#sketch break to get these sinful thoughts out of me
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This was plan A. Plan A!!
#the locked tomb#art#tlt#harrowhark nonagesimus#ianthe tridentarius#sketch break to get these sinful thoughts out of me#they are terrible for each other and I am sick for it#tbf I would let ianthe do unspeakabley nasty things to me#harryanthe#harrianthe
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house arrest 4
afab!mc x asmo description: NSFW, you are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? Asmo knows you need a break.
warnings: breeding kink with talk scents/scenting, afab reader with she/her pronouns. dubcon warning!!! This one turned out sounding kind of sketch in places, but actions depicted are intended to be consensual. spoilers: aphrodisiac used.
|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) ||
Asmo:
Asmo: I heard what happened.
Asmo: If you need a little something for those love bites, come see me. It's incredible what Devildom cosmetics can do.
Asmo:
You puffed a little laugh watching the messages roll in. Leave it to Asmo to be so sweet under such ridiculous circumstances.
Turning your phone face down on the pillow beside you, you folded your hands over your chest, staring up at the ceiling and taking inventory of the situation at hand. In the motion, your hands briefly brushed against a stray bite mark, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain throughout your body.
You had, by your estimation, about three more days under the microscope. The halfway point had snuck up on you amidst a flurry of seemingly nonstop activity. Until now, you hadn't had a chance to breathe, let alone strategize.
Responding to those messages meant walking straight into a trap, of that much you could be certain. Truthfully, his distance thus far had surprised you. Asmo was something of a dark horse; an unpredictability bubbled just under his surface. Surrounded by his sin, comfortable and in his element, there was no way of knowing how his behavior would manifest.
Well, there was one way.
___
“Aww, muffin! You came!” Asmo cheered, swinging the door open before you could even knock. He flung his arms around your neck and pulled you into a tight hug.
He paused to take a good look at you, lightly chiding: “You're a mess, you poor thing! Come on, let's get you fixed up.”
Linking his arm in yours, Asmo led you inside where he left you waiting at the edge of his bed while he broke away to dig through a readily prepared stash of bottles and assorted sundries.
“Brutes, all of them,” He clucked his tongue, “You’ll have to tell me all about it, obviously.”
You laughed, settling back amongst the pillows, “They’re not so bad. They’re trying.”
“Please. You coddle them,” The demon teased, rolling his eyes at you, “Meanwhile, you look like a chew toy.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No need to worry, Asmo-chan is here!” He sing-songed, joining you on the bed with an armful of products, “And I’ve got just the thing- I brought my most powerful arsenal.”
This seemed… normal? Too normal, you thought. Asmo chattered on happily, laying out his choices one-by-one and explaining the benefits of each. All else aside, it felt like any other spa day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised that The Avatar of Lust remained unfazed in the face of something that may very well be considered a mundane part of his domain. After all, Asmo had been the one to keep a cool head back when…
“Sounds good?” He chirped, holding up a jar in the shape of a deep purple crystal, eyes glittering with excitement.
“S-sure!” You nodded, hoping your eagerness covered up the fact you had entirely zoned out during his presentation.
“Yay~” He unscrewed the lid, “Then we can start with ones on your neck.”
You tried to relax, craning your head to one side. Asmo gathered some of the lightly-scented balm between his fingers and you sighed when he softly traced the sensitive marks.
“This stuff works quickly,” He assured you, extending the motion down to your collarbone, “I didn’t think Beel would be so bitey. On second thought, I guess it does make sense…”
With a practiced familiarity, you reached to pull your shirt overhead, “I think he got me on my back, too.”
“Ooh, lemme see!”
You rolled onto your stomach and buried your face into one of about a thousand silk pillows. Asmo gasped. Chuckling to himself, he wasted no time getting to work on your shoulders, and although you jumped at his touch at first, you soon found yourself sinking into its warmth.
You were feeling pretty warm.
“They're fading already,” Asmo said, sounding impressed with himself. He positioned himself over you, straddling your hips for purchase, ministrations straying closer to a massage than a cosmetic treatment.
“Is that why I'm so warm?” You asked, groaning in appreciation as he helpfully teased out a knot between your shoulder blades.
“That's probably the magdalena extract,” He giggled, breath tickling the shell of your ear, “Like I said, this stuff works fast.”
You rolled the name over in your mind, trying to remember where you had heard it before. A fog was encroaching on your thoughts, swaddling your head in a thick haze reminiscent of being wine-drunk.
“Do you like it?” The fifth-born's voice stayed soft and playful as his hands glided down the small of your back. You set your remaining thoughts aside and sighed again, feeling yourself become putty in his hands.
“Good,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck and nipping gently at your ear, “Then, do you want to turn over so I can get the rest of you?”
You hummed in agreement, turning underneath him when he rose up on his knees enough for you to move. Once situated on your back, Asmo lowered down to sit on you, again; his lithe frame light enough to not cause any discomfort, but heavy enough to keep you in place. You studied him through lowered lashes– he truly was beautiful.
“Ah, there you are,” He said as if seeing you for the first time. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, tangerine gaze raking over your flushed body.
Magdalena extract.
The name continued to echo somewhere in the back of your mind.
Asmo collected a generous amount of the salve, warming it between his hands before tenderly cupping your abused chest. His tongue poked out cutely between his lips in concentration, perfectly manicured fingers trailing feather-light over fading teeth imprints and rapidly stiffening nipple peaks.
It's an aphrodisiac. An alarm bell sounded somewhere in the distance. You were too far away to pay it any attention.
“I swear, these boys have no idea how it's done,” He murmured, more to himself than to you, and leaned in to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He lapped around the sensitive bud, sending you reeling. Your eyes rolled back as your body exploded in sensation, arching off the mattress.
What the fuck was that? You wouldn't have time to think too hard about it.
“Shh,” He lovingly shushed you, stuffing two fingers in your mouth, “You don't want to get us caught, do you~?”
You whimpered around the digits’ probing– even their intrusion was starting to feel good. Asmo turned his attention back to your body. He trailed his free hand down your side, tracing the hem of your waistband.
“Can I?” He looked up at you with a hopeful smile. You nodded, eager to shed the remaining clothes covering your feverish skin. Asmo removed his fingers from your mouth to help shimmy you out of your bottoms.
“You know,” The demon said, parting your legs to sit between them, “Your scent has been driving me crazy for almost a week now.” He pouted, “It's pretty rude.”
Goosebumps cropped up along your thighs, following the path of his hands applying more healing balm. You lifted your hips for him, allowing space for him to slip his hands under your ass.
“Besides, everyone's been paying attention to you,” Asmo huffed, kissing each of your hip bones. Your eyes watered. “That doesn't seem fair.”
“ -‘m sorry,” You managed to whine, rolling your hips against your will. You ached for more.
He giggled again, placing a few more kisses along your stomach, “Aww, that's okay. We'll have plenty of time for you to give me attention. Lucifer thinks I left the house hours ago.”
The words hardly registered. Asmo offered you two of his fingers again, which you readily accepted into your mouth. You twisted your tongue around them and sucked, and he looked at you like you hung the stars.
He was right. There was plenty of time
to be spent lavishing one another with affection– and what more perfect place to start, he thought, than playing with your adorable puffy clit until you cried that you loved him.
You had all night, after all.
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the evil thoughts got me fucked up and shit
OH forgot to mention: top 2 images are the final 'redesign', 2 images below are concept sketches i made for the 'redesigns'
tgs jekyll and hyde but they got evaporated by my evil headcanon beam and stitched back together by somebody who has no experience with using a needle and thread to the point where theyre more just like a seperate character
im sorry for my sins
PLEASE HEAR ME OUT BEFORE BITING A CHUNK OUT OF MY ARM. if anybody wants to read about my evil headcanon world all the stuff is below. wasnt really exaggerating when i said i ripped their character apart and stitched them back together though.
i do have a google doc full of everything i headcanon for tgs but some of that is embarrassing as hell so im just slapping the important stuff here
most of these 'headcanons' are here more because they make me happy than to actually make any sense. as a warning.
smokes fat blunt puffs it in your face anyways uh trans henry jekyll yeah (gets shot) ty person from the j&h community i was messaging that dragged me to the dark side and introduced me to the world of embracing my j&h trans headcanons. a true angel.
i really like more book inspired takes on j&h than the musical ones soo uhh.. yeah theyre the same person fully no j&h arguing thing. im soooorrrrryyy its just my preference for adaptations and i find it a lot more fun to play with story wise. also some other reasons but i wont get into those
polyamorous and bisexual (bi because... obvious reasons. poly because of that one couple they meet up with in the comic every now and then. my favourite ... ship (i think thats the right term?) in the comic. i love them.)
gas mask because it looks cool + chemical shenanigans ("oh but those didnt exist" shh. shhhhh.")
speaking of chemicals! they are much more into science. mostly does science-y stuff when theyre hyde though. they like to break into lodgers rooms and contribute to experiments.
facial hair. thats it. no further reasoning will be given
tried making jekyll in the concept redesign of him look older. failed SO bad im sorry i know its horrible.
hyde has pointy ears + pointer teeth (and green tongue because potion goop) + slit pupils because i am incapable of designing a human hyde. i have no idea why but i just cant.
earrings because 1: i have a bad habit of giving designs earrings and 2: i remember seeing a few headcanons of j&h with earrings and they were so tasty to look at so i had to do my own
bandage scarf thing from the beta tgs hyde design + newer tgs design that only shows up in the mind... world.... thing.
added the uhhh goggles from the old design too.
red and green hat because i couldnt decide if i wanted hyde to have the red hat from the old design of tgs hyde or the green hat from the current design. ripped it in half and chose both. great decision making i know
chunks of brown hair in hydes because why not. also red ring around one eye as like a weird variant of half heterchomia.
hyde has weird patches of green colored skin idk it just looked cool when i was fiddling with colors so i kept it
hyde has red scales in certain spots of the design. no further explanation
gave hyde black gloves to contrast jekylls white gloves + cmon. hyde probably touches the most gross revolting shit with the places they go to. they deserve some gloves.
changed their body type a litttttle bit just a smudge
i was going to give jekyll a cravat around the neck (a really bad designing habit of mine is to give characters cravats. not my fault they look so cool) both as a fancy thing + to hide lack of a adams apple buuttt the design felt way too clumped so im scrapping that. ignore the cravat in the drawing. grrr bARKBAKRABK
actually does sparkle visually/not just as a non-existent visual effect and people can actually see it. lanyon always swats them away because the sparkles get in his face.
hyde is more shorter than shown in the comic, more like book hydes height. like a foot or more shorter than jekyll. jekyll stays around the same height though. hydes probably the shortest one in the society.
permanent eyebags. does not sleep but cmon we all already knew that
hyde has a strong scottish accent instead of the other accent he fakes in the comic that i always forget the name of
has a cane like the og book. its a sword cane.... yeah i have a addiction, im sorry. (like half my own personal characters have sword canes)
i suck so bad at drawing shoes so hydes shoes look like ass but theyre supposed to be big boots since this guy probably walks through yucky mucky areas and stuff
i would totally write some oneshots or something like that of these guys going on adventures doing experiments and stuff yknow . (stuff like lodgers content and interactions, lanyon and hyde interactions because i enjoy secret identity and person said secret identity personal knows outside of their secret identity interactions, that one couple i talked about before interactions with jekyll/hyde and just in general random oneshots that make no sense) if i actually had any literacy skill
anyways im done my ramble. now you guys can shoot me
#the glass scientists#but like#i ruined it#sorry guys i sneezed on tgs j&h theyre trans and neurodivergent now#embracing my cringe#tgs hyde#tgs jekyll#but extremely torn apart#not literally torn apart i mean figuaritytuibjvbvkvj#posting this knowing its gonna get me on atleast 7 different peoples hitlists#ok im gonna go snore mimimi now#my tgs headcanon world
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TTPD -the album proper- first thoughts
Here are some thoughts about TTPD -the album proper, cause I do not have the time or energy to analyze The Anthology (Taylor, wtf was this double drop???)- before I’m influenced by other people’s thoughts. Warning: I may be waaaay off the mark in some cases cause half the time when I was listening to these songs for the first time I was like “???”
Fortnight (feat. Post Malone) - Great melody, smart choice for an album opener, nice lyrics, no idea wtf the song is talking about. Like, I am guessing it’s about (a first?) break-up with Joe Alwyn in February -and they might have gotten back together for only a fortnight then broke up again for good?- but I’m so confused. Also, why is this the lead single? Taylor, this is not gonna win you SOTY at the grammys. 7/10
The Tortured Poets Department - This was … unexpected, to say the least. This was truly a picture of a moment in her relationship, while I expected either some kind of introspection or parody. Also the line about what he told Lucy and she said the same to Jack? Insane. Girl, you are both better off single. The ring and the wedding allusion? God, it hurt. (And it was only the beginning with this album…). Amazing song anyway. 9.5/10
My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - Girl, this is mental illness for me. Love it to bits and I kinda wish it will become a single (I think it’s my … 3rd choice for a single?), but… girl, I’m happy you two broke up. 9.5/10
Down Bad - I had low expectations from this song cause the title inspired nothing in me, but it really delivered a punch. Probably one of the most honest songs on the album proper. Oh, and her vocals here? Her tone of voice? No notes, it just … hits different *_* 8/10
So Long London - Funny enough, I did hear a leak of this! But it was like … 10 seconds from the intro and I wasn’t sure it was real. It is a very good song, and I can understand why she chose it as a track 5. But for me, when compared to other track 5s -and with a title so inflammatory- it was a bit of a let down. Still love it of course. 8.5/10
But Daddy I Love Him - This one is about Matty Healy, isn’t it? Like, it has to be, cause for the life of me I can’t see who this guy could be but Matty Healy. This song … I laughed out loud. She’s unhinged. ‘I’m having his baby’. Girl, you are unhinged. The wedding fever continues, and now we get the first glimpse of the baby fever. God, I love her. You can literally hear how done she was with everyone having an opinion about whom she dates. I need to listen to this and I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) back to back, cause this girl was so so wrong. Except that bridge. The bridge is gospel and spoke straight to my soul. 10/10
Fresh Out the Slammer - And I’m guessing this is the continuation of the track before, so still about MH. I have to say, this is really meh for me. Maybe because I was expecting something even more high tempo, but this is just … there for me. It doesn’t help that the ‘pretty baby’ annoys me. 6/10
Florida!!! - Nice to see Florence get so much singing time. Their voices mashed surprisingly well. But just like with Fortnight -and these two do seem connected- I have no idea what she is talking about here. I think it might be a composite sketch referring to both her first post break-up shows and Florida as a metaphor for escaping from your life? Idek. But the melody is great and this might be my fave collab of hers so far. 8.5/10
Guilty as Sin? - Another Matty Healy one IMO. Amazing how much material she got from such a short-lived affair. IMO she made a mistake making this track 9 and Florida!!! track 8. I would switch them around to make more sense. I’m not 100% sure this is about emotional cheating, as I think the Joever break-up wasn’t as clear cut as it was made to be, but there is something here about overlapping timelines. 9/10
Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me? - Well, everyone should be now!!! I adore this song, it’s my fave of the album. If I have one complaint about it is that I would have put it more towards the beginning of the album instead of in the middle of the Matty Healy Saga - which makes no sense to me. Honestly, I don’t have much to say about this track cause in my eyes it’s perfect. This is the Taylor I’m here for. 10/10
I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - That last line! I laughed so hard. On one hand, I feel sorry for her. Otoh, girl, you should have run the first time you saw him. Great song to end the Matty Healy Saga on. 9/10
loml - Wow, this was a punch to the gut. Every lyric here is a masterpiece and a dagger to the heart. I would love it if she made this a single (this is SOTY material IMO), but it’s probably too emotional for her. The melody reminds me of Last Kiss, but the piano is giving Evermore. 10/10
I Can Do It With a Brokern Heart - Why is this not the lead single, Taylor??? It has everything: melody, lyrics, airplay value, SOTY potential, why?! I love every single second of this song, especially the chorus. I’m probably gonna listen to it on repeat. Second fave after WAOLOM. 10/10
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Every song I thought was gonna be cutting turned out to be just plain sad. IMO, this song is both about JA and MH. I don;t really have much to say about this song, as it is just .. painful. 9.5/10
The Alchemy - Yeah, I’m team This Song is About Travis. Nice song, and I like that she included something about the current relationship, but it’s not exactly a fave for me. 7.5/10
Clara Bow - This was my predicted fave, but it was def dethroned. Still, I do think this is Top 5 for me. I love the direct reference to herself at the end and the way this is both hopeful and still somewhat sad. Also really like the vocals here. 10/10
Final score: 8.87
Not bad at all. Gonna deal with The Anthology later. Much later as I actually have a life to go back to.
