesdropping just like he was.
The guy turned around to face him. Bucky was ready to throw punches but the guy didn’t initiate anything so he kept his calm as well. But on the inside he was raging. He wondered why he was so bothered by some other man talking to you. Maybe, he liked you a lot more than he thought.
The guy scoffed and walked away without another word said, probably choosing not to make a scene. Once he left, Bucky looked at you with worry in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you. And surprisingly, unlike Steve’s proximity, you didn’t mind Bucky’s.
You nodded and refused to look him in the eyes. He understood and grabbed your hand and walked out of the building and into the car.
After an exchange of drivers, all of you made your way home. You were quiet, as always, focusing on the road. But Bucky was quiet as well, which was weird. You wanted to comment on it, but you decided not to. It wasn’t uncomfortable anyways.
A few minutes later, he spoke up.
“That was Rogers, wasn’t it? Dad’s business rival?” he asked, referring to Steve.
You nodded.
“Do you… Is he… how do you… I mean, he’s-,” Bucky struggled to find the right way to ask you about how you know Steve like that. So you cut off his rambling and answered the question he truly had.
“He’s my ex.” You said.
And then the silence was back for a few minutes. Sam and Peter pretended not to be in the car.
Bucky spoke up again, “May I ask why you broke up? It’s none of my-,”
You cut him off and answered again. You had nothing to hide, besides, Bucky sort of saved you back there. “He wanted me to quit my job, and stay at home and have his children. But I wanted to work and settle down later in life so… yeah.” you simplified it as much as you could for him.
He nodded slowly, before scoffing loudly. “Well what an ass! He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone worth being with you would be so fucking proud of what a badass woman you are. And how well you do your job and manage all of this all on your own. I mean, you’re beautiful as hell too and I-,”
You cut him off again, with a genuine smile and shaking your head at him. “Alright, alright enough buttering me up. What do you want?” you asked, smirking.
He gasped dramatically. “What? No, I meant what I said. You’re beautiful and amazing and badass.” He truly meant it. He hadn’t realized he admired you so much. He had never felt like this, so to lighten up the mood he added, “But since you’re asking, can I please go out with my friends tonight, alone?” as expected, he asked with an adorable face.
The kind you have problem saying no to. But you absolutely had to.
“No. Your dad strictly said no parties, no clubbing, no coming home drunk. You’re not in uni anymore, Bucky. When you’re dad gets back, you will join the business and someday, you’ll take over. You need to start acting responsible.” you repeated his dad’s words to him and he almost whined like the spoilt brat he is.
“But it’s not a party.” He argued. “I won’t get drunk.”
You turned to look at him briefly. “What is it then?”
“It’s a thing.” He replied. This man was seriously a 5 year old child.
“What thing?” you asked in your serious voice and he sulked.
“Just a thing.” He said, looking down at his lap. Just looking at him would tell you that he hadn’t heard ‘no’ a lot in his life.
“No. And stop sulking, you’re twenty five years old. Act like it.” you announced your final decision that he’s not allowed to leave the house alone. Definitely not for a party.
And you expected him to listen and not make things more difficult for you. But you should’ve known that Bucky wasn’t one to behave.
 ---
You woke up around 2 a.m. to countless messages, missed calls and emails. Your phone kept going off non-stop so you decided to check it. Some of the other members of the teams kept sending you screenshots of paparazzi pics of Bucky at some illegal car race taking place in the outskirts of the city.
And you were confused for a minute, because hours ago he said he was going to bed. You grabbed your phone tightly in your hand and jumped out of your bed, and ran upstairs. Your rapid footsteps on the stairs seemed to have caught Sam and Peter’s attention as well because they happened to be right behind you when you rushed into Bucky’s empty room.
He wasn’t here. He must’ve snuck out to go to a freaking car race!
“Why didn’t the alarm go off?” you turned to face the two guards and they looked at you sheepishly. Oh this was bad.
“He must’ve turned it off before leaving.” Peter answered, just as worried as you were. All of your jobs could be at stake here. But of course, the spoilt brat didn’t care about any of that.
“I don’t care what it takes but find him. And bring him home. I need to make a few calls and have these pictures taken down before his father finds out. Go, now!” you raised your voice a little and Sam and Peter rushed out of the room. And a few seconds later you heard two cars leaving the property.
Meanwhile, you were worried sick and angry and scared. You grabbed your phone and proceeded to disturb a lot of people who could help you take these pictures down before Mr. Barnes finds out.
You also made a mental note to have a talk with Bucky when he does eventually come back home. You would try not to lose your temper, but it seems like he needs to be given a lecture about all the things he’s not allowed to do. Disabling the alarm and sneaking out for example.
-
You promised you would keep your calm. And that you would talk to him without losing your temper. But the minute he walked into the house, at around 6 a.m., accompanied by Sam and Peter who somehow managed to find him at some beach and dragged him out of a party and now brought him home.
You saw the smirk on his clearly somewhat drunk face and your anger took over.
“Hi beautiful.” He said, smirking and then pointed to both guards, “You sent a search party, looks like you missed me.” He sassed.
And you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your anger could be seen on your face as you marched towards him rapidly, and out of nowhere grabbed him by the collar threateningly. You were livid. And Sam and Peter chose to stay out of this one because oh boy, you weren’t one to mess with when you were angry.
“When the hell will you fucking learn, huh?” you yelled in his face.
He was still sobering up thanks to the coffee Sam got him but even he knew that he had messed up this time by the look on your face. He was surprised at how physical you were. Part of him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but feel a rush either. He was torn between scared of what your anger will entail, but also being turned on a little.
“Where the fuck have you been? Your dad specifically asked for you not to go out on your own because he has not been seeing eye-to-eye with a lot of people lately! And there is a lot more people than you think out there who could be after you just to hurt you and mess with your dad!” you yelled and Bucky was surprised.
He didn’t know this. Neither did Sam and Peter or the rest of the guys. Mr. Barnes trusted you immensely, so he told you some of his dark secrets. This was one of them, which is why he was so strict regarding the rules Bucky had to follow now that he was back home. And this revelation shocked everyone in the room.
You tugged on his collar a little more, and his body jerked forward a little and he was surprised at how physically strong you were. But he still didn’t say a word. “Do you know how many phone calls I had to make to take those pictures down and make sure your dad doesn’t find out? But you don’t care, do you?”
Bucky felt a pang of guilt at your words.
“You don’t care about anyone else but you! You are a spoilt, selfish brat! I know you’re not used to it, but at least try, damn it! Try and care about your dad’s reputation, about our jobs which involves taking care of your ungrateful, stuck up ass!”
He had never felt so guilty before, nor had anyone ever dared to point out his mistakes so vividly like you did just now. And you weren’t wrong, Bucky never cared about the consequences of his actions. Let alone about how his reckless habits could affect someone else.
“Disabling the alarm and sneaking out, look I don’t know who the fuck you think you are Bucky, but you sure as hell aren’t a kid anymore! Fucking act like an adult!” you yelled again.
He hadn’t thought, before sneaking out, that if anything bad does happen; you might lose your job. Not just you, but all the guards and everyone else in your team. And now he was ashamed.
With one last tug, you let go of his collar and panted, trying to control your breathing and anger. You stepped away and pressed the top of the bridge of your nose; already feeling a headache forming due to all the stress. You ran a hand over your face, sighing in relief that he was home but also in annoyance at how childish and careless he could be.
“Now go shower, get some sleep and sober up.” You looked up into his ocean blue eyes which showed nothing but guilt and shame, as they should. “And for fuck’s sake, stop making my life a living hell.” You spat bitterly and turned around to walk away.
You still had a lot to do and take care of today, and this day began with a rough start and you didn’t even get a good night of sleep. And it was barely even 7 a.m. yet, to say you were cranky would be an understatement.
-
You had extra work to do today, given Bucky’s previous rebellious actions. Along with the usual work load you had, which made today extra hectic and your mood was off as well. Your team had dealt with the paparazzi situation wonderfully. Mr. Barnes didn’t know a thing. But that didn’t mean that you were on speaking terms with Bucky.
You saw him less than usual throughout the day. Once in the kitchen, where you were making coffee and he dropped by to try and talk to you but he saw the look on your face and turned back around without saying a word. Then another time when you were in the living room, and he walked by without saying a word. The tension between the two of you was real.
He felt so guilty that it seemed like it was eating him alive. Plus, he hated how your mood was shitty all because of him. He wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. He didn’t know how to, because he never had to. But he knew he should. Because he messed up big time, driven by his arrogance and recklessness.
He hated how you were mad at him. He realized that these past weeks, the highlights of his days has been getting your attention and watch you roll your eyes at him, and replying to his sarcasm with even more sarcasm. Now his day just seemed dry and empty, and he wanted so badly to make things right.
You weren’t exactly ecstatic after yelling at him like that either. Usually your days consisted of shaking your head at Bucky’s silly messages and replying to none of them, or trying so hard not to laugh at his terrible jokes, and allowing him to hold your hand in his whenever you were out. You wouldn’t lie, you did miss his harmless mischief.
But he had to be told off. He was getting way out of hand.
 -
You turned in for the night earlier than usual, and right when you got out of the shower someone knocked on your bedroom door. Forgetting that you were in your bathrobe, you rushed to open the door thinking it might be one of the guards coming to tell you that Bucky had run off again.
But you were somewhat surprised when you found Bucky himself standing on the other side, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You didn’t say anything, you let him feel the awkward silence, and he deserved it. But then it got way too quiet so you spoke up.
“Don’t you own a shirt?” you asked, leaning against the door frame and eyeing his perfect body. He was shirtless again, what’s new.
Bucky tried so hard not to look at your cleavage, but he failed miserably. “I do. I just thought that if I look hot enough, you’d maybe forgive me quicker.” He voiced out his inner thoughts shamelessly.
You sighed. Guess he’ll never grow up, huh?
“Is this how you apologize after almost fucking up all of our lives and jeopardizing my job?” you asked, sarcastically in a monotonous tone for extra effect.
He sighed and looked down. Bad idea because now he got a good view of your legs peeking through the slit of the robe. He was once again, torn – debating between begging for your forgiveness or just say ‘fuck it’ and lean in for that kiss he’s been desperate for since he saw you.
He went with the latter.
Bucky barely gave you time to process anything as he gently pushed you inside the room, shut the door behind him, wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body closer to his as he placed his mouth on yours.
You were surprised, and you knew it was wrong, but you didn’t hate it. He kissed you feverishly, with ardor and passion and everything else he felt for you. He poured it all out through the kiss. Like he was coaxing you into forgiving him.
Bucky’s mouth moved perfectly with yours, his arms tightened their grip around your waist and your hands slid into his hair. You tugged on it gently as he started walking the two of you backwards, towards the bed.
He laid you down on the mattress and climbed on top of you, still not breaking the kiss. And you had to admit, he was a great kisser. He nibbled on your lower lip before pushing his tongue past your lips; gently stroking the top of your mouth while his hand slowly undid the knot at the front of your robe. Once it loosened enough, he reached out to grab your left breast; squeezing it and making you whine under him.
He smirked through the kiss. He had been waiting for this for way too long and now he finally had you. Bucky further unwrapped the robe from around your body and toyed with your breasts while he kissed you deeply. And when one of his hands started slowly making its way down your body and between your legs, that’s when you pulled away from the kiss and stared into his eyes; breathless from his kiss.
Bucky panicked. What if you pushed him off now? Or worse, what if he had angered you even more?
But instead, you smirked and pushed him down; flipping the two of you around so that now you straddled him. You settled comfortably around his waist, your robe barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust.
You leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “You put me in a lot of trouble today, you know that?” you whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently with each word and his heart raced.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” he mumbled, reaching up to try and press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly.
“Sorry doesn’t make it better.” you spoke sternly. “You’re still a spoilt brat.”
Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist; your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” he sassed and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating as you reached out to slowly traced his mouth with your finger.
He bit his lip as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs; so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body.
“You need to learn how to do as you’re told sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips back up his body, making him squirm just a little and you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Understood? Or do you need to be taught?” your tone sounded a lot more stern that you intended.
Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He nodded rapidly, trying to hide his smirk as the look on your face let him know that he was in for a ride. “Think I need to be taught.” He whispered, looking into your eyes to find lust, and hunger – same as his.
You smiled at his answer. Of course he did. “Very well then.” And without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “Keep them there.” You ordered.
But as usual, he didn’t have the habit of listening so he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.
He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the black tie on your bedside table, his smile faded but he felt all tingly and his body throbbed in anticipation.
You grabbed the tie you had carelessly thrown there a day or two ago and carefully tied his wrists together. The cool, silky fabric against his skin made his heart skip a beat. You then secured his wrists to the part metal part wooden headboard. Your breasts were right in his face as you did so but he didn’t mind it.
Once done, you straightened your back to get a good look at him; beneath you, tied up and lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his famous puppy dog eyes. But no matter what, he wasn’t getting out of this so easily this time.
Oh no, you were planning on messing with him and toying with him until he can’t physically take it. And that’s exactly what you did.
You took off his sweatpants, and underwear then finally your robe. And as you did, his cock erected even more; standing proud and tall. Bucky’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet.
“Think you can always have your way, don’t you?” your voice barely above a whisper as you settle on his right thigh. You bit your lip the minute you felt his warm, smooth skin press against your wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine.
Bucky watched you ride his thigh slowly; lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.
You pressed both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin and he bit his lip as he watched you; breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself cum.
He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting up a show just for him. He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste.
Bucky’s cock was leaking embarrassingly by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.  
“Please…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth.
You smirked as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Please..” you mocked him, chuckling. “You’ve always had things handed to you on a platter. You’ve never known patience, or how to ask nicely, have you?” you smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue. “Well you will today.”
You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost whimpered as he closed his eyes and relished your touch. He felt thick and hard, and big. You lazily stroked his length, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly; leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked on Bucky’s skin around the base of his throat; making him shudder in pleasure and moan sinfully.
You pulled away after a while to look at him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and with his lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth; completely under your mercy. You smirked at how pre cum started dripping down his cock, and you knew that he was getting more and more desperate by how he kept murmuring please…please…please.
“Come on now, ask nicely.” You teased, knowing damn well you wouldn’t let him cum so easily.
Bucky groaned and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock into your hand but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of his length. So he just let you toy with him however you liked, he took whatever you gave him.
“Please… please make me cum.” He whispered, voice strained and weak.
You chuckled as you felt him twitch in your grasp. “No.” you simply said and released him, leaving him right on the edge. He was still hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gently kisses on each side and you heard him groan and squirm.
You smirked and kissed your way up his body. Eventually making your way up his body so you were straddling his face. Your hips wrapped around his head as he looked up at you. None of you minded the intimate position, he was just happy to finally touch you again. Bucky looked up at you with hunger in his eyes. And you smirked as you lowered your wet core to his mouth.
Bucky wasted no time, his mouth latched onto your clit and his tongue took in whatever you gave him. He worked his mouth at your entrance like his life depended on it. Sucking and licking and shoving his tongue past your wet folds, he ate you out like there’s no tomorrow, occasionally moving his head side to side.
You moaned out loud, throwing your head back as one of your hands held the head board for support and the other tangled in Bucky’s hair. His tongue worked wonders against your sensitive clit, making you feel all tingly and warm as you dripped all over his mouth.
“You taste so good…” he murmured against your wet folds and you very gently rolled your hips against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lips and chin; he licked a hot, thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, with his teeth grazing it until he had you moaning loudly against him.
Your hips bucked against his face as he licked each and every drop of what you gave him. He closed his eyes and hummed loudly at your taste, making you whine and for a moment, you forgot that you weren’t supposed to be giving him the satisfaction. He was just that good and skilled with his tongue. Bucky adored the sounds you made above him. He even forgot that he was himself, throbbing with need. He was just hell bent on making you cum all over his tongue.
He had been fantasizing about this, about having your thighs wrapped around his head and to taste you and make you cum all over his tongue. And you soon realized that you were letting him have his way, so you pulled away quickly.
Bucky’s eyes shot open, “No please… I want more,” he complained, whining as you moved away from his face and kissed your way down his body again. And he was giving you the puppy dog eyes again. You almost gave in but you weren’t entirely done with him yet.
He whimpered as you slowly kissed your way down his body again; down his neck, across his bare chest and all the way to his thick, erected cock. Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. And he moaned out loud, mindlessly. You placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip.
You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked handsome, completely at your mercy.
The gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. His breathy moans, his soft gasps and the way he whimpered at your touch – it made you feel even more powerful than usual. He moaned and panted; murmuring your name over and over again, begging you to speed up already and make him cum. Bucky relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often.
He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth; licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. Bucky moaned, his voice cracking; making him sound weak and desperate.
He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.
 Bucky lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him; making him swear under his breath and groan. You lean in and caress his face, looking him deep in his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight; all muscular and strong, and handsome but tied to your bed at your mercy. You chuckled and leaned in to bite his lip, tugging on it as you pulled away, surely making him lose his mind. 
You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time. Just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you and watched him whine and smirked at his helplessness. 
“Come on, ask nicely.” You teased. “Beg.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth; lips hovering above his parted ones. You leaned in to kiss his open mouth carelessly. And in that moment, he was ready to do anything for you, to please you.
