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Jesus Rocks Jacket

When darkness falls in love

Excerpt* As Cian removed his jacket, revealing a serpent-like tattoo on his chest, a chill ran down her spine. “Who sent you?” she asked, her voice quivering as she clutched the sheets tightly around her. Cian smirked, “Which insignificant creature would dare to command me?” Confused, she glanced at the doors, praying for someone to walk in and save her from this dangerous stranger. “Then why are you here?” she managed to ask, her heart pounding in her chest. Cian casually tossed his jacket onto the nearest chair, revealing his muscular chest and the glowing, serpent-like tattoo that coiled around it. “For you, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice deep and seductive. She stared into his piercing, emerald-green eyes, awed by their luminescence. They seemed to pierce right through her, illuminating her heart and igniting a fire within her that she couldn’t quite extinguish. As Cian moved closer, he bent down to look her directly in the eyes, his gaze penetrating. “Marry me,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. She recoiled in horror, pushing his hand away as she tried to back away from him. “Pardon me, my Lord, but I must refuse your offer,” she said, her voice shaking with fear. Cian let out a low, sinister laugh as he pulled off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the tattoo that seemed to writhe and twist on his skin. He crawled onto the bed, pinning her down as he loomed over her. She struggled against him, trying to break free from his grip, but he was too strong. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, “Sweetheart, what is mine is mine, and what is yours is mine.” “She froze, her heart racing as she realized the danger she was in and how ridiculously aroused she was getting. Cian, with his piercing gaze and devilish grin, knew exactly what he was doing.
Love_chi_24 · 11.5K Views

The Server's Chronicle: A Fantasy Of Faith

Senior Server Felix stood at the front of the church, his voice steady and solemn as he greeted the congregation. “Our help is in the name of the Lord,” he intoned. “Who made Heaven and Earth,” the people responded in unison, their voices matching his reverent tone. “Today, we initiate new members into this divine and holy Order,” Felix continued. “Today, we welcome new brethren into the bosom of our Lord Jesus Christ.” At the back of the church, Louis sat on one of the few single chairs, his posture slightly slouched as his focus remained on a sheet of music in his hands. The title read, "Brightest and Best – Key of A-flat." 'Why didn’t Gramps give me an F or G? A-flat is so difficult, and I only have three days to finish it,' he grumbled silently, his brow furrowing in frustration. But he dared not voice his complaints. He could already imagine his grandfather assigning him even more difficult pieces—F-sharps and endless A-flats—as punishment. From the front of the church, a serene voice called out, “Harry! Step forward!” Louis glanced up, momentarily pulled from his inner musings. His eyes landed on a girl stepping forward from the pews. She had black hair neatly styled in a bun and striking green eyes that seemed to shine with warmth and composure. Dressed in a modest brown dress and black sandals, with a rosary resting gracefully around her neck, she exuded a calm, dignified presence. Her tanned skin and graceful demeanor only added to the aura of reverence surrounding her, befitting an Altar server. 'Sigh,' Louis thought as he brushed a hand through his white hair, his blue eyes softening with a mix of admiration and envy. 'I wonder what it’s like to be an Altar server. They all seem so pure and divine… and powerful.' Just as he returned his attention to his music, a calm, gentlemanly voice spoke beside him. “You could also be an Altar server, if you’re interested.” “Huh?” Louis blurted out, snapping his head to the side. But no one was there. “What in the name of Jesus is going on here?” he muttered, glancing nervously around. “At least you know my name,” the voice replied again, seemingly amused. “What?” Louis whispered, his heart beginning to race. "I'm certain you will be a good server," the voice said, calm yet enigmatic. Louis narrowed his eyes, still searching for its source. "Who are you?" "I have many personalities. I have many names," the voice replied with an air of mystery. "It’s your choice which one you accept." "You’re not making any sense," Louis muttered, growing more unsettled. "Blessed are those who have not seen but believed…" Before Louis could respond, his vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to melt away. He jolted awake, gasping for air. His hands clutched the crumpled sheet of music, its corners bent from his restless grip. His head teetered precariously over the edge of his bed, a faint ache in his neck reminding him of the awkward position he’d been in. "Holy Mother of Jesus!" he exclaimed as he lost his balance, tumbling off the bed in a heap of blankets and scattered papers.
JuniKelv_ · 1.9K Views

Villian's Redemption

Most folks join the military to serve their homeland, defend freedom, or chase after glory and honor. Not Malakar. He joined for two simple reasons: money and women. Sergeant Rock had filled his head with promises: knighthood after the war, the adoration of the masses, men envying him, women flocking to him, and even an estate from the Emperor himself. Sounded like a good deal, right? Turns out, it was complete and utter horseshit. The battlefield didn’t smell like glory—it stank of blood, piss, and rotting corpses. Honor? A joke. What greeted him at every corner was death, endless and indiscriminate. But Malakar was nothing if not a man of his word. Sergeant Rock drilled that into him, right between the sword thrusts and the screaming. So, Malakar endured. He followed orders, slaughtered pig-bloods, butchered witches, and carved up state soldiers—all in the vain hope that Rock’s promises would pan out. Spoiler: they didn’t. Zermania lost the war, the Emperor got himself shish-kebabbed by the Sentinel, and Malakar—the so-called “hero”—was branded an enemy of humanity. Hunted down like a rabid dog, he eventually got himself killed. But death, as it turns out, is more of a suggestion than a rule. Fast forward 500 years, and Malakar’s soul has found a new meat suit. He’s alive, some what free, and determined to be a better man. Easier said than done when all you’ve ever known is war and murder. A little slip-up here, a minor incident there… like accidentally catching the eye of the world’s strongest superhero’s daughter or, oops, killing the heir to the most powerful family in existence. Malakar’s trying, really. But being a better man? Let’s just say it’s a work in progress.
Malakar · 0 Views
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