#-eyes of a religion... well but how far does the religion go. how can it be perceived. ''trying very hard to be effortless''... ponder that

[forresttfirre]

— a game of chance (dick grayson x reader)

Summary: Luck is your thing, charm is Dick's. So it's not a surprise when you get paired together for an undercover mission at a casino. But it seems your luck isn't enough to cover two people, and his charm can only go so far. Warnings: fictional drugs (power enhancers), mentions of religion + something being sacrilege (it's very minimal), french because it's set in monaco (feel free to correct my french, most of it i wrote on a hope & prayer), pining & tension, dick gets hurt, reader gets hit on. Word Count: 2.4k — Notes: reader has the power to manipulate luck & is a member of the JL.

Casinos are nothing new to you. After you got a handle on your powers, you spent your down time in disguise, always dressing older than you were. You'd enter with a fake ID in between your fingers and a decent amount of money you'd exchange for chips. You always won, always knew when to fold or what to bet. Every casino you went to grew suspicious but with no actual evidence to prove you cheated, you always went home with your earnings.

When you enter the Casino de Monte Carlo, you can feel the different levels of luck that fill the area. A lot of bad luck stains certain areas. It's always the areas that the casinos rig to the high heavens.

The com in your ear crackles as it turns on. "No getting distracted. Focus on the mission." A teasing smile grows on your face. You glance at Dick when you speak, trying to cover up who you're actually talking to. "I'll be focused in a minute or two, darling." You can hear how Batman bristles at the pet name through his little hn. Dick just smiles and laughs, his cheeks a little rosy.

He's got on a pair of thick, black glasses that obscure the features that make him recognizable as Dick Grayson. You never would've thought they'd actually work.

Everything else about him feels normal: his jawline is still sharp, his hair is still perfectly styled, and even his suit is a deep Nightwing blue.

"I need a drink." Before you can move, his hand is on the small of your back guiding you over to the bar near the middle of the room. Strings of crystals hang down alongside the exterior of the bar, extravagant mirrors decorate the walls behind.

The bartender gives you both a judging look as you sit at the bar. You position yourself with your back to the side of the building Dick can visibly see, and vice versa. Dick orders two drinks in practiced French as you scan the room for anything suspicious.

From the intel Batman was able to gather, illegal dealings of power enhancers have been going on in the backrooms of the casino. You've stumbled upon the drug before, during your nights as a vigilante. They'll be concealed well, but once you uncover one, all the other stashes will be easy to find. They can hide them in jars or water bottles, but they can never get rid of the shimmer the drug holds, even if it's not bright blue like the first formula.

The meta power enhancers are illegal around the world and are not meant to be sold or even made in the first place. But people always try to be sneaky.

Batman was able to discover that the dealers here aren't trying to hide that they're selling; it's the electric blue formula you're used to, stashed in small, clear tubes. Apparently, they're also not even trying to hide where they're doing their dealings.

A man guards a door a couple feet away from the bar, burly and muscular, wearing a suit and dark sunglasses like he's a caricature of a bodyguard. Though he does wear a blue beaded bracelet — the group's signature.

Your lips curve into a sultry smile and you lean toward Dick, lips almost brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Behind you, to your right." As you pull away Dick raises an eyebrow, his tone faux teasing as he says, "Oh, really?" You roll your eyes and pick up the drink you haven't touched. When you take a fake sip, Dick locates the door via one of the mirrors and you mentally remind yourself of the 'secret password' to enter the hidden room.

Sacrement, because apparently the people who take the enhancer treat it like it's holy — as if an addiction to power is anything but sacrilegious. You repeat it in your head with a heavy French accent to take your mind off the deeper meaning. Might as well try to enjoy the mission just a tad.

"The bartender looks antsy. Max amount of time before he approaches is approximately five minutes." You can barely contain your snort at Batman's formal tone. Dick leaves his barstool smoothly, extending a hand to you when he's got his feet on the ground. "Shall we?" He asks with a blinding smile. A little laugh leaves your lips, and you take another fake sip of your drink to ignore the warm feeling in your stomach.

You place your hand in his and step down from your barstool. Dick puts more strength toward his arm then he needs to, as if you'll stumble and fall from the chair. He probably just doesn't want to abort the mission just because you happen to roll your ankle.

You both put on a graceful walk, trying to exude the wealth needed to gain some respect here. As you approach the guard, you bend luck in your favor. Though you can't see it change — you never have — you can tell it's worked with the way the air around you feels. Like it's lighter.

When you stop in front of the guard, you can barely get the 'secret word' out of your mouth before he's allowing you both in. Dick looks at you a little shocked, like he knows what you've done but not how you've done it. "Merci, monsieur," you say to the guard with a kind smile, and he nods stiffly before closing the door behind you both.

"Mind if we join?" Dick places his hand on an empty chair, causing the men in a game of poker look up. They all wear the signature blue beaded bracelet, but the oldest at the table wears a bracelet of smooth, clear crystal beads. The boss.

He gestures toward the two empty chairs. His voice is gruff as he speaks, "Asseyez-vous." You both comply, sitting down at the table and accepting the cards you're dealt. "Steer away from the cards if you can. We want to get this over with before more guests join." Dick shoots you a look, making you sure you heard Batman's orders. You give him a subtle nod while placing your cards on the table.

"We're not just here for cards, you know," Dick comments as one of the boss' men adds a few chips in to the betting pile. The boss seems surprised at how forward he is. "Ah, j'sais. J'sais," He waves it off, raising the bet just as casually.

"How much for one unit?" Dick inquires as he matches the bet. The boss laughs as he points a finger at him. "You are nosy, aren't you? You did not get your information before coming here, huh?"

"Are you a meta, monsieur?" He continues. Dick straightens at the question — looking visibly unprepared. "Il ne l'est pas, monsieur. Mais, moi si." You catch the boss' eye as you throw your chips in to match the bet. His grin grows, showing yellowed teeth and age lines.

You hold his gaze as his eyes scan you, like he'll see your power through your body language. Beside you, Dick's jaw clenches, feeling uncomfortable for you. He places a hand on your thigh as if he's saying I'm here for you. The placement isn't anything scandalous, but the table hides most of his arm, leaving room for curious eyes.

"Careful." You'd like to be able to tell Batman to shut up. You know what you're doing. So does Dick. "Are you an enchantress, mademoiselle?" You force a flattered look and a soft laugh.

"I wish— Do your exchanges always include flirting with your clients, monsieur?" Dick cuts you off with a bitter tone that leaves you stunned. The boss and his men laugh as Batman's voice sounds through both of your coms. "Fallback, Nightwing. Focus on the mission."

"Ah, I guess we will start the exchange then." He stands from the table, placing his hands against it to help him up. His men stand along with him, revealing the guns holstered on their belts. Both of you notice them immediately. "Ici."

One of the men pulls a black cloth off a non-descript object revealing a set of crates. Very original.

The boss grabs one of the small tubes from a top crate, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. He holds it up near the bulb on the ceiling, showing the glimmer that the power enhancers always hold. "It's high quality. You will enjoy it, chérie." You hold out your hand as he walks back over to you, and he places the tube on your palm. When you close your fingers around it, the tube is ice cold, but you can feel the power within it.

Dick gives you a worried look before speaking. "How much do we have to pay? You never said." His words are stilted, like he's trying to bury his emotions and focus on the task at hand. He's not doing the best job. "Don't worry, you'll get a discount. It's not often we get a pretty face in this room." He and his men laugh again as Dick lets his anger show through clenched fists and a small twitch in his jaw.

"Listen, man—," Dick takes a step forward, hand extended just as a gesture, nothing more. Yet all the men pull out their guns and point them at him. Everything goes silent, and you use the moment to bend the luck in the room. The air doesn't feel as light as it used to be.

"Listen? Ah, funny. You want me to listen, yet you don't let me speak."

"It's alright. I don't need to speak either." Dick shrugs off his suit jacket and drops it against a nearby chair, then swiftly undoes the buttons on his wrists to make his movements easier as he punches the boss. You place the tube on the table before joining the action. As Dick fights the boss (he's down in a few hits) and his right-hand man, you focus on the others.

You grab one trying to get to Dick by the shoulders and send him into the table, crushing it under his weight. There's two others; one charging at you and the other is busy turning off the safety on his gun.

He stumbles after the first punch then blindly throws a punch toward you. Because he misses you completely, it makes it easier for you to push him on the ground next to his friend. As he collapses against the ruins of the table, a gunshot pierces through the room.

You turn around in a hurry and are met with the sight of Dick holding his side, where blood is starting to seep through his white shirt, while his other hand quickly disarms his assailant. When the gun clatters to the ground, you grab it, backing him into a corner. Your eyes frantically scan the room around you for something to tie him up with, when Dick walks by you, undoing his tie.

You snatch the tie from him, sending him a glare that says what are you doing. "Go grab a few tubes and put them in my bag. And maybe grab one of their shirts or something to help stop the bleeding?" You give him a sarcastic smile that makes him cringe like he's in trouble.

As he does what he's told, you tie up the guy's hand with Dick's tie, then gag him with another tie, courtesy of his now unconscious boss. Hurried footsteps begin to approach the door.

"Are you gonna be safe to leave?" All he does is nod before he pushes open a back door. A padlock falls from a lock and clangs against the ground. Guess that's where your luck went.

The suite the JL had rented has only one bed since you had to stick with your cover as a couple for your entire stay. So, once Dick was able to get stitched up, you gave him the bed. It was only fair.

After lots of arguing from him before he eventually relented.

Now, Dick sits awkwardly slumped on the bed while you lay on the couch, feet kicked up on the opposite arm rest. Every few seconds you glance up from your book to check on him. He's clearly antsy but unable to sleep, trying to distract himself with something on his phone.

"Dick?" He hums in acknowledgement. "You okay?" That gets him to look up from his phone, which reveals the exhausted look in his eye. Not just tired from the mission, but also his emotions.

"Yeah, it's...B's just a little annoyed about how the mission went. You know him." You freeze at that. Because you could agree, say that makes sense, but is that what he needs to hear right now? "Mm, well the mission, for him at least, was during the day. I'm sure he's just tired from missing his afternoon nap. Being a bat, and all." It's a bad attempt at a joke but it still gets a small huff of laughter from Dick. Worth it.

"You should get some sleep too." His head tips back toward the headboard, a bored look on his face. "I don't think sleep wants me right now."

You don't know what compels you to get up from the couch — your luck making its own decisions or how sometimes you don't want everything to be playful, and rather have it be real — but you make your way over to the bed, book in hand. Dick blinks at you in surprise as you sit down next to him cross-legged.

"Ever read The Great Gatsby?" That gets a little smile on his face. "Yeah, in 10th grade English, maybe."

"I'll give you a refresher then." You open the book back to where you stopped and clear your throat. As you start to read, your words trail off when Dick shifts closer to you. After a minute long staring contest, where both of you seem to have an internal war on what's happening, you begin to read. Next to you, Dick visibly relaxes.

As the sun starts to rise over the Monaco skyline, Dick falls asleep. He's closer to you now that his limbs are all loose.

It takes you longer to fall asleep — you swear you heard birds chirping right before your head hit the pillow — just because of the way your heart races because he's in proximity to you.

You wake up, your limbs are all tangled with your copy of The Great Gatsby bent between you. Neither of you acknowledge it beyond a few apologies, just like how you've treated every other accidental (or purposeful) display of affection.

Though you'd never bend your luck to win him over, you can only hope your natural, non-superpowered luck can take over.

i have so many other ideas for these two so i might make a collection of some sorts? let me know what you think! i had so much fun writing this so i'd love to do more! + also, maybe i'm overthinking this but i feel like the JL wouldn't do a lot of undercover missions? or at least the members of the batfamily, considering their civilian identities. ex: it's different for marvel characters because most of them have their identities public so there's not as much to lose, you know? anyway, even though i considered this i still wrote it 'cause i liked the idea :) (they've definitely done undercover missions i just don't know why some members would do that)

[spotsupstuff]

staring at "slave of caper of euros' houses" from the comic dialogue. have i missed some Fun Worldbuilding (fun as in "oh god this sucks for everyone involved" i mean)

hmm... only maybe some subtle bg one! i haven't really talked about it specifically- but basically the lower circles are... if they are within facilities of some Iterator they essentially belong to the Houses. it's supposed to be the same relationship like between a citizen and the politicians of country, but the thing is that the lower circles have no say in what happens in the higher circles including voting and other important decision making

they are an afterthought in that kind of stuff. they are talked about like a piece of machinery- something the Houses control and own. a matter of course. "of course the lower circles are going to be there and meet our demands of resources! they have no other choice! this is where they belong." all the while they have to bear the rain and depending on the Iterator colony's Houses, they might get very little funding for equipment, towns upkeep n so on. they can't really Get out of it, because these facilities are where the civilization is and the world out there is a dangerous one. "what if my mask breaks and i will die out there repeatedly? i don't want to be a prey. i want to live. i want to have a purpose. that's *here.*"

it's like... a very subtle slavery, maybe. a kind of "dancing on the edge of laws and moral obligations" case. not Every place is that bad, including Ales, but at some point in her original life Sparrows breaks out of her self-inflicted vision of "what i went through as a child was okay" because she just won't be able to hold on to that lie anymore (faced with the comfort and safety as Euros' citizen every day) and she gets very angry about it and starts defining the lower circle life as slavery

[fleurfiles]

FABLE AND TRUTH 1 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. YAYYY ITS STARTINGG!! wc. 4.4k

✧ 9:06 am, monday ✧

the bells of harkness tower toll sharply, their deep, reverberating chimes slicing through the crisp autumn air. the sound is rich and weighted, echoing across yale’s storied campus, signaling the start of another day as people dispersed from their dorms and earlier classes, talking amongst themselves and hastily walking to their next destination. 

the mist of early morning clings to the aged stone of the university, a slight fog covering over you as you walk briskly across the cobblestone pathways, your leather satchel bouncing gently against your side. chanel pumps decorate your feet, a cartier bracelet accenting your freshly tanned skin. your sleek, blown-out hair was framed against your face, bouncing slightly with every step, and your pale pink cardigan stood out amid the sea of muted fall tones around you.

beside you was emma harper, your best friend— strolling at a leisurely pace, tugging her scarf tighter against the crisp autumn air that whacked against the both of you. where you were polished and deliberate, emma was bold and carefree, her wild auburn hair nearly as untamed as her personality . 

the two of you couldn't have been more different, yet your friendship had stood the test of time, from summers in france to your shared journey at yale.

"you're going to give yourself a stress migraine, y/n." emma teased at you, nudging your shoulder as you both approached your lecture hall, "professor weller isn't grading us on who takes the prettiest notes, or who sits at the front. why so worked up?”

you offered up a small laugh, though your grip on your notebook tightened. a sigh follows your short-lived giggle, "i just want to be prepared. philosophy of religion isn't exactly a casual topic. it's very intense."

"you've been prepared since the first day of class," emma grumbles, rolling her eyes. "honey, you're literally the only person i know who can quote augustine without looking it up. so relax a little."

relax. you had heard that word countless times, usually from emma. it wasn't that you didn't know how— it was just that there was always so much to do. papers to write, prayers to say, a faith to nurture. for you, discipline wasn't a burden; it was a way of life, a way of honoring the God who had guided you this far.

but as you entered the lecture hall and emma plopped into the seat adjacent to yours, you couldn't help but smile. emma was right in her own way— you could afford to let go sometimes. just... not too much. everything always had to be structured, neat, and in order. just how you liked it. 

professor weller's lecture was as engaging as ever, his voice commanding attention as he wove through topics of faith and reason, along with their uncomfortable contrasts and truths. you sat straight-backed, your pen flying across the page as you absorbed every word with neat, pretty handwriting, your pink pen gliding against your paper. emma, meanwhile, alternated between typing notes and sneaking glances at her phone, her impatience barely concealed as she locked her phone, slipping it into a pocket. 

midway through the lecture, emma leaned over, her voice low. "sooooo, sam's hosting a party tonight…”

you didn't look up, still writing away on your paper attentively, "and how does that concern me?"

"well, he wants to know if we're coming, duh.” 

you paused your writing just long enough to shoot emma a knowing look. you cock your head to the side, lips forced into a pout, "come on em, you know i don't do parties."

emma groaned softly, "right, of course. yale's resident saint doesn't do parties.” she throws her hands up in defense, “whatever. but just come with me, please? i promise, you’ll have fun!"