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So took a bit of a break from swordtember cause I was feeling a little overwhelmed and burnt out by other stuff in my life but NOW we’re getting back to it and once again combining prompts to do a bit of catching up!
Day 13: Hidden, Birthday, Sunken
This one was a bit tough. First thoughts were “wrist blade” and “sunken pirate ship.” Making the blade part a broken mast came quickly once sketching started, figured adding the wheel to the back of the arm part would drive home the ship feel, which then just left how to incorporate birthday. Went with like... striped birthday candle colors on the blade part and I think that ended up working out fine. A friend gave me the excellent pun name.
Day 14: Witch, Cosmic, Industrial
Incorporating a wire/pipe that turns into a vine was the first awesome suggestion and then there was an idea of including a crystal. My friend recommended quartz and I decided to make it rose quartz cause pink shows up better on a white background and helps it stand out. Then doing stars on the blade seemed a no brainer. Also took a bit of inspiration for the crystal housing from one of my favorite B-tier anime. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out what it is.
Day 15: Dual-Purpose, Paranormal, Sin
I knew ahead of time, even before getting to this set of prompts, that when I did Dual-Purpose I would make it a grapple hook of some kind. But how to incorporate the other stuff for the combo? Well paranormal makes me think both ghosts and cryptids so I leaned into cryptids and Flatwoods Monster came up. And then sin was a bit harder but is worked in a bit through the dark stone on the pommel with the glowing red rune and the red spiked chain. Maybe doesn’t fully come through but overall I’m happy with the design.
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Slaying Sin
A homily on Colossians 3:1-11
preached at the Cathedral Church of the Advent, Birmingham, Alabama
on the Thursday after the second Sunday in Lent 2023
In a recent chapel service at the seminary where I teach, we sang a modern worship song that had the line, “I will slay my sin.” It’s a bit of a strange sentence, isn’t it? As we were walking out of the service, one of my colleagues turned to me and said, “What do you make of that idea of ‘slaying our sin’? Where does that come from?”
I wonder if you’ve ever thought in those terms about your sin — that you might be called to slay or kill it. It’s a violent image — jarring, probably, and maybe unsettling. Yet we tend to use violent images when we think about trying to get rid of bad habits, don’t we? We talk about “breaking” habits, or “eliminating” them. One website I found talked about “Bad Habits You Need to Kill to Be More Successful.” The article urges readers to “take control of your destiny by deleting the negative habits that have been dragging you down.” “Instead of adding a new diet or workout regime,” the article continues, “let’s remove the negative habits that have been holding you back.” “Kill your habit of checking social media during the workday,” the piece advises. “Kill your habit of comparing yourself with everyone.” “Kill your habit of complaining.”
As I was reading this article, I found myself thinking about that old Bob Newhart comedy sketch where he plays a therapist. A woman comes into his office for an appointment which, she hopes, will help her conquer (there’s another violent metaphor) a bad habit, and Newhart, rather than helping his client explore the trauma that might lie beneath the behavior or something like that, just says bluntly:
I’m going to say two words to you right now. I want you to listen to them very, very carefully. Then I want you to take them out of the office with you and incorporate them into your life. You ready? Okay, here they are: Stop it!... S-T-O-P, new word, I-T… Stop it!
If only it were that easy!
Just kill your bad habit! Delete it!
Don’t we wish we could.
If you’re like many Christians, you may be thinking about these matters a lot at the moment because you’re trying to give up a bad habit for Lent. And if you’re anything like me, you may find that although we’re still only in the first half of the Lenten season, you’ve already failed in your effort to get rid of that behavior you wish you could quit.
What does it mean to “slay your sin”? “Where does that idea come from?” my seminary colleague asked.
“Well,” I told him, “I think it comes from St. Paul, actually.”
Listen to these words from the letter to the Colossians: “Put to death… whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry).”
Part of the life of Christian discipleship, says Paul, is putting to death our sins, the wrong behaviors that habitually trip us up. Older theology talked about this as the process of mortifying sin, mortify being a verb that’s related to the noun mortality, the condition of being subject to dying. We are to make our sins die, to mortally wound them. Or as one contemporary preacher has put it, be killing your sin.
But how is Paul not just doing what Bob Newhart did? How is he not simply telling us in a loud voice: Just stop it! How can the command “Put your sin to death” be any more encouraging than hearing your therapist yell at you, “Just stop doing the thing you’ve been trying, and failing, to stop doing”?
Here is where it is absolutely crucial for us to notice the context of Paul’s command. Right before he tells the Colossians to put their sin to death, he says this: “you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” Paul says to them, You are already dead. It’s not something you have to struggle to achieve because it’s already happened to you: you have died. What does he mean?
I think we have a clue a little bit later in the same passage when he writes this: “you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator. In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!” This is probably Paul’s effort to remind the Colossians of what happened to them at their baptism.
We don’t know exactly how baptism was practiced in the churches that Paul founded, but we do know what it looked like in later years in the Roman empire after Paul’s death. People who had become believers in Jesus would spend all of Lent (or longer) learning about their new faith. They would fast and study Scripture and memorize the creed and have demons cast out of them. And finally, on the night of the Easter Vigil, they would gather by candlelight around a pool of water. They would take off all their clothes, the rich ones leaving behind expensive robes and the poor ones discarding shabbier suits, and one by one they would get buried under the water, dying to their old selves, their former identities and ways of life, and they would come up out of the water reborn into a brand new life. They would each then be clothed in identical white garments, so that you couldn’t tell anymore the Jews from the Greeks or the rich from the poor. They were all wearing the same new robe: Jesus Christ himself! Then they would go into the church and join in the triumphant celebration of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead — to start the whole new life that God had just given them in the womb-like bathtub they’d been plunged in.
Paul is saying to the Colossians, and he is saying to you and to me today, That moment when you got buried under the water, you died. It’s an accomplished fact about you. It’s not something you have to work towards, or claw your way into. It’s done: you have already died, and the life you now live is the new life of the risen Jesus himself. It’s a bit like the way the theologian Karl Barth used to answer the question of when he “got saved.” “In the year AD 33,” he would say, “when Jesus died and rose again.”
So, yes, Paul says, be killing your sin. Put to death the old habits that mysteriously keep cropping up in your life. But don’t do that in order to try to achieve your death and rebirth. That’s already happened, and it took place by pure grace.
And listen again to what Paul says right after he reminds us of our baptism: “your life is hidden with Christ in God.” There may be a number of different things Paul intends to evoke with that image, but I wonder if one of them is this: It’s not always easy for us to see that our old life of sin is dead and gone. It often looks and feels as if our old, sinful selves are actually our true selves, and all this talk about being reborn and brand new is just wishful thinking. It’s at that point, Paul says, that we need to be reminded that although our new life may seem hidden from view, it’s actually the truest thing about us. We may not see as much “progress” in our sanctification as we would like to see, but nonetheless our new life is really there with and in Jesus. We live, in a very real sense, in him. His new, risen life is our life. The life he now lives, he lives for us, and the life we now live is, really and truly, his life.
The Anglican poet George Herbert wrote a short poem about this passage from Colossians that we’ve been looking at. He painted it on the wall by the chair that his wife sat in in church, which I find very charming. The poem is titled “Colossians 3.3,” and it features a paraphrase of that verse: “My life is hid in him that is my treasure.” Herbert liked to craft his poems in such a way that when the words were printed on the page, they made a shape. In this particular case, the words of his paraphrase of Colossians 3:3 run diagonally through the poem, which Herbert meant to mimic the movement of the sun across the sky. Here is the poem:
MY words and thoughts do both express this notion,
That LIFE hath with the sun a double motion.
The first IS straight, and our diurnal friend,
The other HID, and doth obliquely bend.
One life is wrapt IN flesh, and tends to earth:
The other winds towards HIM whose happy birth
Taught me to live here so, THAT still one eye
Should aim and shoot at that which IS on high:
Quitting with daily labour all MY pleasure,
To gain at harvest an eternal TREASURE.
This poem uses the sun (which is perhaps a pun with “Son”) as an image of the Christian life. On the one hand, there is the journey of the sun that we can easily see each day: it rises in the east and sets in the west, traversing the sky as our daily companion, so to speak. But there is another movement of the sun: it moves annually from west to east in a more “oblique” trajectory, largely hidden from us unless we’re carefully tracking it.
Just so, says Herbert, is our Christian life: we, like Jesus, the Sun of righteousness himself, have descended into death, and, in a “double motion,” we have joined him in his resurrection to eternal life. It may be hard to see at times, but that’s the real truth of our condition: We have indeed already died, and our lives — our indestructible, everlasting, resurrected lives — are hidden in him who is our treasure, now and forever. Amen.
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jensen ashfair
bio, character sheet
face claim images
Jensen arrives back in New York with Maryse, Robert, and Max after the events of City of Bones. He’s not their biological child, but he’s as close to it as he could be; he and Max are basically attached at the hip, as well, so he goes places with Mayrse and Robert when they have business. Early in the book, Alec, Isabelle, Clary, and Rowan go to the City of Bones to save Jace after receiving the distress signal from the Silent Brothers; Jensen, who is particularly apt with runes, assists in preparing them for the mission and promises to keep Max and himself out of trouble until everyone comes back. He’s young and doesn’t understand most of the situation at hand, just that he’s being pushed out of the ‘big kids’ group again. This same feeling is why he blows up on Jace, Rowan, Isabelle, and Alec later because they, specifically Rowan, keep pushing him out of their ‘adult’ conversations and it frustrates him to no end that he’s only four years younger than them and isn’t allowed to be involved.
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Jensen came through the Portal with the New York Institute, being pretty much carried through when the Forsaken attacked. He’d never been in a serious attack like that and was, frankly, terrified, but to his surprise, Rowan was the one to pull him from the fray and get him to safety. He clung to Max afterward, neither of them having seen anything like it before, and kept their noses buried in their comic books while the rest of the party continued around them. The teenagers didn’t want anything to do with the young kids so they stayed in the corner.
They spent a lot of time bored and alone, but Jensen enjoyed hanging out with his dad when he was back at the house. Surprisingly, he also knew some of the comics they were reading and even gave them little sketches of the characters he did when he was bored during meetings at the Gard.
Demons attacked and they stayed at the house where it was safest, or so they thought. Rowan and Isabelle left to gather more weapons, leaving them alone with Sebastian. In the darkness, he watched him kill Max, depriving him of his best friend and supposed-to-be future parabatai for the rest of his life.
During Valentine’s final attack, the children were stuck with Aline and Lian, babysitting everyone that was too young to fight. There were too many people for him to be comfortable; in situations like that, he would usually spend the time just as he did at the party: with Max, in the corner, reading or talking about things that only mattered to the two of them. Instead, he sat in the corner, staring off into space. A girl about his age wandered over and sat next to him. She just started talking, and eventually, he did too. She was the first person he’d spoken to: Emma Carstairs. They hung out again at the party after the battle, as everyone was putting the city back together.
sixteen., 8.2k
jensen turns sixteen and tries his best to accept the fact he's growing older without most of the people he wishes were there to see it. the new york institute, among other friends and family, tries to make his day a little better.
run to the things they said could restore me, 3.2k
frustrated with the search for camille, magnus takes a break from the institute’s search for her and reconnects with members of the ashfair family he hasn’t seen in ages. he is finally able to face aric, who sheds some light on the full story of his wife’s death and the children’s move to new york.
chapter rewrites
city of ashes, chapter 5: sins of the fathers
city of glass, chapter 11: fire and sword
city of fallen angles, chapter 12: sanctuary
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OK OK HEAR ME OUT
this was a thing to which i just suddenly had this morning, and just couldn’t really put into words and just sketched it.
Mary, Freddy, and Billy born in Kahndaq around the time Teth-Adam got his powers. Then council of Wizards found Billy, they decided to have another champion since its too much of a burden alone, they let him share it with his sister and friend since they know they’ll use it with good intentions as long as Billy’s there to guide them. (and lets be honest Billy is their voice of reason sometimes when things get too tough)
and i’m TOTALLY adding that they met Dinah and played with her when she was a little girl.
Im not too familiar with the history of Black Adam but i hope i’m right here
They worked well with Teth-Adam and although they protested to him taking over Kahndaq as long as it was good for the people it was fine. But the relationship strained between the family and Adam when his family died and he started to become more brutal and used his powers for evil.
It crossed the line when he released the Sins. The Marvel family and Black Adam fight, Black Adam has the advantage since he’s more experienced and older. They turn back into kids, and instead of killing them (since they were well, kids i think Black Adam had better morals before the whole banishment thing) he cursed them into stone.
The Councils of Wizards gets involved and Shazam is the only one left and manages to banish him.
Shazam is distraught about his other champion but couldn’t do much about the curse since it was too powerful at the time. He decided that the curse would wither into nothing by the time Black Adam would come back and Earth didn’t need much help and things already calmed down after the whole war with gods. So he left to guard the Rock of Eternity.
Fast forward and Shazam notices all the things that are happening on Earth. Especially the leagues that formed (Justice Society in the past and Justice league). He decides that the Marvel Family should return, he somehow leads the league to underground tomb/shrine and uncover the three kids.
On the walls there are drawings of the Champion of Magic and his family. Its the history of when they came about, what they did, and how they came them hope. They also wrote about their last battle with Black Adam. (thing is they didn’t know much about the Champion of Magic or knew that the The Council of Wizards existed, they thought that Black Adam and Marvel Family were powerful magicians
Wonder Woman faintly remembers them and mentions it out loud.
Batman notices the 3 kids and how unlikely thats its a sculpture since its too realistic.
Martian Manhunter notes that they are alive, their minds are active still even if their in a magical curse/coma.
The League bring in some magicians from Justice League Dark, like John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara. Who immediately recognize Billy as the Champion of Magic and spit out the known history. Wonder Woman fills in the blanks of what she remembers reading in Themyscira and hearing from her father (i bet she had a brief obsession after she learned they disappeared) , like the Council of Wizards, Champion of Magic, and the blessings.
John and Zatanna break their curse and hide them in the league while they wait for them to wake up. During this magical coma the Marvel Family, the Wizard gets them up to speed on whats going on and gives them new names to blend into modern society. They also meet their pantheon and Solomon blasts them knowledge of what occurred during their 5000 years being stone.
hey wake up and etc. They are hesitant to let them into the league since they’re kids even though they proved themselves worthy with their powered up forms. Mary and Freddy volunteer to be reserved members and stay within Fawcett since its the closest entrance to the Rock of Eternity and Billy is weaker when they’re powered up.
Thats all i have for now lmao
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Wasted Times- Pjm.
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM, Dom!Jimin, Jealous Reader, Fuckboy!Jimin, oral sex, Penatration, Foot Job?, kissing, spankings, seriously lots of jealousy and tension, use of the word ‘’whore’’, exhibitionism, cum in pants
Word count: 5.8k
Authors Note: So this is a draft of mine from way long ago. It was also posted on another account I used to be apart of, but no longer am. It’s an oldie but goodie.
Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.
Summary: Two weeks, five days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.
If it wasn’t for Hoseok that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Despite you already knowing of Jimin, what you didn’t know is that looks can deceive. Oh yes, they deceived you very well. When you met him it felt like it was unreal? It felt as though you were talking to an angel. The butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke made you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. So unreal.
A cute cheeky smile and a squeaky laugh. Someone’s who’s kind hearted, as what you previously had heard from Hoseok himself. Oh, but did he leave the major detail out from you.
He’s a fuckboy.
One that knows exactly how to play his cards right. Knows how to get into a girl's pants and make them melt with the sweet and dirty things that pout out his mouth like honey. He has the looks and charms for it. The hand he runs through his hair constantly, those pink full lips begging to be touched by someone else.