“Y/n… please...” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again; he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it.
At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you; messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. You messed with him for as long as you could, and Bucky got loud, very loud; growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 
Just you. Only you. He was yours; yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.
You eventually gave in; seeing he was physically worn out. And you fucked his brains out, making him cum in no time. Your walls clenched around him; gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely at your mercy, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast after you were done with him. You kissed his chest, murmuring how good he was.
“Now, will you finally learn how to behave and do as you’re told?” you gripped his jaw gently, and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke. His hands were still tied, and sore and they were itching to just reach out and touch you. 
Bucky nodded frantically. You smiled.
-
He stayed in your bed long after you two were done. He was clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree, shamelessly using your bare chest as a pillow. Your hand ran lazily into his hair and you smiled at how warm he felt. Sure, he was a tall and muscular man but he snuggled up to you like a child. You could feel his warm puffs of air hit your skin each steadily. You thought he was asleep but then he spoke up.
“Are you awake?” he asked, voice groggy and strained; deep.
“No.” you answered and waited for his reaction. And a few seconds later he lifted his head up to glare at you. You giggled at the face he made. After giving you a dirty glare, he got back to using your breasts as a pillow.
“Will you go out with me?” he spoke up again, asking you out.
“That’s not appropriate. I’m your dad’s employee.” you were starting to feel the day’s fatigue take over you slowly. You yawned right after speaking.
“Yeah? And what about what just happened? Is that appropriate?” he asked.
You sighed. “Go to sleep Bucky.” Truth is, you didn’t know what this was. But you wouldn’t lie, despite being annoying, it was hard not to love him.
He didn’t say anything. He pulled you closer and got on top of you, pinning you down on the bed this time. “Do you not like me?” he asked.
“I do! Get off, you’re heavy!” you giggled as he put all of his body weight on you.
“Then take responsibility for your actions. You stole my heart and now I’m in love with you.” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone which made you laugh. “Look I’m hot and cute, it’s hard being both. I am smart,” he was listing and as soon as he said smart, you raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “I have a university degree to prove it, okay?” he resumed listing his qualities. “I’ll keep you away from crazy exes, and I will get you a puppy if you w-,”
You cut him off with a kiss. He sure was adorable. “Okay, okay stop.” You mumbled against his lips. “Your dad’s gonna kill me if we date.” You groaned thinking about what would happen if Mr. Barnes finds out.
Bucky kissed you deeply, then pulled away to look at you. “No he won’t. Dad likes you. Even if he tries to, I’ll protect you. I’m very strong as you can see.” He mumbled, pushing his face into the crook of your neck and making you giggle given you were ticklish.
“A big baby is what you are.” You corrected him. He chuckled.
“Please just give me a chance. I really, really like you.” he said, sincerely.
You gave it a thought. You liked him too. “Okay.” You said. He pulled away and smiled down at you. “I like you too.” You spoke again and Bucky leaned in to kiss you again.
Little did you know that giving him a chance would end up being the best decision you ever made…
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threeletterslife · 4 years
Text
05 | Redefining Destiny
→ previous | next
→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.
→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13
→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au
→ warnings: profanity, mentions of murder, torture and sex
→ wordcount: 3.5k
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You got in bed at a record time of 8:00 p.m., but you just couldn't fall asleep. Usually, on Friday nights, you go out with your Bible study group and have some nighttime tea while discussing a new verse. Today, however, you had to cancel for some alone time with God. And maybe try to catch up on some sleep and finally get rid of those hideous dark circles under your eyes.
But you are wide awake. You've tried everything. You spent an hour closing your eyes, hoping you would drift off to sleep. You even counted sheep up to three thousand. But you're still awake.
Sighing, you flip your covers off of your body, sliding out of your bed. You're alone in the dorm right now, with your roommates probably out and about in notorious frat parties. There's really nothing much to do. Well, you suppose you can study, but you don't really want to do that. Law is incredibly tedious for you, and every test you've taken so far, you'd crammed for it the night before to have minimal contact with the subject. But, it's a bit of a secret that you don't care about it.
Apparently, you're a law prodigy—and maybe your IQ is pretty high and your memorization and comprehension skills are through the roof. But pursuing law was obligatory for you; it wasn't a choice that you willingly made.
You feel suffocated in your small dorm room (that still smells a bit musty for whatever reason—must be that dang boy Yoojung brought in last night). And you've always connected to God better in the open—with no walls surrounding you and the natural air caressing your face.
I'll get out to the rooftop, then.
It's the perfect space for you to sit down and have some time alone, be introspective and pray for a little while. Maybe you'll get some answers from Him as to why it's so hard for you to fall asleep these days. There are only a few lights in the rooftop of the dorm building, so the darkness will surely help you with your thoughts. You'll maybe spend less than ten minutes there, so you don't bring a jacket with you. Besides, the rooftop has a few patio heaters you hope will be working when you get up there.
In your short sleeves and shorts, you quickly make your way to the rooftop, climbing stair after stair to reach it. When you finally push open the heavy metal door that opens up to the roof, you breathe a sigh of relief. The night air is cooler than you expected, which makes you shudder in your lack of warmth. You hear the heavy door slam shut behind you as you venture forth the rather dark rooftop, crossing your arms over your chest to preserve body heat.
The patio heaters seem to be off and so are all the lights. The only thing that seems to give you the tiniest sliver of light is the full moon up in the sky, but it's not bright enough to discern anything within five feet of you. So you have to squint to maneuver yourself around the dozens of couches and patio chairs spread across the ground. You're just about to collapse on a beanbag and catch your breath after the rather tortuous stair-climbing session when you hear a loud:
"Is someone there?"
You freeze. Oh no. Ohhhhh no.
How on Earth is this possible?
That was no-doubt, Jungkook's voice. Why he was up on the rooftop at night, alone, with all the lights off, you had no idea. But you know you have to leave. Your plans might have to be put on hold for now. There's no way you're staying up here, in the dark, with Jeon Jungkook.
Quickly, you stand up, creeping back towards the entrance and trying to heave open the heavy door. No use. It won't budge. You try again with both hands, putting all your strength into your arms. But the door won't pull open. You begin to panic, tugging on the handle as the door rattles against the wall.
"God, you can't even open that by yourself?"
You whirl around to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungkook. He must've heard your desperate attempts to leave.
"I'd like to see you try," you bite back.
"Fine," he says. "Step aside, then."
"Gladly."
You can see the strain in Jungkook's arm muscles as he tries to force the door open but also to no avail.
"Oh, c'mon, Jeon. I thought you were stronger than that," you snort.
He grunts, "Shut up," as he tries again. No success. He whirls around to you with an angry look on his face. "What the fuck did you do?"
"What do you mean?" you say. "I didn't do anything!"
"You made the door get stuck!" he exclaims. "Now we're fucking stuck here. On a Friday night. Where everyone else is getting dumb drunk and having sex. God, now I'm stuck with the biggest virgin on planet Earth. What are you even here for? To pray or something?"
"It's not my fault!" you retort. "And as a matter of fact, yes, I came here to pray!"
"Why??" Jungkook groans in frustration. "Why is it always you?"
"I'd like to ask the same thing," you say, shivering when a strong gust of wind raises goosebumps on your bare skin. "Why does this keep happening to us?"
He eyes your lacking attire and rolls his eyes. "Don't ask me. I would've fixed it if I knew the reason."
"Fine. Why are you here, then? If you wanted to go on a Friday night rampage?"
Jungkook ignores you completely, walking away from you and fiddling with the patio heaters in an attempt to turn it on. "Damn," he curses when he realizes they're more or less broken.
"I asked," you repeat as another cold gust of wind makes you take a step back, "why are you here?"
The man jerks up to stare into your eyes. "None of your business," he says.
"Jeez. Sorry for intruding," you say sarcastically. "We might freeze to death up here at this rate."
"Well, I'm planning on living," Jungkook scoffs as he sits down on a plush couch and taps the spot right next to him. "Come here."
"What?" you huff. "If you think for one second that I'm going to—"
"It's for warmth, idiot," Jungkook says. "Fine. If you wanna die of hypothermia, that's not my problem."
You pretend to think about his offer for a bit before finally settling down next to him. But you have to admit, he's warm, and it heats up your skin, blocking away the cold night air. Jungkook casually drapes an arm around you, making you flinch.
"If you try anything..." you mutter threateningly.
Momentarily, under the dim moonlight, you can see that Jungkook looks offended, but he's able to hide it immediately. "You're not my type," he retorts. "You were shaking because you were cold so I'm helping you. I'm mean but I'm not that mean..."
"Fine," you say curtly before leaning against him, cheeks heating up just slightly. You're the epitome of awkward as you shift your legs so that they're not digging into Jungkook's. It's kinda sad how little contact you've had with males, but for some weird reason... this feels familiar. It's silent as the two of you melt in each other's warmth. You might dare say this was the most peaceful you've even been with your so-called nemesis.
"Hey, what did you do with the sunflower seeds?" Jungkook suddenly asks you. "The ones... um, I gave you at the festival or something."
"Oh," you say, "I planted them."
"Really?" Jungkook says as he turns to you with wide eyes and a small smile on his lips. "I thought you threw them away."
"Why would I do that?" you mumble. "They were a present... And besides, it would've been a waste of perfectly good sunflowers seeds."
Jungkook nods as his hand softly grazes your shoulder. "It's good," he mutters, "that you planted them..." You nod but you don't answer, mind too occupied with the close proximity of the man next to you. It's crazy how you're letting him, the one you thought you hated, hold you close in his arms. It doesn't seem like you to be this... welcoming. But you just can't shake off this weird feeling of familiarity. This weird feeling that you've somehow done this with him before.
Freaking déjà vu.
"You know," Jungkook suddenly says almost making you jump. "It's because of the moon."
"What?" you frown. "What's because of the moon?"
"You asked me earlier why I was here," Jungkook says slowly. He avoids eye contact with you as he answers, "I'm saying that it's because of the moon."
"Do you have some sort of penchant for full moons?" you laugh. "Or are you into space and all that jazz?"
Jungkook snorts. "I could never with astronomy. It's kinda personal, I guess." He shrugs. But you can tell the sudden shift in his aura—he's calmer, sadder. As if he's mourning a loss of some sort. He looks like he needs someone to lean on, someone to listen to his troubles. You've never seen him look this small before; usually, he's got a smug look on his face and refuses to back down on any argument. But he looks different now. Forlorn. Lonely—though you're next to him. He seems to silently howl to the moon, drowning in solitude and pleading for a friend, company, anything.
Sure he may be your enemy, but no one deserves to be unheard.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" you ask him carefully, treading the waters. "I'm a good listener."
Jungkook laughs under his breath. "I..." he starts. "I dunno. You gonna start a rumor about me again?"
"I only did that because you screwed me over first!" you protest. "And I regret doing that. You probably didn't deserve it."
"Are you trying to apologize to me?" Jungkook asks. But before you can answer, he speaks again. "Well, I'd like to say I'm sorry too. You know, for nearly giving you a hemorrhage."
You laugh. "In that case, I'm sorry too, I guess."
"You guess?"
"I don't know, Jungkook, you're being weirdly nice today."
"Or maybe I was just always this nice but you never gave me a chance."
"Hm," you hum. "I guess so... But I promise, Jungkook, that whatever you tell me here, today, I'll keep it a secret between the two of us."
"You don't really hit me as a liar," Jungkook hums. "So maybe you're telling the truth." He shrugs. "But I've never told this to anyone... Not that I have anyone to tell it to."
"You're a smart guy... And you're not too bad-looking either. If you tried, you could've made a lot of friends," you say.
"I'm not looking for friends," he simply answers. "I'm here at this university for one thing and one thing only. To become a paralegal."
"So the rumors are wrong?" you say.
"The rumors?"
You scratch your head awkwardly. "I mean... there's a lot of crazy stuff about you flying about campus..."
"Like what?"
"Um... like you sleep around with girls... a lot. But never with the same girl twice... And, uh, that you're 'freaky,' which aren't my words, but everyone else's," you say. "And that you probably picked up that habit from America..."
Jungkook scoffs. "I mean, I guess that's true to a degree... Maybe I do have a crazy sex drive. It's a habit that won't die I guess."
"What did America do to you?" you snort. "That place is such a culture clash from around here."
"I was born in Korea, but my parents thought it would be better if they sent me away abroad to pursue my studies," he says. "I spent so much of my childhood there... made some friends, got involved in crazy groups. Learned a few bad things... yeah. That's what America did to me. I came back here to get out of there."
"Were you continuing your American studies in Korea?"
"Oh God, no," Jungkook says. "I dropped out of college in America. But... I guess some bad shit happened... I didn't come to Korea initially to study. I came for closure, I guess. But then I got interested in law."
"Oh... wow," you breathe. "Just, wow."
"My best friend was murdered," Jungkook blurts out. "My closest friends were murdered in front of my face back in America."
Murdered???
You jerk your head towards him, jaw slack and unclosing with disbelief. You notice that he trembles when he says this, and you can hear the tears in his voice. His hand shakes against your shoulder, and without even thinking, you automatically place your hand on top of his.
"They were kicked and tortured and I couldn't do anything but watch in the dark, in the sidelines," he begins to sob. "I couldn't bring myself to abandon them... But I had to. My best friend, Taehyung, he told me I had to leave to save myself. It was so selfish of me. But I left. I didn't even call for help. I left."
The words tumble out of Jungkook, almost overwhelming you with the cruel story—the story of his past.
"Oh my gosh," you breathe. "Jungkook..." You've never seen him this broken in your life. He looks so hurt, so miserable that for the first time, you feel sorry for him. You've heard about violence in the states—maybe more than you'd like. And Jungkook was just an indirect victim of it.
"Now I want to go into law," the broken man continues. "Criminal law. I need to right the wrongs. For Taehyung. For my other friends who died that night."
"Gosh, Jungkook..."
"I've never gone into this much detail about this, Y/N," Jungkook says. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for bombarding you with all of this... I don't know. For some reason, it felt right to tell you all of that. It's stupid, I know."
"I don't mind, Jungkook," you say. "You needed to vent to someone." And besides, you think. I'm not that surprised, internally. Almost as if I heard of this same story coming out of his mouth before. What is it about this man and déjà vu? "I'm sorry for all of your losses," you tell him. You mean it, too. "You're strong, pushing through like this. You know that? Hey, I even know a Bible verse just for you."
"Really?" Jungkook smiles. "I'm not well-acquainted with the Bible or God. But I'm willing to listen."
"Well, it goes something like this," you say, closing your eyes and repeating the lines by memory and by heart. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go—"
"Joshua 1:9," Jungkook whispers.
You whip your head around to face him. "How did you know that?"
Jungkook looks surprised at himself. "I actually have no idea. Maybe I heard it somewhere before? I dunno."
You smile. "Well, you should keep that verse in mind when you're in the slumps," you tell him. "It can help a lot."
"Thanks, Y/N," Jungkook says, cocking his head as he looks at you curiously. "So," he sighs deeply, "you know my motive for law school... And we're in the mood of spilling our darkest secrets... So, can I ask yours?"
You snort. "I don't really have a motive," you confess. "If I have to be really honest, I don't really care for law."
"Then..."
"Family rep," you say. "I come from a very long line of lawyers. So it was pretty much predestined for me to study law at this school."
"I'm sorta surprised, Y/N," Jungkook says. "I always thought the law prodigy was in love with her subject."
"I guess you never really know until you talk to her, right?" you say. "Besides, you're the first person I've ever told about this... My parents would flip if they found out, but I've always wanted to become an elementary school teacher. Kinda too late to start that now, though."
"It's not that late," Jungkook says. "You should pursue what you want."
"It's not as easy as you think," you say. "My devout Christian parents would literally have a heart attack if I told them I was going to break family tradition. They might even cut me off like they cut my sister off for going to music school." You nervously twist the purity ring around your finger. "If they found me here, you know, so close to you, they'd literally pass out on the spot. I'm not really supposed to be in your arms right now."
Jungkook laughs. "Yet you're not leaving."
"I'm not," you say. "My parents are strict, so sometimes I can let myself break their impossible rules."
"You should do what you want," Jungkook mutters as he subconsciously tugs you closer to his chest. "At this age, you should know what's good for yourself. Follow your own dreams."
"Really?" you say. "Thanks." You look up at the man to smile at him, and he stares right back at you, smiling as well. The two of you stay that way, in silence, looking into each other's eyes as heat flood through your cheeks. Jungkook pulls away first.
"God," he mutters. "This whole conversation would've been better if we were drunk."
"Well, then we wouldn't have remembered it," you say.
"I know," he answers. "That's the point."
You laugh. "I don't even know if I hate you that much anymore, Jungkook."
"Really?"
"I mean..." you sigh, trailing off. "You're a nice guy, JK—can I even call you that? I can see it now. I have no idea why I hated you so much."
"Hated? Past tense?"
You smile. "I told you. I don't really think I hate you as much as before."
"Okay, good. I'm glad that the feeling is mutual," Jungkook answers. "If we die out here, just know that I take back all of the insults I ever told you."
You giggle, shaking your head as you blow on your numb fingers. "You really think we're going to die here?"