"it's not about being a saint," you whispered back, your tone firm, but always remaining kind. "i just don't see the point in spending a night doing... things i'd regret, like doing substances that make me forget i’m on planet earth. it’s never been my thing.” 

emma smirked, "not everyone regrets it, you know. some people do actually have fun. maybe you should learn how.” 

you smiled faintly, but said nothing. having fun wasn't the issue—it never had been.you did have fun— doing things that actually mattered, things that actually interested you. you could curl up with coffee and a good novel, or crochet a new sweater, there were multitudes of things that you did for fun. 

but in contrast, emma was the party girl. her type of fun was smoking a bit of weed and blasting music in her audi, or going home with various guys that she’d meet out at bars, or even in passing. she was bold, strong, carefree. but you adored structure, class— you didn’t put her down for doing what she does, she’s your best friend, afterall— but it just wasn’t your style. 

 it was about your values, about living a life that aligned with the principles that you had held dear for so long. you weren’t naïve; you knew what went on at those parties. drinking, hookups, conversations drowned out by loud music... and none of it appealed to you.

emma, to her credit, didn't push further. your friendship always worked out so well because you respected each other's boundaries, even when you didn't understand them.

you packed up your things as the sound of the bell’s ring filled your ears, sliding your bag into your shoulder as you waited for emma to stash her loose papers into her bag. you frowned, “your organization skills are..definitely something.” 

she just laughed it off, “works for me. i like living life on the edge.” 

after class, the two of you made your way across campus, the golden autumn leaves crunching beneath emma's boots and your new, all-black pumps. yale's gothic architecture loomed around you as you treaded against the grass, looking at all the buildings that were majestic and timeless, a reminder of the legacy that you were part of.

"there they are!" emma hollers, spotting your friend group near the library steps.

oliver, ever the charmer, was lounging against the stone railing, his tailored coat giving him an air of effortless sophistication. he flipped a hand through his brown hair as he looked up, his eye landing on you and emma as she shot you both a warm smile. you spotted naomi first though, her bright purple hair almost impossible to miss— and she waved a ring-accented hand at you, a cigarette shoved between her index and middle finger. jules was seated right next to naomi, her black hair sleek and flowing down her back, complimenting her starry eyeshadow and long, red nails as she twiddled her fingers at you in greeting.

"y/n! emma!" oliver called, his grin broad and welcoming as he waved you and emma over, his lanky frame extending, ready to greet you with hugs like he always did. 

emma sauntered over, her confidence nearly as natural as breathing. you followed her lead, offering polite smiles as you joined the group, taking a seat next to naomi. she pulls you into a tight embrace, planting a little kiss on your cheek, “y/n! hi my love! missed you so much!”

she smelled of cigarette smoke and versace perfume, and the mixture was always oddly comforting to you. you giggle at her over-the-top affection, though you always loved it. naomi was the sweet one of the group, always offering the shirt off of her back if she really needed to. she was beautiful— inside and out, her whimsical fashion sense complimenting how pure and sweet her soul was.

"so," jules started, exhaling a plume of smoke from her half-dead cigarette, "sam's party tonight. we going?"

"i'm in," oliver said immediately, adjusting his coat with a shrug that oozed nonchalance, “need to get out a bit, yeah?”

"same here.” naomi added, flicking ash from her cigarette as her eyes found yours, and then all eyes simultaneously turned to you. you sat slightly apart from the rest of them, your pink cardigan and neatly pressed skirt a stark contrast to the haze of thick cigarette smoke and leather jackets. you smiled gently, your hands clasped in front of your frame.

you let off a shrug, a little sick and tired of having to repeat these same words over and over again, "you know i don't do parties.” you shrug gently, your voice soft but resolute.

"come on, little saint," emma teased, crossing her arms at your protest, "just one night. we’re your best friends, we promise that nothing will happen to you— we won’t let it.” emma’s statement earns approving nods from the rest of the group, sharing looks with one another in hopes that their eagerness was convincing to you.

it wasn’t. 

you laughed lightly, shaking your head, "just isn’t my thing, you all know this—“ you gesture to everyone, “i really just don’t feel up to it."

oliver shrugs, while naomi and jules nod quietly. they weren’t going to push you, so they just carry on with their conversation, chatting about classes, teachers, and everything that surrounded it.

as the conversation flipped to other topics, you found yourself falling quiet, content with listening in as the others bantered. you loved your friends, truly you did— but moments like this reminded you  of just how different you were from them. it wasn't a bad thing, necessarily; it was just... isolating, sometimes.

faith had always been your anchor, the thing that kept you steady in a world that often felt so chaotic. but every now and then, you wondered if it also kept you apart, if your refusal to compromise made yourself unknowable in ways even your closest friends couldn't understand.

you eventually pushed the thought away as emma started telling a story about some disastrous group project in her third class, her animated gestures pulling laughter out of everyone. 

comparison was the thief of joy— you knew this, but you sometimes wished that you could be more like emma. carefree yet compassionate, smart but knowing when to let loose. sometimes, you felt like you could be a little too uptight, and jealously oozed from your pores at you watched your best friend take a drag from a cigarette, laughing and carrying on with wide, sparkling green eyes. 

but you refused to get sucked up in comparisons, so you smile, warmth blooming in your chest as everyone stood up, walking to the main hall for a passing period.

you thought long and hard about the idea of going to a party with everyone— it seemed stupid in your humble opinion, but you missed hanging out with your friends— so you offered up, “okay, i have a proposal. what if i go to this stupid party, but only to drive? i’ll make sure none of you get too drunk and wind up someplace you aren’t supposed to be.” 

that makes everyone cheer, and naomi flips her long, shiny black hair to the side, “yes! yes!” she wraps you in an embrace that’s so tight you can hardly breathe, “— you’re the best! love you!” 

you offered a nervous smile towards the group as you filed into a starbucks, waiting in line as your friends carried on about what everyone was wearing, what drinks they hoped were there— and that’s when you tuned out. you were pumped to attend this party, but also scared, and as the day went on, the burden of going to this function was the only thing on your mind.

✧ 7:45 pm ✧

you sat cross-legged on your bed in your shared dorm room, your closet doors open as you stared at the carefully organized clothes inside. the room smelled faintly of lavender and pine, a subtle touch from the air freshener you’d tucked beside your desk— it always seemed to calm you down. your eyes scanned the rack, hoping something could catch your eye, but nothing particularly stood out.

emma had insisted that you join in on their festivities until you finally caved and said yes. you had reluctantly agreed, though you couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that you didn't belong in that atmosphere. but now you felt like you needed to go— you had to, the feeling of missing out making you a little afraid. 

finally, you settled on a dark blue polo sweater that clung to your figure just enough to be flattering, but was still modest. you paired it with some well-fitted jeans and, of course, your signature black heels—Chanel, naturally. it was a bit more casual than what most people would wear to a party, but it was your style, so you didn’t really mind. 

just as you were smoothing out the sweater's collar, emma barged into the room, her wild hair a stark contrast to your usual, soft blow out. emma's eyes immediately landed on your outfit as she raised her eyebrows.

"you're really gonna go with the ‘first day of prep school’ look, huh?" emma teased, tossing her purse onto your bed before digging through her own closet for something more daring.

"what's wrong with my outfit?” you asked, glancing at yourself in the mirror, twisting on your heel and flattening out a small wrinkle in your jeans.

"oh, nothing," emma grinned mischievously, shrugging, "it's just so... you. not a bad thing, just— this is a party that you're going to, did you forget?” 

you chuckled softly, fixing your hair in the mirror now, "i know, but i think it suits me, em. is that so bad?"

emma snorted. "right, of course. just—" she stopped mid-sentence, tossing her hands up in frustration. "you look so cute, but it's a party! where's the wild side, y/n?"

"i'm here to drive you guys," you said simply, a smile tugging at your llips. "that's all. i'm not here for anything else."

emma raised an eyebrow, pulling a dark velvet mini skirt off the rack. "yeah, yeah, i know. but you need to have fun, too. you're way too uptight sometimes."

"i'm not uptight, em!” you protested, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

"uh-huh, sure. just wait until i drag you out onto the dance floor!” emma winked, throwing a bold crop top onto the surface of your bed, “and you’d look so fucking good in this, why don’t you put this on?”

you snorted lightly. "yeah, good luck with that."

by the time everyone in the group was ready, the night was creeping in, the campus already buzzing with excitement. you could feel a quiet sense of discomfort stirring within yourself —parties weren't your scene at all, and you weren’t sure what to expect. but the drive to the party felt like the safest option, so you settled on that.

after a few minutes of emma touching up her makeup and slipping a pair of louboutins on, everyone met up in the parking lot, and you felt a little out of place. jules was clad in a black, tight mini dress with slick silver heels, her hair in a effortless but beautiful bun as she pulled out her digital camera to take pictures. naomi had settled on a purple halter top and a black skirt, complimentary to oliver’s lavender top and leather pants. 

jules gave you a raised eyebrow, “you sure you don’t wanna change out of that?” 

you gave out a sigh, a little irritated with how many times someone had suggested to change out of your outfit. it was comfortable, and that’s all you really cared about— so you just nodded yes, grabbing your keys and heading to your car while everyone finished up their photos.

emma and the others climbed into your car, the sound of music and laughter filling the air as you made your way over to the address. the streets were lined with people, most of them laughing or stumbling their way into various houses or apartments. as you neared the destination, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

although you didn’t want to admit it, you were a little nervous. you had never stepped foot into a house party, and it felt so off that you’d literally be in a random stranger’s home with a bunch of other people you didn’t know, and you were supposed to dance and get drunk in these conditions? absolutely not. 

the party was already in full swing by the time that you and your friends arrived. music blared from the speakers, a mix of bass-heavy tracks and indie-pop anthems that were so foreign to you. you killed the engine and parked the car, trying to steady your breathing as everyone filed out.

"you're gonna be fine," emma said, slinging her arm around your shoulder as you approached the door, "trust me, it's just a party."

"well, i've never been good at these," you admitted, your voice seldom quiet, "i've never even been to one."

emma grinned, tugging you inside. "well, now you have the opportunity to be good at them. so let’s go!”

you sighed as the group filed into the house, which was chaotic, with people everywhere— laughing, drinking, shouting over the music, and making out in random corners. you felt immediately out of place, standing still for a moment to take it all in. you followed emma as she navigated through the crowd, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, while the others spread out, eager to catch up with their friends.

you didn't expect to enjoy herself, but a part of you longed to feel connected—to lose the anxiety that seemed to constantly gnaw at you. but it just wasn’t something that you were all that familiar with. you tried to hold onto emma as long as you could, but she eventually found some cute guy to buy her a drink and have a quick dance, so you ventured off, attempting to find some refuge in a corner that you could hide out in. 

as you walked, you heard something in the distance, smooth and beautiful.

a voice.

it was soft, haunting, yet full of raw emotion, it stood out amid the chaos of the house. the crowd around you seemed oblivious to it, caught up in their own worlds. but you, however, stood frozen for a moment, the familiar pang of curiosity tugging at you.

it was an acoustic set, just a voice and a guitar— but it was captivating. the melody drifted over the noise of the party, lulling you into some kind of trance. you had never heard the song before, so you pulled out your phone and quickly opened Shazam, holding it up to the sound.

as the app processed, the result popped up on your screen: billie eilish.

your heart skipped. you knew the name. of course you did. billie eilish was a sensation. a moment— everyone knew her name.

you lingered in the background, mesmerized by the performance. billie's voice was even more incredible live, filled with emotion, effortless and raw. you didn't notice how long you had been standing there, listening to the music, and you really only noticed because your feet were slightly sore from the heels. you started to walk away to find your friends until you felt someone brush past you— someone who was too close, and way too fast.

clink.

before you could move, you felt a cold splash across your chest.

"shit, i am so sorry!"

you looked down at your sweater, now stained with the dark liquid from some foreign drink, and your heart sank. it was easily your favorite sweater, and it was all ruined now. but when you looked up, you were met the apologetic gaze of a girl with striking, pitch black hair and vivid blue eyes. it was billie eilish.

"oh my gosh," you spoke softly, though you couldn't help the tiny flare of irritation, “no, i-it’s okay…but….you're…”

“billie eilish?” she asked, and you nodded in response, almost too shocked to really say anything else.

she was beautiful, way more beautiful now that she was standing right in front of your face, literally. her eyes were a piercing blue, oceany and warm, and every single one of her features were so unique, so prominent, and you felt your breath hitch.

billie's expression shifted as you stayed quiet, her lips curling into an apologetic smile, "i didn't mean to bump into you, love, i'm really sorry. let me fix this."

you shook your head, trying to laugh it off, "oh, no need, it's fine. it's just a silly sweater, i can always wash it out."

"no, no, it was shitty of me to not look where i was going, so i'll make it up to you," billie said quickly, like she was in some type of rush. "i'll buy you a drink. how about that?"

you stood frozen for a moment, wondering whether or not it was even worth the hassle to make billie buy a drink for you, or even tell her that you don’t drink at all. but she was persistent, and you knew that no matter how much you protested, she was going to somehow offer up a repercussion for her actions. 

"uh, i don't really..." you drafted, your voice still soft, unsure if you wanted to ruin this moment, by saying alcohol wasn't really your thing, so you just shrugged. "okay, yeah, sure."

billie left you with a wink as she turned around. "cool. i'll be right back."

billie disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos with the awful remnants of your ruined sweater, but somehow feeling a little more at ease than before. the music blared, people shouting and laughing over the pounding beats, but you couldn't help but feel something strange settle in you chest. billie was sweet, and thoughtful, and really the only person at the party who made you feel like you could just chill out.

a few minutes later, billie weaved through the crowd again, holding a glass in one hand and cutting through people like she owned the place. she didn’t really say excuse me, because people already knew to move. the crowd filed onto separate sides of the room as she walked through with a smile, her eyes finding yours as she met up with you again. 

you looked reluctant to take the cup in her hand, so billie shook her head, "no no, it isn't alcoholic, don't worry." she smiled, handing you the drink, "i figured you'd be more comfortable with this. i can tell you don't really drink— so it's just grape juice." 

you felt your lips curve upward, the kindness behind billie's words making something warm stir within you. you smiled, "thanks." 

you sipped at the drink quietly, the cider sweet and refreshing, and you couldn't help but appreciate the thought behind it. billie hadn't tried to push anything else onto you, which made the whole thing feel a little less like a game, and you felt yourself soften up a bit. 

billie swigged from her own red solo cup, the liquid inside clearly something much stronger, judging by the way she made a tight face when she drank from it. she let out a small cough, holding the empty cup in between her thumb and index finger, slumping against the wall, relaxed.

"yeah, no worries," billie spoke gently, "i know how people are with the whole 'let's get wasted' thing. i can tell that just isn’t your thing, yeah?”

you smiled at the words, but you still felt that familiar unease of discomfort just talking about it, "yeah, i just... i don't really get the appeal.”

"me neither," billie said bluntly, shrugging, “it's just a way for people to forget their shit for a minute. which i guess is fine sometimes, but it's not really my thing. i like to face everything, even the hard shit."

your brows furrowed slightly, cocking your head to the side, "but aren't you drinking...right now? excuse me for asking, i’m sorry.”

billie gave you a sharp look, her iridescent eyes glinting in the dim light. she waved a hand at you, "nah, i get it, don’t apologize. i only drink sometimes, simply when i feel like it. but i can’t get with people pretending everything’s all fine and dandy when they’ve got a little alcohol in their system. i don’t like that.”

your chest tightened a little, your mind racing with how easy it was for billie to speak so openly, so unapologetically. it made you feel a little small, like all the structure you’d built around yourself was just a facade. billie didn't give two fucks, and that somehow made you want to be like that, even if it was just for a moment.

"i get it," you said quietly, your voice calmer now, "i mean, i don't know if i'm that brave. but... i get it."

before billie could respond back, the crowd shifted, and your attention was pulled across the room. emma was waving at you, impatience and irritation written all over her face. you glanced at billie one last time, feeling a flicker of regret at the thought of leaving the conversation behind.

"hey, i should probably go," you said, finishing off the last of your juice, "my best friend’s calling me."

billie nodded with a lazy grin, leaning back against the wall, "i understand. but next time, don't bail so quick, yeah?" i'll be here when you wanna party a little bit."

your smile lingered as you turned to leave, pulling your purse closer to your chest, "well, then i don't think you'll ever see me again." 

you gave billie a wave goodbye as you walked toward emma, and you felt your heart literally beating out of your chest as you tried to place this weird feeling you got from billie. you were intrigued by her, wanting to know more about her opinions, how she felt about any and everything. about– 

"dude, are you coming or what?" emma's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. she was standing by the door now, arms crossed, a look of annoyance on her face. "i can’t believe what just happened to me, so please, let’s go before i get in a fight."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "okay, i'm coming."

with one last glance at billie—who was already disappearing into the crowd again— you turned and walked toward emma, your mind racing with questions you didn't really have the answers to. you couldn't put billie out of her head. and somehow, you had a feeling it wasn't the last time you’d be seeing her tonight.

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[works-of-heart]

I've seen a lot of takes saying that Azriel is over Mor because of how he looks at Elain and wanted to taste her and fuck her. A lot of them quote saying because Az and Elain have had multiple glances between each other.

I truly do not believe that Az is over Mor, not in that healthy, I can walk away and wish her well kind of way, nor even in the "I'm sincerely in love with someone else, and do not think of Mor" kind of way.

Not only does Rhys challenge this by asking "what of Mor", but Azriel tells us all we need to know, by not answering. If he was well and truly over her, he would have told Rhys right then and there. But honestly? I don't think SJM is going to end 500 years of pining and longing off page where we don't even get to see both of them grow and accept this.