You’ve only recently found out about most of the girls he’s slept with. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to qualify to get tested every month. All because he can’t keep his god damn dick in his pants. And you, the fool, fell for it. You fell for his ways.
Yet he pretends to know nothing. He pretends like he didn’t break your heart by saying he can’t commit to a relationship. He was just a one night stand. He fucking acts that nothing happened between you two prior to having sex.... and it hurts.
Now you’re sitting in your office stuck in-between whether to let that night go, or to bring it up with him. Because surely, he felt something too when you guys made love for an hour and a half right? Right?
‘‘Y/N. Did you hear me?’ ‘
You quickly snap back to reality to the nagging voice beside you. Taking a sip of your peppermint tea, you turn towards the young girl. Her full bangs compliment her perfectly shaped face. Her long, straight hair that curls at the end a bit is jet black with no sign of split ends or damage. She holds a blue folder tightly to her chest with a cheeky smile upon her face.
‘‘Mrs. Jane would like to see your work for this month’s upcoming project. Do you have the rough draft done?’ ‘
You nod, ‘’ I’ve finished it already. Are you collecting?’’ The girl nods her head and holds out her dainty pale hand. Next to you is your documents drawer which you rummage through for a good minute or so before finding your pink folder with all the information and sketches.
‘‘Thanks..’‘ She smiles, then walks away to her next prey. You let out a big sigh and place your hands in-between your head. Never have you had someone constantly be on your mind.
It was killing you.
‘‘ Child are you okay?’‘
You turn towards the voice to your left which sits next to you is your best-friend. Her smirk lets you know she knows what you’re thinking about. She knows. She also knows about that one night stand that you couldn’t shut up about two weeks ago.
You try to hold back your laugh, ‘’ I’m. fine.’’ You manage to choke out. She shakes her head again with that damned smirk on her face. ‘’ Was he that good that he has you sitting here contemplating life honey?’’
Your eyes go eyes go wide and soon enough you find yourself swatting her thigh while trying to cover your face of embarrassment. ‘’ Stop! Geez I shouldn’t have even told you about it.’’
‘‘ I knew about him before you even did. Once you told me after the fact, I automatically recognized who he was by the way you described his features so well.’‘ She shrugs, swiveling her chair around to face you. You do the same.
‘‘ What?’‘
‘‘ I went to high school with him. Park Jimin right? He was a ladies girl. Everyone wanted him. Plus he was a former dancer.’‘
Former dancer? It all makes sense. The way his body was nicely toned, not to muscly but noticeable. The way his hips moved every which way making sure his sinful area poked and pried at every nerve inside your walls. Made you let out strings of moans and whimpers because of how good he felt inside you. You’ve never felt something like that before. How dare he.
‘’ Well he has a cute friend. His name is Tae... Tae something. I don’t know but they were also friends in highschool. He was a handsome boy as well. If you would like to you know... tap that.’‘ She giggles.
Who does she think you are? Some type of person who gives away sex for a living? Definitely not. By the looks of your face she quickly abandons the subject. You decide it’s best to get back on task before your whore of a boss comes back around.
Only before that petite girl, with the bangs and perfectly trimmed straight hair, comes back with your folder and a ton of papers for you. As if this this day could get any worse.
‘‘ No I don’t want to go tonight.’’
It feels like you’ve said this on the phone more than ten times. You’re sure of it. He just doesn’t want to give up. You’d rather be in the comfort of your home cuddled up in a blanket watching Netflix all day. After-all, it is a Friday night and it has been a very stressful week for you in the office. A nice hot bath and a binge worthy tv show is all you want right now. It’s what you deserve.
‘‘ Come with us it’ll be fun. You can invite your hot best friend too.’‘ He says, and you know he’s smirking on the other line. ‘‘ Hoseok for one, you will not hook up with my best friend understand? Two, i’m tired. I want to sleep.’‘
‘‘ Oh come on Y/N it’ll be fun. It’s just a night out on the strip. It’ll be fun. I’m bringing Jimin.’‘ He tapers off at the end to wait for your reaction.
Could this be it? Another chance to see Jimin. Your chance to ask him.. if that night he felt something. Surely he did right?
‘‘ I’ll come. But that doesn’t mean i’m coming for Jimin. I’m bringing Scar with me as well.’‘
A few seconds of silence fills the other line. Which you know that Hoseok probably muted himself to scream in success. You take this time to think about what you’re going to wear. Something that’s eye catching? Or something that’s casual yet classy since it is just hanging around downtown. Why not do both?
Hoseok come’s back to the line and you notice he’s more cheerful. It makes you smile to yourself, how cute. ‘‘ Be there in 45 minutes. We’ll be waiting by Krystal okay? Meet us out front of that place.’‘
You two say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. Anticipation runs deep through you lacing your blood with it. Just the thought of seeing him again rubs you the right way.
Going into your closet, you take a good look at it and decide on a casual yet classy outfit. One that will surely catch his attention but very presentable as well. You hope that it’s going to pull through. Taking out your phone, you send a text message to Scarlet telling her all the details and to meet you here.
‘’This will be one hell of a night.’’ You smirk to yourself as you pull out the accessories to your outfit.
It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell constantly ring that broke you out of your trance of admiring yourself in the mirror. You look ravishing. Delectable. Every thing in the book. Surely you must have been admiring for quite some time because twenty minutes had passed and you didn’t even know it.
The doorbell ringing comes to a halt once you open the door forcefully. Scarlet greets you with a smile and a hug before coming inside.
‘’ Okay does this make my ass look bigger than it already is?’’
You glance over at Scarlet who’s posing in-front of the hallway mirror, earning a small chuckle from you. ‘’ Yes, that dress always look’s good on you.’’
Scarlet grins at you, ‘’ Thanks. I try I try. You look sexy Y/N. Who’s getting it tonight? ’’
You giggle once more before adjusting your black dress ‘’ You look so good Y/N i’m not lying. Did you put some make-up on?’’
You shyly nod your head yes, ‘’ Just a little. Not one of my dramatic looks.’’
‘‘ It suits the mood for tonight. Nothing to dramatic, more neutral.’‘ Scarlet says, picking up her purse again. ‘’ The dress does bring out your curves.’‘ She steps back and pulls out her phone for a snapchat picture.
The two of you pose in the mirror for a quick second then giggle afterwards. Scarlet brings her phone back down as her fingers begin to type at a rapid speed. ‘I’m going to caption it; Going out with my babe!’’
You on the other hand were to busy into the hearts snapchat filter with Scar in the background of your video. You tap her with a smile and she looks up with a smile as well. ‘’ We are so gonna be late Scar. ’’
‘‘ Okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.’‘
You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The cool breeze is enough for you to handle. Not to cold and not to hot of a breeze. Downtown is busy tonight, especially the strip. The neon signs blare into your vision, the cars speed past with drunk laughing people. Music plays coming from each store or bar you two pass. There’s a jazz man who’s playing some cool tunes next to the giant water fountain. You drop a ten dollar bill into his case hoping to brighten those tunes up a bit. Couples are everywhere you look. You haven’t been downtown in such a long time. Everything feels so brand new to you. It’s so lively.
Scarlet walks confidently in-front of you, hips swaying naturally. You see Hoseok down the sidewalk waiting at the entrance for your arrival. Behind him is Jimin who looks fine tonight. He wears a long sleeve white Stussy t-shirt with black distressed jeans that show off his thighs. The same thighs that flexed with each thrust two weeks ago. The same thighs you wanted to ride because they had you soaking wet. Oh geez.
‘‘ Y/N! ahhh you look so good tonight!’‘ Hoseok grabs your hand and twirls you around a little. ‘‘ You’re right. Wow Y/N.’‘ A voice comes from behind him.
Part of you just wants to melt right into his arms right then and there. Keep it together.
‘‘ You don’t look bad yourself Jimin.’‘ It’s like your eyes refused to make eye contact with him. You want to, but can’t pull yourself to do it. ‘‘ And this is my best friend Scarlet.’‘
‘‘ Hello I’m Scarlet or Scar for short. Nice to meet you.’‘ She smiles, Jimin takes her hand and gives it a kiss. His eyes never leaves hers when he does so.
Scarlet lets out one of her nervous giggles as he lets her hand go. ‘’ How sweet.’’ Jimin smirks at her, ‘’ No worries. I’m Jimin, Park Jimin my love.’’
You almost choke at those last two words. My love? Seriously?
‘‘ Okay enough now that you’ve met my flirty friend who doesn’t know boundaries...’‘ Hoseok glares at him, earning a shrug from Jimin. ‘‘ .. I’m Hoseok. I’ve seen you on Y/N’s social media.. and I must say you are very pretty.’‘
‘‘ Thank you Hoseok. You are handsome as well.’’ She says.
You decide to end this introduction and start off the night. ‘‘ Alright enough of the talking. Can we have some fun tonight?’‘
‘‘ I agree, let’s get some drinks first.’‘
Only one hour in and you’ve only had one long island ice tea that you haven’t even finished yet. Somehow you’ve got tricked into third wheeling. Hoseok and Scarlet seem to be hitting it off very well walking in front of you. But walking next to you is a quite Jimin. He’s to busy scrolling and typing on social media for him to even notice you. Oh so you thought.
‘‘ Y/N...’‘
The butterflies in your stomach begin. What could he want? ‘’ Hmm.’’
Jimin locks his phone and places it in his pocket. He then looks at you with that oh so familiar warm smile. ‘’ They seem to be hitting it off well yeah?’’
Oh. ‘’ Yeah. I ship it.’’ You giggle, crossing your arms.’’ How have you been? Haven’t seen your pretty self in weeks.’’
‘‘ I’m fine. You know, work and stuff.’‘
‘‘ Yes I can say the same. I’ve got some things going on as well.’‘ His eyes shift back towards the busy city. ‘‘ I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you.’‘
You stop dead in your tracks. He missed you? All this time you had thought he didn’t care but he does? ‘’ Missed me huh. Or did you miss the idea of me.’’
He smiles, ‘’ Can it be both?’’
You decide to let that comment slide. ‘’ Well Jimin. I missed you too.’’
‘‘ Great so I can do this.’‘
You’re caught off guard by his lips connecting with yours. Both of you move in sync with each other. Jimin open’s his mouth more so his tongue can move more freely inside of yours. Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you moan inside the kiss. His hands cup your face, sending chills up your spine. Soon you find yourself whimpering for more, but you can’t let it go this far so you break away first.
‘‘ Hmm I missed those lips on mine. Sorry if I spooked you my love.’‘ Those dark brown eyes look deep into yours. ‘‘ I missed us talking constantly before we..’‘ He trails off, looking away from you smiling shyly.
‘‘ Yeah me too. We spent a lot of time texting and calling each other before that. But after that night we sort of.. stopped? I’ve been meaning to bring this up without it being awkward.’‘ You bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers.
Jimin looks around you guys. Scarlet and Hoseok are nowhere to be found. As he expected. ‘’ Well it looks like our friends ditched us. Have you eaten?’’
‘‘ I munched on something before I came here with you guys.’‘ You say, eyes shifting towards the city again. ‘‘ Well if you’re up for a little bit more of a walk I know this good place on the boardwalk. We are getting closer and closer to the beach.’‘
‘‘ Is this you asking me on a date Park Jimin?’‘ You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. ‘‘ It can be considered our first friendly date. I would love to take you out some other time where it’s not last minute my love.’‘
‘‘ Stop saying that.’‘
‘‘ Saying what?’‘
You roll your eyes playfully, ‘’ My love. Stop saying it.’’
Jimin raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, ‘’ Did you just roll your eye at me.. my love?’’ Your cheeks have never hurt this much before from constantly smiling, but tonight you just cant stop them. ‘’ And if I did?’’
‘‘ I suggest you don’t do that again.’‘
The walk wasn’t as far as you thought. Jimin had linked his hand in yours on the way there. It surprised you for a minute but you let it happen. He hasn’t let go since. The two of you are sat down at a table outside by a waitress who cannot keep her eyes away from Jimin. Only if she knew how much of a sex god he was. Then she really wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes away.
‘‘ The moon looks beautiful tonight.’‘ He nods his head over towards the sky. Your eyes gaze over the sandy beach and waves that crash onto the shore. The moon lit sky peering over it looks beautiful.
Jimin brings both of your hands onto the table and intertwines them with his. A smile appears on his face when he sees you shyly try to hide your smile from him. Jimin’s most favorite feature of you is your smile, and moans of course, but your smile brings him happiness. It’s something about the way your lips curl up into a smile and your eyes narrow a little bit with it. Or when you laugh at one of his comments or jokes. It makes him happy inside and out.
‘‘ So, what were you saying earlier my love?’‘
You playfully roll your eyes again at that nickname. Before you can roll them again, Jimin’s smile drops and he let’s go of your right hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him for a second until you’re caught off guard with a tiny slap to the inside of your thigh. You hiss at the pain.
He says, ‘‘ Stop rolling your eyes at me. playful or not my love, I don’t like it.’‘
‘‘ Fine but stop calling me that nickname. You said it to Scarlet. Now I don’t want it anymore.’‘ You say, attitude high with your arms crossed.
Jimin chuckles and lets his tongue swipe across the inside of his jaw, ‘’Someone’s jealous.’’
‘’ I just see the name is useless is all if you’re calling other girls that.’‘
‘‘ Hmm jealous now aren’t we?’‘ He smirks, leaning back in his chair. ‘‘ Says the one who was all over me that night. Practically craving me. Now, what If i let someone else do that hmm? Equivalent to you calling other girls that name.’‘
His smirk never lets up. You know you trying to act all tough isn’t going to last. It’s just not in you. But what you can do is make him jealous and tease him for a while. You consider it a payback for those two weeks of hell you went through.
‘‘ I’m enjoying our night out Jimin. Thank you for taking the time to catch up with me tonight.’‘ Your face is innocent as ever, sipping on your water.
His expression changes when your foot travels up his leg and onto his crotch and slowly grazes over the tip of his dick. Jimin glares and bites his lip at the constant friction between the head and your foot going in agonizingly slow circles. He let’s both of your hands go to try and pry your leg away but you increase pressure making him choke out a small wince.
‘‘ Aww. Cute.’‘
Jimin’s head pops up with a death glare on his face, ‘’ Don’t call me that after you just tried to pull some type of stun-’’
Your foot begins it’s slow circles again. It’s fun watching him stop his sentences. The way he holds in his moans and bites his lip. It turns you on very much.
“Fuck,” He grunts, eye’s closed.
You stop once your food arrives. The same waitress that can’t keep her eyes off of Jimin. She makes eye contact with her, and he winks as she places the food in-front of him. Your face drops into a stone cold expression. Once the waitress leaves his head slowly turns towards you with his famous sly smirk. He knew just how to press your buttons.
You start back up again, going at an even faster pace at this point. He curses at himself and his eyes close again. You smile when he starts to shake his legs and breathe heavily. Only for Jimin’s eyes pop open with a devilish smile that confuses you. He grabs your leg and makes sure that your foot is positioned right ontop of his dick. He rolls his hips to the movement of yours, looking you dead straight in the eyes. You go along with it for now. But your eyes almost buck out of your head when he starts letting out moans and grunts as he throws his head back.
‘‘ Mmm fuck Y/N you do this so well.’‘
You’re at loss for words. The risk of being caught mixed with the sight you’re seeing now has your panties becoming wet.It takes all your might not to just jump over the table and devour him when he sighs in relief. You watch his body convulse of the aftershocks. So fucking sexy.
And as if nothing had just happened, he picks up his fork and begins to eat his pasta. The rest of the night is silent. You both eat in silence but in the inside you want to say something but you know better. The stunt you just pulled has something coming for you. Maybe payback wasn’t such a good thing after all.
After Jimin comes back from the restroom, assuming he cleaned himself up well down there, he sits back down at the table with a warm smile. It confuses you.
‘‘ Do you want to leave now? We can go to my place and just chill for the night. Looks like the two love birds might have already went back to one of their place’s.’‘ He says, grabbing your hand once again.
You nod your head dumbfounded at what you didn’t know that was going to happen at his place. But you agree to go. What can go wrong?
The moment you guys enter his luxurious apartment, he pins you against the wall and raises your hands above you head. He tilts your head and nips at your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking. He hit one of your sweet spots that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
‘‘ Please Jimin.’‘ You cry out. Slowly pulling away, he pulls you from against the wall and bends to dip an arm under your legs to lift you up bridal style.