"It's fucking cold, Y/N. We could totally die," Jungkook says, hugging you close to him. "It's a good thing I got my secrets off of my chest. They'll die with us."
You laugh. "Same for me too!"
Looking up, you can see Jungkook staring fondly at you again. Once more, his presence is so familiar, so calming for you. And his body pressing against you feels natural. With him, you don't feel uncomfortable at all. He's so close to your face that you can smell the hints of what's left of the spearmint cologne he probably put on this morning. Wow, is all you can think. He's much more stunning up close.
You have no idea why on Earth you had hated this sweet man with doe eyes. He, though at times a bit argumentative (but what kind of law student isn't?), is sweet, thoughtful and strangely caring. You feel like you know him much better now, and the fact that you know his darkest secret makes you want to stay by his side to give him a hand sometimes. So he's just a little bit less lonely.
And with Jungkook, you almost feel so much more... loved? Was that the right word? With him, you feel a feeling you cannot describe. A feeling that you're sure cannot blossom from just one good conversation. But it did, anyways. It's inexplicable, but he feels right.
He has the prettiest doe eyes that almost call you into their depths. You're staring into them without realizing.
Until—
"Woah, holy shit, am I interrupting something?"
The loud voice shatters everything.
The door to the rooftop entrance is opened and some guy—a freshman, perhaps—is holding it open, with an amused look on his face.
You and Jungkook scramble apart from each other, you particularly red in the face.
"Um, no!" you shriek too loudly. "I, uh, no, we got stuck and we were cold!" you protest, rubbing your hands against your bare arms. "We didn't do anything. Right, JK?"
A wave of déjà vu hits Jungkook.
Right, JK?
Right, Tae.
He struggles to find words on his tongue, and gets out, "Right, Y/N," just in time before you ask if a cat got his tongue.
From there, you and Jungkook awkwardly part, which was better than your usual animosity-filled partings. Jungkook bids you a goodnight's sleep and you bid him one as well. He slips into his bed that night, heart beating wildly in his chest and thoroughly confused.
It's just too much, he thinks.
Right, JK?
Right, Tae.
Right, Y/N.
There's no way... But there might be. Jungkook doesn't know for sure.
He falls asleep soon after and isn't awoken by any vicious nightmares throughout the whole night. The whole time, in dreamland, he wonders if you'll be his new Kim Taehyung.
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“Damn, damn, damn, double damn!”
Fun fact: This was originally going to be angsty but I decided to save that idea for later. So have some worried Jack who’s stressing about a ‘first date’ with Davey.
I added one of my favourite ideas about a reincarnation au for like a paragraph lol.
Oh yeah before I forget. #LetCrutchieSayFuck
Crutchie grinned as he watched Jack toss around clothes. 
"Damn, damn, daMN, DOUBLE DAMN IT!"
He chuckled, watching his brother rush around. "Someone's nervous." 
Jack jumped, spinning around, clutching a shirt in his hand, pants in the other. "No shit I'm nervous! I've actually got a date with David!" 
"David? Damn you really are nervous." He laughed, shaking his head before entering the room. Despite his teasing, he was willing to help out his older brother considering the other looked five seconds away from breaking down. "Alright...I'll help you pick out ya clothes. Just relax okay? You'll do fine you moron."
"I don't want to stuff up! What if I do something stupid and scare him off?"
"Jack...He's dealt with your bullshit this long and it just so happens he's taking you on a date so fucking chill." Mockingly, he pat his cheek. "I see you need my help. So where are you two even going?"
"The library..."
"Heh, a nerdy date huh?" Crutchie paused as he looked between pants. "Hang on...This is a date right? Not just studying or working on a project?"
"Umm.."
"Jackson Kelly-Larkin you fucking moron. You're stressing over going to the library to study and you're acting like it's a date?"
"H-Hey! Normally, it's a group thing and he invited me and me alone! He was blushing when he asked Charlie!"
"What if he was worried about coming off strange?" Crutchie smirked, knowing full well that Davey had asked his brother on a date. Hell, the other had been texting him, freaking out about the fact that Jack had agreed. "Look. Just act normal you moron. You'll do fine. So take deep breaths. Everything will be fine. I promise." 
"But-"
"No buts Jack! Everything will be perfectly okay so just chill out." He slapped him over the back of the head before going back to sorting through the massive pile of clothes, putting the paint-stained ones aside. "Right. Go grab your shoes."
"Which ones?"
"Just grab whatever ones you feel like wearing. As long as it's not covered in paint considering you get that everywhere."
Without protesting, Jack left to grab his shoes, knowing better than to argue with the blond. 
As he waited, Crutchie scrolled through his phone, chuckling at the latest message. 
Davey's freaking out. How's your moron doing?
Being a fucking moron and throwing clothes around. I sent him to grab his shoes so I can help better.
Davey legit pulled out a formal top earlier. They're just going to the damn library, not some fucking restaurant. 
What, like you and Kath?
Oh, fuck off Charlie.
Whatever you say, Sarah.
"Who ya texting?" 
"Hmm? Oh, just saw Race did something stupid over in Brooklyn."
"Again? How the fuck does Spot put up with him?"
"Who knows." With a grin, he tucked his phone away before he went back to matching pants to shirts, glad to see that Jack at least was calming down. He had honestly never seen him so nervous for a date and that just confirmed in his mind that Davey was special to Jack. That and he had been putting up with Jack annoying him for a while and somehow hadn't lost his mind. 
"What do I do Crutch? He's fucking amazing and I don't want to stuff this up...He's different from everyone else and I mean it this time. I'm actually scared...I don't wanna scare him away but freaking him out..."
"For once, shut up. You won't scare him off. After you two are done at the library, see if he wants to grab a coffee or some shit. Just act normal for god's sake."
"Don't use the lord's name in vain you gremlin!"
"Since when were you the good religious boy of the family? That's meant to be Race."
"Please. That asshole isn't anywhere near being a good Christan boy." Jack snorted, shaking his head as he remembered each time Race didn't follow the bible. He knew that didn't make him any less Christan though. He just enjoyed teasing him but always made sure not to push too far, seeing how it was one of his fondest memories involving his birth parents. "It's like he looked at the bible and said Fuck you. I'm gonna do everything you tell me not to. 'm surprised that cross o' his hasn't burst into flames."
The two looked up at the sound of giggling, shaking their heads at the sight of their younger twin brothers, staring in. 
"Jackie's got a date!"
"Jack's wants to kiss Davey!" 
"He's gonna get cooties!" 
"Yeah and he'll give them to you two if you don't leave!" Crutchie waved his hands towards them, watching as Mike and Ike just giggled and rushed off to do gods knows what. 
Jack sighed as they left, shaking his head with a soft smile. "They'se dorks." He couldn't help but wonder how long the two had been watching him worry about what to wear.
"Yeah, and they get that from you and Race. Out of the three of us, I'm the most mature one. Once again, the middle child is the best child." 
"Aw shut up." He tossed a pillow at Crutchie, grinning as the other boy laughed and leaned to the side to dodge it.
"You love me. Now put these on." He tossed a shirt and pants at Jack before leaving the room. Jack shook his head, getting changed while listening to the familiar light sound of his brother's crutches tapping the floor as he went to go check on their twin brothers in hopes they weren't making a mess. 
Quickly getting changed, he nodded to himself, inspecting every small inch. Once again, Crutchie had pulled through and found an outfit that worked for a date yet seemed causal enough that no one would suspect he had been panicking. Sure, there were some small dots of paint on his jeans but it was basically his brand at this point so it wasn't really a surprise. Taking a few minutes to debate with himself, he quickly scooped up his cap, smiling softly as he looked at it.  While some people looked through thrift shops and found caps like his, Jack's had actually been passed down through the years, each owner leaving a small mark. One of them was a carefully stitched name of Jack Kelly. He didn't really know much about that Jack considering they lived hundreds of years apart but he still felt a connection with him.
All he really knew was what had been printed in the papers. He chuckled softly, putting it on. Specs liked to speak of reincarnation, saying he had felt a natural connection to them all and the picture of the newsies on strike just solidified that thought considering all their names were listed in on the front page. Jack couldn't lie...He felt a connection to them all as well but he didn't want to say it out loud for the fear of sounding cheesy, though he suspected some of them knew. 
"Thinkin' bout the past are we?" 
Jack blinked, looking over at the reappearance of his brother. "Eh, not really. Just wondering if it goes with the outfit...Like a good luck charm you know?"
"Mmmm sure." Grinning, Crutchie shook his head. "I thought you'd want to wear it so I made sure it matches." 
"You know me too well Charlie..."
"I also know if you keep staring at yourself in the mirror and freaking yourself out, you'll be late so you better hurry up." 
Panicking, Jack checked his phone before swearing. "Fuck you're right. You're fine with watching the kids right?"
"Jack, it's going to be fine. Unlike you, the twins and Smalls actually listen to me most of the time. So, don't worry about us okay? Just go have fun. Everything will be fine."
Brushing off the teasing insult, Jack rushed off after giving his brother a quick hug, shouting a goodbye over his shoulder, only to bolt back inside to grab his car keys, quickly running back outside, ignoring Crutchie's laughter. 
Taking deep breaths, he drove himself to the library, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "It's no big deal...We're just studying and I'll see if he wants coffee or something later. It's just studying...That's it...Sweet Jesus give me strength." 
Time passed by too quickly and he soon found himself parked next to a familiar car. Adjusting his cap, he slipped out of his car, heading inside, praying to everything out there that he'd get a boyfriend by the end of the day. 
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Hii,
Today I'll be talking about my favourite topicccccccc that isshh JIMMMMINNN. I'll be talking only about JIMIN here. I seriously have hugeee amount of respect towards him. I don't know him personally and I'll never know him too. But I'm glad I got to know his existence. Aawwww he's such a cutie pie🥺. But that's not the real reason for me to admire him.
Yeshhh!!! He is called cute, pretty, sexy, mochi, etc etc☺️. I don't know howa person can be cute as well as sexy. And he's so handsome😍. He has got ethereal beauty. In addition, I feel he is a perfect example for sincerity + hard work + dedication. He was and is always tough on himself. As he himself said, he doesn't believe in predetermined fate concept. Because he doesn't wait for the fate to create magic for him rather he himself creates his own magic. Just imagine joining a group just 6 months before debut with not knowing much about singing. Think about the challenges he might have faced.
~ completely new people.
~ need to work on your skills.
~ need to work on your dynamics with your bandmates.
~ need to take of your studies.
~ fighting over your insecurities and many more.
It's too much for a teenager to endure. He has successfully overcome everything and has conquered millions of hearts now but it really pricks my heart when I get to know these things about Jimin (I know every successful person have their own shares of struggles in life and I respect it but Jimin holds special place in my heart).
I also remember him telling in a interview, how hard he tried, how he thought he might not able to make it to the group, and his promise to his father of making him proud which he has fulfilled, how he said to his parents that everyday he has to pay a price for making new friends. Those compromises, sacrifices, he made, hardships he endured, everything made him what he is now. He is truly a inspiration for everyone. There's a reason afterall why he is called as rookie's bible, idol's idol.
Despite everything, he always have his cuteeeee and chweeeet smile. Oh my god!!! He's so adorableeee. I just love him. I respect him as a person with such adorable personality. To be honest, he is one of the mature members in BTS. He truly is.
I personally find JIMIN very attractive not just his looks and charms but also his personality(JIMIN effect is no joke). He is not less savage than SUGA to be honest😂. This guy can be sassy sometimes. At the same time, he is too kind hearted. To be honest, my personality is kind of mixture of JIMIN and JUNGKOOK and I'm a Virgo, so I can relate to them in more personal level.
Caring JIMIN SSHII
If you ask me why jimin is your bias, then my answer would be this "BECAUSE HE IS AN ANGEL" Or should I just say he is a rare specie? As I said earlier, I have similar personality and sometimes I can really relate to his words and actions. Coming back to the original point, yes!! he's an angel 😇 and I can give you a day lecture if you deny it😂. He is so beautiful inside out.
Jimin not only consoles/comforts people but he knows exactly how to console/comfort them. And that is the reason why he stands out the most for me. Different people find comfort in different things. For example, some might get comfort by hugs, back hugs and some just by sweet words and some just by someone's presence. And again some people like me find comfort in ourselves. We don't want anyone around us. We just want to cry and vent out our emotions and come back with a huge smile. And this guy knows this. So he treats everyone (not literally everyone only his near and dear ones) the way they want to be treated. Hahaha not everytime. Sometime he treats the way he wants to treat people which is pretty common considering the fact that he's a human being too.
If you observe he knows how to deal with and every member. For example,
During BV4, Jimin and Suga had to climb to the top of the mountain, and we all know how interested Suga is in activities like this (though enjoys afterwards), Jimin knows it so he said Suga to wait and he just ran to check whether the mountain is too steep or not. He literally went by running. He also got the snow to finish their mission successfully. He was so considerate.
During one of the run episodes, he even offered Jin for a piggyback ride in a uphill road😳. It was so sweet gesture from him. (Later jin also offered piggyback ride to jimin which was sweet too)
Again during one of the run episodes, when Jungkook was sad for not getting playing top of his choice, Jimin readily offered his and took rock bison instead. (One of the legendary episodes after lachimolala, where rock bison became famous😂.)
Well I'll just stop here because list just goes on....like an echo in the forest.......like an arrow in the blue sky..... sorry I just went to life goes on😅😅 and I can only remember English lyrics. I'm definitely not saying he's like a fairy from wonderland who won't refuse anything and sacrifice every single thing for the sake of others which is literally impossible for anyone. But he does it mosssssssst of the times which makes him so special, which makes people say "everyone wants a JIMIN in their life". He is one of the members who can goof around with every members.
Misconceptions about the charming boy
1. He's a natural flirt.... oh my my seriously peeps? He's a flirt?
See I understand flirting isn't a bad word if it is used in a right context. I'm not completely denying the fact he flirts but not to the extent people hypes it. And yes, he don't flirt with every random people on earth. Like common people, there's a difference between being friendly and being flirty and also being awkward. I think many people often mixes these things. To be honest, sometimes, I feel lot of others try flirting with him. And yes, just because he's Libra you can not just label his extroverted behavior as flirty behavior.
And he's not completely extrovert he's kind of extrovertly introvert.
2. He is a king of fan service??????
Like I kind of understand fan service is like vital part of KPOP. But I believe, that would be only till some extent and done by all the members accordingly. Once your group is well settled, you don't have to do fan service and stuffs. The only fan service I can remember from JIMIN is showing his abs during "no more dream" performances and also during some shows. And yes, BTS as a whole have participated in fan service but that was during early days. But blaming Jimin alone is not a good idea, you bummers. When I watch videos from those times, I feel like JIMIN's abs were extensively used may be to attract fans? Or whatever. Not every thing he does on stage is to please the fans, he can also do because he loves the stage and love performing the way he does. By now, they all have realized their fans (ARMYYYYYYYYYYY) love them and their performances and don't have to do fan service to lure them.
4. Jimin was fat during/before/after debut????
Like what????? Dude I agree he had this puffy, squishy face which was too cute but he was not fat. (Not Jimin not any BTS members were fat or ugly during their debut days. They were all handsome in their own way.) And I find it really annoying that a person with abs and toned muscles was body shamed???? Does that even make sense....He was cute and he is cute. He was a baby back then.
There's something I want to address here....
I don't know how I ended up there, but I had seen a post somewhere telling Jimin is alcoholic, he just throws himself on other members, he's a home wrecker, he makes people feel uncomfortable and what not.
I'm not part of Jimin's life so I can't really tell how much he drinks. But that honest soul had himself said that, he used to drink a lot to deal with stress then kinda became a habit but now he's not drinking as he used to instead he's sharing his problems/stress with the other members. I'm not saying he's not drinking at all like we all know he, Suga, Jin and Jungkook are all drinking buddies. They are all grown up men. They know what is good to them. So we are no one to judge and we should not judge them because we don't know them. (Believe it or not I just love the way he opens the champagne, pours in to the glass and gulps down in a single go. He looks damn sexy!!!!)
And no, Jimin does not throw himself on anyone. Literally no one period. He will not touch you if you are not comfortable with his touch. He will never interfere in your business if you don't like it. He will never make fun of you, if that makes you sad. He never did and he'll never do anything which can make anyone uncomfortable. Not even with JUNGKOOK. There's no way one can resist jimin's cuteness (again there will be exception like brainless, heartless, thoughtless people) dude.... I can for sure tell you Jungkook was never once uncomfortable with Jimin. Jimin is such a pure soul who can get along with anyone if he wishes to. No members including Suga is uncomfortable with jimin's touch.
Like keep every shipping shits aside and think, they have literally lived together for more than 6-7 years now. There's no way they can be uncomfortable with each other. They themselves have said multiple times, they are all like family. How can you be uncomfortable with your own family member??
Okay then that's all for now.... Yes I know I did not talk about his talents here because I just wanted to talk about jimin as a person here. We all know how amazing he is as an artist. No one can doubt his singing and dancing skills.
I would love to talk about JIMIN as an artist but NOT TODAYYY (go listen to that song).
Thank you for making upto this line.