"But he wanted to beg on his knees for a taste of Elain!"

And? Even while Azriel was deeply pining for Mor, even while he had been in love with her, he had no shortage of lovers during those 500 years. Neither of them did, but Az certainly had his fun. Elain would be no different from any one of those previous lovers.

"He questioned his religion for Elain!"

He believed Mor was his mate, something he wanted dearly (because in this setting having a mate is the greatest gift of all) and for someone like Az, being gifted a mate would mean the world to him, especially after all he had been through. So imagine when the girl you've wanted for 500 years sleeps with everyone but you and avoids you. He even looked at Mor with heat and Yearning in his eyes so intense Feyre had to look away and Elain was right there.

Mor wasn't giving him the validation he longed for from her, but along comes Elain who gives him charged looks and brief hand brushes and suddenly Az is just over his 500 year long crush? I think it's far more likely that Azriel was just happy to have someone who seemed to want him, and as a bonus her sisters are mated to his closest friends, his brothers.

In that regard Az is saying why wasn't she given to him? The girl who seems to give him any kind of attention vs. Mor who avoided him. Why was she given to Lucien, when his brothers got her two sisters? Rhys called out out perfectly, he felt he deserved her being his mate.

Azriel in this moment isn't in love with Elain, he didn't bother to truly know her (I'm sorry sitting in a garden or listening to her talk while having little to no interest isn't knowing her), he doesn't show any kind of support in her abilities, (Scrying for the trove is a darkness she should not be exposed to), hell he even drew straws with Cassian to baby sit her so he could go to Hewn City. Other than naming her powers, Azriel doesn't really know Elain. He could not admit to Rhys that he was over Mor because he simply isn't.

Meanwhile when it came to Gwyn, we see how he approaches her is vastly different to his toxic thoughts of "the third was given to another". I'm not saying he fell in love with Gwyn in that moment, but SJM shows us how Azriel's interaction with her are very different.

From the way he was settled, their light banter, and the training lessons he gives her, it's like you can see easily that he was objectifying Elain while Gwyn's company is light and easy. It really does say something when he got the necklace for Elain but gave it to gwyn, and only with Gwyn did he think about her teal eyes lighting up upon receiving it. Thinking about her getting that gift made him smile to the point he had to force himself to erase the smile and shove that image down in his chest. Not once did he think about how Elain would smile and light up getting his gift, the only time he thinks about her face is when he's jerking it... how romantic.

And to those who say he didn't care at all about Gwyn when she was thrown into the BR, his siphons flared and his shadows deepened. Knowing his shadows are a part of him and react to him, and his siphons reacting to him as well, I think there's plenty to say. Even then he believed in her, just like he did in the ring when she cut the ribbon.

As much as I believe that Gwynriel is endgame, I think Az is going to have to really and truly deal with his feelings on Mor. I think Gwyn takes him in a good direction, but this man has some not so savory traits that he has to deal with and come face to face with before he's ready to step into a healthy direction. So when Rhys asks him again, "what of Mor?" He can proudly answer that question without hesitation.

[kikyan]

Hellfire

Cw: Yandere content means Yandere content y’all, dub-con, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power, Father/Priest! Rollo (AS IN PRIEST NOT INCEST), masturbation, body worship, oral (GN! Reader receiving), fingering, riding, religious themes, etc

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Pairing: Rollo x GN! Reader 

Words: 9.5K 

A/N: Everyone look at your calendars and do you see how in reality it isn’t a New Year but rather Halloween and this Halloween special is coming out on the day it was meant to and not almost 3 months later? Fantastic, moving on. . .enjoy :)) 

A/N2: I want to preface this by saying that this fic does have religion/religious themes. This is not an accurate portrayal either, so please do not come for me-! I did grow up catholic but in my teen years became a full atheist so anything said in this fic is me recalling my childhood. Also, I googled bible verses because I don’t remember any and they were all in Spanish so, yeah. . .enjoy! :))

The bells rang throughout Fleur City, signaling the start of Sunday mass. The crowd gathered, rushing to find any available seats to sit down on. Those unfortunate would have to stand, as they did not dare miss the mass. Father Rollo was an exceptional man, his voice and words rang throughout the church and captivated everyone who was blessed to be in his presence. He handled himself professionally, standing with an upright posture and his head was always looking ahead. He was truly a man befitting to be god's messenger. Fleur City was fortunate to have Father Rollo, he was a man adored by his people and [Reader] was no different. They were locked on Father Rollo who strutted with confidence,

 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you” 

His eyes locked with [Reader]. They broke away from his eyes but could still feel his piercing eyes on them. 

“I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” 

Cheers erupted from within the church the moment he finished his sentence. Mass was shortly concluded after the church staff asked for donations. Plenty of people offered whatever they could spare, but it was appreciated. The church was emptying but a few others stayed behind to have a few words with Father Rollo. [Reader] stayed seated but looked over at Father Rollo from the corner of their eye. He was attending to the people and their needs, he truly was a virtuous man. They averted their gaze when they saw Father Rollo turn to them. He bid goodbye to the troubled crowd. His heeled shoes echoed loudly through the emptying church, stopping in front of [Reader]. 

“[Reader], good morning. How have you been?” 

“Oh. . good morning, Father Rollo. I’ve been well, how about you?” 

“It has been a pleasant morning so far and I can only pray that it shall remain that way. Though I will say, it’s certainly comforting knowing you’re here. I did not see you anywhere last week.” 

“R-Right. . .my apologies. It certainly wasn’t my intention to miss last week’s mass, but I’m afraid I did end up catching a cold. It has since passed and I feel quite better.” 

“ You ought to take care of yourself, [Reader]. It would be a shame if something terrible happened to you. You are, after all, our number one devotee here at the Church. It would be rather quiet and lonely if you were to go.” 

“Ha ha, it was only a cold Father Rollo, not the plague. I assure you, I am fine. Besides, I’m pretty strong enough to handle an illness.” 

[Reader] returned a smile to Rollo, whose face remained expressionless, but his eyebrows furrowed upwards in un-amusement.  

“That you are, you have God’s protection as one of his children. Alas, I must be off. Till next we meet, [Reader].” 

Rollo turned around and left the main hall, leaving [Reader] alone. It was only for a split second, but he turned around to gaze at them again. 

~ 

[Reader] was in love with Rollo. Their greatest sin that would be known to the dead once they passed. They remember their first meeting, plain as day, unlike that stormy night where this story takes place. 

There was a storm and it was pouring. The kind that people were warned to stay indoors because of the severity, yet here [Reader] was running to the middle of the town where the church lay. Their face was coated in rainwater which made it almost impossible to keep their eyes open, they were struggling to breathe, and the cold that accompanied the storm did little to help. They were staggering over to the Church. 

“[READER!] GET BACK HERE NOW AND I MIGHT FORGIVE YOU!” 

Panic rose and they didn’t dare look back, for if they did, surely it would be their last. They didn’t dare scream for help, because they knew their cries would be drowned by the storm. They finally made it to the center, running up the stairs of the cathedral, and lunged to the door. No surprise that it was locked. 

“[READER]! STOP!”

“L-LEAVE ME ALONE! SANCTUARY, PLEASE GIVE ME SANCTUARY!” 

[Reader] pleaded and began to hit the doors with all their might. The person who was no doubt chasing after them continued their pursuit. They were approaching the steps and soon, close enough to reach out to [Reader]. Just in the nick of time, the door opened enough for [Reader] to throw themselves inside. They landed on the cold stone floors and used whatever strength they had to scramble away from the door. They looked up to see a skinny man with a pale face, green-blue eyes, dark bags under his eyes, and silver hair behind the door. He was adorned in an ankle-long robe and wore black-heeled loafers. His outfit certainly was nothing too fancy, then again it was the middle of the night. 

“S-Sanctuary! P-please, give me sanctuary!” 

“What seems to be the matter-!?” 

The man turned to them but was cut from the person chasing after [Reader]. 

“[Reader]! C’mere, now.” 

The anger in his voice disappeared but there was sternness laced in his request. The silver-haired man turned to the other person. The storm showered them, and the mud that they tracked in did not go unnoticed by the silver-haired man. 

“Forgive me. My name is Rollo Flamme, I am one of the priests here. May I ask what seems to be the issue? I certainly did not expect there to be anyone leisuring out in the streets with the storm raging outside.” 

The silver-haired man, now named ‘Rollo’, asked. Rollo turned to the person outside with an unamused expression. 

“Father Rollo, pardon the intrusion. You see, that person over there is named [Reader], they're my partner. My partner also suffers from an unstable state of mind. It would be best if we returned-!?” 

“Father Rollo, is everything alright?” 

They all turned to look at an elderly woman who no doubt worked for the church. Rollo shook his head and the woman took it as a sign to approach the door. 

“Everything is alright here, there is no need for the both of you to concern yourselves over our issues. Me and [Reader] would be taking our leave-!?” 

“I think not. It would be against everything we stand for if we turned away someone who came to this holy place and asked for sanctuary. I apologize, but I’ll be asking for you to leave. Madam, take this one,” 

Rollo turned to face [Reader], 

“This one inside. Run them a warm bath and please get them a fresh set of clothes. As for you, sir. . please leave.” 

[Reader’s] partner scoffed and stepped forward, 

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” 

He stopped after Rollo’s warning. Soon, others started to arrive within the church, including the guards. [Reader’s] partner glared at Rollo but decided against their actions. They just scoffed and went outside. The church’s door was shut and locked following his departure. 

[Reader] had been sitting on the floor, trying to steady their breathing. Rollo walked over to them and helped them off their feet. 

“You’re safe here in the house of God, he cannot hurt you any longer.” 

Rollo then walked away, moving people to their station leaving [Reader] alone with the Madam. 

“Come child, let’s get you out of those freezing clothes and into a warm bath.” 

That was the first time they met Rollo. 

Several weeks later, [Reader] was still within the church and assisting in any way they could. They would sometimes join the community in cleaning the church, making meals to provide during the holidays, and so forth. They were currently helping the volunteers make bread until Rollo arrived in the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Father Rollo! How may we assist you?” 

The elderly woman asked Rollo, who turned to face her. 

“Good morning, Madam. I see you’re all hard at work assisting the church so I won’t take up too much of your time. May I speak with [Reader]?” 

At the mention of their name, [Reader] perked up. The Madam turned to them and asked, 

“Of course, is that alright?” 

[Reader] nodded, dropping their task and washing their hands. They turned to look at Rollo who nodded, 

“This way, please.” 

Rollo led the way to his office and closed the door once they were both inside. He turned to them and offered the chair across from his. 

“Sit, please. Good morning, [Reader]. How are you this morning?” 

“Father Rollo. . .great. This morning has been great so far, busy but no complaints from me yet! How about yours?” 

“Fine, busy as well but such is life as God’s servant. Now, I wanted to discuss some things with you. The man that pursued you when you arrived at our doorsteps, I presume you would be content knowing that he has since left the town. He is no longer residing in Fleur City.” 

[Reader] let out a sigh of relief, since the day they arrived at the steps of the cathedral they have been residing within it. All housing was provided by the church as well as their meals. They weren’t expected to assist with the chores at the church, but they felt it was the least they could do. They would leave to go into town occasionally but always went with a guide or a guard in case anything happened. Rollo had made arrangements for them to avoid any further issues. They weren’t aware that their partner who had tormented them relentlessly had left the city or had any plans to. 

“Thank you. . . Father Rollo. I appreciate you informing me.” 

“ Of course, now that he has permanently left Fleur City we can arrange to get you a small place within the city. Don’t worry, if you still wish to assist the Church it will be nearby and the place will be within the guard's post. The area will be carefully monitored and maintained.” 

“Father Rollo. . that’s too much. I appreciate all you have done since that day, but asking for my living quarters would be too much-!” 

“Nonsense. You requested sanctuary from the church and since then, we have worked hard to provide that for you. It’s no trouble at all, you’re a precious child of God after all and he never abandons his children.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was deep in thought. A place to stay without the haunting memories of their partner who could care less about them. [Reader] turned their gaze to Rollo and smiled, 

“Thank you for your kindness, Father Rollo.” 

From then, [Reader] had been living in the house provided by the church. Their place was warm and cozy, but most importantly, theirs. As days went by, [Reader] continued to attend weekly mass and stayed behind to help the community with events. Though Rollo was a well-known priest, he certainly wasn’t the only one present in the cathedral. The community had gotten together to thank the priests and were thinking of how to repay each one. The madam took the request and decided to host a small celebration for them with food and games for the community. 

The entire town was invited to attend and they did, for there was no greater honor than celebrating their townsmen. Rollo stood in the center, overseeing the event rather than partaking in it like the other priests. He saw how his colleagues engaged with the town, his eyes were trained on them. They had no problem mingling with others and taking the front while Rollo chose to stay behind. 

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Father Rollo?” 

He turned to the voice, it was [Reader]. 

“I am, but conversing with others isn’t something I do quite well at. I leave that task, to the others. What about you, [Reader]?” 

“Oh, I am as well. I too, don’t tend to mingle with others, at least not in events like this. It’s still taking me a while to adjust to being in control of my own life.” 

Rollo spared a glance at [Reader] who sadly reminisced. Their partner would often take control of the conversation and not allow [Reader] to speak. They would often leave [Reader] in social gatherings to fend for themselves and never acknowledge their feelings. After a while and per their adored partner’s request, stopped leaving their shared home. This resulted in [Reader] self-isolating.  

“I see. Often, just being in the company of someone you trust is more than enough at events like these. However I do hope that moving forward, we can heal from the past.” 

Socializing wasn’t his strong suit; if he did, it was always formal and respectful. There was no time for jokes or silly banter, that is why Rollo helped Fleur City behind the scenes. He handled all formal matters while the others tended to the city with their words and charisma. Even now, his words of comfort were formal and didn’t properly convey his feelings. 

“One day, I will join the crowd again and this time, maybe I can take you with me, Father Rollo. Oh, by the way, I have something for you.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was looking into their pocket. 

“Here! I know it doesn’t mean much and it’s certainly a very cheap gift, but I want to express my gratitude. Thank you for all that you’ve done, Father Rollo. Without you, I don’t think I would be here with the Madam and the Town, so thank you.” 

He looked at his hands to see a wine-red handkerchief with purple embroidery on the outer edges, his name was woven into the corner. It was a simple gift really, but the difference with most gifts that he received was that this was hand-made. Handmade with love, love from the person that he cared the most about. Rollo stammered, 

“T-Thank you, I shall keep this with me at all times. It’s lovely, [Reader].” 

[Reader] turned to see his eyes gazing deeply at theirs. It was different, unlike a small expression of gratitude with professionalism laced Rollo’s eyes betrayed him. Behind his eyes, desire and love peeked through, even if it was for a split moment. 

“Of course. . .my pleasure, Father Rollo.” 

Rollo was called shortly after to attend to a matter within the cathedral, but before parting from [Reader], he promised he would return promptly. Rollo left and attended the matter fairly quickly, but before leaving to meet up with [Reader], he walked to his office. Locking the door, he took out the handkerchief and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent from it. 

‘[Reader]’ 

Rollo recalled the memory of when he first laid eyes on them. It wasn’t anything too special, he was just in town when he stumbled upon them. Rollo has observed throughout his life all the filth from others and their actions. [Reader] had remained a pure innocent soul devoid of any sins. 

‘ Humans are sinful creatures and  that is why we exist. . .’ 

Rollo had engraved that concept into his mind. There are 7 sins within mankind - pride, wrath, envy, gluttony, sloth, greed, and lust. Humans will lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and take advantage of others for personal greed. In reality, society has failed itself and remains to be a stain on this world. [Reader] was a positive chum, but was a sight to behold in a world of sin. 

Rollo was walking through town, which was a rare sight considering the only place you could glance at him would be in the cathedral. He noticed hidden behind a stall that there was a child, looking confused and scared. 

‘ No doubt lost.’ 

Rollo thought to himself but did not step forward just yet. He recalled a conversation he had with the Madam, a woman whom he respected as she was not like the others either. She had devoted herself to the church and helping others after the passing of her husband.  She would confess that no human was free of sin, but that didn’t mean that they were undeserving of God’s love and a place in his kingdom. It was silly, but he remembered what he told her after, 

“You’re right Madam, everyone is worthy of God’s love. Though do not underestimate humanity’s free will, some of them choose to sin and relish in their filth.”  

The madam shook her head and reminded Rollo that he should not be so quick to place judgment on others, but it was futile. 

He recalled that memory as he saw the scene displayed in front of him, a defenseless child turning to adults begging for help. Those same ‘adults’ had brushed the child off and some even as far to push the child away. 

“P-Please, I can’t find my mommy-” 

“Not interested.” 

“Stay clear of the road! Damn, brats. . .” 

‘Are these the same people who deserve God’s love, Madam?’

Rollo began walking to the child but stopped when he noticed another individual walk up to the child, 

“My name is [Reader], are you lost? Did you lose your parents?” 