He deeply chuckles into your ear, ‘‘ You have an eventful night planned out for pulling that stunt at the restaurant sweetheart.’‘ His words sends shivers down your spine.
Jimin closes the door behind him, giving you a taste of comfort before he has his way with you. He places you on his bed and you stare into those dark brown eyes that you love oh so much.
‘‘ Face down, ass up now.’‘ He growls.
You nod your head and do as told. Soon you feel your dress being unzipped and thrown to the floor. You’re in nothing but your bra and baby pink lace thong. His hands run up and down your spine, then to your ass.
‘‘ You ruined my pants today. Made me cum inside them since you wanted to feel like you had control over me.. babygirl.’‘ He says, hands stopping right above your ass.
‘‘ Count for me Y/N.’‘
You don’t even have time to take a breath in when the first hard impact comes. It wells tears in your eyes but you love it. You love every smack and every second of it. And so you count for him, you count all fifteen hits to your sore,red ass.
‘‘ You’ve taken your punishment well.’‘ Jimin says soothing the pain by rubbing over it softly. ‘‘ You looked so pretty doing what you’re told my beautiful girl. You deserve every inch of me. You deserve all of me.’’ His voice is soft and low. It intoxicates you.
Jimin shifts you onto your back, his hands tracing every inch of your body. You prop yourself up with your shoulders and you don’t jerk away, instead you let him lean in and kiss you passionately. The lewd sounds of the two of you sharing a wet, sloppy kiss can be heard throughout the apartment. You whine in his arms wanting more than just the kiss. He growls in return, yanking your head back to mark up that pretty neck some more. His hands swiftly makes their way towards your nipples, you moan out in response.
“mmm so cute and hard for me.” He flicks your hard nipples with his index and middle fingers on both your breasts. The way he speaks is sinful. Your panties grow even more wet as he pinches your nipples to make you whimper. “ Making pretty sounds for me hmm? Got you all wet baby?’’
With his hands dropping to your hips, he pushes you to lay down on the bed. Your breasts look so captivating to him. Your back arches when his lips connect to your right breast and soon to your left.
“Jimin...’’ You whimper, tugging on his hair to get him to look at you. He pauses the swirling of his tongue on your breast and looks up with lust filled eyes.
“ Yes sweetheart?” He coos.
‘’Off... t-take it off.’’ You whine, moving your hands towards his clothing and tugging on it firmly.
Jimin smiles before balancing on his knees to lift off his shirt. You watch him strip his shirt off, revealing his beautifully toned stomach and sharp v-line. You want nothing more than to run your tongue across him, leaving hickies behind.
Once he takes off his shirt, he dips back down to you to kiss your lips once more. ‘’ Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your hands flew to his hair in shock at the pleasure it gave you. You really were sexually frustrated. Just him kissing you was all too much for you to handle.
As if he could tell what you wanted, his hand found its way to the hem of your lace thong. He feels how wet you were with his index finger sliding up and down your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid them off with his teeth.
Your mouth instantly falls open when one thick finger slides inside you, your wetness pouring out beneath his finger. Once his finger is coated in your juices, he pulls out of you leaving you whimpering at the loss of friction. You watch him slide his wet finger into his mouth, his eyes close as he hums around it.
“You taste so fucking good. Let me have more of you yeah? He says, waiting for some type of consent from you.
You nod, wanting him more than ever.
Jimin props both your legs up onto his shoulder, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening core. You are left exposed to his lustful gaze as he took in the appearance of your swollen lips. Your lips spread apart to expose your clit that desperately seeks attention.
And so he provides it. His head dips down to get to work on your cunt. The pleasure you feel is outrageous, it has you clawing at his back, not even letting up, before letting out your never ending moans. You knew for a fact that Jimin’s tongue was a work of art when put to the test.
“Oh fuck! ” You yell out, arching your back when his lips begin to suck harshly on your clit, that bubbly feeling in your stomach appears.
“Do I make you feel good ? Hmm, use your words.” He encourages, using two fingers to spread your folds apart to lick and suck on your clit.
“It feels so good Jimin, oh my gosh, please don’t stop. Fuck!” You cry out, tossing your head back as you clutch onto the sheets once more, leaving his hair alone. As soon as he hears that, he seemed to lose control. His fingers start abuse your g-spot in sync with his sucking on your clit. That’s all you took for you to explode around his fingers. Your body spasms when you close your eyes. You can practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your head.
That doesn’t stop Jimin though. He continues to abuse your hole but you can’t handle the over-stimulation. You grip his wrists to stop him in which he obliges. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and shows you them before sucking on them harshly.
“ Such a naughty girl now aren’t we.” He coos, rubbing your thighs that shake endlessly. “Want more princess?”
You nod your head, to busy lost in a trance. His words always get to you. A boy who knows his way with his words. The things that come out his mouth laced with either sweet venom or sugar. Damn him. Damn him for making you feel like this. Damn him for letting you fall under his ways.
You don’t realize all of his clothes were off until the head of his cock is sitting at your entrance. He’s a nice size, as you remember, but it’s the thickness that gets you. He has a lot of girth and it damn sure stretches you out.
“Shit, oh my gosh.” You moan, letting your head fall back as he starts easing into you.
“ Mmm babygirl,” He growls, using one of his hands to spread your lips, giving him the bes view of you taking him all the way. “Fuck just look at that baby. Your little pussy stretching to take my thick cock. Feels good yeah?”
“ Yes Jimin, fuck, it feels so good please. ” You whimper, wanting to feel all stuffed and full. Finally he bottoms out and you definitely feel it in you.
Jimin’s hands grip your hips as he starts to move inside of you. Since your previous orgasm residue was still there, mixing with your fresh juices, every time moved in and out your juices would drip.Lewd, wet slaps filled the room as the pace quickened, wanting to get you to cum again.
Your cries of pleasure filled the room. There was no point in hiding them now. With his hips moving at a fast pace, and his dick murdering your g-spot, it makes you feel that familiar feeling again.
“My good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” Jimin smiles, praising you as you become undone around him. Your hole spasms around his length and it feels like heaven for him. Jimin holds himself up on his elbows, resting his face against yours while he gently eases you through your orgasm.
“You don’t know the things your body does to me Y/N. The faces you make when i’m fucking your brains out. You look like you’re in pure ecstasy because of me and only me, baby.” He whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You nod and press your lips against his. Smiling into the kiss, his hips begin fucking you again, getting up to his previous pace.
Your body is automatically put into over-stimulation mode. “Are you going to cum again for me?”
“Mhm, oh my god!” You whimper, closing your eyes shut harshly. Jimin pulls out of you, and starts to slide his cock up and down your folds to bring you to another orgasm. You let out a scream as Jimin watch your juices fly and soak everywhere around you both. Your death grip on the sheets havent left and your back is arched so high from the bed that he has to bring you back down.
“Fuck, that’s it. You’re squirting princess.” He praises you, smiling as he doesn’t stop movement, juices everywhere. “You’re squirting so much baby look at you.’’
The feeling is too much for you so you shut your legs around him. Jimin smiles at you when you finally open your eyes. They hardly stay open but long enough for you to see him get himself off using his right hand. You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts “Shh princess, you’re too sensitive. Maybe next time.”
You nodded with a small pout on your lips. You want him to cum inside you. To feel his hot sperm coat your insides. Your body says otherwise. You are spent, exhausted to the max..
Just as he is about to cum, you sit up and climb over to him. Your mouth quickly finds it’s way to his length and as if a habit, you begin to suck. ‘’You don’t have to princes- fuck.’’ He groans, releasing his load inside your mouth while you deep throat all his length.
Soon you pull away from his cock after he cums. You open your mouth to show him and then swallow it all down. ‘’ Filthy whore.’’ He smirks, pecking your lips.
Jimin kisses your forehead once more, before lifting up and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet towel to clean up the mess between your legs. Your eyes flutter open and close. You catch a glimpse of his nicely toned back when he turns to disregard the towel. He comes back again with a green t-shirt which makes your heart flutter as he pulls it over your head. Another forehead kiss, then those nose, then the lips.
‘’ Jimin?’‘ You coo.
He climbs in bed beside you, ‘’ Yes?’’
‘’ We never discussed what we are...’’ You say quietly, picking at your fingers.
He laughs softly, ‘’ You know I can’t commit right now. I have too many things going on and-’’
‘’ Excuses Jimin.’’ You pout, turning away from him. ‘’ Aww come on don’t be like that. Listen, if I ever get my life together and the ladies off of me you’ll be the first one I run to, my love.’’
‘’ Promise?’’
‘’ I promise.’’
Oh so you had thought. Another two weeks had passed and the same thing happened. Now you’re stuck in your office again contemplating life, as Scarlet would say. The only difference is, he texts you more often. Usually good morning and goodnight texts. An occasional ‘how was your day.’
You can’t help but to wonder what he’s probably doing with other girls. Feeding them empty promises. Saying sweet nothings in their ears. Letting them hear what they want to. It’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing. No doubt.
Only if he hadn’t wasted your time.
Two weeks and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.
#park jimin#jimin#jimin x reader#fuckboy!jimin#fuckboy jimin#bts smut#jimin smut#jungkook smut#jimin angst#jimin fluff#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts reaction#bts fanfic#bts one shot#jimin oneshot#jimin/reader#bts#yoongi smut#taehyung smut#ksmut
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an artist’s eye // Benedict Bridgerton
Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.
A/N: I promise to slow down with the fics! I go back to work in a couple of days anyway so I’ll definitely slow down. I hope you all like! It’s shorter than my last few fics so I’m sorry for that!! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on it, let me know and I am considering opening my requests for Bridgerton fics... considering.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: mentions of food and drink, pining, mutual pining, sketching, art, drawing (I am not an artist, I cannot draw a stick man so I apologise in advance), kissing.
Word count: 1.8k
The graphite point sits heavy in his hand as Benedict struggles to remember the lines he needs. With only his memory to aid him, Benedict struggled more with the portraits he preferred to draw than the landscapes that were growing increasingly popular among the highest of London society.
Sighing, Benedict presses his fingers to his eyes as if it will help jumpstart his memory to bring forward the correct image he needs. He regrets the action as quick as he had done it when he thinks of the mixture of graphite and charcoal coating his fingers.
Rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he feels a moment of pity for the servants who would no doubt grumble and complain at the state of it. However, as he glances down at the sketch – the arch of his subject’s smile, the depths of their eyes – he cannot bring himself to care too much.
It wouldn’t see the light of day. Once complete, the sketchbook would be tucked away in the drawer in his desk. If it was to fall into the wrong hands, then as much as he is confident of his artistic talent, he would not recover from the fallout. Benedict worries for the day that the look in your eyes changes; once you realise the extent of his feelings for you.
He hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, but he had. There were a lot of things in Benedict’s life that he hadn’t meant to do and has regretted completing such an action once done. However, he cannot find it in himself to feel bad about falling in love with you even when he had not meant to.
As much as he puts on airs and graces, he would not approach you with his feelings. He wasn’t ready though you made his heart sing like no other.
One day, he tells himself as he finally remembers the swoop of your neckline. One day he will tell you as he picks up his graphite point and charcoal once more.
Not yet, however.
------------
The drawing room remains quiet as Benedict silently adds to his sketch collection. His mother sits across the room, content with a stitching pattern for the arrival of Daphne’s new baby. Eloise lounges on the couch, a book in her hand and a box of chocolates on her stomach, eyes pouring over the pages hungrily.
The only sound in the room is the roughness of his pencil on the paper. It didn’t matter what angle he approached this drawing at, he could not get it to look right. It was going to vex him until he had bested it.
“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has arrived,” The Butler announces to which Benedict suddenly sits up straighter, closing his sketchbook, leaving it on the table.
“Wonderful,” Violet Bridgerton smiles, “Show them up, please.”
“I didn’t know (Y/N) was calling today,” Benedict comments lightly as the Butler disappears from the room, trying to sound as if his heart isn’t currently pounding in his chest.
“(Y/N) always calls on a Thursday,” Eloise states, voice puzzled. She shares a look of confusion with her mother when Benedict suddenly stands, announcing to them both, “I shall clean myself up a bit, make myself look presentable for our guest.”
The look of confusion soon turns into one of understanding as both women watch their son and brother dash from the room. As if at the same time, a smile crosses both their faces when they realise that their beloved son and brother has fallen in love and with a dear friend of the family too.
They do not get to discuss the topic, however, for you are shown to the drawing room, greeting both women with a large smile and buoyant conversation.
“Help yourself to tea and biscuits, dear,” Violet invites, gesturing to the tea service now being laid on the table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the biscuits, unable to turn down the buttery goodness.
“Thank you,” You reply, taking a seat at the table, reaching for a biscuit and the teapot.
It’s then that you see it. A leatherbound book left on the other side of the table, barely hidden by the cake stand of treats.
Curiosity being your besetting sin, you reach for the leatherbound book on the table and begin to flick through the pages. A sketch of a pair of hands at the beginning; they hold a single flower – a rose, though what colour is impossible to tell since the sketch remains firmly in shades of greys and blacks. Enraptured, you turn the page to find a detailed image of a parasol, still sketched in the same greys and blacks as the previous picture. The artist has captured the lace trimming perfectly. The longer you stare at it, you come to realise that the parasol is being held by someone, but it isn’t clear who.
It isn’t until you reach a sketch of your side portrait that you come to realise that the previous sketches – the hands, the parasol with just a hint of a shadow under it – they’re of you.
They’re all of you. Each stunning sketch is of you.
Your breath quickens in your chest when you see who the sketchbook belongs to; when you spy the initials written on the inside sleeve of the front cover. ‘B.B.’ written in his elegant script – an artist in every aspect of his life. Whilst you had observed that Benedict sometimes appeared with smudges to his fingers and paint stains on the cuffs of his tailored white shirt, you had never seen a sketch or a painting until now. He truly had a gift; a talent worthy of being displayed in Somerset House.
You hadn’t been aware of his feelings for you though, but you would not be the first to admit that you found yourself attracted to the Bridgerton. Taught at a young age, you knew it was not wise to share such feelings with others. Instead, you dampened them down, hiding them away where they grew unattended – they rooted in your heart, making it very difficult to find another love worthy.
Bringing a hand to your mouth, you hide your smile, not wanting to give too much away to ever observant Bridgerton matriarch. You turn page after page, letting yourself fall deeper into your feelings for Benedict now that you find there is hope of them being requited.
------------
Benedict’s breath leaves his body in one fell swoop when he returns to the drawing room and he realises exactly what you hold in your hand. He hadn’t moved it upon your announcement; he thought he had, but instead, like a fool, he left it sitting there on the table.
A fool. He was a fool. How quick, Benedict thinks to himself, how quick a life can change – mere minutes he had been gone and now he was to have his love for you outed.
You haven’t noticed his presence yet, and for that Benedict is thankful. It gives him time to come up with something – anything – to explain the numerous sketches of you. His mind is running too fast; he cannot come up with a thought good enough to excuse the sketches in his book. His heart continues to pound in his chest; it had not slowed down since your announcement though at this point it reminds him that is, indeed, alive and not suffering from a night terror.
As if finally sensing the extra person in the room, you glance up. Your eyes meeting the deep blue of Benedict’s, and you freeze in your spot. Violet and Eloise glance between the two of you. Violet, not one to usually ignore tradition, hurries her daughter from the room – knowing the conversation that was about to take place.
“I’m sorry,” You whisper at the click of the door shutting. You close the sketchbook, placing it on the table as far away from you as possible to keep your temptation at bay.
“I think I should be the one apologising,” Benedict confesses, taking one more step into the room. He tucks his hands behind his back, ever the picture of grace and elegance as he thinks of how long he has left without before your opinion of him changes forever – artistic talent or not.
“I knew you were an artist; I had seen the smudges on your hands, but I didn’t think…”
“What?”
“I didn’t think you were drawing me.”
“Surely you know?” He asks, voice loud in the quiet room. When you remain silent, he continues, “Surely you know of my feelings for you?”
You shake your head, eyes glancing between the taller Bridgerton and the leatherbound sketchbook lying on the table. “I didn’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking as you take in the distraught look on his face.