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Bye until next time,
Amaira💜
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charlottemadison42 · 4 years
Text
On Good Omens and Faith
Here follow personal thoughts on what Good Omens has meant to me as an Exvangelical. There’s a lot of healing & hope here, but it gets a bit dark first, as worthy stories do.
CW: I wasn’t badly spiritually abused in church, but I’ll be discussing things that are spiritually abusive: purity culture, sexphobia, queerphobia, abortion, mild self-harm, failure to treat mental health appropriately, ableism -- plus the special ways church authority makes all of these especially hard.
I’m personally an atheist but this message is not an argument against faith itself, rather against the specific subculture I grew up in. If you are a person of faith you’re welcome here.
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I grew up in the American Evangelical subculture of the 80′s and 90′s, in the Keith Green/DC Talk/Left Behind/Veggie Tales era. I got saved at a Carman concert in sixth grade, and re-pledged my faith just to be extra sure every year at summer camp and youth group retreats.
This upbringing is not unusual. Doesn’t make me special. But its effects were real.
I’m finally engaged in a reckoning with it, in the “I should maybe talk this over with a support group or therapist” sense. I was a worship leader and youth leader at a Vineyard church when I left my faith abruptly in 2007*. It took me ten years to tell my family and friends that I was an atheist. For that decade I didn’t think about it -- but when I confessed to my loved ones two years ago, the processing began in earnest.
If you came up Evangelical, you already know how literal our belief in angels and demons can be in certain strains of the church. Until I was 26, I believed they were real entities genuinely and invisibly at war all around me. The End Times were real and we were in them. The Antichrist was whatever high profile democrat could be weaponized at the moment, the Rapture was nigh, and Armageddon was imminent (which explained why tension kept building in the Middle East).
My church community regularly discussed friends and neighbors’ problems in the language of  demon possession or harrassment: depression was a demon, addiction was a demon, promiscuity was a demon. I was part of casual and formal exorcisms and the occasional healing. No holy water, but there were hours of fervent prayers and tears, speaking in tongues and anointing with oil. It’s like a fever dream looking back at it now.**
Shout out to my other teens and tweens of the Frank Peretti era, forbidden from reading books of fantasy any later than Lewis or Tolkein -- Xanth was forbidden, Hogwarts was demonic. We were given instead (retrospectively) horrifying books about spiritual warfare, Christian takes on historical fiction, and end times fantasies. But they weren’t sold as fantasy to us, it was all real. Adults in positions of power confirmed it over and over. Narnia might be allegory but This Present Darkness supposedly illustrated spiritual truths.
I remember telling a trusted church teacher at age 10 or 11 that sometimes I would get scared at night, in the dark, and feel a palpable terror that kept me awake. They told me with no hint of comfort, “That means a demon is visiting you and sitting on your chest, trying to oppress you with fear so you will sin. Don’t wake your parents or read a book, instead you should pray or read only the Bible until the demon is compelled to leave, either by an angel or the presence of God.” This adult was affirmed by amens and mm-hmms.
I took this teaching to heart. I also understood, by implication, that if the bad feeling stayed with me then I was praying wrong -- that no angel would rescue me that night. I knew that my fear as it compounded in the dark was itself a sin that made God harder for me to reach.
These are not things that should be told to children.
Then there were the prophecies. (read more if this resonates with you, if not I’ll clip it here so I don’t take up your whole screen)
Anyone could prophesy in most churches I attended. Dreams were prophecies, visions were prophecies, vague feelings were prophecies. (That gave nightmares / being hormonal / being really hungry an awful lot of sway at Bible study.)
I had a woman prophesy over me weeping, with her hands buried in my hair, that she felt overwhelming grief for my future child. I was 23.
I have no child, and I harbored the secret at the time was that I didn’t want one -- a rebellion for me as a married woman. I feared she was prophesying an abortion in my future, and I was inconsolable for months at the damning choice that would visit me someday. (As of this writing at age 38 I’ve never been pregnant, for which I give all thanks to modern birth control.) I still wonder what happened to that woman’s child, or pregnancy, or perhaps her desire for a child, that this was her prophecy for me.
I heard much darker things prophesied over other people. I remember career changes (ill-advised) and marriages staying together (they shouldn’t have) and mission trips undertaken (that assuredly should not have been) because of prophesies.
Last, of course, I didn’t know it yet but I had many queer friends at the time. Some of them didn’t know it. We had no context in our small town -- and no corners of the internet to hide in and learn context, because the internet didn’t do much more than access our local library catalog at the time. I was told that demons sat on my chest to oppress me as a child, but I was shielded from understanding what a lesbian actually was until I was sixteen.
I remember feeling vaguely guilty when we prayed over this or that person in youth group, entreating God that they could resist their base urges. We prayed that they could choose a life of abstinence if they had to, rather than enter sexual sin and be cast out. I felt guilty but I still joined the circle to pray.
I’m sorry. I was wrong. Part of me knew it at the time. I wish I had listened to that part of me because that it was correct. There are fragments of my former faith I still treasure, but those prayers were rotten to the core.
Sidebar: Luckily that feeling of guilt bloomed quickly into rejecting queerphobic doctrine. By age 20 I decided I could only attend churches that did not preach homophobic takes on scripture from the pulpit, and that did not advocate/imply advocacy for any particular political party. The reason I mention this: if YOU are currently a person of faith in this position, uncomfortable with what you hear from your leadership, go find a church that’s queer-affirming, gives to the poor, and advocates for immigrants. Live in a conservative area? Create or join a home church. That’s what the early church looked like anyway. Don’t shrug off this responsibility. Shine a light.
Anyway. Several years later, I fell.
I had to step down from multiple church leadership positions in one day. My entire life changed in two months; marriage, job, home, friends, everything uprooted when I could no longer pretend to believe. I didn’t tell my family why everything fell apart, even as they let me crash their couches.
I had wanted to be a good believer. I read apologetics, the mystics, eschatology, theophostics. I taught and attended study groups, I took troubled teens out to coffee, I served the homeless, I waited til marriage. I was in church as many as thirty hours weekly. When I first felt my faith slipping I said “not yet,” and I read the entire Bible straight through twice, in different translations, while journaling through “My Utmost for His Highest.” Then, unsatisfied, I read and annotated the New Testament in interlinear Greek. I gave it my everything.
What could replace all that?
Time, it turns out. And freedom.
Freedom to not think about it was perhaps the kindest freedom. The constant labor of self-evaluation and thought policing that goes into Evangelical Christianity is exhausting. Letting it go of it felt like getting my mind back. Or owning it for the first time, since I never knew this freedom before. I had even been seeking counseling because I was hearing multiple voices in my head at once, all mine, often arguing. That problem vanished the hour I deconverted. I heard only one voice anymore, and it was my own.
For ten years I was free to just not think about it.
When I decided to remarry I realized that I didn’t want to explain to anyone why my ceremony would not include prayers or communion. So I told my loved ones at last that I was an atheist, a decade late. They received it graciously, and I’m sure they had known-but-not-acknowledged it for a long time. I hope they don’t worry about me or pray behind my back for my salvation. But if they do I can’t accept responsibility for it anymore.
Since that confession I’ve finally felt compelled to back at what all actually happened in church. It seemed so normal to me at the time. But wait, it wasn’t:
I exorcised people. I laid on hands for healings. I encouraged episodes of religious rapture, falling out, and speaking in tongues, and as a worship leader I knew the music cues to bring them about (yes, there are certain chord and tempo changes for that). I was present for prophecies that changed people’s lives and might have issued some myself, I don’t remember. I alienated people who didn’t fit in, whether because they were queer or just because they didn’t conform to church culture. I witnessed abuse and had no language to report it or even comprehend it. I hurt people. I was hurt.
I was told there were real demons in my room and I had to pray them away all by myself.
The work of undoing this mindf*ck (sorry friends of faith, that’s how it felt) suddenly turned urgent after being ignored for a decade. I can’t afford therapy, but thankfully Twitter chats and message boards and podcasts exist (thank you, @goodchristianfun​ and @exvangelical​).
And then -- out of the blue -- along came my own personal angel and demon, along with Frances McDormand herself. I watched it on a whim. (Actually no, David Tennant’s hair made me.)
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Apparently Good Omens had a few things to say directly to my mindf*cked subconscious:
1) Are you scared of demons in a pathological childhood trauma way? Here, have a helping of this amalgam of your favorite Doctor and scariest ever Marvel villain tearing it up as the demon Crowley.
2) Does your mild bookish personality and respect for the culture you grew up in keep you reflexively deferential to authority, even as it gaslights you and hurts others? Enjoy some Michael Sheen as the angel Aziraphale.
3) Are you stuck still mentally assigning a male gender to the god you always claimed was beyond gender? Boom, meet Her in all Her ineffable wisdom.
4) Are you terrified of the End Times, both as a Biblical horror of childhood and as an adult who reads the f*cking news? Let’s fantasize awhile about a solvable apocalypse (because what would that even look like, yo).
5) Do you keep reflexively binarizing good and evil? Still giving in to the temptation to characterize humans as righteous or fallen, especially celebrities and political prospects? Spend some time on Our Side with Adam, the utterly human Antichrist, as he makes choices that matter -- some goodish, some baddish, all with mixed consequences, because that’s what humans do.
6) Do you need more queer love stories in your life? Yes you do. Yes. YES. Here it is. The good stuff. Whether it’s gay, trans, genderfluid, asexual, agender, metaphysical, whatever (I’m enjoying reading all these takes and more on AO3) it’s a hell of a love story.
Good Omens was a f*cking revelation.
I’m not sure why the show hit me as hard as it did in the Exvangelical feels. It’s not that it’s a perfect show, but it was the right thing at the right time for me, and it brought a truck full of dynamite to the excavation I was just beginning with a trowel and a makeup brush. I finished watching ep 6 and thought “why do I feel like I’ll be thinking about this every single day for years?”
And then I looked down, and lo and behold I had an open chest wound -- inside of which I found the banished memory of a child trembling and praying in terror in a dark room.
There was a lot that I forgot about in the ten years it took me to hike away from Evangelical life. It all came rushing back.
I had forgotten the sweat and cries during exorcisms and the heat of laying on of hands. I had forgotten fits of ecstatic tears of self-hatred and self-denial so strong they were almost blissful, as I sang and chanted mantras like “I am nothing, You are everything.” I had forgotten giving away ten percent of my income until I was 26. I had forgotten the constant mental effort of Being A Proverbs 31 Woman, about submission and complementarianism and feeling responsible to guard the virtue of men by never tempting them. I had forgotten the pressure to not even masturbate before marriage and to become a sexual athlete the night after.
I had forgotten the hours and hours of daily prayers. Every phrase was carefully carved in language my superego ran by my doctrine, to make sure no hint of rebellion ever bled through. I washed words of need and doubt and frustration from my mind so they could never slip between me and my Heavenly Father. I didn’t just want to hide thoughts God wouldn’t like, I would have cut them out with violence if I knew how. As a result I picked and ticced and cut and exhibited symptoms of OCD.
It hurt to remember all of this at once during a BBC Amazon Prime miniseries. It confused me. It confused my spouse. I looked at all these feelings, exposed and piled in a massive dirty heap -- and I spotted the straps I used to haul it around with me for decades. Who knew I could carry all that? The weight of faith?
But I don’t have to pick it up again. I had a new story to help me frame my story. I felt equipped with a flaming sword to face my past and a new syntax to describe the old ideas I'm ready to let go of.
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I got to recast Heaven and Hell. I was invited to ask myself whether a cozy cluttered bookshop doesn’t beat them both hands down.
I got to reimagine angels and demons, good and bad, intentions and consequences. I was invited to live in the reality that we’re all of us humans in between, and that I’m probably still overinvested in the value of Good and Bad as yardsticks.
I got to reimagine western history. The show’s perspective of history is very limited and Eurocentric, but it’s also the version of history I was taught at an early age, which made the story a useful lens to deconstruct what I learned before I knew much about critical thinking.
The opening of Episode 3 in particular f*cked me up. First Aziraphale lies to God and She vanishes, then Crowley starts poking holes in the story of the Flood, then at the Crucifixion -- I started breathing hard on my first viewing, experiencing a real physiological threat response. I was loving it, of course, but distressed panicky love.
The second time I watched it I realized what was happening: I was going back to Sunday School to revisit ideas I absorbed before I was fully sentient, and examining them in the light of fully formed adult secular morality. They look different from here.
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When God withdraws Her presence from Aziraphale in the first few moments of Ep 3 as he prevaricates (well, lies) I remembered the one great fear of my faithful life: that I could sin a particular sin and as punishment I would be cut off from God’s presence. As a believer in the End Times, that meant the Rapture could occur at any moment and I might be rejected, be left behind to experience the Tribulation.
Now, from some remove, I realize that I always had one fear larger. It’s a thought I never allowed myself to entertain consciously. Good Omens unearthed it like a vein of flowing lava:
If the Apocalypse as my church describes it is real, how could God want it to happen? And if God does, is this a God I want to worship? If I don’t, but I’ll be damned for that, is my faith freely chosen?
Whose side could I really be on, in the End Times, if not Heaven’s or Hell’s?
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These are not small questions.
I’m relieved that I answered them a long time ago for myself.
But even after the answering, there’s fallout; a million little knots to untie and ideas to unlearn. We all get to spend our lives doing this sort of archaeological dig through our childhood baggage, I suppose. My Stuff is certainly not unique. It’s just a lot. Same as everyone’s.
But once in awhile a story comes along and helps us with the process. A sharper spade, a better tool for the work. In my case, through Good Omens I received demolition-grade explosives. It gave me a framework, characters, and a personal shorthand to speed my own digging and contextualize what I find.
If your history is kinda like mine -- whether you’re still in the faith or not -- be sure to talk to someone about church stuff from your past. The weird stuff, the dark stuff, the things you did/people did to you that now seem “off.” Even if you’ve grown past the point of “mental illness requires an exorcism” there are still dangerous ideas buried like land mines in our moral matrices. Self-hatred, intolerance, fear of abandonment, fear that failure is damnation, presumption that “we’re” on the “right side” of everything and “they’re” not, fear that we the apocalypse Is Written by powers above and so we can’t change it.
I’m so happy I know a story with an Our Side now.
I’m so happy I know a story in which the true test of devotion to God’s Ineffable Plan is turning away from the dictates of Heaven and turning toward the World.
I’m so glad I met Aziraphale -- so like me, still seeking Heaven’s approval far too late in the game. I’m so grateful he found the courage to walk away, and I’m so glad I did too. I love that I know Crowley now, self-pwning lovelorn disaster demon of minor inconveniences and imagination and free will. I’m so happy Crowley was there to tempt his friend with questions from the start, and to receive him when he was finally ready to break away.
I’m so proud to know Adam and the Them and Anathema and Newt, inept humans trying their hardest against unstoppable cosmic forces, getting it right not just despite their flaws but through and because of them.
I’m so grateful I’ve finally managed to completely swap to female pronouns for God (thanks, Frances). I still love stories about Her, I still enjoy talking theology and religion. And after 20+ years of insisting God is above gender but masculinizing him, it’s about time I switch to thinking of God as Her for a spell to even things out.***
I’m so thankful for the nicest fandom I’ve known in ages and all the glorious queer beautiful amazing body-positive art and writing growing in this fabulous garden.
Confession accomplished.
CM
P.S. I might not have the time/resources you need to chat with you if you’ve had similar experiences or want to discuss. If you need help be sure to reach somewhere healthy to get it. If you witness abuse, online or in church or otherwise -- report it, block it, mute it, shut it down, whatever is in your power.
P.P.S. If you have words of rebuke for me from a churchy place, and/or critiques about gender or politics, sorry, don’t give a f*ck. This is my story to tell and I am secure in my spiritual status. I am free indeed.
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*Re. Deconversion: Or rather, I had my faith zapped out of me in what turned out to be the truest rapturous religious experience of my life. It happened in a church service; I almost fell out and spoke in tongues with the tingling power of understanding that I was truly and finally faithless. It’s an interesting deconversion story if you're familiar with charismatic church stuff, ask me sometime over tea. It felt like this.
**Re. Exorcisms: Most disturbing was the regular practice of exorcising people who clearly needed professional help for their mental health. I was present when prayers against demons happened over cases of depression, manic depression, epilepsy and other seizures, addiction, schizophrenia, and psychotic episodes. My particular church did acknowledge the role of modern medicine, but felt that the true core of these issues was spiritual and that medication ultimately could not solve a problem of demonic infestation. Looking back now I shudder and weep to think that this happened, that I was part of it once, and that it still happens daily at churches everywhere. It can be unspeakably damaging to the people being prayed over. If this practice happens in your church, leave. If it happens at a church where you’re in leadership, end it.
***Re. God as She/Her:  I encourage you to find your own appropriate pronouns for God, whether you believe in Them or not. For me personally, still reeling from the Proverbs 31 upbringing, She/Her is very healing for now. But gender is a construct etc. etc.