The child nodded and [Reader] lightly brushed the tears that were forming away, 

“I see, well let me try to help you find them. When did you see them last?” 

“I saw my mommy over there. . .” 

The child pointed towards the growing crowd. In theory, this mother could be anywhere but if she was observant then no doubt she noticed her child missing. [Reader] nodded and held out their hand to the child, asking permission to hold their hand. The child allowed it, letting [Reader] lead them into the crowd. The child's grip tightened, afraid to lose their newfound savior. Rollo followed them, wanting to make sure that this child wasn’t going to be kidnapped. He saw how ‘[Reader]’ was holding onto the child and stopping in the area, asking the child if they saw their mother. When the child shook their head, [Reader] would begin calling out if someone lost their child. The town was busy and [Reader’s] cries were lost to the wind, but they did not lose their determination. After half an hour, Rollo heard a woman frantically calling out what was probably the child's name as the child perked up at the mention of it. [Reader] carefully maneuvered their way across the crowd to reunite the mother and child. Rollo witnessed the scene of the mother and child holding each other close, the mother turning to [Reader] and thanking them, and [Reader] reassuring them. Rollo scoffed, one person was not enough to persuade his mind that humanity was any different. It didn’t just stop there, weeks after the incident they had another run-in with them - at a distance, of course. 

[Reader] was in the market with the intent of buying groceries, but instead offered to help the people at the stands. It was a never-ending cycle, when they finished their task another person went to them asking for help. 

‘They’re a fool, they’re being taken advantage of by the others-’ 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mind helping but I haven’t finished my shopping. When I finish and if you still need help I can come back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry [Reader], I didn’t mean to take up your time! It’s fine if you can’t, but thank you anyway.” 

[Reader] politely excused themselves and finished their shopping. A couple of instances off the top of his head that Rollo remembered, [Reader] buying food for a beggar on the street, helping an elderly person cross the street, helping a cat out of their collar once they noticed it was choking from it, and when they helped stitch back up a child's toy once it was ruined. Rollo was getting irritated at this point, 

‘Madam, I swear it’s like you enjoy tormenting me. . .are you trying to prove a point?’ 

The scowl written on his face was unwavering as he continued to observe this happy-go-lucky person. He managed to overhear the conversation between [Reader] and another person. 

“You’re so nice [Reader], it’s so rare to find someone who cares about people the way you do!” 

“You think so? I don’t think I am doing anything too grand, I just do what comes normal to me.” 

“Yes! You have a heart of gold, I mean you offer to help when needed. You should be careful though, people out there would take advantage of that kindness.” 

“Hm, I guess. I mean, I just do what I can but if it’s too much or something I can’t do I’m not opposed to saying no. I think a lot of people just think I’m too nice because they’re just used to being treated with little kindness. I don’t want to be a bystander if I can do something. I hold the door for people if they’re close and I’m not going to shut the door on them, it’s not like it takes too much time.” 

“Aw, you’re so nice.” 

“I don’t think so, I mean would you shut the door on me if I was behind you?” 

“Well. . .” 

“Then you’re just too mean.” 

[Reader] and the person exchanged a laugh before parting ways. Rollo stood still and turned to see [Reader] back in the distance, leaving the marketplace. His resolve didn’t sway, humans were still corrupt and undeserving of salvation, the only difference now was that there was an exception. Rollo would be lying if he sometimes didn’t go into town to glance at [Reader] and if he was lucky enough, he would be there at the same time. Over months though, he began to see less and less of them. He started to worry a bit, for the first weeks he chalked it up to [Reader] wanting time away from town but was surprised to know that nobody had seen them in the market for a month. Rollo approached a vendor, starting small talk, 

“Good morning, Father Rollo. How do you do today?” 

“I’m quite fine, thank you for asking. How about yourself?”

“Aw well, same! Business has been booming but I haven’t seen my top customer in a while!” 

“Oh, and who is that?” 

“[Reader]! They’re a sweet thing but suddenly stopped coming into town. I won’t lie, I am a little worried about them.” 

“[Reader]? I don’t believe I’ve seen them at mass. . .” 

“]Reader] used to go if I remember correctly, but I’m not too sure. I know they used to into town daily, aside from their work they loved to walk around the city. I think they stopped coming out as much a year or two ago, sometimes though they’ll come daily but it’s so rare when they do! I’m not quite sure why-!” 

“It’s because of their partner!” 

Rollo and the vendor turned to another person, an elderly lady who had joined the conversation. 

“Their partner. . .?” 

Rollo questioned, 

“Yes! At first, it was sweet. They met at [Readers’s] work and instantly became close, I would sometimes frequent their workplace you see. Their partner treated them with so much kindness but after a while, it was plain as day, he was isolating them! I remember I was walking home when I overheard them get into an argument, he wanted [Reader] to quit their job. [Reader] refused and that was the end of it, I’m not sure how they managed to persuade him because all I could hear was his yelling. After a while, [Reader] didn’t come to work and I thought they did quit, but when they came back they weren’t the same. They were still kind as ever, but you could tell something was off. Whenever they do come into town, it’s because their partner isn’t in Fleur City. I heard he sometimes goes back to take care of his ill parents.” 

Rollo was conflicted, who was this woman to be spreading such personal information of theirs but he had to thank her, without her, he never would have come to realize what needed to be done. Rollo had to admit, over the time he spent observing [Reader] he did become enamored with them. One true nature is revealed in several ways, how one presents oneself, their thoughts and actions, and what one preaches. Their nature had long been revealed, [Reader] was the only person whom Rollo believed was deserving of God’s love and he would not let them become a martyr for those deserving the flames of hell. 

Rollo set his plan in motion. He carefully wrote a letter and paid someone who the town would never recognize to deliver it into the hands of [Reader’s] partner. Their partner read the contents and before they could react, the person who delivered it had vanished to report to Rollo. 

“It’s been done?” 

“Yes, Father Rollo. May I ask though, what do you plan-” 

“That’s enough, you needn't worry about the content of the letter. Your task was to deliver, which you have. You’re free to go.” 

The man excused himself, leaving Rollo at his desk with his elbows propped but his hands were close together. He was deep in thought, 

“He would be wise to appear later tonight if he truly cares for his parents.” 

Later that night, their partner had walked down to the waterways. There, they met a cloaked individual. 

“Are you the one who sent me that letter? Who the fuck do you think you are to threaten my family-!” 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

The cloaked individual placed their hand out, to halt them from coming closer. They used that same hand to point upwards. When [Reader’s] partner looked up, they were met with several shadows who were not afraid to display their weapons. 

“What do you want?” 

Their partner scoffed out. The cloaked individual spoke out, 

“You have a partner by the name of [Reader]. Let’s just say that they owe me something, that being said it’s hard for us to come in contact with one another. This is where you come in, I need you to lure them into town. Do it on a rainy day, when there are fewer people to overhear, but I need you to lure them to the center of town. Make sure that nobody sees you two or asks about you, do you understand?” 

“What do they owe you-?!” 

“That’s none of your concern! Just, lure them into the center of the town. My men will be watching to make sure no one interferes but remember, if someone comes to find out about this plan. Well, you know what will happen to your family, understood?” 

Their partner gulped in fear and nodded, 

“You may go, and remember to not tell a single soul about this. I’ll always be listening.” 

They remained still for a brief moment, processing the words of the individual, before running out. Once they were out of sight, the person removed their cloak. Rollo stood in the center, looking at the moon and breathing out a sigh of relief. Those armed shadows turned to Rollo and asked, 

“Father Rollo, may I ask who that man is?” 

“Just someone this world would be better without. Keep me updated on his location and if he says anything. Remember, this is all to protect Fleur City.” 

Rollo disappeared within the waterways. 

Rollo approached the fireplace in his office and looked down at the handkerchief once more before tenderly caressing it into his face. 

“[Reader], I’ll repeat your name over and over like a prayer, I’d never tire of it. . .if only you knew of all things I did for you to be by my side. . .” 

The memory rolled over in his head, 

“There is a storm coming, we should make preparations in case of anything.” 

“Oh, you’re always so diligent and a step ahead, Father Rollo.” 

“Madam, one can never be too prepared.” 

The madam shook her head at Rollo’s comments but carried out his request. He had stood in preparation for anything. If what was revealed was true, then [Reader] was certainly being isolated by their partner. Their abusive partner would take advantage of another. That being said, he planned to make it so that they lured [Reader] out into the center of town, where the cathedral lay. Their partner may not know it as he was certain he had never seen him before but [Reader] should. They would request sanctuary from the church and there, He would be by the door, awaiting his beloved with open arms. 

Before he knew it, he could hear the shouts and screams outside the door. 

“Sanctuary, give me sanctuary!” 

Before long, Rollo had opened the door and with a perfect facade, displayed concern. He could tell the way their partner trembled that he had feared for his family, he was caught by the church. Their partner had no choice but to flee the scene with their tail between his legs. After Rollo instructed the Madam to watch over [Reader], Rollo had the guards chase after their partner. In the meantime, Rollo had placed his cloak on and made his way to the outskirts of town where he was being held. 

“L-Let me go! Damn it, it wasn’t my fault-!” 

“Didn’t I tell you not to let anyone interfere?” 

“I-it wasn’t my fault! The church and that stupid priest got in the way! P-please leave my f-family alone-!” 

Rollo removed his cloak and presented himself to their ex-partner. 

“Y-you!?” 

“Don’t worry, your family won’t suffer. Though I will admit, I didn’t think you would go through with sacrificing them.” 

“Y-You threatened my family, w-why wouldn’t I?” 

“I suppose there is some logic to that reason. Tell me, did you even love them?” 

“W-what? I-I suppose I did?” 

“You suppose? You’re not certain?” 

Rollo questioned them further, 

“I mean yes! Yes, I did love them! W-what does this have to do with anything, you said they owed you something no-?” 

“ No, they don’t. I did this more to see what you would do and you played right into it. Once again, I was proved right. Humanity is undeserving of God’s love and salvation, you’re all just scum that turn against each other at any moment it’s convenient. You disgust me.” 

“Y-You did this to prove a point!? Y-You think I won’t reveal to the townspeople who their beloved priest is?” 

“Not very intelligent either, are you? I’m not worried, because this is where judgment shall be passed onto you. This goes a little deeper than what you think, but no matter. I hereby declare you, guilty, and your sentence, punished by death. Dispose of him.” 

Rollo turned around, ignoring the pleas of that man. He did turn around to see their execution, before turning back. 

“We shall burn his body, but in the meantime place him somewhere no one will find out. Oh and, arrange for someone to take care of his parents. Hire a doctor to live with them.” 

The others nodded and carried out the order. Rollo headed back to town with a clear conscious. 

His attention remained on the flames. They had burned his body and afterward, devised a plan to break the news to his parents.  As far as they were concerned, he had passed away from a natural cause but because he was such a good member of the church, he was able to have a doctor stay with them full-time. He placed a chaste kiss on the handkerchief, 

‘This burning desire is turning me to sin. . .’ 

~ 

Rollo was sitting at the Confessional and while he was a man of God, he was also human. Like humans, he was running short of his patience. Father Rollo was a devoted man to his occupation, but of course, even messengers of God need time of their own. He was covering for another priest, Father Phoebus, who unexpectedly became ill. Rollo’s face turned into one of annoyance and anger, he was certain that the priest wasn’t ill but rather skipping out on his duties. 

‘ No matter, confession ends in about 10 minutes. . .I just need to hold out till then.’ 

Rollo’s optimistic outlook was shattered the moment he heard someone else sit on the other side of the confessional. He rolled his eyes before turning to the wooden lattice opening but stiffened when he saw it was [Reader]. Luckily, this confessional was designed so that the priest would be hidden away and the penitent was visible. 

“I do apologize for coming in so late, Father Phoebus. . but I would like to confess my sins.” 

Rollo cleared his throat, 

“Of course, please, confess to me what ails you.” 

He placed his gaze at [Reader], who remained unaware that instead of Father Phoebus, it was Rollo. 

“Right, to be honest, I’m not quite sure where to begin. All I know is, I’m committing a grave sin. I ... . .in love with a man that I cannot have. He is married to a vow.” 

Rollo’s breath hitched, turned to stare at [Reader] who looked down in regret and disappointment.

“M-married? May I ask, which vow this man is married to?” 

[Reader] stiffened at the question, 

“Father Phoebus. . .it's Father Rollo who I am enamored with. He is God's messenger and as such, I know my feelings will never be reciprocated yet! Yet, I can’t help but still love him.” 

Rollo knew that Reader required guidance and genuine support, but he couldn’t help the need or desire after hearing that the one he loved also felt the same. He pulled out the wine-red handkerchief with the beautiful purple embroidery that outlined the cloth and spelled his name on the corner. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it as his dick hardened at the idea of [Reader]. 

“T-tell me, how much you love him?” 

Rollo swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“O-Oh w-well. . .” 

It was an awkward question no doubt so there was some resistance from [Reader]. Rollo pressed on, 

“I would like to know how deep your admiration goes so that I c-can properly guide you.” 

“R-right. . well, I love him. At first, I thought it was just admiration because he helped me get back on my feet. When I gave him his handkerchief, I saw more than a simple thanks on his face, but a face of genuine gratitude, which made me fall deeper. I know he’s only being kind to me because it’s the right thing to do and not because of any special treatment, but I can’t help but-” 

Rollo continued to listen to their feelings, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t thinking about stroking his cock to their voice. Rollo had never experienced such feelings towards anyone before, but after meeting [Reader] he became a victim of the sin of greed and lust. 

“Though I will admit, maybe the reason I love him is because I feel safe and secure with him. With my past partner, I didn’t feel the same sense of security. I did at first, but after a while, they became the aggressor. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave immediately after and I kept beating myself up about but Father Rollo, assured me that it was not my fault. He was so kind and understanding, it was different from the others who told me something similar. It was sincere from both sides, but with him it was. . it was different.” 

When they finished confessing, Rollo spoke, 

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of your feelings. It’s a natural human thing to feel, love that is. You’re right, Father Rollo is a man tied to an oath by the Church. Under the eyes of God, he may not reciprocate your feelings but that doesn’t mean he would see you any less different. Your sins are forgiven, my child.” 

[Reader] nodded and bid farewell to ‘Father Phoebus’. Rollo watched their figure retreat and let out a breath of relief. Though he could not stop the pounding in his heart nor the tent in his pants. 

~ 

“F-Fuck! [R-Reader]-!” 

Rollo had retreated to his office once confessions were over, there he had his handkerchief wrapped around his dick, jerking himself off. The one that he loved felt the same for him but he was sure their love was not the same as his obsession with them. Such a pure and innocent crush on him whereas he shamefully was stroking his cock to the idea of touching them. 

“Ha. . ha. . wanna t-touch you, fuck-!” 

He threw his head back at the pleasure, how would [Reader] react to seeing their beloved Father Rollo fuck the handkerchief that they had gifted him. His orgasm was approaching and his whines were getting louder, he leaned over his table and spilled his seed onto the wine-red cloth, sweat adorning his face. He let out a sigh of relief and sat down on his chair. He thought of [Reader] and this new found confession. Rollo’s mind was made up. 

~ 

“I think we’re all good to go, [Reader] we’re heading out now!” 

“Have a good night!” 

[Reader] bid the other church volunteers farewell before giving the church one last good look. They were about to grab their things to depart as well before the doors opened. They turned to look at Father Rollo, who emerged from his office. 

“F-Father Rollo. . .what brings you out here so late?” 

“I’m just giving the Church one final look, but I did hope to catch you before you left.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, come [Reader], take a walk with me.” 

[Reader] approached Rollo and their walk began. He was taking them across the Cathedral to put out the candles. 

“I know it’s been a while, but how have you been enjoying yourself in Fleur City?” 

“Oh, just fine! Thank you again, for all that you’ve done of course. It certainly feels amazing being able to freely leave and return without being shackled down. Not to mention, it’s a lot more eventful than I remember.” 

“I see, Father Pheobus has attempted to get more events hosted by the church. He would like the city to get together once in a while. It’s something new that he has been doing, but it seems that the townspeople enjoy it.” 

“That they do, may I ask, Father Rollo? Do you not like to get involved in events like these?” 

The main hall of the Cathedral was darkening with each step, 

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Socializing with others isn’t my strong suit, I tend to other matters that I excel at rather than mistakenly saying something I don’t mean.” 

[Reader] had noticed that Rollo tended to stay in the shadows and only speak when something needed to be said. If someone approached him and tried conversing, Rollo would maintain the utmost professionalism. He wasn’t one for idle chatter but never turned someone down if they wanted to have a word with him. Rollo continued his task, with [Reader] following close behind. 

“That’s fair. Sometimes not saying anything is the proper response, but I can see how that may stress you out. After all, you are a priest and everyone’s eyes are on you. Sorry, don’t mean to add to the pressure either.” 

As the candles were extinguished one by one, Rollo’s heels added to the ominous vibe that the Cathedral was giving. 