“Well,” Benedict murmurs, clearing his throat, “You know of them now.”
“I do,” You murmur,
“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Benedict remarks, “Those sketches were not meant to be seen by anyone else.”
“Only if I haven’t offended you by looking through them.”
Benedict shakes his head, “You could never offend me.”
“Then I am not offended either. I’m quite flattered, you’re very talented.”
“Thank you,” Benedict says graciously, nodding his head slightly.
“You need to know that your feelings are returned, Benedict,” You declare suddenly and plainly, displaying your feelings for all to see.
“They are?” Benedict asks, voice awed as if he didn’t take into account this reaction.
“They are,” You state firmly, meeting his gaze proudly as if you could ever be ashamed of your feelings for the brunette.
Benedict stalks across the room; tradition and etiquette be damned as he reaches for your hand to pull you from your chair. His hands settle on your waist as you tilt your head back to look at him. A silent question reflects in his eyes to which you answer with a nod of your head.
His hands move from your waist to cradle your face as he dips down, pressing his lips to yours. It isn’t hurried; it’s perfect as Benedict takes control of the kiss, groaning softly at the feel of your mouth and your body pressed against him. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around Benedict’s neck, pulling him ever closer to you.
Benedict’s mouth brushes against yours as he asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Lady Danbury’s ball next week?”
“As in you would court me?”
Benedict chuckles softly, “Yes. I would like to court you, is that okay?”
“More than okay,” You smile before pressing a kiss to the corner of Benedict’s mouth and stepping away.
Turning back to the sketchbook, you open it to image that had kickstarted your heart into an irregular rhythm. Benedict stands by your side as your eyes pour over his sketch; each line and angle, each section of shading. “You truly have an artist’s eye,” You say quietly, tangling your hands together.
“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth whereupon he lays a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved hand.
“Will you show me more?” You ask, turning to face the man that had turned you into a work of art.
“Darling, I’ll show you them all.”
***********
Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict x reader#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton imagines#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton imagines
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It seems from the last chapter another one of the vol 32 promo sketches' context has been answered ( https://twitter.com/Color_Division/status/1447776112415846404?s=19 ). I had initially thought that the sketches were a mix of stuff that happens soon after vol 32 and things that will happen in endgame but with so many of them happening now maybe the Shouto-rage moment is rapidly approaching? I can't imagine any other situation outside of the next Touya encounter where he pushes past his limits, but at the same time it would be strange to me if Touya is just dealt with so quickly and then gets what - taken into police custody? Joins to help in the final fight against the remains of the PLF? (The latter seems pretty ooc for him, to bother with that since I can only imagine him being at best a neutral party who may chip in to save those he cares about from dying) for us to then focus on Shigaraki and Izuku (and perhaps Ochaco and Toga?) I would have thought before it may be used to have Shigaraki's location leaked by Touya, but given the already tiny window left and Shigaraki already attacking Stars and Stripes...I don't know.
Oh you are psychic; I was just thinking about how another thing is done from the teasers (which were also supposed to be Vol 32, showing how much Hori underestimated how long it will take to wrap everything up). We got Dark Deku, Nagant, Uraraka, Bakugou, the PLA advisors, Iida leading Deku home, international heroes (though I don't think that particular hero - could be someone from Star's past).
The things we are still missing are Hatsume and Rage Shouto. Deku's gear is unusable (Iida's is broken too, but I think he'll get Tensei's stuff), so obviously the plot will have to switch back to UA after the Star/Shiggy confrontation to give Deku his final suit before the endgame fight.
Which leaves us with Shouto - which I think is either part of the closing moments of this arc or is the transition into the endgame battle.
I've been trying to think of what he's expression looks like, and to me, it definitely feels like anger/rage/pain mix.
I don't think Touya necessarily has to be there for him to break his limits, though. His first time was facing Deku, the second time it was Tetsu.
With Shouto, his past trauma is always bubbling pretty close to the surface, so it can come out in any kind of emotional situation.
It definitely feels like the story is building towards his next "the person I want to be" moment.
The narrative also pretty much neglected all the emotional stuff Shouto has been dealing with since the war - the Dabi reveal, being tainted with both Endeavor's and Touya's sins, his family being dragged in the media, the anti-hero movement honing in on Endeavor and by extension his family, Shouto himself personally causing unease for others, wanting to go after his brother, etc.
It seems like that he's been focused to get Deku back for now, so he supressed everything else. I honestly still think it would be cathartic to give him a moment where it all hits him (a la DvK2 Bakugou), because it is a lot... and let him cry or have a meltdown or a rage moment.
It could be still tied to Dabi threatening something or someone he wants to protect (be it his family, his friends or the civilians - I'm still waiting for the kindergarten kids making a cameo, because why make that panel if you won't deliver on it).
Shouto so far never smashed a limit during a big battle - it was usually before. He unlocked his fire in Sport Festival -> became important during the Stain fight. He unlocked Flash Fire in JTA -> became a life saver in the war.
Both Bakugou and Deku got an upgrade during/post-war, something Shouto hasn't had yet. So I wouldn't be surprised if now Shouto got another upgrade before going into the endgame battle (maybe in a situation where there is an attack on UA or he's helping out in Shiketsu or something). The ability being some kind of extreme only he's capable of - according to the teaser. And then whatever ability he unlocks will be used in the final battle facing Touya.
By the way, I'm totally expecting Touya to switch sides in the endgame and help out at the very end of the fight and get a Touya-Shouto combo. I agree that he's not going to be suddenly the altruistic type, but Shouto will have to reach him, together with the family, and when that happens, I think Touya will remember his love for them and he will want to protect them too.
The narrative is steadily building towards "an everyone should be saved, everyone can become a hero" type of conclusion (if the Stain chapters didn't make that clear). So I think all the three main villains at least will have key roles in the final victory.
#bnha speculation#bnha meta#todoroki shouto#todoroki touya#bnha volume 31 extras#teaser panels#c1a asks
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Can you do part 2 of chandelier?
Chandelier
This is part to to this imagine, find it here
Pairing | dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader
Summary | the suburban life that you have been locked in soon takes a turn whence another being, with radiating power is revealed to be causing such destruction. Perhaps Wanda isn’t the bad guy, or at least, not the worst villain that has you under their thumb. Witches, and their possessiveness!
Warnings | mentions of death, violence, witches, magic, imprisonment, angst, spoilers for Wandavision. I fixed the Ralph Bohner plot because I could
Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬
Time had surpassed, and continuing to live under the restrictions of Wanda hadn’t been so bad. She was your wife, the Maximoff that owned your heart, a red beam of scarlet that floated around in the depths of your head. Her influence left a pressure inside of you, a mark and a reminder to her that you belonged to her.
One thing that you knew for certain, was that you needed to escape these red restrictions, and break free of this place that you were forced to call home. It was tough to slip from the penetrating gaze of the possessive redhead, but to your luck, your nosey neighbour had decided, on this fine evening, to walking into the kitchen, and stir up some gossip with your partner.
Agnes, as she went by. It always seemed like she wanted to be away from that husband Ralph of hers, but you couldn’t blame her, you wanted nothing more than to escape the possessiveness of your wife. She was no longer the same woman that you had met, she was crafted by loss, that tormented her into being a captive. Using the excuse of protecting you to her advantage, claiming that you would not appreciate what lay on the outside of Westview.
Party girls don't get hurt
Can't feel anything, when will I learn?
I push it down, push it down
I'm the one "for a good time call"
But you couldn’t help but feel completed as you reached the borders of the town. It was surreal, you felt ecstatic to leave this little prison, that was in deep disguise to convince all residents that their home was real, and not all an illusion painted by a certain redhead. She saw you as a new canvas, which she kept overlapping with white paint to make blank for another piece of mindful artwork.
Turning once more, to ensure that the woman of your nightmares hadn’t decided to appear behind you, within a second, you lurched forward, pushing your body through her borders, feeling each atom in your atom tug apart and put itself back together, as you fought with just your own body to break through the access and exit point of her false reality.
That’s all this was, an illusion, masked in amounts of power that could possibly kill you. But death by attempted escape was better than remaining here, in this vast plain, that was all meant to occupy the mind, fooling it into thinking that this was a normal life. Instead, you knew how absurd it was, there were tweaks every now and then, until you were transferred into a different time.
Right now, you were in the 2000s, but you needed to get back to 2023, the real time line, the universe outside of these red orbits that stood strong, and pained your skin, pushing a power that you did not know that you could feel beneath your flesh, making your body burn from your withdrawal from its sharp contents.
Phone's blowin' up, ringin' my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One. Two. Three. A yell bellowed from your throat as you fell out to the other side, collapsing on the ground, as your fingertips dug into the surface below. For a moment you frowned, before you glanced behind you, seeing the grand gesture of magic in its place, and you out of your own. You picked dirt up with your hands, it felt real, not like molecules that had been wedged together to create the appearance of such a natural substance.
The sound of footsteps had you rolling over, preparing to attack whomever had decided to disturb your peace, crouching on your knees as you glared up. It was a woman, one that you vaguely remembered, before your ever so loving wife had informed you that she had moved away, something about her mother not feeling well. All though, that may have been an illusion too, for all you were aware.
Nobody escaped Westview, until you. There was no route out, you were sure the chase wasn’t over, Wanda would come after you, numbing your mind with her tugging hands, that swirled with her red essence. The woman emitted grave power, and you far well knew that she would use it for when the time came. She would make you her prisoner once more, a dull and empty shell that would be ordered to do nothing more than return her affections with a plastered smile.
“Geraldine?” You asked nervously, realising that the woman appeared far different than the version of her within the Hex. She had portrayed nothing more than a fine friend to the deluded woman, supporting her magic show and coming over for tea in the morning, until she mentioned... Sokovia. Sokovia, her home, that had fallen against the battle with Ultron! You remembered!
Throw 'em back 'til I lose count
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier
From the chandelier
I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist
Like it doesn't exist
“Geraldine doesn’t exist.” She smiled softly, holding out a hand so that she could assist you to your feet. With sly eyes, you took it, untrusting of anyone at the moment. “My name is Monica, I have the intent of stopping your wife, she’s dangerous. She’s expanding these borders, and soon, I have no doubt that she will eat up the whole world, turning it into her playground.”
Playgrounds. They had been another thing that you noticed specked around the town, though there never seemed to be any children to play in them. That gave you some relief, unless they were locked up, stowed away to be kept of the suburban life. Wanda didn’t want children anyway, she wanted you, her baby, her fine darling, her pet. You were nothing more than a decoration within her false realm, a means to keep a smile stretched upon her sinister face, and a stopper to her darting red eyes.
And thus you stood on your own feet, no scarlet shadow behind you, whispering thoughts that were not your own in through your ear. Gulping, you looked Monica up and down, nervously seeing if she were to fade into the air, as many things did when the times changed, as they converted into more modern alternatives. A part of you had wished that you would grow with the changes, become stronger, become a free woman.
“I am not her wife.” You admitted aloud, feeling a heavy weight roll off your chest. There, you had said it, and for the first time, you hoped that the redhead heard you, you could imagine her scowl right now. That, that would be something that was sure as hell real, and not a part of her sketch script, her sitcoms were curtains.
They could be opened or closed, but often of a night, were shut to keep the silhouettes of monsters out. She was the monster, hiding from herself and the reality that she had came from. Though, the woman could not accept that she was the villain here. The creator of the dialysis that was affecting the lives of many, but for what purpose.
I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night
Feel my tears as they dry
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier
From the chandelier
But I'm holding on for dear life
“We have to stop her.” Monica spoke, getting out of the vehicle, you following behind her, as she moved closer to the collateral red veil that reached high up into the sky. Sounds from Jimmy insisted that she remain, and that another way in could be found, but all of you knew that was a long shot. And there was no time to wait around, not as purple grates were seen through the crimson walls of her boundaries, bursting like fireworks against her protection system.
And thus, you, gulping down the sensations of fear prickling at your fingers, followed after Monica, whom walked through the moulded fire, stepping into the plain that digressed your body, pulling it as though it were trying to reform your genes, affecting your DNA. As you succumbed to the sensations, you felt a burst in your chest, an ignition of something greater deep inside you.
But unlike Wanda, you were not going to use it for your own sinful convenience, you were going to stop her. You gasped as you fell out the other side, your limbs feeling like they were aflame, askew with treacherous fire. Turning to Monica, you saw that her eyes had transformed into an ambient blue, piercing your soul.
Won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life
Won't look down, won't open my eyes
“Your skin.” She spiked, raising her hand to her own cheek as she looked upon you. It was separated into sections, adjoined by the bone, as neon orange kept it attached, like cracks that had yet to be partitioned. There was no time for idly finding a mirror to squalor through at your own appearance though, no. You had returned to this hell for one reason only, and that was put an end to all this consuming madness.
And so, the pair of you walked through the town, not having to go far until you saw the ongoing battle. Agnes, as you had known her, was in the sky, along with you alleged wife, purple robes floating from her body, her hair crazed and wild, much like her eyes. She was no friendly neighbour, she was a reaper coming out to play, throwing lilac bursts of power towards Wanda, whom returned the favour with her own red energy.
“How do we get to them?” Rambeau asked, frowning as she watched their exchange with worried irises. To answer her question, your body aligned itself to rise, transcending towards the two warriors, your eyes hot and fiery as they flared remarkably at the sight of the bewitched competition.
At your presence, Agnes smirked, and Wanda’s face paled, soaking in the sight of your skin glowing with your own source of power. “If it isn’t your wife, just on time to join us for the main course.” Your nose curled at the sound of her distorted voice, as your head raised itself, glaring upon the scene. “There’s something different about you, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Keep my glass full until morning light
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight, on for tonight
Sun is up, I'm a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame
To emphasise her point, she emitted a pulse of her magic towards you, it hitting deep in the pit of your chest. Though, it didn’t explode, or send you hurtling back, instead it grew brawlingly in your chest, brewing like a potion, and expanding every human structure that you could feel kept your skeleton upright.
As your head fall, and you remained in your place, Wanda frowned, head tilting as a crown appeared upon her forehead. She could not understand how you had changed so clearly. You were definitely not her wife, you were an image of her enemy, floating alongside her, standing for your cause. That was to end her, and this place she had formatted to become her home; your home.
When she had learnt of your betrayal, escaping whilst she was distracting by this opposer of hers, she had been filled with various emotions. Angry was one definition of how she had felt, but another had been determined. She was determined to get you back, and wash away all thoughts of ever leaving her again. But as she looked upon you, for some reason, she knew that her tricks wouldn’t work.
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
Throw 'em back 'til I lose count
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier
“What are you?” She asked in that distressed accent of hers. What were you? It was unknown, or at least to your own knowledge, you were a vision, a bird set free, no longer trapped behind the bars of a cage. Wanda tried to thrust your to the side with her elegant will, but instead of obeying her technical whim, you tilted your head.
It came as a shock to you as well, having expected to be thrown around by her wishes, but instead, you remained, only absorbing her tainted force, your hair blowing from the sweeping of the stormy wind as you poised the two witches with your amber gaze, keeping your pupils locked on them, as a hurricane rounded through the air, grabbing every form of their power.
The walls of the Hex slowly faded, swirling in the air before coming on command towards you, roping around your limbs before sinking into your flesh, leaving Agatha with a studying from onto her trialed face. She was watching, rather than fighting with you, picking out the little details like she had done with Wanda.
From the chandelier
I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist
Like it doesn't exist
I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night
Feel my tears as they dry
She was the scarlet witch, the most powerful sorceress of all, but you indeed were something else. Monica squinted from below, as she saw a streak of blue oncoming towards her, his willpower transcending through her, as he crumbled mistakenly to the ground.
He was a fake, or was he. As he tripped, Monica caught sight of the flaring purple beads around his neck, and thus, she knelt upon his chest, as she looked at them. This Pietro was being controlled, and she assumed it was through the ancient jewellery, and so, she pulled it from around his neck, scattering the beads upon the street.
As the man looked up, he was astounded. There was a fiery bird igniting in the sky, its wingspan spreading far, as it reigned terror upon all. He was amazed to see the sight once more... she was supposed to be dead. She had sacrificed herself, turned into particles within the universe. But it seemed as though the winged creature, pardoned by great force lived on.