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miafic · 4 years
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zakk taking lucas to his first pride parade🥺
lucas is anxious. he doesn’t want to go, and zakk knows this, but zakk also REALLY wants to go, and there’s no way lucas is letting him go alone. if something bad is going to happen, lucas needs to be there. zakk is too sweet, and sometimes - like it or not - he really does need protecting. so, grudgingly, lucas agrees to come along. 
he refuses to wear anything but his normal clothes. zakk, on the other hand, has a bi flag painted on one cheek and a rainbow painted on the other, both slathered in glitter. he’s got a black tank top on that says PROUD in a rainbow of letters, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his entire body sprayed with more glitter. he comes out of the bathroom and does a spin. “how do i look?”
lucas nods slowly. you look like you’re asking to get attacked, he thinks, but what he says is, “nice.”
zakk sighs and goes over to sit on lucas’ lap. he draws lucas’ chin up so that their eyes meet. “nothing is going to happen,” he promises. 
“i don’t want you to get hurt,” lucas pleads. 
“we won’t.”
“you. i’m not worried about myself. you’re… you’re like a billboard.” lucas feels like crying. it’s not often that he finds himself frightened, but this is next level. and zakk is walking right into this like it’s something fun.
“lucas, it’s gonna be fun,” zakk says, and lucas throws his hands into the air out of exasperation. 
zakk stands up. “if you’re gonna be like this, you should stay home. i love you, and i know that you mean well, but i’m going today because i want to have fun.” he gives lucas a pointed look and then starts out of the room. “it’s a parade. it’s a celebration. no sourpusses allowed.” 
“i’m not trying to get you down,” lucas insists as he follows. “you really do look great. if we were staying home, this would be fine, but we’re not. and i just really think that you shouldn’t go, because you never know wh-”
“i’m going,” he says emotionlessly from halfway down the staircase, and the next thing lucas knows, zakk is turning around, a very upset look on his face. “you married me,” he states, “and you weren’t scared then.”
“we knew who was coming to the wedding.” 
“yeah, but you can never really know how everyone feels about our relationship. and i - i know that i can’t change your mind, but i just want you to know that you’re really hurting me right now.” he walks down the rest of the stairs with his shoulders drooping.
lucas squeezes his eyes shut. “zakk, wait…”
“if you come, you won’t even want to walk beside me,” zakk snaps from the kitchen, “so don’t bother.”
that makes lucas’ stomach turn icy with a mix of negative emotions. he jogs after zakk and stops him by the door. “listen to me, please. this isn’t about me not - not wanting people to know that i’m…” gay, he should fill in, maybe - he isn’t really sure - but what he says is, “with you. it’s that i’m worried that something bad will happen-”
“pride’s not for everyone,” zakk says, smiling sadly as he shrugs one shoulder and opens the door to the garage. 
“zakk, please!” lucas repeats. “it’s n- i love you, okay?”
zakk whispers, “i know.” 
“and i don’t care if people know that; i just-”
“then why are you freaking out?”
“-don’t know if this is the best environment. you know this kind of thing attracts, like, the westboro baptist church and people like them…” thinking about zakk standing in front of a GOD HATES FAGS sign cleaves his heart in two. god could never hate zakk, not for anything. 
“if we see them, we just say fuck ‘em, and we keep walking.” 
“what if…” 
zakk shakes his head. “lucas, i have to go. are you coming or not?” 
lucas’ hand won’t stop twitching. he’s torn between reaching out and grabbing zakk’s fingers and trying to protect him by keeping a few feet away so can be a better lookout. 
a second icy chill takes hold of his stomach as he realizes that zakk was right - lucas doesn’t want to walk beside him. 
but it’s not because he doesn’t love him; it’s because he does. lucas loves zakk more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything. if zakk died, lucas wouldn’t survive it. and it’s with that thought that lucas quickly reaches forward and catches zakk’s hand, pulling him back several inches so that they’re side by side. 
zakk smiles. lucas forces himself not to lean away when zakk stretches up on his toes to kiss lucas’ cheek. lucas wants to cry again. if someone hurts zakk, lucas will fucking kill them. and if this this damn pride parade is how lucas and zakk die, lucas is going to kick god’s ass. 
“look,” zakk says happily, and there’s a group of trans women with boas up ahead, all dancing around a boombox. “see? it’s fun.”
lucas scans the area, suddenly worried that someone is going to hurt the women. 
“lucas. get a grip, okay?” 
lucas stops walking. his voice wobbles as he says desperately, “i - i can’t let you do this, zakk, i’m sorry-” 
he expects that zakk wil be mad at him or tell him to order an uber and go home. but zakk takes one look into lucas’ teary eyes and reaches up to touch his face. 
“i’m sorry,” lucas repeats, pulling back out of his reach, “but this is too dangerous, and i can’t - we can’t…”
zakk is nodding.
“i just love you so much, zakk, and i don’t want you to get hurt. i don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 
“come here,” zakk murmurs, and he takes lucas’ hand and drags him over to the women. 
one of them notices them and walks toward them, a big smile on her face. “hi!” 
“hey,” zakk says warmly. lucas is busy drying his eyes. “have you been to pride before?”
“of course! is this your first time?”
“it’s his,” zakk responds, and he glances at lucas, who is staring down at the ground and wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. “this is my husband. he’s never been off work to come with me.”
“why are you crying?” she asks, concern clear in her eyes. 
“crying?!” someone else says, and suddenly, multiple people from nearby groups are coming over to see lucas. he forces himself to look up, and all sorts of people are looking at him, and he’s looking back at them, and he has no idea how to reply. 
“he’s nervous,” zakk answers quietly. “he thinks i’m gonna get hurt.” 
“oh, no, no,” a man says, coming forward and touching lucas’ arm. “honey, it’s safe. don’t you worry. and if anything happens, i promise you, you’re gonna have the whole parade jumping on the aggressor, okay?” 
lucas has to smile a little at that. 
“they wouldn’t organize this and put it on if they thought it would be dangerous,” one of the trans women assures him, and several people nod. “yeah, there will be protestors, but there are way more of us here than there are of them.”
there’s a laugh from the gaggle of people, and lucas honestly feels a little relieved. suddenly, something is touching him, and before he can stop it, someone young has placed a rainbow feather boa around his neck. “there,” they say with a smile. “now you can wear something special, too.” 
“thank you,” zakk tells them with a smile, and they nod. he takes lucas’ hand, and they start away toward the music and the colorful balloons. 
as soon as they round the corner, lucas takes the boa off and sets it on zakk’s shoulders. 
“aw, you looked cute,” zakk laughs, but he doesn’t fight lucas on it. he winds their fingers together, lightly swinging their hands as they travel. 
“do they have food?” lucas mutters.
“tons! what do you want? are we looking for caramel corn?”
lucas nods. 
“okay. i’ll keep an eye out.” 
a group of nearly-naked bears walks by, and lucas stumbles in surprise, but one of them sees lucas and zakk’s clasped hands and smiles. lucas shyly smiles back. 
“see?” zakk says happily. “it’s not scary.” 
“yeah, there are cops everywhere,” lucas acknowledges. 
“uh-huh!” 
some of police are even wearing beaded necklaces. maybe someone was handing them out. “okay,” lucas exhales. 
“come on. let’s get you a snack and then pick a good spot.”
“somewhere with shade.” 
“we can try!” 
two hours later, the heat is finally easing up a little, and lucas has grown comfortable. he has a mostly-drunk root beer on his knee, a couple flowers in his hair, and zakk at his side. 
everything is fine; they’re watching a group of a&m students in tie-dye t-shirts walk down the street and chant something that lucas can’t really understand. it takes a second, but he realizes that the reason he can’t understand the words is because there’s more noise coming from behind him.
“-sinners! repent and you shall be saved!” 
zakk looks at lucas and rolls his eyes. 
but then someone else starts to shout. “aren’t you disgusted with yourselves? pride is a sin! and here you all are, being prideful about something so ungodly, so blasphemous, so disgusting-”
lucas’ fingers dig into zakk’s thigh, and zakk squeezes his hand. “just ignore them. they’re not gonna do anything but yell.”
“god is going to damn every last one of you to hell if you don’t change your ways!”
“that’s not the god i know,” lucas mutters. “they’re the blasphemous ones.” 
zakk smiles. “i am so in love with you,” he murmurs, and he lays his head on lucas’ shoulder.  
the first voice returns. “look at this crowd! dressed from head to toe in rainbows. what a disgrace. look at all this sin.” 
lucas turns around, studies the three protestors with their rude signs, and cooly calls, “hey, have you guys read john 8?” 
“lucas!” zakk hisses, but he’s laughing. 
“no, i’m serious,” lucas says to him. “i wanna know if they’ve actually read the bible.” 
“yeah, we know john 8,” one of them responds, and he comes right over. 
lucas instinctively angles himself in front of zakk before wondering, “assuming that all this-” he says, motioning to the parade “-is a sin, which it isn’t, how do you justify what you’re doing right now, then?” 
“we’re trying to let people know what they’re doing is wrong.” 
“and what gives you the right to tell them that?”
“well, it’s sodomy, first off,” he explains, pointedly looking down at lucas’ wedding ring and then looking at zakk. “is this your husband?” 
lucas isn’t planning to answer, but zakk leans around lucas to affirm, “yes.” 
“so, sodomy, right there. you know where that word comes from? sodom. do you know sodom?” 
lucas sighs. “i know sodom. but that’s not what i asked.” he repeats, “how do you justify what you’re doing right now?” 
“we’re spreading god’s word.”
“no, you’re not,” lucas counters, laughing a little. “god’s word is love. you’re only spreading hatred. how do you think jesus would-”
“okay, come on,” zakk mutters, and before lucas can finish his sentence, zakk is pulling him away. 
“i could’ve taken him!” lucas exclaims, and zakk nods. 
“i know. that’s why we had to leave. you spend all day worrying about a fight, and then you’re the one who’s about to get into one.” 
“but i-”
“let’s be real; neither of you were going to change each other’s minds.” 
lucas heaves a sigh. “i guess.” 
“i don’t want to leave, but i think we should start heading back toward the car.” 
“oka-” lucas stops and splutters as a wave of pink glitter starts raining down. he looks up, and glitter is still falling all around him. zakk hardly gets hit with any. lucas, on the other hand…
lucas whirls around, and there are people dancing down the street, tossing handfuls of glitter all over the place. everyone’s paying attention, so they have time to move forward and embrace it or dart away like lucas would have if he’d realized what was happening.  
gleefully, zakk snaps a photo on his phone of lucas, who is scowling and covered from head to toe in pink sparkles. 
“you owe me a cotton candy for this,” lucas grumbles as zakk brushes the glitter away from his face. 
“do you want a pink one to match your new outfit?” zakk laughs. 
lucas just rolls his eyes. as they walk toward a cotton candy vendor, lucas takes zakk’s hand without thinking about it. “the car’s gonna be a mess until the end of time, but… thanks for bringing me here,” he says quietly. “i had fun.” 
zakk turns to him, smiling. he glances between their arms at the trail of glitter that lucas is leaving behind and then says, “i had fun, too. i love you.” 
lucas stops walking and kisses him on the lips right there in front of the whole world. 
and no one says a word.  
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thecleverdame · 4 years
Text
Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Four
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Series Master List
Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo
Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.
Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.
Words: 40k
Beta:  ilikaicalie
This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<
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Livery Stable - Early Morning The stables belong to Mr. Killian, a dashing rustic man and father of a young family. Dean likes him, though he does not think much of the horse Killian is offering him, an old nag.
“His name's Gunpowder.” Killian pats the steed.
“A brave name,” Dean concedes “but...have you got something a little younger?... Taller?”
“Faster?” Killian nods.
“Yes.”
“A horse cut to dash?” “Yes!” Dean clasps his hands together, eyes his brother’s superior horse. “No, I haven't.” Killian chuckles. “Not at this price.”
“His horse is larger…” Dean looks to Sam.
“He is larger.”
“Well,” Dean snorts. “I'm sure he'll do very well. Thank you, Mr. Killian.”
“Good luck, sir. If you need help, call my name.” “Much appreciated.” Killian's son Thomas, a small boy, is feeding one of the horses. Mrs. Killian is at the door of their small home. She’s seeing a woman out of her door, a pregnant woman, handing her a bunch of herbs. Mrs. Killian takes the woman by the shoulders. “Mind you rub them well in the breach, Mrs. Sherry. Don't worry, it'll be easy as shelling peas.” As the pregnant woman leaves, Beth calls over her shoulder, turning to go into the house. “Thomas! Come inside!” She retreats into the house, a modest notice posted on the door: Knock before entering - Elizabeth Killian, MIDWIFE. Killian turns to his son. “Go off home for your breakfast, Tom. Kiss your mother once for you and twice for me.” As the boy goes, Sam has a thought. “Mr. Killian,” Sam steps forward. “I was thinking about the old widow-” “Old widow, sir?” Killian looks confused. “Widow Winship,” Sam clarifies.
“Who told you she was old? She was comely. Widowed young and dead before the bloom was off her.” Sam is surprised by this new information but before he can react further a far off gunshot is heard. A signal followed by the distant sight of a man on horseback, hurrying and shouting, waving his rifle.
“Murder, murder!” the rider shouts. “The Horseman has killed again!”
Jonathan Masbath's murder has been discovered.
The Western Woods
A large group of men ride out to the murder site. Baltus, a dullard man called Van Ripper, who is the original rider who found the body, followed by Brom, and a cart driven fast by Philipse, Doctor Lancaster and various villagers. Way behind, trying to keep up on Gunpowder, comes Dean with Sam trotting beside him. Baltus takes charge of posting armed villagers to keep an eye toward the forest. “Mr. Miller,” he assigns. “Ride back for the coffin cart. The rest of you keep a sharp lookout.”
Both Winchesters are just arriving. The others are watching as Doctor Lancaster turns over the headless corpse of Jonathan Masbath. He straightens the body reverently. Everyone is shocked and spooked, looking fearfully into the surrounding forest. Dean’s horse kicks the mud and every man nearly jumps out of his boots.
“A fine looking animal, Winchester,” Brom laughs. Sam and Dean dismount in tandem, ignoring Brom. They look from the body to each other in silent agreement. New York was never quite like this. Doctor Lancaster covers his mouth with a cloth, standing over the corpse. “The fourth victim, Jonathan Masbath.” “The head?” Sam asks, stepping around the murder scene. “Taken,” Philipse whispers. “Taken.” Dean nods, standing next to his brother, looking intently at the headless body. Doctor Lancaster seems unprofessionally jittery. He grasps Philipse by the arm. Philipse shakes him off and pulls out a flask. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye, their behavior seems odd. Then he turns his attention back to the matter at hand. “It is...interesting. Very interesting.” Sam crouches down to get a closer look.
“What is?” Baltus inquires. “In headless corpse cases of this sort, generally the head is removed to prevent identification of the body,” Sam expounds, picking up a stick and poking at the severed flesh. Baltus cocks his head, puzzled. “But we know this is Jonathan Masbath.” “Exactly.” Dean nods. “So, why was the head removed?” They all wait for enlightenment.
“Why?” Baltus asks the obvious. “We don’t know.” Sam stands up. “But the answer will no doubt reveal the motive.”
They all watch Sam to see what he will do. Philipse takes nips from his flask. “You have moved the body?” Sam asks, suddenly urgent. “I did,” Doctor Lancaster confirms.
Sam rolls his eyes and Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “You must never move the body!” “Why not?” Lancaster looks bewildered. “Evidence.” Muttering, Sam steps carefully over the ground near the body. Dean joins him as they silently search the ground, finding a huge, deep hoofprint. Sam kneels, pulling his satchel off his shoulder and taking out a bowl, bottle of water and a bag of powder. The others watch, finding this activity bizarre, as Sam begins mixing a portion of plaster. “What is that potion?” Brom sneers unable to hide his contempt. “You are the blacksmith, Brom.” Sam looks up, filling the print with runny plaster. “Ever shoe a horse with a hoof this large?” “It's big,” Brom concedes with a shrug. Sam shoulders his satchel, walks all around, studying the ground, kicking away leaves. Then he lopes, bounding with long legs, the watchers are astonished by his antics as he leaps from hoofprint to hoofprint. Doctor Lancaster turns to Philipse, “He’s a fool.” “He's a fool and we're damn fools, but death will make us all equal.” Philipse laments and Dean rolls his eyes. “The stride is gigantic.” Dean watches his brother intently. Sam stops, turns, bounding back the way he came. “The attacker rode Masbath down... turned his horse...came back…” Sam stops, looking up. “Came back to claim the head.” “So,” Dean purses his lips, resting a hand on his hip. “Head taken, big horse. Does this man have any enemies? “Well, someone didn't like him,”  Philipse offers. But Sam has already latched on to something. “Van Ripper, show me where the neck rested.” Van Ripper points. Sam opens his satchel, taking out a bottle of green powder.  He uncorks it, sprinkling a thin layer of powder on the dirt, waiting. Dean snorts as the power begins to bubble.
“A chemical reaction, it shows there was just a smear of blood, no more,” Sam explains. “I didn't see any,” Van Ripper confirms. Sam pulls odd spectacles from his satchel, wire-framed with many lenses. Then he wields an instrument, a delicate scissor mechanism that tapers off into tiny jaws. He uses it to pick at the flesh. “Dean, look at this.”
“What is it?” Baltus creeps forward, wary of getting too close. “The wound was cauterized in the very instant...as though the blade itself were red hot...and yet, no blistering, no scorched flesh.” They all look worried. “The Devil's fire!” Philipse shouts, raising a finger.