“You’re right, [Reader]. As a priest, all their eyes are on me waiting to hear what I  say but as such, my eyes are also on them. Despite what I preach, I believe that not everyone is capable of salvation. Humans are not devoid of sin, that is the truth. Though we are created in God’s image, we certainly are not perfect. There are those where their sins are mistakes and nothing more. Then some’s sins are perfectly under their control yet still choose to see nothing wrong in their actions. You can have that outlier where one of those wishes to repent and truly feel regret, but then some parade around shamelessly into God’s house asking for forgiveness. It’s laughable.” 

[Reader] remained silent. There was nothing they could say because ultimately, Father Rollo was right to some degree. Though they would be lying if they weren’t off-put by his sudden change. 

“ Did you know that the baker is having an affair? Ongoing for four years actually, yet he never fails to bring his wife and kids into mass every Sunday morning, thanking God for allowing them to live the way they do. They recently had their marriage anniversary, married for 10 years to be exact. I remember I was the one who renewed their vows. His words still ring in my head,”

“I will love you forever and until the end. You’re the pillar that provides me with the strength to keep going. I would never want another partner other than you, the woman I chose to be the mother of my children. I thank God for this blessing that is you, my love.” 

“How romantic, don’t you think? That same night he went back to his other partner, claiming that they had a big order for an event and he needed to be one step ahead of the game. How could I forget the previous head of the Orphanage, asking for food to provide for the children? The church and townspeople helped with what they could, but every time those children would come into mass they remained as thin as ever but the head remained full and content. It wasn’t until I stepped in and of course, led an investigation to find out that he was starving the kids and eating all the food. Now the orphanage is under the care of the Church, to be more specific, under my direct care. Don’t you see how happy those children are every time you come to mass? I even remember when Madam first came to the church, she told us the story of her husband's passing. She and her beloved husband were walking back home when an armed assailant was waiting for them, upon asking for their valuables he stabbed her husband over 27 times before fleeing. When the man was caught, he was just a petty thief who confessed to the crime. Their reasoning was they had no need to steal but got a kick out of watching the fear in the eyes of the defenseless manifest and to make matters worse, this was his first time killing since he never dared to do it before. What could an elderly man do to him had he chosen to fight back, nothing. That same thief pleaded with God before his execution that I had carried out, to spare him.” 

By the time Rollo had gotten to his part in his talk, almost all the candles were out except for four in the front of the altar. There Rollo turned around, facing [Reader] who stood in the middle closest to the altar. He was closest to the church doors but that area had been pitch black. He continued his speech and though he did not pose a threat to [Reader], yet, They couldn’t help the goosebumps that were forming on their skin and the sudden draft within the Cathedral. 

“Of course, the world is not black and white. There is no right or wrong, for if there was I too would have been punished. It’s not practical for me to base my distaste of humanity on a few bad apples, Madam, even after everything she went through still says that everyone deserves salvation but it’s like you said, [Reader]. We’re all so used to this world the way it is that a simple act of kindness, normalcy if you will, is considered a rarity.” 

[Reader] had recalled when they told that vendor that, those were their words and they still stood by it. The only thing was, they told that to the vendor, not Rollo. They shakily took a step back but kept their eyes trained on Rollo. He noticed their expression as well as their stance, but it was no use. The door to the church was locked and only Rollo had the key. He took a step forward, emerging from the darkness and [Reader] took a step back. 

“F-Father Rollo. . is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Sorry. . I just don’t know how this relates to me. . .” 

He let out a chuckle, 

“ You asked why I don’t like to get involved, right? That is my answer. It’s hard to get involved when I am surrounded by the same people I wish I could condemn. However, you are different. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I too have been keeping an eye on you long before we officially met.  You treated everyone with kindness even those that did not deserve it. You remained as human as possible, someone who could voice their feelings and care for everyone equally, even yourself. It was a sight for sore eyes, like an angel in a sea of devils. You tried your best and worked hard, but you knew what you could and couldn’t do. You were even starting to make me regain hope in this world but I quickly noticed that warm light inside of you start to flicker. It was all because of him, [Partner’s Name]. He had slowly started to dim that warm light inside of you and I couldn’t do anything, or so I thought. Your partner driving you out of your home was not accidental,  I can assure you. I had him lure you here, into the Church. There, I was able to save you from him.” 

[Reader’s] breath hitched. They had always assumed that all the events that led up to now were a mere coincidence, life just being its usual confusing self. It was not unusual for their partner to enter their shared home and demand things, bossing them around. They had assumed that it was the usual same old story. This didn’t change how they saw their partner and their relief that he was no longer in their life, but it changed their perception of Rollo. Had Rollo orchestrated their whole thing? Since when? For how long? Most importantly, for what? 

“Since we are in a church, I might as well confess. I have kept my eye on every single Fleur citizen since I became a priest, but I have kept my eye on you for months now. It’s hard for me to communicate with everyone, but not you [Reader]. Since I’ve been admiring you from a distance, I’ve come to love you. I love your person and your way of being. Your kindness, your truth, your struggles, everything about you I have come to love.” 

By now, [Reader] was up against the altar with Rollo standing in front of them. Both were illuminated by the remaining candles, his hand reached out to caress their cheek. 

“I’ve come to love everything about you, [Reader], even the parts that you aren’t aware of. I’ll remain to love them as well, for there is no one else.” 

“F-Father R-Rollo, I-!” 

He leaned closer to them, his piercing blue-green eyes staring into [Readers] fearful and confused ones. He placed a kiss on their lips, tilting their head back to get a better angle. Seconds passed before he lifted his lips from them, 

“. .And if you were to fall into sin, let it be by my hands.” 

Conflicted could not begin to describe it. The person they loved reciprocated their feelings, so much that they kissed at this very moment. Though logically speaking, Rollo had just admitted to orchestrating the whole thing. Who knew what was the truth and what was a lie? Did their partner move? Was it willingly? Most importantly, did it matter? Sure, maybe there was a time when logic was sound but that time wasn’t right now. Thinking with their heart, [Reader] kissed back. They shared a deep and sensual kiss that neither one dared to break. Rollo pushed his body up against [Reader], grinding into them. The altar luckily wasn’t too high, but there were small steps on either side that allowed them to effortlessly get on the altar. Rollo managed to push their back flat against the cold marbled table, 

“F-Father R-Rollo, are you sure? Y-you’re a man with a vow and-” 

“[Reader], I love you.” 

Their eyes widened once more at the confession and looking up, they weren’t meant with the Rollo they knew. He was no longer stoic and professional, this Rollo was vulnerable. His cheeks were flushed pink as he straddled [Reader’s] hips. His body loomed over theirs and his hands went to open their top. His eyes were glossed over with love and desire. [Reader’s] top was opened to expose their chest and his hands lightly touched their skin. His cold fingers trailed from their neck, chest, and lastly their nipples. Rollo let out a shaky sigh, 

“I love you. Let me worship you, with God as my witness let me prove my devotion to you. .” 

Rollo’s lips neared [Reader’s] and they exchanged a kiss. He lightly bit on their bottom lip, asking for permission to further taste them. A moan escaped [Reader] but they opened their mouth to allow his tongue inside. Rollo pressed himself further into [Reader], afraid to let go. Needing air, [Reader] placed their hands on his clothed chest, pushing against it. Releasing their lips, Rollo straightened but released a breathy moan. [Reader] could see the warmth spreading across his pale skin, but could also feel his growing bulge. Rollo began to lean back down but stopped when [Reader] went to open his top. He allowed them to strip him of his shirt, allowing his pale chest to be exposed. 

“I want to see you too, R-Rollo. . .” 

The tip of his ears turned pink at the comment. He leaned down to their neck, licking up and down. Nibbling and biting down to create hickeys. His lips trailed down, kissing the skin around the newly formed hickey and down to their chest. Moans spilled from both Rollo and [Reader], the pleasure shared between the two. His tongue swirled around their nipple, lightly biting and sucking on them. [Reader] tenderly held Rollo’s head as he worked on their chest. Shaky breaths echoed throughout the Cathedral. 

“F-Fuck. . R-Rollo-!” 

Rollo lifted himself from their chest and saw the bright pink/red circular marks all across their chest. 

“Not enough. . .it’s not e-enough. . “ 

Rollo leaned back down, kissing down to their navel area. His hands played with their bottoms, opening them agonizingly slow. He pulled them down their legs and he shifted back, making sure he could properly remove them. 

“F-Fuck, y-your sex. . .” 

Rollo’s shaky moans slipped out, he stared in awe at [Reader’s] aroused sex. He shifted back before nearing their sex and inhaling their scent. Rollo’s fingers carefully touched around, going to their most sensitive spot and circling his finger around. 

“R-Rollo…right there…feels good….” 

Rollo nodded, continuing to circle his finger. After a while he leaned down, placing his tongue on their sensitive spot. He licked around, replacing the movement of his finger, and began to lick up and down. [Reader] let out soft moans and breaths as he continued pleasuring them. He began to kiss, suck, lick, pinch, and stroke their sensitive bits. Rollo took a break to lick his fingers and pushed them against [Reader’s] hole. Lightly inserting a finger inside, feeling them clench around it. 

“Do you lust for me. . the same way I lust for you?” 

“ I-I’ve a-always wanted you-ngh!” 

Though Rollo wasn’t attending to their sex with his mouth, he was still reaching inside them with his fingers. Slipping a second finger to curl up against that soft spot inside them, pumping rhythmically. Rollo leaned back down, placing his mouth back on their sex. Rollo himself wasn’t too experienced, but based on their sounds, he knew more or so where to touch. His long slender fingers managed to reach thoroughly and the stimulation with his tongue was overwhelming.

“F-Fuck Rollo, g-gonna cum-!” 

Rollo continued to abuse their sex, giving them that final push needed to orgasm. Rollo’s face was drenched with drool and cum, but still managed to swallow everything that they released. He unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock that was already leaking pre-cum. He wrapped his hands around it, stroking himself. 

“Can I-fuck! P-put it inside you. . .?” 

Rollo’s half-lidded eyes pleaded with [Reader’s], begging to fuck them.  [Reader] propped themself up with their elbow, sat up, and kissed him. Rollo leaned forward to reciprocate. They placed their hands on his cheeks and lightly caressed, 

“You may. . .but can I. .be on top?” 

Rollo softly nodded, letting [Reader] guide him to lie down on the altar instead. [Reader] went to stimulate his already hard dick, but wrapped their hands around it and jerk him, smearing his pre-cum around. They licked their fingers and trailed them down to their hole, lightly fingering themselves to adjust to his size. They scissored themself and when they were ready, hovered over his cock. They lowered themselves onto Rollo’s cock, clenching down on his dick. 

“F-Fuck you’re tight-!” 

Rollo threw his head back at the sensation and his hands reached to hold [Reader’s] hip. [Reader] stayed still to adjust to his size but after a while, began to move. Riding his cock, [Reader] threw their head back as breaths left them, their back slowly arching. Rollo thrust, matching their pace as well. One of his hands moved to their sex, stimulating it at the same pace. 

Aside from the candles, the moonlight entered the Cathedral through the stained glass. The hue of the deep blues and purples reflected off their skin, creating an almost angelic glow. Their moans and whines echoed throughout the church, Rollo’s back was on the altar and his body coated in sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears, looking over at [Reader] who fared the same. Their body was sweaty and warm, their movements were slowing with time. Rollo’s thrust became more erratic, reaching deeper into [Reader]. 

“I-I’m close-! F-Fuck, f-feels s-so good-! Rollo!” 

Mewls spilled out of [Reader]’s mouth. 

“M-Me too-! I-I love you! L-Love you so much! God, I love you so much, [Reader]!” 

“I l-love you too, R-Rollo-!” 

With their final declaration of love, [Reader] came all over Rollo and he came deep inside of them. Their deep breaths were heard throughout the cathedral. [Reader] slumped on top of Rollo with his cock still inside them. They nuzzled into Rollo’s neck, peppering light kisses. 

“Love you s’much, Rollo.” 

“I love you too. . .[Reader].” 

His arms wrapped around them, pressing them closer into him. They stayed like that for a while, before [Reader] perked up, looking at his face. 

“I-I do have a question though. . .did you know that I liked you?” 

Rollo looked down to see their curious gaze, he adverted his eyes with a blush staining his cheeks. 

“It. . .it wasn’t Father Pheobus in the Confessional. It. . .it was me. . .” 

[Readers] face fell, 

“S-SO I CONFESSED TO YOU?” 

[Reader] buried their face in his neck, Rollo let out a soft smile at their antics. 

“That you did. Though I am glad, without you confessing to me, this never would have happened.” 

Still buried in his neck, they mumbled a couple of words. 

“I love you. . .” 

Rollo, of course, said it back. He could hear their soft snores, they had passed out from exhaustion. Only one thought lay in his mind, there was no one else other than him that could preserve the purity within [Reader]. 

‘If hellfire must consume me, so be it. I will never let anyone else take you away from me. Your purity is for me to preserve and to taint, no one else.’ 

This was only the beginning of the tragic tell that would come about to Twisted Wonderland. The story of the righteous priest and judge who burned down Fleur City, all because of their desire for someone they could never truly have. 

A/N: So that was a long one. . .how we feeling? I don’t think I will ever write a part 2, sorry :(( UNLESS I get inspiration but I do want to write headcanons for him so maybe? That being said I will be posting another post that will talk about the future of this blog (I AM NOT LEAVING DW)! That being said, I want to thank my friends for helping me with this fic! Special mention to my friend who helped me confirm his personality for me (I love you Nova) and my other friend, who got horny thoughts when they went to church! :3 

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work. 

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart. 

I don’t believe in religion, 

yet I do believe in Angels. 

Because I found mine, 

And she is absolutely divine. 

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile. 

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art. 

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.” 

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.” 

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[honeyhoshi]

deathless death

summary: Wonwoo isn’t religious. But he knows other ways to pray and other gods to revere. 

this is a part of the playlist universe

genre: pwanp - porn with absolutely no plot

wordcount: 4,317

pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader x gyuhan

warnings: foursome, bi mingyu, switch mingyu, bi jeonghan, switch jeonghan, voyeur/cuck wonwoo (but not really), soft dom wonwoo, afab reader, mentions of female anatomy, oral (f & m receiving), breast play, spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (again bec i wrote it), use of religious terminology and imagery, slight bulge kink, edging, squirting, finger sucking, THEY ARE IN LOVE!!!!

author's notes: It’s not a lie when I say there’s no plot in this but it is part of a bigger universe which I intend to expand later on. For now, no thoughts, just vibes with this one. Enjoy!

Knows everybody’s disapproval I should’ve worshiped her sooner

She is a sinner in the eyes of the world, but to Wonwoo she is a goddess and who is he to offer her anything less than what she wants and deserves.

Wonwoo gives her what she wants when she wants it and how she wants it, indulges her and spoils her. How can he deny her of anything when she grants Wonwoo salvation every time she says his name?

He is powerless as she whispers her request to him, the dirty, filthy words dripping with sin. Wonwoo is weak in her hands but he is willing to grant her wish and takes comfort in her conditions.

To keep the goddess by my side She demands a sacrifice

So Wonwoo watches with eyes glazed over as his girl lays in bed unclothed, fingers of one hand threaded through Jeonghan’s hair as he presses kisses onto her stomach, going down, down, down and bites and sucks on her thighs. He makes no move to stop them but his fingers twitch as he watches her mouth part in a silent scream, her eyes shut in the feeling of bliss at Jeonghan’s descent.

Wonwoo is silent as her breath hitches when Mingyu fondles her chest, sucking one nipple between his lips, his thumb rolling the other in time with the movements of his mouth. He laves his tongue on her bud before his eyes flicker to her face. With a wicked smile, he bites lightly and a whimper escapes her mouth. Trying to keep himself grounded, Wonwoo tries to lean back on the armchair. The Little space he adds between the obscenity before him and himself does little to quell the simmering heat in his blood.

He doesn’t know how Jeonghan or Mingyu feel but he knows how she feels. She feels euphoric. She feels bliss. She feels salvation. And that is what this is. It is salvation in its purest form, devoid of religion or rules or statutes. It is the salvation he has pledged himself to—to give himself willingly to her and she to him.

The beads of sweat on her forehead and the way her brows furrow pulls Wonwoo’s focus. She is lost in the feeling but she is far from through. She wraps her slender fingers around Mingyu’s length dragging her fingers down his abdomen lazily as she blinks up at Mingyu, finally gaining some focus back. Her eyes speak volumes but only Wonwoo is well versed in her to easily decipher how the gears in her mind turn. There’s theology in every gasp and every whimper, the rolls of eyes and heaviness of lids.