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier
From the chandelier
But I'm holding on for dear life
Won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life
“Jean?” He whispered to himself, with a frown, his hand covering his mouth as he thought of his old friend that had facaded into meandering smithereens. Monica sighed at the man, walking closer, as she crossed her arms, looking down upon where he had crashed, and was laying upon the ground.
“Ralph Bohner?” She asked, watching as the stranger frowned at the title that she assumed of hun. With speed, he assisted himself up, brushing his hands on his legs, as he kept blinking up at the apocalyptic sky.
“No, I feel sorry for a dude with that name.” He lightly chuckled, finding the boner joke rather hilarious. “Peter Maximoff is the name, my fine lady.” She shook her head at his efforts but... Maximoff? What about Pietro?
Won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight, on for tonight
“She’s the dark Phoenix.” Agatha gulped, her face contorting into one of fear and worry as she looked on at the way your arms spread like an eagle, igniting with their flame like aura. She had heard ancient stories, but they were not from this time. And here you were, facing off against her and the scarlet witch.
They had no chance against you, but Wanda did not know that, and as she readied to face off with you, she found herself being pushed to the ground, by nothing more than your stern gaze. Agatha too was pulled in by your sway, as you forced both to descend, and be grounded.
With a curve of your neck, they found themselves trapped against telephone lines, lines of their own magic pulling at them like strands. They were tied up, like the witches of old, powerless to those that stalked them.
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight, on for tonight
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
All of a sudden, Wanda felt overcome with regret, as she was put in this position. She tried to escape, but Agnes as she had called herself priorly shook her head at the silly girl, understanding that this was the end.
“We are no match for her Wanda. She is not a witch, she is being far more powerful. Fall to her mercy, or you will receive the brunt of it.” Westview had fallen, and thus, Wanda realised that by taking you, you had taken everything right back from her, reciprocating the notion that she had described to be love.
She held on, wanting the night to be over, as she saw Monica, the woman that had tried to help her, behind you. And the man that had posed as her biological brother. There was no hope left for her, no saving her. In the end, she had became the villain. Her and Agatha were not so different after all.
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight, on for tonight
#wanda maximoff x reader angst#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff one shot#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x you#wanda angst#wandavision x reader#wandavision fandom#wandavision fanfic#wanda x reader angst#wanda x y/n#wanda imagine#imagines#imagine#xreader#marvel x reader angst#marvel angst#marvel x reader#x men x reader#wandavision au#mcu x you#mcu x y/n#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch x reader#the scarlet witch#dark phoenix x reader#marvel imagines#marvel imagine
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MALEC WEEK - THE ORIGINS
“I once read that vampires who got bit by werewolves have male pattern baldness,” Jace shared matter of factly.
Simon gave a whimper from the couch.
“Jace, stop it!” Clary warned.
“Enough with the chatting!” Magnus scolded. “Get over here and be useful!”
Clary gave Simon’s hand a squeeze and walked up to him, with Jace right behind her.
“I’m working on a different potion,” Magnus informed them. “You see, I’m responsible for all of New York - not just you people! So, you will have to assist me with the antidote for the bite.”
“How can we help, Magnus?” Clary asked, the only one who seemed to be interested in helping.
“Watch over the antidote,” he told her. “It should remain liquid. Don’t let it thicken. You need to keep stirring.”
The red head nodded and got to working.
“You!” He passed a bowl of flowers to the blonde one. “Pluck the petals.”
“Uh, can’t you do that with your magic?” The blonde boy asked.
“I can,” Magnus replied. “But you seem to have two perfectly capable hands.”
Jonathan – or Jace as they called him – muttered something and started plucking at the flower.
Magnus technically didn’t need the flowers for this particular potion, but he figured the boy would get all agitated if he didn’t have anything to do. And he didn’t want any agitated Nephilim in his apartment.
Isabelle Lightwood was standing near the window, keeping guard. The vampire was sprawled on the couch – playing with Magnus’ cat.
“Why isn’t he doing anything?” Jace demanded, pointing his chin at the vampire.
“Because I’m injured,” Simon replied incredulously.
“But you’re already dead!” Jace pointed out.
“And we are trying to keep me from getting any dead-er!”
“You’re not going to die from a scra-”
“Enough squabbling!” Magnus scolded them again. “I need to focus here. Clary, how is the potion coming?”
“There are bubbles,” Clary said nervously. “Are there supposed to be bubbles?”
“That’s good. Keep stirring,” Magnus encouraged her. “It will be ready in another couple of minutes.”
“I’ll just hang out here till then,” Simon waved from the couch, getting paler by the second.
The vampire had been scratched by a werewolf earlier while trying to aid the Nephilim. It wasn’t lethal, but Magnus knew from experience that it would get ugly if not treated immediately.
Luckily, there was a potion to treat werewolves bites on vampires.
Magnus didn’t know how he had gotten himself tangled into this mess to be honest.
But when the shadowhunters had turned up at his doorstep asking for his help, he didn’t have the heart to turn them away.
Magnus wondered if there was a potion to cure his pathological need to help shadowhunters.
“Gross! what is that smell?” Isabelle groaned from the window.
“It’s a love potion I’m working on,” Magnus replied, trying not to take it personally.
“How is that supposed to make anyone fall in love?” Jace asked, scrunching up his nose.
“It will go away in a moment,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “And then it will smell very, very different.”
“How different?” Clary asked curiously.
“Well, it’s supposed to smell of something you associate with the person you love the most,” Magnus answered.
“Really?” Simon asked from the couch. “Like in Harry Potter?”
“Something like that,” Magnus winked. “It could smell like a place or a person or even food. For Jace, it might smell like himself.”
“You would think I’d be offended by that,” Jace grinned. “But honestly, who wouldn’t love all of this?”
They all rolled their eyes then.
“What is it for?” Isabelle asked suspiciously. “Or rather – who is it for?”
“For a client,” Magnus replied. “I do need to pay rent, my dear.”
“I thought you own the entire building,” Clary frowned.
“Fine, but I do have other expenses,” Magnus conceded. “As you can see, I’ve grown accustomed to a specific lifestyle.”
Isabelle abandoned her post at the window and moved towards Magnus. “Does it really work?”
“I don’t sell counterfeit goods,” Magnus said indignantly. “But the potion does have limits. You see, the smell can change. People don’t always love the same thing all the time. It only smells like what you love in the present. What’s most important to you right now.”
Isabelle moved closer cautiously and sniffed the cauldron. “It smells like…popcorn?”
Jace laughed. “Is that what you love the most right now? Popcorn?”
Isabelle glared at him. “It’s some weird smell. Like popcorn – but I’m also get a hint of cheese and paprika and-”
“Oh my god, that’s the popcorn they make at the cinema!” Simon pointed out loudly, practically salivating. “It’s so good. The secret is extra cheese!”
Isabelle looked from Simon to the potion and to Simon again.
“Your potion is broken,” she hissed at Magnus and settled down next to Simon on the couch.
Magnus grinned to himself.
“I want to try,” Jace was next to him in a moment. “Maybe I’ll smell bubblegum or pepperoni pizz-”
His expressed shifted immediately. “It smells like coal.”
Magnus glanced at Clary, who was focusing on stirring the antidote.
“You mean the kind of thing people use for sketching?” Magnus asked suggestively.
“Not a word, Bane,” Jace said threateningly, but Magnus heard the softness in his voice.
He simply shrugged and kept on working on the potion. He felt a shift in the wards and the door opened a moment later.
Magnus hoped the others couldn’t hear the way his heart started beating loudly. Not because he wanted to hide his feelings – but it was a little embarrassing to be honest.
Magnus had never fallen this hard this fast.
He had always hoped it would happen for him someday. But he had also hoped that it would be with someone who loved him back.
The boy scanned the loft to make sure everyone was there – and everyone was okay. His eyes passed Isabelle and Jace with a breath of relief and then onto Simon and Clary with fond exasperation.
Then they landed on Magnus – and he immediately looked away.
Alec Lightwood looked away – and not for the first time.
Magnus was used to people looking away.
Most people looked at Magnus as he were a sin.
But this one, this one was different.
Alec Lightwood looked at him as if the mere act of looking at Magnus was a sin itself.
Either way, Magnus couldn’t look away.
“Did you get the final ingredient?” Clary asked, breaking Magnus’ depressive inner monologue.
Alec silently passed her a vial, his eyes still avoiding Magnus.
The worst part was that Magnus didn’t know. He didn’t know whether Alec didn’t want to look or just couldn’t.
He knew that it might never happen for them. It wasn’t like they could be together or get married or live happily ever after.
Magnus wasn’t destined to have that with anyone – let alone a shadowhunter whose last name was Lightwood.
But just knowing…just knowing the fact that Alec felt something for him would be enough.
Or so he told himself.
“Magnus?” Clary called, her voice worried.
“Yes?” Magnus asked, putting on a smile.
“Do I put this in?” she asked, pointing at the vial.
“Yes!” Magnus came back to reality. “Put it in and give it to Simon. Now! Watch over him. Make sure he doesn’t throw up.”
Clary didn’t waste another second. She did as she was told – which was rare for Clary and even rarer for a Shadowhunter.
She ran towards Simon, who seemed to be passed out on Isabelle’s lap. Jace followed the girl, and they carefully helped the vampire drink the potion.
“What are you doing?”
Magnus looked up at the voice and swallowed.
“Just making a potion,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I thought you were making shampoo or something,” Alec replied. “It smells like sandalwood.”
Magnus dropped the ladle.
He grabbed Alec’s wrist and dragged him to the bedroom.
“Magnus, what are yo-”
“You like me.”
It almost sounded like an accusation. Almost.
Alec looked startled and but when back to his usual stoic self immediately. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“That was a love potion,” Magnus explained. “It’s supposed to smell like something you associate with the thing you love the most.”
Alec looked flabbergasted. “Your potion is lying.”
“Potions don’t lie,” Magnus said calmly. “Only people do.”
“Alright, so what?” Alec demanded. “Maybe my mom uses sandalwood shampoo. Am I not allowed to love my mother?”
“Then what about what I smelled?” Magnus demanded. “You can do it all you want. But I’m not going to lie to myself.”
Alec looked briefly startled but then shrugged. “Maybe there is something wrong with the potion. You must have messed up an ingredient.”
Magnus pinched his nose in frustration. “Why? Why do you keep hiding?”
A look of incredulity passed Alec’s face. “Do you really have to ask?”
Magnus knew this was the closest he would get to an admission. He didn’t want to push it.
“Fine,” he replied, turning around. “Leave.”
He didn’t hear footsteps. But then again Nephilim were extremely quiet on their feet – not so much with their mouths though.
Magnus turned around. But Alec was still standing there.
Awkward and unsure.
But he was still standing there. That counted for something, right?
Sometimes Magnus hated himself when his heart did this. When his heart held on to hope his body couldn’t handle.
“What did you smell?”
Alec’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
It was extremely rare to hear fear in a Shadowhunter’s voice. Maybe it was a good thing because Magnus didn’t like the sound of it.
“You should go,” Magnus said. “Be with your friends.”
“What did you smell?”
The awkwardness and uncertainly had disappeared like the morning mist. He was standing there in front of him – stubborn and strong willed.
“I didn’t smell anything,” Magnus lied.
Alec moved closer, his body inches away from Magnus’ own.
“What did you smell?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Magnus replied. “It’s not going to change anything.”
“Magnus.”
He looked up at the sound – his own name sounded alien to his ears.
Alec didn’t say his name like it was just another word. He said it like it was a prayer.
“What did you smell?”
“Gardenia.”
Alec back away in shock. “I…I have one next to the windo…How do you know what’s in my room?”
“I don’t know what’s in your room,” Magnus said. “I only what’s in my heart. And that’s you.”
Alec took a shuddering breath.
“I thought it was just me,” Magnus confessed quietly. “I thought you didn’t care and then the poti-”
“You thought I didn’t care?” Alec sounded offended – even angry.
“I di-”
“Do you even know why I have a stupid gardenia plant in my room?” Alec was definitely angry.
“Because they smell good?” Magnus asked dryly.
Alec grabbed his wrist and yanked him towards the window.
And there it was. Gardenia.
Magnus had completely forgotten the fact that there were gardenia bushes in his balcony. They looked lovely. They smelled beautiful.
“I know this is what you see when you wake up,” Alec said, his voice quiet. “I thought if I had some in my room…It might be like we were in the same room. I could pretend like you were next to me. That we were next to each other. That we woke up together. Went to sleep together.”
Magnus wanted to reach out. But the fear of Alec pulling back was bigger than the need to hold him and tell him it was okay.
“All I have is a stupid plant,” Alec confessed. “It’s all I can afford to have.”
“Alec-”
“I know it’s stupid,” Alec interrupted.
“It’s not stupid,” Magnus said softly. “It’s sweet. But don’t you want more?”
“What I want and what I can have are two different things, Magnus” Alec replied.
“Then what about what you deserve?” Magnus challenged him.
Alec looked up at that – his eyes wandering. “I don’t even know what I deserve.”
And then it made sense.
Alec wasn’t fighting because Alec didn’t know what he was fighting for.
It was hard to want something when you don’t know why you want it in the first place.
Magnus loved the man in front of him with all his heart. But that wasn’t enough, was it?
But Alec had to do that too.
Alec had to love himself. Alec had to choose himself.
Alec needed to realize he deserved better.
There was nothing Magnus could do about that. He just had to wait like any other person – holding onto nothing but hope.
“Figure out,” Magnus said now and left the room. “Come back to me when you figure it out.”
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1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something for brotherhood Ezio - either fluff or smut (maybe a hybrid if such a thing exists?)
These requests really make my heart soft :,) It’s definitly not troublesome at all, darling! a smut/fluff is coming your way :)) enjoy reading!
btw, I always had the concept in mind of Ezio being a nude model for a painter/paintress so I used it as inspiration for this request, I hope you like it!
Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio x Reader
warnings: smut, fluff, mature content
summary: Ezio convinces you of using his nude body as reference for your painting and that’s where things start to get heated.
A sound of raging growls left your throat as it was the sixth time you scratched away the slender torso that was sketched upon the parchment. It was slender, too slender for it to be still considered human. Ironic. The Greek gods were inhuman, but you were unable to project the divine muscles that roamed in your thoughts onto the piece of dried lamb skin. You missed Florence, dearly, and since the first week that you had left the vivid city to live in the unknown town of Monteriggioni you thought that the quiet farms, where trees of oranges grew, would help revive the inspiration to paint a Magnum Opus but it only dried the river of colour in your head. You couldn’t compare Florence to a third rate town as Monteriggioni. You could still recall the smell of paint and the dusty marmer that stained the Florentin air of the market, and the sight of novices carrying their painting supplies as they were on their way to class. You missed how you used to visit churches, not to pray, but rather to admire the fresco’s. Now it was all gone. No inspiration and the few churches that existed in this village were sober and only consisted of a giant crucifix and a statue of Madonna holding her child.
bang bang. Someone knocked on the door of your atelier. With a dissatisfied grunt you threw the charcoal pencil on the ground and shoved your seat back with a strong force, causing an abrasive sound to be heard from outside the small building.
‘Who is there?’ You asked sharply as you walked towards the wooden door. You tried to regain your patience and freshened your cheeks, which was red of annoyment, by pressing your abnormally cold palms against them.
‘It’s me, Ezio.’ His voice was unclear due to the door that seperated you, but it did not spoil the low rumble that was always present in his speech. You pressed your eyelids together rather harshly and groaned in regret. How shameful musn’t it be to shoot invisible daggers towards Ezio as just the thought of his intimidting gaze locked on your face after your scene of lost temper made you wish you hid instead of confronting him. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of embaressment.
You opened the door to the sight of Ezio leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in question.
‘I came to check up on you, ragazza. It sounded as if you were fighting off pirates in there.’ You felt how your face heated up against your will and you tried to laugh it of with a breathless snicker. ‘The only thing I was fighting with were my sketches,’ You stepped aside, exposing a part of your artist studio. It was not big, as it was perfect to fit in a few tables and art easels with canvasses of variating sizes, but it was practical enough to be able to craft in peace. But it seems that the serene peace wasn’t present anymore these past weeks.
‘Where are my manners, come in.’ With a faint smile he swiftly entered and closed the door.