Both constables exchange a look. The Cemetery
The town is gathered for Jonathan Masbath's funeral. Steenwyck stands at the open grave, reading from the Bible. "Be sober, be vigilant. As it sayeth in the book of Peter, chapter five, verse eight. Because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." People whisper, stealing glances at Sam and Dean.
Sam stands next to Baltus and Lady Van Tassel, both brothers, watching, observing. Young Masbath stands with his head bowed, mourning his father. Brom stands beside you as you wipe tears from your cheeks. Brom puts his arm around you and Sam’s stomach tightens.
Once the funeral is over Sam walks with the Van Tassels. Baltus holds your hand. Young Masbath runs to catch up with Dean. “Mister Constable, sir.” Dean stops, turning to the young man, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are Young Masbath?” “I was Young Masbath, but now the only one. Masbath at your service, in honor, bound to avenge my father.” “Well,” Dean gives the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “One-and-only Masbath, I thank you, but your mother will need you more than we will.” “My mother is in heaven, sir, and has my father now to care for her. But you have no one to serve you. I am your man.” “And a brave man, too,” Sam chimes in.
“Indeed,” Dean agrees. “But we cannot be the ones to look after you. I am sorry for your loss, young Mister Masbath.” Sam moves away, watching his brother and young Masbath as his sleeve is plucked by Philipse.
“Constable…”   “Mr. Philipse?” Sam watches the man look around anxiously as if someone might be eavesdropping. “Something you should know. Jonathan Masbath was not the fourth victim but the fifth!” “The fifth?” Sam leans forward, whispering in confirmation. “Aye,” Philipse confirms. “Five victims in four graves.”
“But who?” Sam doesn’t get an answer. Philipse sees that Steenwyck has noticed the encounter. He breaks off and scuttles away. Sam turns his gaze toward the fresh grave of Jonathan Masbath, and three more graves almost as recent: The Van Garretts are just receiving their brand new headstones, and Widow Winship's grave is marked for the present by a simple wooden cross with her name on it. Sam sees Killian and nods to him. “Mr. Killian...I will need the help you offered.”
“I have something I need to take care of,” Dean pats his brother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get started without me.”
The Stables Dean lifts the lid off a large feed bin half full of horse feed. Young Masbath is curled up inside like a mouse in a nest. Homeless. “Find a place in the Van Tassel's servant quarters. Wake me before dawn. I hope you have a strong stomach.” Dean walks away before he hears the boys reply. “Thank you, sir.”
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shiftyskip · 5 years
Text
Walter Scott “Smokey” Gordon
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The Real Smokey Gordon:
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(His twin sister Cleta is standing next to him)
Walter Scott Gordon Jr. was born April 15, 1920 in Jackson, Mississippi to Cleta and Walter Gordon. He had a twin sister, named Cleta. His parents had married later in life, in the 30s, which was unusual for their time. His father, Walter Sr. was called either BeeBoy or Bee. Cleta Sr. had not gotten her name until she was three years old and had another sibling. BeeBoy was a spec builder and a real estate developer. His mother was a fiery teacher in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. She was once fired for getting caught not sitting side saddle “like a lady”. When news about her firing got to the students and parents, they threatened to fire the school board. Cleta was given her job back and inspired so many students that several named their kids after her. BeeBoy and Cleta were very popular in Jackson, Mississippi. This changed during the Great Depression, where they lost nearly everything.
His parents were not prepared to be parents, more or less parents of twins. After the birth of Smokey and his twin, Beeboy would sometimes drive up to his house after working, hear the twins crying from his car, reverse his car, and come back when his children had stopped and were asleep.
Smokey was bright, quick, and could remember details of almost anything he’d read. He even studied Latin. But for all his knowledge and skill, Smokey did poorly in school. He was smart, but he was witty and liked to joke around which didn’t go over very well with his teachers. They did not like his attitude in class.
Smokey’s family was not religious, but Smokey took it upon himself to become Episcopalian, a lay leader, and an altar boy. He memorized the Bible and could recite it from memory, This changed when Cleta Jr. died from breast cancer when she was in her early 30s, causing Smokey to lose all his faith. After that, Smokey would say, “Any god that could take away the most beautiful creation to walk this earth, I want nothing to do with.” But even after this, Smokey enjoyed religious discussions and could still quote the Bible down to the chapter and verse, saying that “Don’t you know the Bible is the greatest book ever written?”
Smokey graduated from Central High School and attended Millsaps College for many semesters. This didn’t work out for him in the end, since he focused on other things. Finally, he decided to enlist in the military.
The first time did not go as planned and Smokey was denied because he was colorblind and had flat feet. Dejected, he turned to BeeBoy for guidance. BeeBoy told him that the Army tried to distance you from your home, so your homesickness wouldn’t cause you to run the first chance you got. BeeBoy told him that if he enlisted up north, they’d send him down south and vice versa. With this in mind, Smokey hopped a train to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to try again.
Still colorblind, Smokey memorized the men reading the letters in front of him and passed. He heard about the paratroopers and decided to enlist, liking the idea of the extra pay. He didn’t exactly think that he was getting more pay because he was jumping out of an airplane and into enemy fire.
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Smokey was not originally a Toccoa boy. He started his training at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina and got transferred to Camp Toccoa, Georgia. BeeBoy was right with that perspective at least.  Smokey was in the 3rd Platoon of Easy Company.
Smokey got his nickname during the war. He had a chewing tobacco habit and it earned him the nickname, he also liked to smoke pipes and cigars. He would never drink, stating that anything he drank he would drink it with voracity so he stayed away from alcohol. He preferred water. And he drank a lot of water. I’m not kidding, he drank more than the average man. He drank so much water he would try and find ways to get other’s water during training. He started carrying candy bars around to get an extra few sips of water. He’d carry around Hershey’s Bars to exchange for water (don’t ask me why all of the Easy Company boys like Hershey’s, I really cannot explain it.)  Smokey was also sort of a smart ass. One day, he gave his last cigarette to Tab, then said the payment was a dime for a match to light it. 
In England, Lipton and Smokey would prefer to go tour museums and art galleries than go out drinking. They’d go together or sometimes even alone. Smokey did not give up his mischievous personality and one day, he took a trip to Bath, England with another guy. They went on a museum tour and when lunchtime came, the museum closed briefly, but Gordon and the other man hid inside until it was safe. Then they stripped and swam and played around in the Ancient Roman baths. Before the museum opened, they got dressed and rejoined the tour.
Winters, in his memoir, writes that Smokey and his friend Paul Rogers, enjoyed passing their time by picking a victim to dedicate a poem to. Their victim had received company punishment and therefore needed a poem about them told in front of the company when they were assembled. The victim would be throughly embarrassed and angry. If the victim of their teasing blew up on them, they got more joy out of their teasing. The more embarrassed their victim became, the happier Smokey and his friend were. Their easy target was Floyd Talbert. Tab, one Christmas Eve, had a bit of a temper tantrum when his silverware was removed and stormed out. Smokey met him afterwards, telling Tab he had skipped possibly his last Christmas dinner on Earth. 
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Smokey jumped into Normandy on D-Day. He landed on a farm, near an apple tree,with half his machine gun.The first person Smokey saw in Normandy was John Eubanks. Eubanks was supposed to be carrying the tripod for machine guns, but when he didn’t see a purpose for carrying it without a gun or a gunner around him, he got rid of it. Smokey found a way around it, and set his gun on low stone walls to fire it. 
Guth joined them shortly afterwards as they wandered around Normandy. At one point, a voice called out the code word “FLASH”. Before anyone could do anything, Eubanks called out “Lightning!” WRONG CODE WORD, the right one is thunder. They ducked, knowing what happened when they said the wrong code word, and a grenade was thrown at them by the other man, who promptly ran away. The men found Talbert a short time later. Together they joined a group of 502nd men that took out a bunker, near a bar in Ravenoville, with Smokey’s orders.
Smokey was injured in Normandy in his calf, by a piece of shrapnel that went in his leg and out the other. When he was evacuated to England, he had a long cast up his leg. It ran from his hip to his toe. In this hospital period, Smokey met with groups of military upper brass as they went through. These groups spoke with the wounded men and gave them Purple Hearts if they qualified. This award was supposed to stay pinned to their pillows, but every time a group was gone, Smokey would take his off and put it under his pillow. He slowly collected a small amount of these by the end of the 8 weeks he was there.
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Tab was also injured near Carentan. This was the night of Stab-A-Tab, where Talbert was stabbed by another Easy man by mistake. Smokey, with his tradition of making poems out of people’s misery, made one for Tab. The Night of The Bayonet was Smokey’s tribute to Tab when they returned to Aldbourne, England. He also gave Talbert one of his Purple Hearts as well. According to Smokey, whenever the night was brought back up, Tab claimed he could’ve shot the kid six times, but didn’t think they could spare to lose a man.
Smokey was also promoted to the NCO ranks during their time at Aldbourne. He would eventually end the war as a corporal. It’s also said that Lipton and Smokey went to tour Scotland after recovering. 
Surviving all of Holland, we end his military chapter in Bastogne. I can’t tell you what he did in Holland, but I will let you know if I can find anything. (I do feel super bad about this but I can’t find anything right now.) 
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In Bastogne, Winters remembered walking past Gordon one day, as Gordon sat at the edge of his foxhole, staring out at the forest, without recognizing him at first, and then thinking, “Damn! Gordon’s matured! He’s a man!”
Smokey was shot on Christmas Eve morning. His partner was newer, and had no experience with foxholes. Their foxhole was not deep enough for the tall 6′1″ paratrooper, and Smokey was shot in the shoulder as he was drinking coffee. The hot drink poured into his lap as his body slid down. The bullet entered his left shoulder, traveled through him, and left through his right shoulder. It touched his spinal cord and he was paralyzed from the neck down. 
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He was dragged out of his foxhole by his close friend Paul Rogers and Jim Alley. They took him into the woods to see Doc Roe. There Doc attended to him with morphine and plasma. Lipton ran over to see how he could help Smokey. He was leaning over Smokey, trying to get a response out of the wounded man. Another man pointed out that Lipton was actually standing on Smokey’s hand and that Smokey could not feel it. He had lost his sensations in most of his body. This is when they realized just how serious Smokey was hurt. 
Smokey was evacuated to an aid station, to England, to a hospital in Wales, He was put into a cast that left his head to his waist covered, only his face was left exposed. This caused a problem due to the fact his wounds from the bullet couldn’t be treated. They drilled holes into his head to install Crutchfield Tongs, to stop any movement. He was forced immobile, laying on his back, for six weeks. 
One day, a doctor looked at Smokey and told someone to watch out for Smokey because he was goldbricking. Goldbricking is an excuse to escape a task, Smokey was so mad that he yelled at the doctor, “Damn it! If I could get out of this bed and I’d show you what goldbricking is.” The doctor left, successful with his attempt to rile up Smokey to keep his fight going. Smokey would keep in touch with this doctor, even after the war, for the remainder of his life. 
Smokey gained control of his pinky finger during his time of recovery He was labeled walking wounded a short bit later. But he was still not free from the hospital. He was shipped off to Atlanta, where he’d stay in a hospital until the war was over in 1945. He was able to go home by that time, but continued to remain in the Army. In his letters home, he was never able to give an answer to that question of when he’d return. 
Even though he was now well enough to go home, they were going to send him to Fort Benning for restricted or limited duty. BeeBoy, who Smokey called to tell the news, started yelling and threatening the Army that he’d take Walter to the US Senate, strip Smokey, and let them determine if he was going to be sent home or not. I’m not sure if that message to the driving force with the doctor, but Smokey was soon discharged with 90% disability. 
The rest of his life, he suffered with chronic back pain and shoulder pain. His back would hurt if it was touched, even if it was a pat on the back. He took an Army aptitude test to see what his career should be, and got bulldozer operator. But Smokey didn’t like this idea and decided to put his strength more in knowledge than what the Army had expressed. 
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Under the GI Bill, Smokey went back to school. He attended Cumberland  Law School in Tennessee. 6 months into this school, he returned to Mississippi, took the state bar exam and passed. He went back to school to officially achieve his degree, but he was already a licensed attorney. Even before graduating. 
But he never practiced law. He became an oil broker instead. He had no car but was given work fairly early after the war. He wrote to Henry Ford II and the letter got him a car from the local dealership and he paid without having to wait for a new car. And instantly he got a way to work. 
In 1950, while on a vacation, Smokey met his future wife. Her name was Betty Ball Ludeau from Louisiana. Smokey asked her to reintroduce herself several times, causing a bit of embarrassment on her part. But it’s Smokey, that’s almost expected. He swore it was love at first sight and he knew he was gonna marry her. 
During their relationship, he worked in Hammond, Louisiana with oil and would drive to go see Betty. The pair had little in common, he didn’t like dancing or saloons like she did. He pursued her with a passion, and she refused him, She rejected several marriage proposals from Smokey, but Smokey continued to ask. She rejected him many times till one night he learned the answer. She blurted out that she couldn’t marry him because she didn’t know how to cook. Smokey told her he “wasn’t marrying her to be his cook”, he “was marrying her to be his bride”. Throughout their marriage, he would call her “his bride”. She finally said yes. 
They were married June 14, 1951. Smokey said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen to anyone who would listen when Betty entered a room. He claimed she was the most entertaining woman he’d ever met. Smokey dearly loved Betty. Everyday he’d tell her, “...have I told you how much I love you today? And tell me. what can I do to make you happy?” 
Smokey didn’t have many hobbies due to how much he worked. He had no problem requiring the same amount of effort out of his kids, all five of them. There was Elizabeth “Bebe”, Linda, Eunice Gay, and Cleta, his daughters. He had one son, Walter S. Gordon III. He often ran by military tactics, and not parenting tools such as Dr. Spock. His kids chores were based on the military scale, he would inspect their completed chores and give them more if they weren’t done correctly. They didn’t want to be doing nothing around Smokey, for he’d given a good work ethnic and doing nothing around Smokey was nearly a crime. They also appeared to have hired a Nanny to help with all 5 kids, they called her MowMow. Often times, the only control the house had was when Smokey was in charge. When family arguments arose, it was all to blame the kids, even if they didn’t do anything (specifically for the cases where they escaped punishment when they thoroughly deserved the punishment). 
 He’d sometimes take his 5 kids out of school during the week to join him on a trip. They’d all travel on his business trip with him, missing school, and heading to New Orleans, Louisiana.  Like everything else, their vacation was scheduled like military tactics. They had scheduled meeting times and places, where they’d to his hotel. He’d send them off to an arcade with 5 dollars and would continue with his business trip. At dinner, they’d go to a fancy restaurant. They were all around the age of 5-11, which to Smokey was old enough to be able to function properly, even though they weren’t adults. 
Even though he loved working, Smokey was a family man as well. Whenever invited out for drinks with co-workers, he’d chose to go home to his wife and kids instead. He loved his kids and his family a lot, focusing his time on them instead of other places when he was home from travels. 
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Smokey loved his kids about as much as he loved money, Often times, using money to bribe his kids to come home and visit. He’d send them a check that wasn’t signed, bribing them with signing it when they next returned home to see him. Or he ripped a $100 in half, send half of it with a letter that stated they’d get the rest when they came to visit, and they’d come back, curious about his latest antic. 
Smokey continued to love jokes. He loved practical jokes, sometimes planning them out for months. He once sent a letter to a reporter he saw dining at a diner he regularly was at, she left without paying for 2 cups of tea. He then adopted a pseudonym, wrote a letter where he portrayed the owner of the diner asking her to pay the diner back for the tea. One time, the lieutenant governor of Mississippi, a friend from law school, sent a  joking letter to Smokey that read: “...I have been informed that you were wounded in the head in the last war. As a public official of the great state of Mississippi, I want to take this opportunity to say I am indeed sorry they didn’t kill you.”
Smokey is seen as the link between Ambrose and Easy Company. Ambrose lived about 15 minutes away from each other in Mississippi (not neighbors as the story is told). In 1988, Ambrose’s assistant heard about the group of veterans attending a reunion in New Orleans. They met with the assistant and were interviewed, and soon they connected the assistant to Smokey who lived nearby. They had set up an interview with Ambrose and Smokey, Lipton, Guth, and Winters. Smokey and Ambrose became close friends and their friendship lasted for a long time. 
Smokey returned to Mississippi towards the end of his life, he was away from his bride, but they made weekly visits to each other. He spent much of his time with Tracy, his daughter and her kids. They talked daily, until one day where he didn’t call, two days after his birthday. Tracy’s nanny tried to call, and couldn’t get an answer, so she traveled with the grandkids to Smokey’s house. He was an early riser, and would have gotten his paper and started his day by then. She arrived to see he still hadn’t grabbed his paper. There, Miss Lilian, the nanny, and his 5 year old grandson found him in his bedroom and he was rushed to the hospital. 
Smokey had suffered a stroke in the night. At first, it was believed he would recover, but a few hours later, while in the hospital, he had another massive stroke. He passed away 3 days later on April 19, 1997. Smokey was cremated and remained with his son, until his wife passed away in 2009, when he was buried with her. 