This was a unique request from her. Its a topic that’s never been brought up—something they’ve never considered but the way her body moves between Mingyu and Jeonghan’s lithe bodies seems almost choreographed. She knows how to play the two men like she was playing an instrument, knowing which strings to pluck, when to get the most beautiful harmonies, and Wonwoo has never heard a symphony more beautiful than this

The three of them shift and Wonwoo almost wants to laugh. Both Mingyu and Jeonghan position themselves off the bed. Mingyu stands with a clumsiness he’s known for, the weakness in his knees at their actions is an effect she has on men that Wonwoo is intimate with. Mingyu’s eyes catch Jeonghan’s, his hand pumping his length as Jeonghan kneels on the floor opposite him. Before them a feast is being laid on a king-sized bed with mussed sheets. She moves to lay between them, on her back, and getting comfortable. She locks eyes with Jeonghan and pulls him in with a crook of her middle finger and spreads her legs to present herself to him.

Jeonghan chuckles at the playfulness and recognition that he’s being played like a fiddle. Whatever his usual position and dynamic is in another’s bed is overruled in here. She will call the shots tonight. With his own lascivious gaze, he relinquishes control to her and moves to his position, hooking her legs over his shapely shoulders and spreads them wider.

“Fuck.” It slips out like an accident, like he didn’t mean to break the silence but can’t help himself as her beautiful cunt bares itself to him. Still wet from when he first tasted her just minutes prior, even her thighs are wet. He licks broad stripes at the wetness on both her thighs, not wanting any of her essence going to waste. She’s mouthwatering and he uses that to make her even wetter, quickly collecting it on his tongue and harshly spitting on her pussy.

She squeals at the harsh and warm contact but can barely get the laugh stuck in her throat out as Jeonghan dives into her cunt to spread the spit from her slit up to her clit. A wicked smile spreads on her lips as Jeonghan finally makes good on his reputation with his tongue. When he finally sinks his tongue into her hole, Wonwoo can see how she relaxes. Finally, she moves to lay back down, leaning back on her elbows and her mouth ajar at the pleasure stemming from her center.

The room sounds wet and disgusting with panting to break the sounds of tongue and spit and cunt.

Wonwoo eyes trail up the length of his girl’s body, starting from her curling toes and delicate ankles in the air and her plush thighs caging Jeonghan’s face. The heaviness in her breathing is causing her to suck in her stomach and he longs to trace her ribs and roughly grasp her tits, thinking they must be cool to the touch with no one fondling him. He thinks that’s where he would be better at Jeonghan.

He would have praised her everywhere at every given moment.

As his gaze moves up to her face, he starts when he catches her eye. She’s been watching him watch her. She bites her lip suddenly at a particularly harsh suck from Jeonghan. She has just enough time to send him a wink before she lays herself down on her back and looks up. Wonwoo can only smirk because he knows what she means. Its a reminder. A reminder of this evening’s conditions and that the night is young and that there is so so much left to be done.

What you got in the stable We’ve a lot of starving faithful

Wonwoo’s will remains strong as he keeps his eyes locked with her body. Even when she moves her hands to grasp her breath and to pinch and twist and pull at her own nipples, he doesn’t look away. When she lays her head back letting it fall off the bed, she licks her lips and opens them wide, Wonwoo does the opposite and grits his teeth. She sticks out her tongue in invitation at Mingyu who has been quiet and good and reverent, waiting for his turn. Wonwoo has to bite his tongue when Mingyu finally grips onto her jaw, fingers slipping onto the back of her head and tangling with her. It's to keep her mouth open and wide as he finally sinks his cock into her throat.

The image playing before Wonwoo is beautiful, he thinks. The way Mingyu’s eyes have slipped closed as he fucks into the tight wet heat of her mouth beautiful. Her lips wrapped around him tightly and how she sucks down on his cock in time with his shallow thrusts, is beautiful. The way Jeonghan’s tongue slides against her folds and dips into her center, causing her eyes to flutter, is beautiful. Wonwoo finds beauty etched into her face even when her hair is mussed, her hips are bruised from another’s hands, and her lips are swollen from sucking someone else’s cock.

Beautiful.

She is an expert lover and is eager to please as she lets Mingyu’s impressive length fuck her throat, relaxing her throat to take him as far as she can. Mingyu hisses as her lips stretch over his length and feels her throat constrict around him. The loud groan Mingyu lets out only spurs her on even when he pulls out to catch his breath and grip at the base of his cock. Wonwoo gets it. He doesn’t want this to end so soon.

The loss of Mingyu’s cock upsets her, empty feeling in her mouth as she pulls away only to take him back into her mouth again, slowly this time around. She is patient as she sucks lightly on the delicate head of Mingyu’s cock, digging her tongue into the slit for good measure. She opens her mouth wide again in invitation. As Mingyu fucks his cock back into her mouth, she hollows her cheeks and moans lowly. Wonwoo knows just the look of it is driving Mingyu wild, the bulge in her throat hard to miss. She moves quicker, now, sucking faster, a hand above and behind her to pull Mingyu even closer, knowing that Mingyu is not too far from release. He’s concentrated, focused on finally coming and he pulls of off her to jerk himself off with long thick fingers wrapped around his cock. Her lips press kisses to the skin of his thighs,  his stomach, whatever she can reach in her position. She eyes the head of his cock and quickly laps up the drop of precome from Mingyu’s slit and turns to look back over to Wonwoo with a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Mingyu,” she says, voice sultry and smooth, “come down my throat.”

Her every request is a command and every command must be followed. She quickly takes Mingyu back into her mouth, and Wonwoo knows it’s too much for Mingyu. He cries out and spills into her mouth as she eagerly swallows and sucks around him. Wonwoo’s fists are clenched so hard as he watches the few drops of come that collect around the side of her mouth. She continues to suck even as Mingyu’s shoulders start to sag and the muscle on her lower stomach starts to twitch in response to his sensitivity. It’s just as Mingyu pulls away, almost tripping over himself backwards, and she could even make a move to clean off the come on her lips, her face crumples in pleasure.

All this time Jeonghan’s been patiently lapping at her center, digging his tongue into her hole and sucking on her clit.

Her self-control is commendable as she sits herself up and pulls Jeonghan off of her even when she’s so close to coming. Jeonghan pushes her almost roughly onto the bed with her head on the pillows and Wonwoo feels himself almost standing. Jeonghand presses kisses down the length of her body, from her neck to the valley between her breasts. Jeonghan is a thorough lover, always biting too hard or fucking too quickly, but she loves it almost when fucking is slow and almost torturous. Jeonghan nips and licks at her stomach as his hands knead at her chest roughly. He pinches at her nipples and smiles as she squeals. He looks up and behind himself at Mingyu expectantly, and Mingyu, without missing a beat, swoops down to press a kiss to Jeonghan’s lips.

Wonwoo can see the jealousy in her eyes as she watches the exchange before her. She wants the taste of someone’s tongue on her lips but she tries to tame the hunger. She whimpers, wanting to avert the attention back to her body and both Jeonghan and Mingyu pull away with a small smile on their faces as Jeonghan continues to move down her body.

Jeonghan nudges her to spread her legs and she obeys with a knowing smirk. She bites down on her lower lip and Jeonghan settles in between her legs. He uses two fingers to spread her folds and Wonwoo can see how wet she is from Jeonghan’s prolonged torture. She loves it though. She loves getting close to release and falling just short of it, having to build up to it all over again. She says it makes the orgasm just so much better. It doesn’t take much for Jeonghan to get her thrashing on the bed. He licks broad stripes against the length of her center and sucks harshly on her abused clit. The way he dips his tongue into her with his thumb rubbing tight circles against her nub has tears in her eyes.

When Jeonghan slips two long fingers into her curling them upwards and scissoring them inside her she whimpers out his name like a prayer. It's when Jeonghan slips in a third finger and roughly curls them inside of her repeatedly that she allows herself to drown in her first release. The stretch feels delicious and she can hardly stop herself from spilling onto Jeonghan’s fingers. Wonwoo’s ears perk up as her moans grow erratic and she calls out a name.

“Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo stands from his seat across the room with a determined look on his face. All night he’s been patient. All night he’s had to watch her writhe in pleasure without making a move, without saying a word. Now it was his turn.

That looks tasty That looks plenty This is hungry work

Wonwoo has tunnel vision when he looks at her. The only thing clear is her and everything else can fade away. She is the only thing he sees. He pays no mind to Mingyu breathing heavily beside her, or Jeonghan who is pressing kisses down her thighs. All he can see is his girl biting down on her lip and the fire that's dancing in her eyes. She's breathing hard and heavy and there is nothing Wonwoo wants more than to feel her breath on his lips. 

Wonwoo stands at the foot of the bed and pulls his shirt off in one smooth move. Her eyes are clouded but as he moves to unbuckle his belt, she calls out to him to stop. 

"I want to do it," she says and Jeonghan finally releases her from his grasp and lays back on the pillows to wrap a hand around his weeping cock.  

She on the other hand moves sluggishly towards Wonwoo, but he loves the way she looks. Languid, relaxed, worshiped. 

She kneels in front of Wonwoo, the height of the bed makes it perfect for her to look into his eyes as she reaches down to unbutton his jeans. Her fingers move deftly and Wonwoo pushes them down the rest of the way.

It's quiet in the room—no one dares to make a sound as she and Wonwoo are eye to eye. The air around them is static and it's almost solemn how the two look at each other. This wasn't sex, and this was most definitely not just fucking. This is an offering, a celebration, a sacrament only she and Wonwoo would ever understand. Mingyu and Jeonghan were mere bystanders, only hoping to feel a semblance of elation that she and Wonwoo share with one another. 

For the first time that night their lips meet and Wonwoo can finally breathe. There is no second guessing, no hesitation or shyness. There is only love and adoration. Wonwoo is a starving man and only her kisses could feed him, nourish him, and bring him back to health. This was one of this evening's conditions. Neither Jeonghan nor Mingyu could kiss her—only Wonwoo could claim her lips, breathe in her air, and taste her tongue in his mouth. 

She pulls away only to press more kisses against his face, down to his neck to lick hot stripes against his skin. She latches onto his collarbones, sucking and biting, determined to make her mark. She does the same to the defined muscle of his chest and moves even further down to finally wrap her lips around his cock. 

On any other day Wonwoo would let her take her sweet time sucking on his cock, until he cries out and spills all over her face, but today he has no patience for such pageantry. He is starved and he has been patient for far too long. He allows her to sink down on him one more time, feeling the tight, wet heat of her throat before he pulls on her hair and meets her eyes. 

They share another heated kiss before Wonwoo pulls away to roughly push her back onto the bed that is finally vacated. She smirks at his rough handling but the way she spreads her legs is an invitation. She wants this just as much as he does. 

Wonwoo presses kisses onto her feet and up her calves. He nips and licks at the meat of her thighs and she holds her breath, praying for him to press a kiss where she wants him most but he smirks at her knowingly. He leaves her core untouched and opts to suck a bruise on her hip, the first of many she will be getting tonight.  

She holds Wonwoo's gaze as he dips his tongue into the hollow of her belly button. Wonwoo can feel her skin humming under his lips. She threads her fingers through his thick black hair and tugs impatiently. Wonwoo smiles against her skin as he wraps one of her legs around his hip. He moves quickly and captures her lips again in a heated kiss, cradling her face in his large hands. She rolls her hips pathetically, trying to ease the need for friction, moaning desperately. Her hands grip onto Wonwoo's broad shoulders for dear life and Wonwoo hisses as she digs her nails into his skin, littering his skin with small crescents. 

When Wonwoo pulls away he runs his thumb across her cheek and looks into her eyes. Her eyes are glistening with something secret that only Wonwoo can read. They read vulnerability, hunger, trust, and above all things, love. He smirks down at her before he presses his thumb against her plump lower lip, opening her mouth.

"Open up, baby girl," he says as her mouth opens up and her tongue flicks to lick at Wonwoo's thumb, "Now, suck." 

Both her hands fly up to hold onto Wonwoo's larger hand and bring two of his fingers up to her mouth. She presses her tongue flat against the digits in her mouth and sucks earnestly. Wonwoo smirks, pleased with her compliance. His eyes leave her for a moment to glimpse at Jeonghan and Mingyu who are locked in a deep kiss with Mingyu pumping steadily at Jeonghan's cock. 

His eyes go back to his girl as he grinds down to feel how wet she is on his cock. She groans around his fingers at the feeling of how heavy Wonwoo's cock feels against her. 

"Patience, baby," Wonwoo whispers as his head dips down to lick a broad stripe against one of her nipples, "I want to worship you." 

He finally pulls his fingers from her mouth with praise and presses his fingers against her center. He slips both fingers into her easily with how wet she is and he sucks on a nipple. At first his slender fingers move slowly, easing into her but he speeds up until his pace is almost punishing. 

"Wonwoo, please!" She yells out, eyes clamped shut. 

Wonwoo releases her nipple from his mouth to send her a lopsided smile, "Please what, baby? Tell me what you want, sweetheart," He says before taking her nipple back to his mouth. 

She only groans in frustration and that isn't good enough for Wonwoo.

"I don't know how your wicked little mind managed to think this up," Wonwoo whispers as he adds another finger into her, "Are you having fun? Is it all you ever wanted?" 

He's taunting her, she knows it. He wants her to know, to feel even just a fraction of the agony he felt as he watched her being pleasured by hands and mouths that aren't his. 

"Is Jeonghan's mouth as good as mine? Huh, baby? Did you like sucking Mingyu's cock? Did his cock fuck your throat as well as mine does?" 

She can barely get anything more than a whimper out of her mouth now that Wonwoo is rubbing tight circles against her clit. 

"Not too mouthy now, are we?" Wonwoo smirks, watching as a single tear falls from her eye. "Just tell me, baby. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." 

She groans in frustration, "You. Wonwoo, I want you." 

"What do you want me to do, baby?" He asks, teeth grazing her collarbone, tongue laving at her flesh. 

"Wonwoo, please," she whimpers, unable to get the worlds out of her mouth, "Please f-fuck me." 

Wonwoo loves when she gets impatient, nearly crying in frustration, because he knows it'll feel so much better when he finally fucks her. 

"My pleasure," he says as he slips his fingers from her to pinch her clit between his fingers while his teeth clamp down on her nipple. 

She groans at the sensations flooding her body but screams when Wonwoo finally pushes into her. 

Offer me that deathless death  Good god, let me give you my life 

There is something about the way she and Wonwoo move that's different. There's something in the way her mouth falls open and in the way Wonwoo mouths at her jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses on her damp skin. Wonwoo's hips move languidly, like they have all the time in the world, and it seems like they do.

It is as if the whole world has stood still to pay respect to such a ritual—two godly creatures becoming one to shower praise onto each other. 

This is the way it always was with him and her. She begs for him to take her, like a woman starved, someone lowly praying to the divinity for sanctification, as if she were the one in need of salvation. In reality it is Wonwoo who is the sinner. It is Wonwoo who falls to his knees for her, the one to give offering to such a high being. He is the one who needs to be cleansed, he is the one in need of salvation. 

So he offers her his body, his heart, his soul. And she consumes him whole. 

Wonwoo continues to move at a leisurely pace, wanting to feel how she tightens around him whenever he pushes into her so slowly. It's beautiful, the way her face crumples up when his pace is this gentle. It is a far cry from the way he touched her earlier. But this is all part of the plan, the ritual. 

Her leg around his hip tightens around him, a silent plea for him to move faster, take her to the edge quicker, fuck her, praise her, love her harder. 

Wonwoo smirks and quirks his eyebrow at her before he moves to adjust her leg, lifting it so it's placed comfortably on his shoulder. The position allows for him to move deeper, quicker, rougher. 

Her eyes squeeze shut as Wonwoo slides in deeper, pressing into that spot that drives her crazy just right. She can't form any coherent thoughts, her brain is a jumbled mess. She can barely remember the events of the evening with only the ghost of Jeonghan's tongue on her body and Mingyu's cock down her throat.

She opens her eyes to see Wonwoo smiling down at how and she can't help but return the small gesture. Yes, she thinks, this beautiful, amazing, gifted man is mine and I am so wholly his. 

And this is how they dance, how they love, how they topple over the edge. This is how the world stops and listens to the ragged breaths and the whispered confessions. 

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human Only then I am clean

Wonwoo removes his lips from her neck to press kisses up to her ear. He bites lightly at the lobe of her ear before he slows the movements of his hips. 

"I want you to come now," Wonwoo says, teeth still pressing down on her lobe. 

"Make it worth my time," she laughs breathlessly. 

Wonwoo takes it as a challenge. He quickens his movements, pounding into her as quickly as his body lets him, and she quivers around him, her body arching off the bed. His pace is punishing, but this is exactly what she wants—what she needs. 

Wonwoo moves his arms from beside her head to grab onto her hands, bringing them above her. Their fingers are intertwined, a show of intimacy despite their carnal act. 

Wonwoo sucks a deep purple bruise on her neck as his hips continue to move, a little sloppier now that he's nearing his end. She's about to come too. Wonwoo can tell by the way her moans hitch, how her breathing is more shallow, and how her eyes are screwed shut. 

“Open up, love.”

Like clockwork, her jaw falls slack and her eyes weakly open to gaze up at him. Pleading. He wants this–Wonwoo wants this forever. All it takes is for Wonwoo to harshly spit in her mouth and finally spill all of his come into her cunt for her to finish and cry out his name.