‘Lack of inspiration?’ He asked. You nodded. ‘Not only that, It is impossible to find any references to bodies as muscled as those of the Greek Gods. Monteriggioni isn’t filled with art as in Firenze, thus making it difficult for me to find those references.’ As you looked at him from the side, you saw how perfect his body posture was to be used as reference; It was flexible and broad, yet it was intimidating and yet not graceful enough to be that of a dancer.
Ezio hummed in understanding. He was slightly proud that he still had the ability to make you blush, even in his forties, when he caught your eyes wandering through his clothing. ‘Why don’t you use models like Leonardo does? You could ask him to lend some to you,’ You grinned. ‘Ezio, my dear. The only references to human bodies that Leonardo uses are either dug up from their grave or strangers with the most inhuman facial complexion. Leonardo is fascinated by the misshapen, not the divine.’
‘Well, if the ancient Greeks believed that women were the misshapen copies of men, then I confirm myself as being fascinated by the misshapen. My dear.’ He mocked. His lips curled into a sly smirk and he winked at you, but you merely scoffed playfully as you shook your head and walked towards the chaotic scene that played upon your desk; Scattered parchment with incomplete sketches, charcoal pencils and quills thrown all over the table and, at the moment, irrelevant attributes such as a skull and a terracotta bust of Bacchus -A marmer bust was way too expensive for the meager loan you had to live with-
‘Charmed.’ You said, not impressed. Maybe slightly impressed.
‘As I thought you would be,’
The open space of the studio behind you felt enclosed as the soft touch of Ezio’s breath caressed the nape of your neck. His eyes roamed over the table, observing every object -he even squatted down and stared into the dead eyes of Bacchus-, and trailed alongside the lines of your sketches with his middle and index finger pressed together, the two fingers levitating above the charcoal lines.
‘Why did you scratch them? It is beautiful. Well, I am not going to lie, it looks a bit...how should I word it?’ He mumbled. ‘Bad?’ ‘A bit out of proportion,’ He trailed alongside the torso with the same two fingers. ‘See,’ Ezio said. ‘The torso is a bit too long, and the muscles are too muscled.’
You scoffed, a small laugh plastered on your face. ‘Too muscly,’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Ezio, I don’t know if you have noticed but I do not have any male models nor have I seen a man naked before. No, I mean, not that I am a virgin. But I just haven’t seen a naked man with the right size.’ Good Lord. Ezio grinned, not ashamed for the innapropriate phrase that kept resonating in his head, and locked eyes with you as he raised one eyebrow. You shivered. It was that one raised eyebrow that made his face so intimidating, so intense. ‘Not the right size, huh?’
‘You know what I mean, old man.’ He scoffed. His hand covered his breast and he pretended to be in pain. ‘You wound me with your words, bella.’
Oh Ezio. He was so entertaining. He was probably one of the very few reasons your stay in Monteriggioni will last for a very long time. Leaving him would make you feel empty. Ezio had a way of pulling women (and also men) towards him, chaining them with such a scorching desire that it would feel injust and even sinful to break the invisible attraction He brought those small moments of thrills and excitement with him whenever he just walked by making you want his attention to be focused on you and solely you.
‘I could send an apprentice of mine to model, but only if you’d like?’ ‘Are they quite muscled? I need a body that represents the gods and not 17 year old boys who are only interested in horses and girls.’ ‘No, judging by the statues I have seen in Florence they wouldn’t be a very great choice. And besides, I don’t think that they can stand still, naked, for a few hours while a beautiful lady has a clear view of their cazzo without, you know, the visuals showing their excitement.’
Your facial expressions showed slight disgust as you were imagining their erect member and face, reddened with shame, while they were posing as one of the Greek deities. Well, to be fair, you couldn’t expect less. They were boys with raging hormones, and you were a young adolescent that was not able to conceil her raging hormones from experienced and charming men. Or shortly said; Ezio.
Speak of the devil.
Ezio noticed the disgust on your face and emitted a low and rumbling snicker as he patted your back, the impact of his force causing your shoulder to be shoved forwards. ‘Keep your sneaky little mind away from my apprentices private parts will you?’
‘Ezio!’ You hit his arm, your mouth open and pretending to be shocked by his remark, but you couldn’t help but curl your mouth into a smile. ‘Back to our previous topic,’ You said, recovering from what just had happened. ‘I really need to find a male model for my project, Ezio.’ Ezio happened to show empathy with you as he began taking off his boots.
‘Ezio, what in heaven are you doing? Put those back on! Ezio what are you thinking?’ Nailed to the floor you looked at ezio who was only wearing his trousers and chemise, its string loosened and showing the flesh upon his chest, and had his hands on the sides of the edge of his pants, ready to take them of and show the world what momma gave him. ‘I am sacrificing my pride for the sake of your painting.’
Your eyes widened. ‘Would you do that for me? Really?’ ‘Bella, what does it look like I am doing?’ He grinned, taking off the rest of his clothing as you had turned around to reorganize your table and prepared the small podium on which Ezio had to model.
‘And besides, what did you mean with Sacrificing your pride?’ You heard Ezio sigh while you sharpened your charcoal pencils. ‘All these men on Classical paintings have a...well, you know, a small penis, so you will have to reduce mine...a lot.’ You laughed, placing the pencils on the table. ‘Oh, Ezio, I don’t really think it will be necessary.’ You said teasingly. You sat down behind the desk when you heard his voice floating around your ears as he walked towards the small podium, every inch of his skin exposed for you and only you. ‘Prego?’
It was difficult to keep your gaze off his private part. It was just...hanging there, minding its bussiness. It was as if your insulting remark about his member just spat back at you with double as much spit. You managed to clear your throat in a subtle way without choking on your saliva. ‘You’ll have to lay down.’ You said. You stood up to grasp a few layers of cloth to cover the small stage to save Ezio’s behind a bit from the harsh ground. It felt weird to be so near him; He was naked and you were clothed.
You quickly smoothened the cloth onto the stage, fixating your disorientated eyes on it, and walked, almost ran, with rapid speed back to your desk.
It still felt like a fever dream. You were able to get the most skilled murderer fully naked in front of you, without asking once. As it felt surreal, it simutaniously felt forbidden too. He was way older, a teacher of a kind, how many women wouldn’t have killed for this chance. For seeing Ezio naked, almost vulnurable without his armour. Vulnurable for attack as told by the white lining of the remaining scars on his body.
‘Lay down and lean on your elbows,’ And so he did. ‘Put one knee up. No the other knee, Ezio. Not so high, go a bit lower. Not that low. Yes, stay like that!’ Ezio grinned softly. ‘You are very demanding, aren’t you bella?’ ‘You iniated on being my model, Ezio, so do as I say.’ Ezio raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, sucking air through his teeth, sounding similar to scorching metal in cold water. ‘My apologies, maestro.’
His body was beautiful. Not too brawny and not fat. Broad muscles showing through his skin and simultaneously a layer of soft fat hugged around his torso, but it didn’t hang nor did it seem loose, It was tight and gave Ezio’s body comfortable for burning cuddles.
You gave a last look at Ezio’s position, observing it, but something felt wrong. It felt plain, flat. It didn’t have your desired dimentions.
‘Ezio,’ He turned his head towards you. ‘Could you touch the ground with your left hand and move your torso towards your lifted knee. Let your right arm rest upon that raised knee, yes, just like that.’ It was better. More rounded than flat. And the most beautiful of all was how above his pubic hair, which was trimmed, small layers of skin bundled upon each other, giving more dimention to his body.
You picked up the stylus - a metal pen- with satisfaction and began carving lines onto the parchment. Those lines slowly became basic shapes until more shade and more complexity was added to them. Ezio’s eyes kept sailing from around the room to your concentrated face. It must be intimidating for him whenever it took only fractions of seconds before you raised your eyes to look at him every single time. And every time he wondered how many seconds it would last this time before you watched him again.
‘Do you do this a lot? Using nude models?’ Ezio asked. You stood halt in your drawing to look up at him. ‘Well, No. Back in Firenze I was too ashamed to ask for one. If the word would spread about a women making a carreer out of brush strokes instead of a man stroking her to let her bear him a son, they’d burn my paintings. And they may burn my paintings, but i’ll still use the ashes to draw a big cazzo on the front door of their homes.’ You said, slightly flinching at the thought of your face being tortured by the sweltering flames that are devouring your art works. Ezio laughed. His wide-opened mouth created deep curving lines next to it, sparkling eyes squinting at you.
How did he do it? How was he capable of making you desire him with just a smile. A smile of confidence. A smile of which hundreds of women fell for. Let alone how his body would call for company as melancholy and charm hung like a perfume around him.
‘Eccezionale,’ He grinned in a breath. ‘And in Monteriggioni?’ ‘The average male in this village is almost expired. They’re at least fifthy.’
‘You don’t older men?’ He asked teasingly. Yes you did, especially him. ‘There is a difference between older and old. Old men are almost expired. Older men, on the other hand, are more matured and experienced.’
With a last look at the sketch you laid down the stylus and motioned for Ezio to move again. You quickly added some shadows around the sillhouette around the body as you felt Ezio stand behind you.
‘And what is “older” to you?’ ‘You ask a lot of Questions, Ezio. Aren’t you Il mentore?’ His broad shoulders casted a shadow on your cheek that was turned to his side. ‘I’m curious. Isn’t a man allowed to ask questions? Especially if he’s as expired as me?’ You scoffed.
‘Ezio, you are not expired. You aren’t old.’
‘I’ll be turning fifthy in five years.’
‘That’s still ages away from now.’
‘Time flies, bella.’
‘Well, mentore, I don’t perceive you as old. In fact, you are mature and very sharp.’ You stole a quick glance of his private part before letting your gaze wander towards the floor. How was he able to keep himself so tame when the tension was creating a heated knot in your lower stomach? The knot kept contracting with every breath from Ezio’s soft lips that brushed against your neck and the radiating heat from his naked body caused by the Florentine sun that tortured his skin underneath the layers of his heavy assassin robes.
You turned around, trapped in between the wooden desk and Ezio’s nudeness, and placed a hand on his bicep. ‘How aren’t you burned yet underneath all those layers of clothing.’ Your eyes locked with his. ‘I have very thick skin,’ He palmed your hand in his and lead it down his muscular arm, rubbing against its hot skin, let it follow the curves of his muscles back up to his chest. You didn’t even need to glance down to see that his good old friend has “awakened”.
Ezio’s hand caressed your collarbone and slid down, only to stop at the cleavage of your gown. With his index finger he easily pulled the piece of fabric away from your chest, exposing your breasts that were visible through the thin night gown.
He hummed in satisfaction.
Ezio disposed you of your clothes in a slow and agonizing manner until your naked body was hugged by the warm air that filled the art studio. His eyes, filled with passionate lust, wandered over your whole body, absorbing every inch of naked skin. Ezio pressed his body close to you and you felt how his manhood, swollen with blood, was pressed against your stomach. Ezio kissed your lips. His lips covering your upper lip as you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. His tongue wetted the entrance of your mouth before the warmth of his saliva got mixed with yours. Ezio’s hands roamed your whole body, he wanted to take all of you, touch all of you, feel every piece of your hot skin lingering against his. His hands trailed back to your upper thighs and rubbed them as his fingers curled to grip the soft flesh of it. His warm hands felt rough and experienced against your inner thighs, it felt like everything that desire is.
Ezio pulled your legs around his waist and carried you the the small improvised podium of layered blankets as his one hand held the fold at the backside of your knee and the other was pressed against your lower back.
You couldn’t describe how overwhelmed you where with all these sensory feelings. Your contracting stomach, heating core and tickling neck, caused by Ezio’s lips and teasing nips, made you close your eyes and press your legs tighter around his torso. You pressed yourself against Ezio while you yearned for his body engulfing yours in this passionate warmth as Ezio’s hot breaths left humid spots on your neck.
His lips kissed your collarbone and so he went down with smouldering and slow kisses down to the curve in between the mounds of your breasts. His hand cupped your breast and massaged your nipple with his thumb as his mouth place kisses on the side of your other breast before tracing to your nipple and holding it between his lips.
your breathing became irregular, some were sharp and some were pitched. Your hands took a grip on Ezio’s broad back and you couldn’t help but groan in a breath. His body slid down on yours until he stopped above your pubic bone, a trail of saliva covered your torso. Ezio placed your legs on his shoulders, holding onto your thighs, and he breathed so softly against your humid entrance.
It felt tingly and increased your need for him to touch you. Ezio’s fingers caressed your labia as his hot and humid tongue slid up your crease. Your breath hitched. His lips covered your clit, his beard tickling your inner thighs, kissing it before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. You groaned. Your clit was pusling and you felt how your entrance was filled with so much ecstasy. Ezio kept licking, nibbling and just making you feel on cloud nine until you felt how tension was layering and building up in your core and you felt how it was almost going to explode in bright colours of the sweet relieve. But Ezio stopped before you could taste that pure sweetness and how much you disliked it, the builded up tension slowly died down.
‘Why did you stop?’ You asked defeatedly. Ezio smirked. ‘I want us to finish together,’ You were surprised. ‘Because I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you.’ Ezio slid back up so his lips could reach your mouth again. You enveloped your leg around his waist and Ezio gripped the fold of your knee, slowly pressing your thigh against your chest.
He groaned as the tip of his manhood entered slowly. He stopped after a few inches of his manhood had entered so you’d adapt to his lenght and width and began pumping slowly before he’d let his whole penis enter inside of you inch by inch. He filled you so good.
Ezio began pumping in and out between your slick walls and went rougher. The sweetness and lust of the moment made both of your groan in synch. But the more he motioned inside of you, the more your groans became heartfelt moans. You grabbed ezio’s back as you bit on his shoulder. With every push and every thrust of his body against yours the sinful sounds of hitting skin was like background music for the hymn of your moans. Ezio grabbed your thigh and pushed himself deeper, which you doubt was still possible, and the poor man was lost in deep groans. He kept you close to him as he filled you until the building up layers made you speed up, shortening the silence between every clap of skin. ‘Ezio,’ You whispered in lost sweetness. The more tension that build up, the more the yearning for that sweet relieve became. ‘(Y/N),’ He groaned in your ear, huskily.
Only a few strokes and you were there, both of you. Oh, sweet Lord, how you were losing your mind in a blurr of white light. Just those few last strokes and you’d explode. You were almost there...almost...and ‘Ezio!’ The ball of squeezed tension exploded into a firework of sweetness and fire. Ezio came inside of you with squeezed eyes and a groan before he let himself relax onto you. Your chests were elevating in an irregular rythm.
‘Mio Dio,’ You whispered in amazement. Ezio slid out of you and took the excess length of the cloth to cover both of you.
‘So when are you free to come back? To finish the painting?’
‘Very soon, Bella, very soon.’
#ezio auditore da firenze#ezio auditore#ezio auditore fanfiction#assassins creed fanfiction#assassins creed brotherhood#ezio x reader#older ezio x reader#smut fanfiction#ezio auditore smut
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Hold Me, I’m Soft ~ Mammon x Reader
This is going to refer to the DevilGram story with Madi the Witch, because it didn’t sit right with me how Mammon got used and laughed at for being sexually assaulted, especially when I related to that in more ways then I’d want to admit, so there it is, a short little fic to give Monnie some love, especially since his birthday will be this week and I will be at the mountains, unable to actually post anything other than a Happy Birthday maybe.
Ever since she got to the Devildom, Y/N wondered to herself why in the world would the brothers bully Mammon so much, to the point that he’ll break down in tears when nobody is around?
He’s the most gentle of the brothers, yet he’s met with nothing more than taunts and mocking because of his greed.
It’s not like he can help it, it’s his Avatar sin, he didn’t choose it. People get annoyed at Beel for eating too much and constantly raiding the fridge, for when he indulges in the pleasure of greed, he’s suddenly the scummy trash brother who’s just a waste of space. The family’s embarrassment.
But why should he be that, when he’s the only one who never gave in to his demonic power from rage? Never tried to attack or kill her and never got in his demon form to lash out at her?
Mammon was the first one to ever call her by her name and even give her nicknames. He was the first one to call her out to the cinema, concerts, shopping, pranking time, board games, card games, and even video games or just some quality time together.