His funeral was exactly how his life was, happy and full of jokes. Stories of his pranks and humor were shared along with a bunch of smiles.  Gordon’s life should be remembered the way he was, with a few stories that make you smile and a heart full of love and humor
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This was meant to be me venting, but accidentally became a history of my relationship with religion instead.
Alright. So.
Came here to talk about religion because I have no outlet. If you don't want to hear it, just block me. I'm not trying to convert anyone, I'm just explaining things to see if anyone has a feckin name for my damn belief system, because I really want to avoid accidentally starting a religion or something and pissing everyone off more.
People who got pissy last time got on my ass about how I probably wasn't even ethnically jewish, so here's the whole story.
I was raised by a mother who was raised by a non-practicing jewish mother, both of whom converted to christianity in the late nineties, shortly before I was born. They're ethnically jewish, or so I'm told.
Not super related, but, in case it comes up later, I was raised with the belief that my mother's family is a long line of very careful psychics, which roughly means "a lot of the family is sensitive to spirit shit but avoids it like the plague because it's scary."
I was raised by a father who is, as far as I know, not ethnically jewish. He's of mixed asian heritage, so i guess maybe, but I'm going to assume he's not. His parents, however, were both religiously Jewish; my grandmother was adopted and raised Jewish, and my grandfather converted sometime between meeting and marrying my grandmother. They are reform. My father wasn't the most religious guy in the world, but, if you asked, he'd probably either make a joke about ohio state football or say that he was jewish.
I was raised by my father and mother together until I was seven. We didn't always consistently go to church in early childhood, but my mother did take me to two or three for months or years at a time during the 2-5 period. We celebrated christmas and easter, and i had an illustrated children's bible that, if I remember right, was split into two parts: the first was marketed to christian and jewish kids, and the latter- new testament- to christian kids. Guessing the marketing from the publishing organizations. I think I had a few other religious books and videotapes directed towards kids, both jewish and christian. I specifically remember one that illustrated mana as vanilla wafers for some reason. At seven, my parents divorced, and I primarily lived with my dad.
My dad didn't take me anywhere on the regular, but when I visited his parents for the full weekend, they'd take me to the synagogue. This was every couple of weeks. We celebrated major jewish holidays, but smaller festivals only really got a mention. When I was ten, my dad and stepmother married. She wasn't really religious, but her parents were christian, so christmas was back on our roster then, too.
I started going to hebrew school in 6th grade, but I didn't actually have a bar mitzvah because I ended up getting kicked out at around the time I turned 13 due to a whole thing about me going trick or treating when I was "too old" or whatever, shitty parents, so I ended up having to go live with my mom after that.
At this point, my mom was studying to become a youth pastor, and enrolled me into a local christian school with about a hundred students. Unfortunately, this ended up being a weird fundamentalist cult with its own textbooks and teachings, including that bacteria was not real, AIDS was a summoned by The Gays™ to kill all the christians, evolution was a conspiracy meant to dissuade people from religion, et cetera. It was fucking bizarre, at one point they called several of us posessed for being autistic and otherwise neurodivergent, and they categorized us students into the groups wise, fools, simple, and scorners. (I was a fool, by the way.) It was really not ideal, and the weird punishments were pretty traumatic. There was some weird brainwashy type word repetition involved with lookatthepersonsayokayanddothetask over and over and over, and it sucked.
So, I was at that school for about 18 months before they kicked me out for refusing to stand on one foot for an extended period of time after tapping my foot in class which caused a student who disliked me to complain.
At the same time, my mother was working at a small church out of town that wasn't exactly a cult, but I think the pastor kind of wanted it to be? It was like he wanted the cult aesthetic™ and devoted followers and shit, but only had the skill to make a really sketchy and toxic small town church with a lot of people sitting on blankets on the floor instead. That church honestly wasn't a big part of my life the way the fucked cult was, I just sort of went most weeks. I went to a confirmation class there- I'm pretty sure it was a methodist church- and got confirmed into it shortly before my mother left because the administration was weird in like an asshole way, and that was the last I knew of it.
I was homeschooled for a while during the end of this period due to all of the school stuff. Religiously, by this point in my life, I'd developed some of my own beliefs. I believed in most of the new testament and most of the torah, but I didn't have much exposure to the talmud or much of a comprehensive education in any religion. I think I read a bible cover to cover at least once as a kid, including some shitty commentary (it was a preteen bible) that gave me some internalized homophobia issues for actual years. I was also super curious about the paranormal but terrified of possession- remember the cult?- and I was curious about the idea of some people being reincarnated if they were needed on earth again. Not sure where exactly that idea came from, but it was there. People told me from a lot of sides that those with the wrong religion would go to hell, and the cult tried to teach us all to convert people at any opportunity, but, after leaving, the whole situation just made me massively uncomfortable. I did continue to practice the jewish traditions I knew how to do on my own- like hannukah and a weird private sort of passover- and my mother would support this by getting me what I needed for it, even though she didn't participate and I didn't go to any place of worship during holidays.
After getting kicked out of school not that long after adjusting to not seeing my dad or siblings on his side, we moved. My dad lost custody at some point and we no longer had to live close, so we moved and tried to find a better school. It was a Catholic grade school this time, and I was there for about six months, if I had to guess. It was actually a pretty good school, but I had some issues at the time, so I didn't enjoy it much. I was scared of teachers and administration by then, and I had trouble going the entire school day without panicking or not being able to work. There was a period of a week or two in which I didn't speak at school at all. We ended up settling on half days, and, after that, I did well.
The religion class was awkward. The other kids seemed to know more than me even though I'd thought I had a good grasp on religion at that point, and the little information we shared I'd been taught from a very different perspective. Everyone was very nice to me, but I definitely stood out as the kid who wasn't catholic at that point.
Chapel was even weirder. We had to go every wednesday during school, and catholic churches had so many traditions I didn't know about, and the stuff I knew about from either my jewish grandparents or protestant churches had a different name for some reason.
I'm looking at you, sacraments.
Anyway.
I don't think I got much out of the chapel, but religion classes were kind of cool. I liked learning about stuff I hadn't heard before, and the things that were the same were a comfort.
Soon, though, I was graduating eighth grade. I ended up going to a catholic high school. I was still out of place, but I at least had a basic idea of what to do during the mass this school had monthly.
I liked the religion classes here more, how they were an open discussion of everyone's opinions and experiences, and I liked that both of the most recent schools I'd gone to had actual textbooks with facts and studies in them. There were more kids there who weren't catholic, and I felt more comfortable to actually explore religious topics with people. I had a better understanding of catholic beliefs, a decent idea of their traditions, and could recognize at least a few of their holidays I couldn't have before.
I spent my last year of high school at a public career center to start working towards a medical career.
Now, my current beliefs. If you don't want to read it, then just don't.
I haven't been to any place of worship since my school required it, but I do have strong beliefs. I believe in one God (which I generally write all the way out after a billion essays for religion class) who created everything and watches over humans, which he made in his image, etc etc etc. I believe the old stories from the tanakh/old testament/don't care what you call it and the new- yes, including the key messiah bit- though I do think it wasn't all translated perfectly and that it was written by humans who made mistakes and poor decisions sometimes in their writing. I believe people's salvation comes through their intention, not through a piece of knowledge or a creed or good deeds or a tradition, and I believe different people worshipping in different ways is how it should be, because different people NEED different styles of worship. I believe that if someone is genuinely mistaken and incorrect in who or what they believe in, it doesn't MATTER because it's the intention to strive to do good and not harm fellow people that counts. I'm a little guarded about sharing my own beliefs, hence why I made an anonymous tumblr account, but I'm generally very curious to hear about what other people believe. I find that, for me, celebrating Jewish holidays and traditions helps me get closer to God, and I'd like to find a place of worship one day, but churches fucking terrify me now. I worship best by sitting and discussing beliefs, but I have no place to do it now that I've graduated school. I also developed some of my less related beliefs now: I believe in a lot of old stories that have popped up around the world, like fairies of various places, different creatures and entities and things that have become the subject of curiosity or worship, spirits and things, etc. I think many of these creatures exist, just that they may be different from us in the nature of how they interact with the world and matter and that, and I don't think they're deities or anything. I believe in ghosts of humans in some cases, too, though I believe sometimes other things mimic them. I don't find the idea of God having someone reincarnated if he wants the same soul to play many parts in the world unlikely at all, though that's really just me speculating. I still believe in demons, and I still don't want anything to do with them.
A lot of my understanding of things comes from Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant teaching in a strange mishmosh of culture and religion.
I relate to a lot of things directed at Jewish people, and I understand what's directed at Catholic people. Things directed at Protestant people are both understood and, unfortunately, make me instinctively wary due to weird cult trauma (that in no way reflects on actual protestant people, i love you guys some people just suck and twist religion) so are hard to interact with.
In a lot of ways, I'd consider myself Jewish. Culturally, at least, if my religious beliefs aren't "validly jewish" or whatever.
I have literally zero actual connections to any Catholic church, but I almost feel like a weird half-catholic. That's not a thing, but it's how it feels. I believe a lot of it, and I'm interested in all of it, even if I have my disagreements, plus I understand the environments and culture of it, even if I'm a bit of an outsider.
A year- or maybe two years, idk- ago, I mentioned some upcoming holiday or smth in a post and tagged it messianic. That's the closest name I could find for my experience, but apparently some organizations who use the term suck or something. I ended up getting a bunch of asks calling me a predatory fake jew or a fundamentalist christian trying to appropriate judaism or other weird shit that I'm NOT DOING. Because of my experiences in the past, those comments still weigh so damn heavy on my that I broke my resolve and made this stupid account to complain about it.
I don't have a name for what I am. I don't know where to go to talk about my beliefs with people, or what environment I could find to actually practice whatever weird faith I've dreamt up with other people in a way that isn't just picking part of what I believe and leaving the rest to rot. I feel closer to God and more spiritually fulfilled practicing the festivals that call back to what the Jewish people of old went through, but I also believe in the messiah of the new testament, and I like to read the pope's opinion on things, even though I think no human is perfect or infallible. I want to talk about old writings with people and discuss what they mean, from my religion or others, and I don't want to give any of what's right for me spiritually up.
I don't know what this post is for.
Maybe I'm just venting, but I do want to know if this is a thing or if I'm the only one with this belief system. I'm sick of getting shit for the actions of people who I'm not affiliated with, so apparently calling myself messianic doesn't cut it. I can't call myself "spiritual but not religious" either, because I'm very religious, it's just very personal and not something I shove at people, and "christian" doesn't describe a solid half of what I believe. Off and on again I've considered converting to Catholicism, but I think that's kind of grasping at the closest thing that won't piss off tumblr anons as much. (And yeah, the larger Catholic church can suck, but I honestly think I'm gonna get that with any religion with a large following)
Rambling aside:
I want to find a short description that hits the major points of what I believe in order to help me find a place or group of worship that actually matches my spiritual needs without compromising the cultures that I grew up with and making me feel like shit.
(Also don't try to change my beliefs thanks)
I'll be tagging this with anything I've mentioned or vaguely heard of that might be related so relax ok
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aka-willow · 4 years
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The Looking Glass
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Words: 1978
Characters: Willow Wren, Marty Fields, Phil Coulson, Daisy Johnson, Melinda May
Prompt/Tag:
“We have to leave the country.”
Summary: Willow receives unexpected visitors following the library incident
Timeline: October 2015
Song: The Hall of Mirrors - Kraftwerk
A/N: uh-oh sisters!
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It seemed that my prayers weren’t answered. I spent the days after the library incident completely paranoid, feeling like this was becoming a pattern, some incident escalating, the fallout paranoia, and then the eventual slide back into normalcy until the next one.
I need to stop. I need to stop.
That Thursday was the first day I was able to not obsess over what happened. Marty and I made a pact to not talk about it, and I made a promise to never let Marty get that close again. That was a mistake. He saved me, but what if it went differently? No more help.
I got home from school early that day, only feeling a little better after learning that Adrian Lester had been arrested, and the fire alarm pull had been attributed to him as well, as an escape tactic. I tried not to let it get to my head, but I was shocked that I had gotten away with it, right out in the open, in broad daylight. Stop this, stop this Willow. We’re going down a dangerous path.
I had texted the Lab Rats group chat, asking if they remembered anything about a book, but so far, no one had remembered anything. Was it… like… a Bible? Some HYDRA Nazi book? Just a random bedtime story? Is that what Monster was? Just a bedtime story?
I was so deep in thought that I didn’t even hear someone approached our door until they knocked. I froze in my room and opened my bedroom door, poking my head out. Both Marty and his dad were out—it was just me home.
“Oh, what the fuck?” I whispered. I considered just not answering it, maybe they would think no one was home. Okay, we go out through the window, fly to the roof, regroup from there—
No. No powers. I have to face this as a normal person would. I didn’t do anything wrong. I have nothing to hide. It’s that simple. Besides, what if it’s just like UPS dropping off a package?
They knocked again and I crept towards the apartment’s front door before peering through the peephole. There were three people outside—official looking. Oh shit. HYDRA?
I should run, right now. Leave.                           
But if it was HYDRA, they would have come for me while I was at school. They wouldn’t knock, right?
I took another deep breath, checked to make sure my wings were hidden, and slowly opened the door, just enough to poke my head out. “Hello?” It was a man and two women. The man seemed to be the one in charge, which was one suckaroo for feminism.
“Hi, Willow?” the man asked. “Mind if we come in? We have a few questions about an incident you may have witnessed at the Henry Clay Public Library the other day.”
Oh SHIT.
I pushed away my panic and tried to remain calm and keep my expression neutral. “What? What incident?”
“It would be easier if we could sit down,” said one of the women. She wasn’t smiling like the man was.
“Is anyone else home?” The other woman asked.
I opened the door a little more, my heart pounding as I considered my options. “No…? Maybe… maybe I should call our lawyer or something. Are you police?”
“No, not police,” said the man. “I’m Phil Coulson. We specialize in strange occurrences, like the ones you may have witnessed, as part of the Strategic Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. And this is Agent May and Agent Johnson.”
I worked through the letters in my head. “Shield?” OH SHIT. “Wait… aren’t you guys… wait also hold on, who came up with the letters thingy was it really necessary, it’s kind of a lot…” I couldn’t stop talking, words were just pouring out of my mouth, my usual nervous rambles starting.
“Everything all right?” Agent May asked.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine. So… uh…” I cleared my throat. “What about the library? How did you even know…?”
“Oh,” said Phil, looking towards Agent Johnson for an explanation. “Agent Johnson, can you…”
“You posted on Instagram and tagged the library about ten minutes before it happened,” Agent Johnson said simply. She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture. “This one?”
Oh… fuck. It was a selfie of me and Marty with the caption come to Henry Clay Public Library if you want an ass kicking in the next 30 minutes.
Phil chuckled. “It’s amazing. Every year this part of our job gets easier. Between Facebook, Instagram, and Flickr—”
“Flickr?” I interrupted. “No one uses that anymore. I mean, Snapchat, for example, might be way more helpful if you used the—" I stopped, realized I was rambling again.
“Use the…?” Agent Johnson asked.
“There’s… uh…” I glanced out the window. “A vulnerability that uh…allows you to view Snaps under a specific um… geotag… never mind.” Can you stop talking? Is that possible for you?
“Well, as much as I would love to talk about what’s hip with the kids these days,” Phil said, “We just need to know if you saw anything out of sorts at the library yesterday. Anything strange, unusual?”
Just play dumb.
“I mean... the fire alarm went off. Why would they call you guys in for that?” I plopped down on the couch, putting my shaking hands underneath my legs as the other agents sat down across from me. Get it together! I forced myself to make eye contact with Phil since Agent May wouldn’t stop staring me down. “
“Willow, our team learned of the arrest of a person of interest that took place at the same time you evacuated the building.” Phil pulled out a photo of Adrian Lester and showed it to me. “However, a security camera by the front desk captured the agent being thrown back by an unknown force before his arrest and the injuries sustained are believe were inflicted by a powered individual. That’s why we were called in. Here.” He pulled up the security footage and I watched Adrian hit the desk again, flinching as he did so. Did I really throw him that hard?
“Damn, that’s crazy,” I said, not sure of what else to say, kicking myself for forgetting about the camera by the front desk. “I didn’t see anyone though if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did you see anyone talking to him before the alarms went off?” Phil asked. “Or perhaps what he was doing?”
“I was just there studying,” I said evenly. “No, I didn’t see anything.”
“You didn’t seem him get approached by anyone, or anyone else suspicious in the building?” Agent May clarified.
“No,” I said again, this time a little more forcefully. “Look, I have a lot of homework, so…”
“Okay, all right,” said Phil gently. “We’re just going around and trying to figure out our next steps and questioning anyone who may have seen anything. Thank you for your time.”
I saw Agent Johnson glancing around the apartment, and it was making me nervous. None of this felt quite real and I was already thinking about what this meant for our Rat Revolution, for the others. If SHIELD finds out about us, about what we’ve been doing, we’re going to be in some real hot shit.
This was exactly what Jessica warned you about and you ignored her.
“Who else do you live here with again?” Agent Johnson asked, suddenly.
“Uh… don’t you guys know?” I asked. “I mean, government and all? NSA shit?”