Her breathing is ragged and her skin is damp, but Wonwoo thinks she looks vibrant. He pays no mind to Mingyu and Jeonghan who are kissing on the bed, both sated and have sleep heavy on their eyelids. Wonwoo untangles one of his hands from hers to brush her hair away from her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

Wonwoo may very well be condemned to hell because he’s committed countless sins and cares not to seek forgiveness. He pays it no mind. Not when there are better ways to pray, more important things to revere, and beings far more perfect to praise.

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you. this is an older work of mine that I revisited after YEARS and felt would work well with these members. let me know what you think!!

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

thinking about how i would hypothetically rewrite rwby (i probably never actually will because i can't fucking commit, tbh)

and i think the overall key would be like

"make it narrower, but deeper"

like to use an analogy. RWBY to me is like. rain on a salt flat. looks cool, expansive, but shallow as hell.

which i do understand. this is a hypocritical complaint, tbh. i *do* often abandon my own ideas, and make things overcomplicated.

(i even had to edit the above down, it was 3x longer for no good reason.)

but instead, i'd make rwby more like a deep pond rather than the big wet salt flat.

"wtf does that Mean tho"

well here's a basic rundown.

-axe the racism. i am black, and find it a fundamentally poor allegory, even *with* more polish. tbh on a more shallow front i'd also just like doing animal jokes without it being racist.

-retool it to classism that affects all races (also helps my issue with Cinder's backstory feeling like a Faunus backstory)

-(yes, yes, intersectionality, the two issues are fundamentally intertwined, i know, i know, but you get the gist of it)

-this could make the thing with adam and blake *more* interesting in some ways, as because Blake has a well-off family and just sympathizes with the cause, Adam grows to resent that, feeling she'll never *really* understand or *really* be willing to go as far as the movement needs, in his eyes.

-salem's a mortal, middle-aged woman who became obsessed with illegal grimm research and experimented on herself. Not some Ancient Great Evil.

- similarly, Ozpin is Just The Headmaster. No Epic Cosmic Destiny or reincarnations.

-there is no fucking ever after

-there are no fucking relics

-there are no confirmed gods but there Are religions

"ohh you're sooo high and mighty, removing stuff rather than having the bravery to add or build on anything"

okay, fucko strawman i invented, i see you.

-there *is* magic. (but Atlas isn't held up by magic, it really is just Gravity Dust now)

-simply put, "magic" is now defined as "being able to draw upon the world's Aura rather than yours, and without reliance on Dust"

-btw, Dust is just a sort of "crystalized" version of world Aura, so now the three concepts are neatly tied together (yes, this makes it TECHNICALLY a renewable resource, but it replenishes slow as fuck)

-by extension, Grimm (And Salem and Cinder) are magic in a parasitic sort of sense. (they passively suck the Aura outta things and can slowly sicken and kill just by *existing* somewhere for too long/ too great a number. But as a direct result of how this wouldn't be sustainable for them long-term, they *usually* have a natural instinct to spread out and wander, which lets the land recover and makes them a little more manageable to fight).

-by further extension, Cinder's Grimm arm is neatly explained as a further exploitation of Grimm's pre-existing parasitic, power sapping nature

-Silver eyes are magic, as what they draw upon is the collective hope, willpower, and general positive energy of humanity

-Ozpin and Salem were like. multidisciplinary scientists/historians who both sought to study and revive magic for human usage, as it's not only more flexible, but neither of them missed the implications of a power source that can cut out Dust as a middleman entirely, either.

-Salem of course IMMEDIATELY saw the connection of Grimm being, BY FAR, the most abundant avenue for magic around.

-Ozpin was all like "Saleypoos. Saleykins. My sweet. Grimm are like the world's parasites. This *has* to be a bad idea."

- "Ohrrrr Ozzed Pin my Sweet, Don't You Gnow? all we have to do is modify the Grimm tissue to make it more cooperative and less harmful! You know, Watts thinks that he's really onto something with using cybernetic implants to control and alter their behavior... and I've been talking to this wonderful Dr. Merlot fellow, and if we include his theories, I really think we have a shot at this!"

-"Weeeelll... ok... if you say so. I know I can always trust you :)))"

-OZPIN COULD, IN FACT, NOT TRUST HER (Or Dr. Merlot, or Watts, for that matter)

-This raises the fucked up possibility that, in fact, Salem is *such* a recent phenomenon that the reason the Branwens can become birds is because this is a power granted by sketchy Grimm research, and *this* is why everyone else is so affronted, because it takes it from "oh cool he gave them powers" to "WHAT DO YOU *MEAN* YOU DID SECRET GRIMM EXPERIMENTS ON ORPHANS, EVEN IF THEY DID CONSENT. HOW ARE YOU EVEN HEADMASTER. WHAT."

- Yang being the one who is particularly affronted and concerned because now she's paranoid that she was born secretly maybe like 5% Grimm without knowing it.

Weiss: come on Yang... don't be ridiculous...

Ruby: yeah, i mean, sure your eyes turn red when you use your Semblance, but I'm sure that's just-

Yang: oh my GOD my eyes DO turn red!

Blake, loudly whispering through clenched teeth: Ruby! Not helping!

Nora, oblivous: welllll your Semblance does kinda, in a way, absorb energy from others, which *might* sound a *liiiiittle* like a Grimm, BUT-

Blake: NORA.

Weiss: *facepalm*

Yang: *existential crisis*

[hehimrabies]

preacher’s “daughter”!randy x drifter!benson → Randy, who’s stuck in a traditional household, who’s father is a follower of Christ, who can’t be the boy he wants to be deep down inside because he knows it’ll never go over well with his family. so he stays in the white, frilly, lacy dresses his mother buys for him. he goes to church, he prays, he attends confession on his knees, clutching his onyx rosary close to his chest—a chest he wishes were flatter. he can’t look at himself in mirrors, forces smiles in photos, feigns interest in most things, pulls at his hair at night and beats at his chest as he quietly sobs into the darkness. he feels like he’s dying, being trapped in this body, this house, this person he was never meant to be. this girl. he doesn’t believe he’ll ever be free to be himself, to escape the expectations and chains of religion and his family

that is, until Benson rolls into town.

Benson, who never stays in one place for more than a few days, 5 max. who lives on cigarettes, beer, and shitty Chinese food. he doesn’t care for authority, that much was evident with how much his father beat him for “disobedience” and how young he was when he finally left home in his mom’s truck. he stays in roach ridden motels and the bed of his truck, stealing blankets to layer it with. who never holds down a “steady” job, instead just doing freelance work for businesses and homeowners. they never comment on his musk or the cuts and scars on his knuckles. he shops at second hand places for clothes, and with no wash, he often ends up smelling musty, but it’s not like he cares what anyone else thinks anyhow. who indulges in meaningless gas station hookups for a free hotdog every now and then, but never lets anyone get closer than that.

he ends up at Randy’s church to fix a wiring issue for the lights. that’s how they meet, Randy’s doe eyes gazing up at him on the ladder how he feigns staring up at Christ for his father. Benson hears his father reprimand him quietly, telling him to “stop gawking” and smirks quietly to himself. Randy lays in bed that night thinking about him—his full mustache, his jawline, his hard gaze, his shoulders—debating if he wants to be him..or be with him. sinful thoughts his father wouldn’t approve of, but he can’t help himself, his thighs shifting together under his covers.

Benson who gets him high for the first time alone up in the church attic, swapping a blunt back and forth until Randy’s eyes are tinged red and he can’t stop talking. and surprisingly, Benson listens to him. he hears him, his struggle to be seen and accepted. who pats Randy’s shoulder, murmuring to him about how he’s almost 22, he doesn’t have to live like this if he doesn’t want to. how he can just leave, escape, have his own life somewhere far away from this. hell, he’d lend him clothes if he wanted. Randy, whose plush lips quiver with barely restrained emotions, his high state pushing him over the edge into Benson’s strong arms. Benson, who mumbles reassuringly to him, rubbing his back through the lace of his dress.

how he was made in God’s image, and what’s more holy than the act of creation?

it’s this acceptance, this affection, almost, that drives Randy to make a plan. to pass notes to Benson as he works slowly day by day in the church. to pile into the passenger seat of his truck one late night. he tosses his bag at his feet, dressed in some baggy hand me downs from Benson, his heart pounding in his throat as they quietly roll out and away from his creaky house, and onto the road that leads to the main highway. he feels sick with guilt and pride. he can barely focus, he can barely breathe, but he somehow feels alive like this. and Benson can see it in his cheeks, in his eyes, in the way his hands shake in his lap, rosary between his fingers. he smiles softly, tilting his head towards him.

“so…you got a better name in mind?”

[msfbgraves]

Thinking about Abraham van Helsing and his refusal to even discuss vampirism until people have drawn their own irrefutable conclusion and going, oh, this poor sweet kaaskop (cheesehead, that's what we Dutchmen call ourselves).

You see, Dutchmen, and Hollanders in particular, are almost aggressively opposed to the idea of the supernatural. We're factual and neutral to a fault. The most well known horror story about the Dutch - The Flying Dutchman - was written by the English. We don't do fancy ourselves. Our horrors are aggressively real and mundane (it's flooding. We are obsessed with flood prevention. Scared out of our mind by drowning and storms). Our horrors are tangible and real and out in the open. Dying in a flood. Dying in a coal mine (a more Victorian fear). Dying in a flooding coal mine, to combine the two. Dying at sea. Dying in traffic.

But you can fight the sea. And we do fight the sea. With engineering. Technology. We look at stuff in detail and deal with what is right in front of us (the sea, the universe), and only that. We're bad poets and good scientists, we're great figurative painters. We are, as everyone knows, aggressively literal and straightforward.

Indeed Bram, that sweet man, has a very literal approach to vampire fighting. Lucy is being fed on? Blood transfusion. Aenemia is aenemia. Also, autopsies are autopsies, no matter why they are performed. Medicinal flowers are medicinal flowers, prevention is prevention no matter the circumstances.

He has been conditioned to think that everyone will violently reject anything supernatural that isn't in the Bible and even then. Because that is a what a Dutchman, a Hollander especially, would likely do. "The ordinary is crazy enough", is a close approximation of one of our most well known sayings.

And now imagine Bram van Helsing coming across vampirism somewhere prior to the story. He will have rejected it at first. Maybe he rejected it too long until he either had to choose between the truth of his own perception or the fact that he was insane. He will have self-diagnosed any and all mental illnesses that could afflict him until deciding that he was of sound mind, and this was a vampire attack. What would have taken a citizen of Bistritz minutes to accept and act upon (nothing too far removed from their religion, most likely), would have taken Bram weeks or months of lonely agony and doubt.

And maybe by then, it was too late?

Still, even after Lucy's testimony (in writing!); the punctured neck, the blood loss, the bat, the wolf attack, the physical changes, does he not say to Jack - if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck and acts like a duck, I am going to treat it like a duck, my friend. Instead he waits for Lucy to turn in front of Jack's eyes so he will have to believe in vampires because he saw it himself. To Van Helsing this is the only way to convince him because that is what it would take to convince an educated Dutchman. (I always joke that there are so few supernatural occurrences in The Netherlands because our outright refusal to believe in any of it kills it stone dead.)

This is dangerous, by the way - had he been alone, he wouldn't have let it get this far, I am sure of it. But there is a greater problem, a hunting vampire on the loose and he needs the help of his friends. And he doesn't dare confide in them.

How long has he been alone with this...?

Bram... 😭💔

[chloe-skywalker]

Easter Celebrations - Billy Hargrove

Billy x Fem!reader

Warnings: religion is mentioned if that is a warning?

Word count: 648

Summary: Billy’s family doesn’t really do holiday’s. Not like most families at least. So why not join in and see how his girlfriends family celebrates them. He was invited after all.

Authors Note: Don’t ask me why pretty much all my holiday imagines end up being “Billy Hargrove” imagines. Because I don’t know why it ends up that way. I think it’s because the character just ends up working perfectly for my idea of the story.

P.S - Easter is a religious holiday so if that’s a warning them there you go. Warned, but I only really mention that they go to church not any views or etc…

 Also to those who celebrate it Happy Easter!

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Holiday Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

(gif does not portray what goes on in the story on this one its just different I hate reusing gifs)

“I’m so glad you came.” Y/n smiled at Billy as she opened the front door to let him in.

“I wanted to see how you do Easter. I’m sure it’s a hell of a lot different than how it’s been done in my family.” BIlly shrugged putting his hands in his pockets as he entered her home.

“Well, my little sister isn’t up yet. So no eggs have been hunted, and no basket’s touched.” Y/n told him excitedly, closing the door behind him, pulling him into the living room. “Mom made you a basket too.”

Billy looked at her in shock. “She didn't have to do that.”

“She wanted to.” Y/n smiled reassuring him that it was okay, Y/n reached out for his hand and squeezed. And it did.

^     ^     ^

“So how’s Easter so far?” Y/n asked, nudging him with her arm as they sat next to each other on the couch.

“I’m shockingly enjoying it.” Billy smiled at her. He was enjoying it, more than he thought he would. Watching Y/n help her little sister hunt for egg’s and they even did egg’s filled with treats for the dog’s. Her mom was even nice enough to put together a basket for him like Y/n said. Filled with different chocolates and some other stuff.

“I’m glad.” Y/n nodded with a smile also on her face.

“Billy, hunny. We’re going to church in an hour for Easter service. You can stay here if you want. Catch up on some sleep I’m sure.” Y/n’s mom offered not wanting to force the young man to join them.

“Actually…” Billy stopped Y/n from getting up from the couch and her mom from leaving he says with hopeful eyes. He actually wanted to go, he hadn’t been since his mom was around. Hence the necklace. “I’d like to join you all. If that’s ok.”

Y/n turned to look at him, trying not to show her shock. “Of course it is baby.”

“Great. We leave soon.” Y/m/n sent a smile the boys way before going to finish getting ready and help her younger child and their cousins as well.

“Are you ok?” Y/n asked once they headed up to her room for some privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Billy nodded, not sure why it seemed to be a big deal.

Y/n shook her head side to side not wanting him to think she didn’t want him to come. “Just checking. I mean, have you ever been to church before?”

Billy thought for a moment but he trusted Y/n. So maybe he should share a little more of himself with her. She knew more than most people anyway.

“Back with my mom. When I was younger. I remember what I learned there. It’s always stuck with me.” Billy told her thinking back on his childhood, the few good memories he has.

“Does that have to do with the pendant?” Y/n asked curious since he was in a sharing mood. Moving across the room to stand in front of him as he currently sits on her bed.

“Yeah. It was my mom’s, she gave it to me. It always reminds me of her, and that one day I might see her again… Thank you. For inviting me to celebrate Easter with you and your family.” Billy explained, resting his hands on her hips as she played with the pendant around his neck.

“Billy, you’re part of my family. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Y/n smiled happily running her hands over his shoulders.

“I’ll always enjoy every day of any life as long as you're in it.” He stated pulling her to fall on top of him laying back on her bed, and the two started to passionately make out. After all, they had some time before church.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @starkleila

[guillotinesandroses]

Husband of the Hedonistic God; Douma + Male Reader

You should fear him. Others kneel and cower before him. If you should not tremble for his status, then for the secret you know, that the wine in his glass has never been wine at all. Perhaps for your fearlessness, you are a fool of a man. Even so, every remnant of cowardice crumbles when the demon's prism eyes turn to you. 

Reflections of color dance around his pupils. Why he was mistaken for a god, the reasons are clearer than ever. The entire rainbow, all shades of life look back at you, and they stare with love. Softness falls over his normally stoic features. Well, most would not call him stoic, but you know better than to stare at his red lips when he talks. 

Eyes are windows to the soul, as they say. His seldom show anything but apathy. That only changes when he looks at you, and it is far more than you could ever ask of him. Your heart jumps at the thought, throat bopping as you swallow. While his love is faint and fragile, yours has always been overflowing. 

Still, he loves you. In spite of all he has experienced in his centuries, he fell in love with you. A simple man rejected by his own kind melted an ancient heart. You could not bring yourself to marry a woman, that much you always knew. Even so, you never could have guessed that marrying a man, let alone one so powerful, would have been your destiny. 

Your lover, no, your fiance finishes up a conversation with one of his many worshipers. A loving smile falls to your lips as he approaches with a grin. Knowing his routine, you open yourself up to him as walks faster. 

"My divine companion!" He throws his arms around you and pulls you in. The enthusiasm in his voice may be false, but the hidden gratitude is genuine. His eccentric tone remains as a gentle, clawed hand traces over your face. "Oh, how I missed you so!" 

"I missed you as well. How were the sermons?" You pull him closer with a smile. 

"Far too boring!" He whines, burying his face into your chest, words muffled by your yukata. "Listening to all of those idiots go on and on, it's like torture... but now I'm here with you!" 

"I'm happy you are. I prepared dinner, if you're hungry." 

He hums, teasing gaze meeting yours. "I don't know. I think I am hungry... but for you." 