He was the one to taught her how to be an undefeated Blackjack player and how to spot when someone is lying. He was the one to taught her how to flawlessly cheat in games and how to protect herself if something happened.
Even more, he was the one who graciously asked if she wanted to workout with him so she could be stronger and faster if anything were to happen and he wouldn’t be around, just like how it happened long ago, when Levi lost control and almost attacked her.
And, of course, he was the only one who constantly asked her if she was okay, if she was happy, if she needed anything. He would always pamper her whenever he thought she stopped smiling for one split second, or if he thinks she was faking it. He would grab TSL and some comfort food, hot chocolate with marshmallows and would cuddle her all night, playing with her hair.
It really pissed her off, but no matter what she did, and no matter how much she tried to make the others at least tone it down, of course, millennia of habits cannot be so easily tamed.
These were the constant thoughts that plagued Y/N’s mind, yet the white haired man will never know, because she is a girl of few words and many actions.
Today, however, as usual, was the time for some new shenanigans, as Lucifer and Satan must be the escorts of some powerful witch, as per Diavolo’s request, since he literally can’t stand her - And that speaks loads, when it comes to the benevolent Demon Prince.
“Hey, is it really gonna be okay to leave those two by themselves like that?” Mammon asked with a worried expression on his face.
“Well, neither of them are saying anything...For now, at least.” Asmo held the same expression as his elder brother.
“Yeah, you just KNOW that they’re going to blow up any minute. It’s so exciting!” Levi spoke with a chuckle.
“Hey, why is it that you only ever come outta your room at times like this, Levi? I thought you were s’posed to be a shut-in.” Mammon raised his eyebrow at his little brother.
“Well, this is Lucifer and Satan. They almost NEVER work together, much less when it’s just the two of them! I mean, if I’d missed an event like this, I’d regret it for the next 800 years.” Levi grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Diavolo was pretty bold to make them work together, if you ask me.” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms and peeking through the door creak.
Saying that, the four of them leaned in the peek better and listen to their conversation.
“Be careful. If Maddi takes a liking to a man, she’ll bring him back home with her.” Lucifer smirked at his younger brother.
“As if you need to remind me...I recall how Mammon went home with her that one time. Mammon must have regretted going with her, because by the time he got back, he was on the verge of tears. I remember it like it was yesterday!” Satan shook his head in disbelief, making the girl gasp, covering her mouth with her hands.
“HEY! I wasn’t!” Mammon frowned at what he just heard, making Asmo shush him quickly so they won’t be heard.
“I don’t even want to THINK about what must’ve happened between those two that night. I can’t understand what possessed Mammon to willingly go home with a woman that dangerous. It’s fortunate she didn’t trick him into making a pact with her while he was there in bed half-asleep.” the blond continued speaking, making the girl bite her lip from the shock and pain in her chest.
“But there’s no doubt that Mammon didn’t have a good time, because for a while after he came back he had nightmares, and he’s moan in his sleep. He even stopped spending money left and right...MAMMON, of all demons. Still, Maddi IS attractive. She rivals the succubus who won the Queen Contest in terms of beauty. In fact, Maddi might be even MORE beautiful. I’m a little worried that you’ll end up like Mammon - That as soon as she uses her feminine wiles on you, you’ll fold like a paper airplane.” hearing that, she couldn’t stop herself and she fled the place, going to her room to regain herself, not giving anyone any explanation.
She already made up her mind that, despite being the middle of the day, she will skip both lunch and dinner, so changing in her pyjamas, she got in bed, cuddling the hellhound plushie Mammon got her, and wrapped herself in a tight cocoon with her blanket, not wanting to see the light of the day.
So many thoughts were swirling in her mind, each of them more and more degrading, overpowering one another, guilt taking over her completely.
She prided herself with being a ration person, she really did! She always put ration and logic over hindering emotions...But now...When she can overthink in peace...The ration she held completely dissipated, and here she was, crying her heart out once again.
Why WAS she crying for, anyway?
Was it because she felt Mammon’s pain at having being used like that, against his will, because he’s an innocent and peaceful push-over?
Was it because she remembered what happened to her, and her heart started aching like crazy, and she began to spiral?
Was it because she felt plain, ordinary and completely nothing special, when she heard Lucifer saying that Maddi is the most beautiful person in the world and that’s why Mammon was lured in by her?
Or was it the guilt of being affected by jealousy and self-hatred before the pain from what that vile woman did to him?
What the hell was going on through her head, anyway? She heard enough opinions about her and how terrible of a girlfriend she was, why should she even have any hope that Mammon would ever like her? And why the hell was she worrying about that, when she should be worrying about the poor demon?!
She’s really nothing more than a selfish jerk.
As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of a received message on her D.D.D., and curiosity won over her self-deprecating sulking, and she checked it out, making her heart skip a few beats.
It was Monnie, and he was asking if she was okay and why she left.
Tears started brimming in her eyes, and letting out a few more sobs, she realised that, even thought he doesn’t romantically love her, he will always be her best friend, and she was at least content with that, no matter how selfish she is.
She quickly texted him, asking if it was okay if she came over later, for a sleepover, and of course, he agreed, so the girl put a cardigan over her so it wouldn’t be too obvious she was in her pyjamas - Not that it mattered, anyway - and got some snacks, made some hot chocolate and went to Mammon’s room, finding him in a tanktop and some large pants, playing some game on his phone.
“Took you long enough!” Mammon grinned, making room for her to join him. “What’s with that face? You stormed out of there, so somethin’ must’ve bothered ya. Come on, y’know you can tell me.” he got in a sitting position, looking at her with a concerned look, but was met with silence for a many seconds, in which he feared he must have said something wrong.
“I, uh...I guess I got worried about you after what they said...But I didn’t have the best reaction...I needed some time to think things over. It was pretty selfish of me to do that, instead of talking to you first...But I guess I’ve always been pretty selfish, haven’t I?” she chuckled nervously, still standing up, next to the bed.
“What the hell are ya on about? Is it about that Maddi thing? Forget it, it happened long ago, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” he shrugged, looking away for a split second, only to look back at her.
“I...Don’t think you’re over it.” she bit her lip, looking down, sucking at her teeth to stop herself from sketching any gesture on her face.
“What do ya know about that, anyway? Come on, shut up and put the movie on, I ain’t got all day!” he tried to make her stop talking already, but she wasn’t exactly paying attention.
“I had a similar experience too and...When I heard what happened, flashes of what happened went in front of my eyes and I started panicking. That’s why I ran away.” she spoke, her eyes glossed and unfocused.
“Is that why ya wanted to hang out?” Mammon muttered softly, seeing her slowly nod her head.
“I never told anyone...And so, nobody was there to care about me. But you always cared about me...And I wanted to do the same, for once.” she gulped, blinking and putting everything on the nightstand next to his bed.
“...Come’re, dummy.” he sighed, tugging on her hand and making her sit on his lap, as was their ritual whenever one of them needed comfort.
“Did I upset you, Monnie?” she asked, barely audible, making him put his hands on her shoulders, so she could properly look at him.
“What?! Upset me?! ‘Course not! I-I’m happy that you thought of me, okay? It’s just...Yeah, it wasn’t nice, duh, but I’m a demon. I can take many things. But you’re such a frail little human. You’re small, fragile and soft, and since nobody wanted to bother getting to know such a nice gal like you, then I will always be there for you.” he put his hands on her face, trying to reach through to her.
“...I was supposed to comfort you...Why did it go the other way around...? I was supposed to make sure you okay, that you’re smiling and that you can manage to get over what happened in the past...I wanted to be the one you can count on, for once...But I’m failing even at that...That’s how much of a selfish jerk I am...You deserve better than me, Monnie.” she hung her head, resting her forehead on his shoulder, not realising her words made him stiff, and tears prickled at his eyes.
“Shut up, dummy! You’re a dummy! Dummy! Dummy! Never say things like that okay, got it?! Listen, I-I care about you, okay? I don’t care if you manage to comfort me or not, I just care that you think about me, okay? You’re the only one that gives a damn about me, and I appreciate that, okay? You see part of yourself in me, and I see a part of myself in you, so of course I want to keep you safe.” Mammon sighed, holding the girl close to his chest, playing with her hair, as he always did.
“Monnie...Can I tell you something?” she muttered. It was now or never. If he hated her, so be it, but at least he knows.
“Of course ya can, dummy. You can tell me anythin’ you want.” he said with an encouraging chuckle.
“I...Left because I felt guilty. Because...My first thoughts were creeping with jealousy, instead of worrying about you and what happened, first and foremost. My brain fails me big time. And I feel really bad, ‘cause you deserve much better than some idiot who gets jealous over someone vile like...Her.” she let a few tears fall down her face, but poor Mammon was lost in his own head.
Jealous? Why the hell would she be jealous? What could she be jealous of? What is going on even?
“Why would you be jealous of her? You’re better than she’ll ever be, in every way. What the hell is going on through that head of yours, Y/N?” he frowned, flicking her forehead, unsure of how to react.
“You heard how Lucifer and Satan spoke about her...And they are Lucifer and Satan. They spoke only praises about her...A-And I didn’t want her to be around you. Y-You’re my first man, Monnie, please understand what I’m saying.” she hid her face with her hands, her bottom lip quivering from embarrassment and guilt.
“O-Oh...Ya like me?! Like...Like-Like me?! For reals?!” his voice became so cheerful and hopeful, and as soon as he saw her nodding, he started laughing very happily, kissing her forehead and taking away her hands from her face, his grin bright and dazzling like the first sunshine of Spring. “Cool, ‘cause I love ya too! I was sure you liked one of my brothers, they ain’t as problematic as me, but you like me, your first man, and I couldn’t be happier!” he started kissing her all over her face, making her blush like a tomato.
“Why wouldn’t I like you? You’re the best. You’re the only one who has been genuine with me since the very beginning and cared about me. And spending time with you always is always calming and...You always make me happy. I forgot what it’s like to be happy since that happened...But whenever my brain goes stupid and I start overthinking, you always manage to keep me grounded...And I really appreciate you for that.” Y/N spoke out, making Mammon’s eyes water, and with the ordinary greedy impulse he had, he grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, without even realising what in the world happened.
“Don’t fluster me like that, Y/N...Actually, do, I love it, but I’m not used to it.” he chuckled nervously, making the girl smile softly.
“Can I do anything to make you feel better about...The past?” she asked sheepishly, her hands hanging awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them.
“Well...The hot chocolate is going to get cold...And there’s snacks to eat and movies to binge-watch...” he trailed on, snaking his arms around her waist, making her put hers on his shoulders. “Also...I want to make sure you’re comfortable with me, okay? I dunno what happened to you, but if it’s similar to what happened to me, I want to promise you that I will never do anythin’ you’re not okay with. I pinky promise.” Mammon spoke in a more serious voice, yet just as gentle.
“I know, Angel eyes. I trust you the most out of everyone in this world. And I can promise you the same thing.” she managed to give him a proper smile, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly, feeling the comforting warmth of his body.
That embrace alone felt, for the both of them, like the sole safe home they ever had, and there was nothing that could break this dream-like state they were in. There was no negativity and no bad thought going through their mind, as the warmth and love of the hug was enough to disperse of any pest lingering and purging their sanity.
When they finally got the courage to let go of each other, fearing that they would disappear from this serenity state, they cuddled together in bed, drinking the now room temperature hot chocolate, eating so many snacks that they resembled Beel, and watching TSL on the huge plasma TV on the wall.
“Monnie?” Y/N raised her head to look up at him, love and admiration obvious in her sparkling eyes. “Thank you for existing in my life. I know you go through great lengths to take care of your brothers and make sure they’re happy...And I know you get hurt a lot in the process...But I really appreciate everything you’re doing, both for me and for them. I’m sure they see it too, they’re just too stupidly proud to admit to themselves...As usual.” she chuckled, reaching to hold his hand and intertwine their fingers together.
“Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best. I’m really happy you came to talk to me...And I’m really happy you’re here with me. I love you.”
#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me imagine#mammon#mammon x reader#mammon imagine#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me mammon imagine#lucifer#obey me lucifer#levi#leviathan#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#satan#obey me satan#asmo#asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#beel#beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#belphie#belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor
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Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.
John Seed x Female Deputy
Rating: Explicit.
Read it on Ao3 here!
Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you.
WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.
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“Don’t touch him!”
Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.
A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.
The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.
Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.
The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”
That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.
If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.
John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”
“For fuck’s sake-”
“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”
A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.
The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”
Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.
“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.
“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”
And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.
“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”
“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.
“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”
Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”
“Come again?”
“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”
“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.
“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.
At least until -
“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”
As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.
John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.
No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.
He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.
“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.
John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.
Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?
How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.
Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.
…
If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -
“Brother John.”
John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.
“What?" He asked thickly.
“The Deputy’s arrived.”
Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.
“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”
The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.
“John, I don’t think-”
He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.
Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.
John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.
Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.
“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”
A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.
“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.
The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.
Same went for Boomer.
Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.
Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.
Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.
She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.
Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.
“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.
Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.
“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.
“Freak accident. You all saw it.”
“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.
“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”
The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.
Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.
It was empty.
Boomer was gone.
Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.
Her dog.
John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.
“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”
Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.
“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.
Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.
“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.
“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.
Find John Seed, of course.
“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”
“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”
The blonde considered that.
“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”
Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”
“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”
“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”
“No.”
…
“Say what?”
“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”
Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.
“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.
“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”
Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”
She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”
“...You really like that dog, huh.”
“That too.”
Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”
“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”
“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.
Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”
Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.
Still unconvinced.
“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”
The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.
Mission accomplished.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.
The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.
A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.
She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.
She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.
Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.
It was only freedom.
She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.
About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.
The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.
"Deputy, run!"
Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.
”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”
His followers obeyed.
Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.
“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”
“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”
“Drop the fucking weapons.”
John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”
With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.
“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”
“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.
John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.
She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.
“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”
Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.
“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”
“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.
Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.
One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.
“I won’t hurt you, sister.”
This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.
Her back felt cold all of a sudden.
Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.
His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.
Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.
John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.
She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.
A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.
“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”
“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.
One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.
The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.
This was it.
She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.
The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.
Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”
She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.
Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.
“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.
“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.
“How many are there?”
“How about you check?”
“How about you check?”
A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.
They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.
Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.
Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.
Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.
“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”
Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”
“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”
Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.
“-uhh.”
“Uhh?”
“Hurky, can I be real with you?”
“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.
The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”
Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.
“You brought-...”
“I brought my fursuit.”
“Not the C-4?”
“Not the C-4.”
“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”
Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”
Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”
So just like that, they were fucked.
Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.
Shit, if that were the case -
“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”
Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.
“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”
“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”
They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.
Hurk held out the bag.
“Pretzel?”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.
All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.
Gorgeous.
Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.
John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”
You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-
The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.
“Is this it?”
“Is it the Collapse?”
“It’s time?”
“John, is it the Collapse?”
The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.
“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”
Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.
This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.
Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?
The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.
Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.
His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.
“Deputy, gun!”
Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.
No.
John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.
Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.
His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.
God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.
John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.
Finally.
A little civility.
Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.
Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.
Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.
They never learned, did they?
“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.
She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.
John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”
The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.
Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.
"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"
It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.
“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.
“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”
Missed?
“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”
More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.
“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.
Blood.
He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -
A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.
Shit.
She hadn’t elbowed him.
“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."
“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.
She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.
”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”
Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”
“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”
Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.
John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.
He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”
“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.
“That - you can keep saying.”
"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.
Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.
The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”
John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.
He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.
“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”
“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.
“This one’s funny, I swear.”
“...go on, then.”
“It’s because I never tip.”
For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.
Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.
The Deputy didn’t sit back up.
That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.
“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”
“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”
When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.
He got what he came for.
He’d won.
He was saved.
Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.
“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.
“Jealous?”
Yes.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”
“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”
A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.
The mountains are calling.
Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.
He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.
He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.
That had to be enough.
“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.
Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”
“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”
“Shut up.”
There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.
“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."
The mountains are calling.
She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.
The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.
He’d saved both of them.
Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”
It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.
“Of course.”
“Can I start next Monday?”
"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"
"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."
She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.
Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.
Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.
“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”
“What?”
“Spend those days with me.”
Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.
“Deal.”
#far cry 5#john seed#cora stammos#far cry 5 fanfic#far cry 5 oc#john seed x female deputy#all hail cora's big fucking muscles#no beta we die like men
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