The others looked to Phil as he answered. “Well, actually, you were a bit difficult to track down. Did you move recently? Your records were a bit…well… sparse, to be frank.”
Oh, no. Answer this one carefully.
“Uh… actually yeah,” I said. “Um… there was a big fire.” Why the fuck would you say that? “House burned down… and then uh… my parents died.” Where did that come from? “You can look it up. The Gideon Barn fire.” Willow—stop! Are you on crack or something? “Small farming community. Came to stay with these guys. Family friends.” I shifted my pose to the same one I did when I didn’t do my homework, elbows on the knees, leaned forward like I was going through something, so the teacher would feel bad.
“Sorry for your loss,” Agent May said.
“It’s fine.” No, don’t say that! “Is that everything?” I asked.
“I think so,” said Phil, standing up, the tone in the room shifting again. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
“Cool,” I led them over to the door. “Well, yeah, stay in touch. Would love to talk again sometime. Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“Nice meeting you,” said Agent Johnson and I forced a smile.
As soon as I shut the door behind them, I huffed a deep breath in, leaning against the door for support, all the anxiety from the interview filling me at once. I felt lightheaded and sat down instead, my head against the wall. This is bad. This is really bad.
I could still hear their voices as they waited for the elevator, and even though they talked in whispers, I could hear them.
“Think she was hiding something?” Agent Johnson asked. “I mean, we can agree that was weird, right?”
Ouch, thanks for that jab to my self-esteem.
“Perhaps,” said Phil. “The question is, why?
“Do you think it was her?” Agent Johnson asked. “I mean if the ACTU finds this person before we do…”
“We’ll find them,” said Phil. “But for now, until we know what we’re dealing with, we’re not equipped to—”
Their voices faded as the elevator descended and I was shaking again. Why didn’t they ask to talk to Marty? Why come here? How much do they know? And why not just scoop me up now?
I went to the window and stared out, half-expecting to see a bunch of black SUVs parked in the street.  
My first instinct was to talk to Fanisimo and some of the other Lab Rats and see if we could put together a hack, but if we made a wrong move, it would expose all of us, plus then I’d have to admit to them what I had been doing behind their backs—straying away from our original plan to just expose the old Facility workers, but confronting them, using my powers in the open. Drawing attention to myself.
The door opened and I jumped, stumbling back, only to see Marty slipping his shoes off.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“We need to leave the country,” I said, and then paused and put a finger over my lips. Bugs. They could have left bugs.
“What are you…” Marty started, and I turned on my phone light to check under the coffee table and furniture, anything the agents had made contact with. When I saw they were empty, I turned off my flashlight and motioned to Marty.
“Turn off your phone.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
When he powered it off, I told him about the agents. “They were here, Marty. In the apartment,” I whispered. “They know stuff, and I don’t know how much.”
“So, what does that mean? What now?”
“It means that I’m done. Everything has to be back to normal. I don’t know how many resources they have or what they know. From here on out, I promise, everything is going to have to be normal.”
It means I’m shouldn’t take my phone with me anymore when I do these operations. It means I have to be twice as careful, no more sloppy work. It means I need to finish this before anyone else finds me.
And what do I mean by finish?
Find Subject Zero. Find Doctor Turner. Find out what Monster was. Destroy anything that’s left of it.
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Bible Study (E.D.)
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THIS IS SO SMUTTY PLEASE BE AWARE OF THAT ALSO IM SORRY IF ITS NOT THAT GOOD OR THERE ARE SOME ERRORS IM NOT WELL VERSED IN CHURCH RELATED THINGS SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME ILY ❤️
@e-g-d-8 @hexagonaldolans @dolanswhore @deluxedolans @hmmmethan
ETHAN’S POV
My parents last ditch effort at making me a normal respectable teen was bible study. It’s a well known fact that my parents were bible thumpers and it irritated them to no end that my life goal was to be the exact opposite. My twin brother Grayson and I were both against our parents strict rules but Grayson obeyed most of them just to shut them up. I however, relished in making people squirm and pissing off my parents was my favorite hobby. I only agreed to bible study because it was either that or get a job, and an after school shift at the diner would really cramp my style.
I flicked my cigarette into the parking lot and crushed it with my boot before making my way to the door of the church. Once inside the building I followed the posted signs that directed me to the bible study room in the basement. Folding chairs were arranged in a circle and a few other teens were already there when I walked through the door. Heads turned and voices quieted as they all noticed me. I had quite the reputation at school so the people here already knew who I was and what I’d done and they seemed afraid of me. Good. That’s the way I liked it.
I found a seat and the rest of the group did the same. It was still quiet and I was not enjoying being gawked at, so when the door swung open and everyone’s attention shifted I was grateful. Until I saw her. The girl who entered the room was none other than Y/n Y/l/n, the local pastor’s daughter. I’d seen her around school before but only in small glimpses as she was usually hurrying away from wherever I was. Now, I could see her fully and up close. She made her way to a long table against the back wall of the room to set up some pamphlets.
She had a skirt on that was just a touch too short to be as modest as I’m sure her father would have preferred, her blouse was tight and I could see the buttons straining just a bit and she had a cardigan over top to keep the attention off her amazing tits. She could do whatever she wanted to hide them but I could tell what was underneath. She had wedge heels on that made her legs look amazing and I made a mental note that she was clearly not a girl who enjoyed wearing stockings. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun on the top of her head and strands poked out all over the place, framing her face. Her glasses were thick rimmed and sliding down the bridge of her nose and she had to push them up with a delicate finger. A gold cross necklace hung around her neck and she fiddled with it often. Her lips were soft and pillowy and pink, and when she sucked the lower one into her mouth while trying to concentrate on her pamphlet set up, I almost came in my jeans. Fuck, my pants were so tight and all I wanted was to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here. I swore to myself that I’d go to this meeting and then never return but if she was gonna be here, I might have to stick around.
READER’S POV
Ethan Dolan was sitting in my class. He was sitting in my fucking bible study class. Why on earth do strange things always happen to ME?! How was I supposed to concentrate? Ethan Dolan was sex on legs and I don’t know if you know this but, as the pastor’s daughter I’m expected to steer clear of boys like that. But god he makes it so hard to do that. I continued setting up the back table and took a deep breath before turning to face the group.
Ethan had a smirk plastered to his gorgeous face like he had x-ray vision or something and could see through my clothes. My eyes scanned the group for an open chair but there wasn’t one as no one had prepared for another person to join us. “You can sit right here if you’re looking for a seat babydoll.” Ethan’s gruff voice rumbled from across the circle. I turned my gaze on him and watched as he ran his big hands up and down his thighs, grinning like the cheshire cat. “N-no thank you Ethan! But that does bring me to this weeks t-topic! Okay!” I managed to stammer while setting up a chair for myself. “This week’s topic is abstinence, chastity, and virginity. Now it’s okay if you’ve already lost your virginity. Yes, it’s a sin but if you ask for God’s forgiveness and vow to never do it again until you’re married, you will be pure again.” I recited from my father’s usual speech from mass. “Don’t really think I can un-ring that bell if you know what I mean.” Ethan’s voice sounded from across the circle. My breath caught in my chest and I swallowed down my nervousness. “Ethan, you can still be pure if that’s something that interests you.” I said. I decided to be a little daring and ask him a question. “Why don’t you tell us what's stopping you from having your virginity reclaimed by God?” I crossed my legs and waited for his response.
ETHANS POV
That little vixen. She really was egging me on! I was shocked she had the nerve to ask me what she did. But I wasn’t about to lose this little game we started playing, trying to push each other over the edge. “Uh, hard to say, exactly. Sex has always felt, I don't know, good, you know? I mean, really, really good. So what's the big deal, right? I mean what’s not to love about sex? There's the touching and the feeling all of each other, my hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body, the two of us moving together, pressing and pulling...grinding. Then you hit that sweet spot, and everything just builds and builds and builds until it all just...explodes.” I said, clearing my throat. The girls in the group looked starstruck and the boys looked jealous. I noticed Y/n’s breathing had sped up and she was crushing the pamphlet in her hand. She quickly uncrossed and crossed her legs and I could tell I had gotten to her because when she uncrossed her legs, I could see up her skirt and a wet patch was just barely visible on her baby pink panties. I was fucking rock hard in my jeans and I wanted her more than anything. Everyone else in the room faded away when I locked eyes with her. God I’d give anything to fuck her right in this room in front of everyone.
READERS POV
Ethan’s little speech had quite the effect on me. I was extremely warm and dizzy. If sex was really as good as the way he described it, how could it be a sin?! Whatever. It wasn’t my job to question the Lord and his rules, so I brushed him off as well as I could and continued with the class.
After about an hour I dismissed the group and everyone made their way out of the basement, Ethan included. When my group ended it was usually around 7 pm and I was the only one left in the building so locking up was my job. I felt like I should say a prayer and confess my sinful thoughts before leaving so I made my way upstairs to the chapel. The lights were dim so I didn’t see the Ethan sitting in the back pew and I went to kneel in front of the altar. “Dear God, please forgive me for my impure thoughts and please protect me from the temptation that is Ethan Dolan. Amen.” I whispered. “Oh so I’m a temptation now?” a deep voice rumbled from behind me. I attempted to turn around quickly but just ended up further embarrassing myself by falling on my ass. My face was burning with guilt and I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him, and I feared that if I did look at him, I’d do whatever he asked.
ETHANS POV
I couldn’t help but grin as she stared down at my boots. I knew she wanted me now and she knew that she’d made a mistake letting her true desires slip. I reached out a hand and brushed her cheek and lifted her face. “Look at me Y/n. Come on baby. Look at me. Look at Daddy.” I said, catching her attention. Her eyes met mine and I swear to God my knees buckled. I ran my thumb over her lower lip and tugged on it just a little. She locked eyes with me as she sucked my thumb into her mouth. She looked so innocent and the thought of being the one to fuck her brains out was so so exciting. Was it wrong to tempt her and reel her in this way? Maybe. Did I care? No.
“Oh sweetheart, you look so beautiful. But you’d look so much better with my dick in your mouth don’t ya think?”
READERS POV
I must have died and gone to heaven. That could be the only explanation for this situation. Ethan Dolan wanted me and all reasonable thought had floated out of my brain. He wanted me to suck him off and that’s exactly what I was going to do.
My hands scrambled to pull his belt free and unbutton his jeans and he reached down to grab my wrists. “Baby slow down. We’ve got all night. I promise.” Ethan chuckled above me. “I-i I’ve n-never done this before.” I whispered, looking at him. His big hand cradled my chin before he spoke, “Oh baby, I know. But I’m gonna teach you.” He unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from the loops of his jeans. He then unbuttoned them, pushing them to pool around his ankles. He then grabbed my hand, pressing it to the front of him. I could feel his member pulsing beneath his black calvin klein boxers and it excited me. I gently pulled them down to join his jeans and his length sprang up, finally free from its confines. All I could do was stare. It was so big and intimidating but my mouth watered with anticipation.
“Open up beautiful.” Ethan gently urged and I did as I was told. He fed his cock into my mouth inch by inch and I moaned at the taste.
ETHANS POV
She was taking my cock like a champ and if I wasn’t so caught up in the pleasure, I would have been shocked. She started sucking on her own and bobbing her head back and forth, slowly but surely. “God damn sweetheart. Yeah just like that. You’re doing so good for me baby. So so good. Ugh fuck yes.” I moaned, my hand coming up to cup the back of her head. I managed to pry my eyes open to look down at her and the sight was beautiful. “Come on baby. Remember what I said? Look at Daddy.” I groaned. Y/n looked up at my through her this lashes and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. She looked so fucking pretty. “Okay take me in as far as you can...yup just like that baby, just like that…now try to swallow.” I instructed her. She did what I said and a litany of curses spilled from my lips as her throat constricted around me. I began sliding in and out of her mouth at a quick pace and she did her best to accommodate my speed. “Yes! Fuck yes! Good girl...oh god…” I cried. I was a panting mess and I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. I withdrew myself from her mouth and she sucked in a large lungful of air, throatfuck spit gathered at the corners of her mouth. God she was so fucking sexy. “Get up baby. Come on.” I demanded. Once she stood, I pulled her body flush with mine, kissing her full on the mouth. My hand reached down slowly to lift her skirt and I ran a finger over her soaked panties. She hissed at the contact and I grinned against her lips.
READERS POV
He was touching me in my most intimate place and I was shocked that the sparks flying between us didn’t catch the whole church on fire. Oh. My. God. We’re in a church! My father’s church! What is wrong with me?! Ethan’s lips trailed down my neck, making me shiver. “Sweetheart I wanna fuck you over one of these church pews. Is that okay? Huh? Do you want that? Tell Daddy what you want.” His honey sweet voice whispered in my ear. I couldn’t lie, I did want him to fuck me. I didn’t even care that we were in a church anymore. I wanted him and he wanted me and I wasn’t about to stop this. I nodded before whispering back “Daddy, I want whatever you want.” He groaned and his hands that were resting on my hips, gripped my flesh tight before he grabbed his discarded belt and led me to a pew. Ethan spun me around so my back was facing him and he ran a hand down my spine signaling me to lean forward. He pulled the zipper down on the back of my skirt until it fell away. I heard the click of him opening his pocket knife and I shivered as the cold blade came in contact with my skin. In a swift motion he cut away my panties and I looked over my shoulder in shock. He grinned at me, shoving my torn panties in his jacket pocket. “A momento baby. They’re mine now.” He smirked and delivered a smack to my right ass cheek. I moaned and let my head fall forward. “Are you ready for me sweetheart?” He asked, just to be sure I wanted this. I bit my lip and shook my head yes. He slapped his dick against my clit a few times making me gasp and clench around nothing. “Please…” I moaned. “Well since ya asked so pretty…” He murmured before lining himself up and sliding in to the hilt.
I couldn’t help it, I just screamed. It felt so damn good having him inside me and the pent up need from the teasing all night completely masked the pain that should have occurred. Ethan stilled inside me, making what seemed like a choking sound. “I just...I uh...I’ve-fuck…I’ve never been with a girl this tight before. Jesus Christ. I uh, I just need a second.” He said through clenched teeth. I smirked to myself and wiggled my ass, giggling a bit after hearing him hiss.
ETHANS POV
Her pussy was like a fucking vice around me. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by cumming so soon so I had to take a second to collect myself. She was so warm and wet inside. She let it slip that she was on birth control during sharing time in group so I didn’t use a condom. This was the first time I’d ever been inside someone raw and it was amazing. I could feel everything, every ridge, every pulse.
After a few moments I began to pull out and Y/n whined. beneath me. I pulled out and pushed back in over and over at a slow but steady pace, all the while she moaned and whimpered below me. “Faster…” She cried. Her wish was my command so I planted my hands on her hips and began to slam in and out of her slick channel. My hips slapped against her ass and the sound echoed through the church like some kind of sick depraved hymn. “Oh my god! Yes Ethan yes! Please don’t stop!” Y/n moaned, slumped forward over the pew. Her hands gripped the bench seat and her knuckles turned white from how tight she was holding on. I had been fucking her so hard, her hair had fallen out of her bun and was now waving around her face. My left hand gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her head back while my right hand slithered between her legs to rub her clit. She tightened around me and I gasped at the feeling.
READERS POV
Between the stinging of my scalp where Ethan was yanking my hair, and the immense pleasure of him rubbing my clit while thrusting into me, had me in a fog of bliss. He used my hair to pull me backwards so his chest was against my back and his teeth sank into my shoulder. I cried out and I could feel the coil of heat in my belly tightening. “You’re doing so well sweetheart. You’re so perfect for me. Ughhhh yes. I’m close. Cum for me baby. Cum for Daddy.” He growled in my ear. After hearing his words I exploded around him, juices flowing down my thighs and all over him. My legs felt so weak but I was determined to stay upright until he came. “Oh fuck! You’re squeezing me so tight! I’m gonna cum! Can I come inside you baby? Please?” Ethan begged. He sounded so sweet I just couldn’t say no. I nodded yes and moments later I felt the hot splash of his seed inside me. It felt so good to share something like this with someone. The warmth spread all over my body and as he jerked inside of my with the aftershocks, he hit my g-spot, triggering another orgasm for me. Tears spilled down my face at the overwhelming pleasure and I felt him wipe them away. Ethan pulled out of me slowly and laid down on the seat of the pew, pulling me on top of him. I laid there in comfortable silence as he stroked my hair. “You did so good for me baby. I’m so proud of you. You feelin okay?” He asked. “Yes I’m good. I’m more than good. That was…amazing.” I sighed. “I think we should keep doing this Y/n. I’ve never been with someone that makes me feel the way you do. The chemistry between us is insane don’t you think?” He asked in a serious tone. “It is. I’ve never been so open and willing to bear myself to anyone else. I’d love to keep seeing you Ethan.” I murmured into his chest. “Come on baby. Let’s get outta here.” Ethan said sitting up. “Wait! I have to go erase the tape in the security office before anyone sees us fucking in the chapel! Oh my god I forgot about the cameras!” I shrieked. Ethan’s laugh reverberated through the room before he spoke, saying “Don’t erase it. I’ll take it with me. I’m gonna be replaying this night in my head over and over again for a while anyway. I’d like to have video evidence that this isn’t a dream.”
THE END
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