"My blood won't satisfy you anymore, you know that." You feign ignorance with a small smile. 

He laughs, pushing past and pulling you with him. "I can't believe you call me a tease. Talk more like that, I could just eat you up!" 

"Careful, I might have take you up on that offer... even return the favor, if you're lucky." You pull open the door to his private chambers, eyes half-lidded. 

He licks his lips, giggling behind his golden fan. "Tempting... ah, tonight should not be busy. Doesn't matter, I don't want to waste precious time. Come on in, my dear husband! Let me show you why increased stamina is one of my favorite demonic qualities!" 

You chuckle as he guides you in, knowing tonight will be wonderful. Still, your thoughts catch onto the moniker he used for you: husband. Even after all this time, it is sometimes difficult to believe you truly can say it, you have a husband. Somehow being cast out and disowned became the best thing to ever happen to you. Honesty really does inherit the world, as they say. 

Initially some cultists had their own thoughts about their leader marrying a man, of course, but they were silenced soon. To think you managed to find someone capable of making this possible to begin with, you were far too lucky. Regardless of how your husband views religion, you cannot help but think of yourself as blessed. He took you in with no inhibitions, asking for no reward, when others would not spare you a second glance even when you offered labor. So far, this demon has shown you far more grace than a single mortal ever had. 

Giving up your humanity should have scared you much more than it did. However, with your husband by your side it seemed like another simple marriage ritual, just like any other. Nevertheless, you knew all too well by now what you had signed yourself up for. All your life you sacrificed yourself for your family, for the people surrounding you. In spite of your efforts and suffering, they tossed you aside the moment you failed to meet their arbitrary standards of perfection. 

He would never do so, laughing at the very concept of their so called normalcy. Although there were many beliefs of his you could never agree with, his carefree attitude allowed you to relax as well. Before long you both laughed with him and debated philosophical questions deep into the dark hours of the night. That was when he preferred to be active anyway, and soon your sleep schedule adjusted to his, or at least what his looked to be. He revealed his true nature seemingly on impulse, yet with nothing to lose, you accepted the demon right away. 

The rest is history. Within the silver glow of the moonlight, loving praises, and torn flesh, your love is written in blood. Although your ancestors and relatives would roll in their graves if they were to see, all it does is fuel your need to let waves of sake wash over you. Hopefully your lover will freeze it over, so you never have to leave his ecstasy again. Whatever he needs from you will be his, for he granted you immortality, love, and freedom- he, your beloved hedonistic god. 

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Religion

Gray talks to Diasomnia about religion.

This chapter contains some story spoilers for the end of Book 7 and some discussion of religious indoctrination and abuse.

Read the previous chapters here and crossposted to AO3 here.

Malleus and the other Diasomnia boys only returned to school a little while ago, but I feel like I’ve rarely seen them. Ever since Malleus’ overblot, they’ve all been busy recovering. Malleus has also been busy trying to make reparations, and the others have been busy catching up on things and healing. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been trying to reach out, either. I haven’t been sleeping awfully well.

Ever since the overblot, the sleep potion hasn’t been working as well. I can sleep with it, but the dreams… I know I’m not waking up screaming, since Grim would have complained, but I keep waking up in a cold sweat and I feel sick with dread for hours after. I’ve taken to just staying up late, and ducking Vil in the hallways so he doesn’t see my dark circles and catch on.

Which is why, despite the late hour, I hear the voices creeping up through Ramshackle’s garden one night. I head to the back door and push it open.

It’s Malleus, flanked by Silver and Lilia, Sebek just behind them. They’re on a late-night walk, I guess. Something Malleus used to do alone.

It’s Sebek who notices me in the doorway first. “Ah! Gray!”

Three other faces turn to look at me. “Did we wake you?” Silver asks. “Apologies. We should have been more careful-”

“No. I was awake. I’ve been awake. Do you want pancakes? I’ve been making them. You can come in, if you want some,” I say.

There’s a beat. Then Sebek’s stomach growls so loudly, even I can hear it. Lilia laughs. “I suppose we’ll be coming in, then!”

They all troop into the house. Malleus pauses as he crosses the threshold of the doorway and looks at me. “How have you been faring, child of man?” His acid-green eyes burn holes into my face. “Have you been well?”

I shrug. “Well as can be expected, I guess.”

Guilt shutters his expression. I feel sort of bad about it, so I try to continue. “I feel okay, Malleus. Just a little tired.”

Malleus tilts his head at me, then looks at the clock on the wall. “It is past midnight,” he notes. “Why are you making pancakes so late?”

“Ah, crap!” I forgot, there was one on the stove! I dart back into the kitchen, brushing past Silver and Sebek on the way. The half-cooked one on the stove is slightly raw on one side, charred black on the other. I flip it over to finish cooking, anyway. “Damn. I’ll take this one guys, don’t worry. You don’t have to eat it.”

“Don’t be modest, it doesn’t look half-bad,” Lilia says. He settles down at the table, Silver and Sebek on either side of them. Malleus dithers at the head of the table before sitting on Silver’s other side. He shifts a bit in his seat. Is the chair uncomfortable for him? Or just the setting?

I gather some plates from the cabinet and set them around the table, then place the plate with all the pancakes in it in the center. Malleus watches as I go back to the stove. “Are you not going to eat?”

“Uh, when I’m done cooking all these off, I’ll have some,” I say, pouring more batter into the pan. Malleus nods and the four of them start digging in with gusto. Sebek nearly drowns a pancake in syrup before shoving large chunks into his maw. Malleus eats far more politely, as does Silver. Lilia, however, doesn’t bother with silverware- he just tears up a pancake in his hands before dipping it in syrup and eating.

“I am surprised Grim’s not here,” Lilia says between and through mouthfuls. “I would have thought the smell would have drawn him right down.”

“He’s asleep,” I say. Which really only gives you a 50/50 shot of him not noticing food, but I guess the coin flip came up lucky this time.

“Hmph! If Grim is asleep, shouldn’t you be as well?” Sebek asks, taking a brief pancake break to glare at me. “Sleep is a vital part of training!”

“I’m not training for anything,” I tell him. “And none of you are asleep either.”

Malleus looks like the idea amuses him. “We are all night fae,” he says. “Almost all, anyway.” He smiles at Silver, who smiles back. “And all of us are used to spending nights awake.” He levels a clawed finger at me. “You are not.”

Is he trying to be concerned? Maybe. I shrug. “It’s not like I have to wake up early tomorrow or anything.”

I go back to flipping pancakes. Everyone else goes back to eating. Lilia and Silver say something, though I’m not paying attention enough to catch what it is. “Would you like some help?” Lilia calls after a moment, followed by a semi-frantic round of dissuasion from the table.

“No, I’m good,” I say. “Keep eating.”

“Mrow!” There’s some thumping and suddenly a small shape tumbles into the room. “Mrrow! Mow!”

“Woah, hey!” I say as Sassy books it toward the table. “What’s the matter with you? Late night zoomies?”

To my surprise, she lunges onto the table, plants herself in front of Malleus and starts meowing at him. He blinks at her. “What a bold creature you are.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I say. “I think she’s got the zoomies.” I try to grab her, but she shoots out from my grip and lands on Silver’s chest.

“What are the zoomies?” Malleus asks. The word sounds odd in his mouth.

“It’s a thing cats do, where they get super excited and start running around for no reason,” I explain. I reach for Sassy again, but she jumps away from Silver and lands on Lilia’s head. He wobbles awkwardly as she leans over to yowl in his face. As soon as he tries to grab her, though, she jumps over to Sebek, scrambling to stay on his broad shoulders as her tail smacks his face.

“I’m so sorry!” I yelp. This time, I manage to get ahold of her and yank her off of a stunned Sebek. “I don’t know what she’s doing, she’s never normally like this!”

I haul her off to find a room to shut her in, though she keeps meowing at them, escalating to howls once the kitchen is out of sight. I shove her into a bedroom and close the door- at least no one uses it, so she can cool off and come out later.

“Like I said, I’m so sorry,” I say as soon as I reenter the kitchen. “Sassy isn’t usually like that at all, I don’t know what got into her.”

“Sassy is Gray’s cat,” Malleus informs Lilia. I mean, I’m pretty sure he could have gathered that from context clues, but okay. Lilia nods, a frown creeping across his expression.

“Has she ever acted like that before?” he asks.

“No. It’s a bit weird. I hope she’s not sick.”

Sebek, meanwhile, is clawing at his face. “The cat got hair up my nose!” He rears back, then doubles over with a dad-esque sneeze. It’s kind of impressive.

“Bless you,” I say distractedly. “I really am sorry.”

“Why did you say that?” Malleus asks.

“Sorry? Well, she’s my cat, sort of, so I’m responsible if she goes crazy and attacks you…”

“No,” Malleus clarifies. “You blessed Sebek.”

“Huh? I didn’t-” Oh, but I did say ‘bless you,’ didn’t I? People don’t really say that here. Even after months of living in this world, though, I haven’t shaken the habit.

“You said ‘bless you,’” Lilia agrees. “Though you have no power to bless anyone, of course.”

“It doesn’t mean you actually bless someone,” I say, sitting down at the table. There’s still batter left, but there’s nothing on the stove. I figure I can pause making pancakes for a bit. “It’s just something you say.”

“Is it something you said back home?” Silver asks. I nod.

“Everyone says it when someone sneezes. It’s polite.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Sebek says. “No one from your home has magic. No one can bless anyone!”

“It’s not about actually blessing anyone,” I say. It’s just something you say. You guys say ‘night’s blessings’ all the time, and you’re not actually blessing anyone.”

“That is about encouraging the general blessing and good will of the night to go with the person you’re parting from,” Malleus says. “And it is true that we don’t actually bless someone every time, we do have the power to do so. What could be blessing people in your world if there is no magic?”

I huff out a long breath. “God, I guess.”

“A god?” Lilia says. “I wasn’t aware that you had those.”

“Not a god, just God. It was a really popular religion back home,” I explain. “I mean, I don’t know if he’s real or anything. No one really knows.”

“How does no one know if there is a god or not?” Sebek snaps. “I would think such a thing would be obvious!”

I shrug. I know gods exist or at least have existed in the past in Twisted Wonderland, but I haven’t learned much about it. A lot of historical stories in Twisted wonderland blur into fables, so it’s hard to tell what’s true and what’s not. “Um, I don’t know much about other religions, but the one I grew up with, God’s supposed to be, like… you’re not really supposed to know he’s there, because he’s not supposed to interfere too much.”

“Why?” Silver asks. “That seems strange for a god.”

“Um.” I think for a bit. Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to my Sunday school classes. And it’s not like I can fish out a Bible or something. “It’s not that he doesn’t interfere, but the important part is supposed to be that people make their own choices? To prove whether they’re good or evil. But you can still pray for things and sometimes he’ll intervene… I think? Sometimes he won’t, also. You don’t know until you ask.”

“Does he have a specific domain?” Silver asks, looking interested. “Gods of the past had domains they controlled.”

“No, I think he’s supposed to be the god of everything,” I say. “Just the one. Um, I guess unless you’re part of the denominations that think he’s three people? Like, the father, the son, and the holy spirit…”

Sebek looks at Malleus, who looks at Silver, who looks at Lilia, who stares back at me. “I’m not explaining this very well,” I confess. “It’s very complicated.”

“Religion often is,” Malleus says with a knowing look.

“Do you guys have religion here?” I ask. I haven’t seen any churches or anything, and the holidays I’m aware of seem like they’re either tied to a specific region or something everyone celebrates. There haven’t been religious ceremonies mentioned.

“Well,” Lilia says. “Organized religion has always been more of a human thing, I suppose…”

“Fairies have a deep and abiding respect for nature,” Malleus explains. “There are rituals designed to gain strength from nature or show our respect that might take on what humans would perceive to be religious.”

Does that mean he doesn’t consider it religious? Actually, Sebek’s near-worship of Malleus makes me think Malleus himself might be the slightly-unwitting subject of a near-religion. Or, maybe he was. I don’t know how that stands now, all things considered.

“That’s kind of a thing some humans had too,” I muse. “Where I come from, anyway. So fairies don’t worship gods.”

Malleus taps a fingernail against his chin. “Some do,” he says. “There are many legends of old creatures who are more closely entwined with nature that some fae treat as deities. Those are relatively small affairs, though.”

“Some of them consider dragons worthy of worship,” Lilia says with a smirk.

“As they should!” Sebek barks. Malleus seems to shrug it off. I can’t tell if he’s uncomfortable with the idea, pleased, or something else entirely.

“Do you know anything about human religions?” I ask. The question is mostly directed at Lilia- if he’s traveled so much, surely he knows something?

He nods. “There are quite a few,” he says. “And they change so frequently. Some of them still worship those from the Age of Gods- for most people, it’s nothing dramatic. Just some prayers or incenses, I think. A few cultures have ancestor worship, I think- requesting spirits of those deceased to assist them. And there are those small groups that also worship nature- mostly beastmen, there, I think.”

A lot of religions, but it doesn’t sound like any of them are particularly similar to any of the predominant religions back home. “No one really talks about it,” I say. I have no idea if any of the people I know here have religions of their own, or what religion they have if they do. I understand that it’s not exactly a topic people bring up all the time, but surely it would have come up.

“Of course not,” Lilia says. “That would be rude.”

“It would?” I ask.

“It’s not rude to mention,” Silver says. “But religion is very personal and most people don’t want to bring it up unless they’re asked.”

Hm. I guess it’s the same way for a decent amount of people at home, but for some people, it’s definitely not. My thoughts must show on my face, because Malleus presses me. “Is it not the same in your home?”

“Eh, I mean, most people don’t talk too much about it. But there are always random street preachers and things like that.”

“Street preachers?” Silver repeats blankly.

“Uh, people who preach to other people on the streets, like, trying to tell them about their religion,” I explain.

“They do this to strangers?” Sebek asks, sounding a little disgusted.

“Well, yeah, that’s the point. Their goal is to convert people to their religion.”

Four faces look at me with mixed expressions of surprise and hostility. Lilia seems the least surprise. Malleus the most. Sebek’s surprise is almost annoying, considering he took every chance he got to convert people to the Cult of Malleus Draconia just a little while ago.

“Why?” Malleus asks after a moment. “What is the point?”

“Of converting people? Um. I guess because you think you’re right and you want everyone else to be right, too. A lot of people think…” I trail off. It’s a little embarrassing to get into.

“People think?” Silver prompts. Everyone at the table looks curious now, so I’m not sure I’m going to be able to shove this cat back into the bag.

“So, the religion that I grew up with, a lot of people thought that if you didn’t believe the religion, when you died, you were just going to go to, um. They called it Hell. And it was essentially just a place of torture forever. So, some people tried to convert everyone they could to the religion.”

“Why would anyone believe that?” Silver asks.

“Well, why does anyone believe anything? They think it’s true,” I say. “I guess none of your religions have similar beliefs.”

“Why would religions concern themselves with afterlives?” Malleus asks. “The Spectral Realm is known, as are ghosts. Those who die go there.”

“Not everyone believes as such,” Lilia says. Malleus looks bewildered, as does Sebek.

“But the Spectral Realm is real! As are ghosts! Any fool can see them on Halloween!” Sebek protests.

“Come now, boys, you know that people believe things that aren’t true all the time,” Lilia scolds. Malleus nods.

“This is true,” he agrees. “But I have never heard of someone who believes in eternal torment in the afterlife.”

“It sounds a bit like Tartarus,” Lilia says, shoveling another bite of pancake into his mouth. Sebek has shoveled away at least five by now. I nudge my plate toward him and he gives me a grateful look before chowing down.

“I thought Tartarus was for phantoms,” Silver says.

“Oh, yes, but supposedly, should a mage overblot and not be severed from their phantom, they will become subsumed by it,” Lilia says. His tone is grave. Sebek stops eating. “And should that phantom end up in Tartarus…”

Something cold and sick curls in the pit of my stomach. Malleus stares at the table, hands folded in his lap. “S-so. When we went to S.T.Y.X. and saw all those phantoms, those were all still people?” I ask.

“Not precisely. Whatever personhood they had has likely been dissolved into whatever emotions led them to become phantoms. After a certain point, they might have some disjointed thoughts and ideas, but they’re not really what you could call a person anymore,” Lilia explains.

I glance at Malleus. He’s still staring at the table. The idea of Malleus’ phantom, eternally trapped in the loneliness and despair of losing Lilia, wandering the world and wreaking destruction while not retaining enough of its higher functions to realize why, is creepy.

That could have been him. It could have been all of them. A phantom desperate to reduce order, to tear down a world that never respected him, to gain power, to gain freedom, to gain adoration, to turn the world upside down… Any of them could have become like the monster we met in the mines, uncaring of anything but one terrible emotion.

Animal terror leaps in my chest, screaming to run, move, hide somewhere. I ignore it. I’ve been getting a lot of practice with that lately. But that feeling is still there, that looming press of no escape coming in on all sides.

“There were no such things as ghosts in your world, correct?” Malleus says. I blink, half-dazed. “You mentioned that once, in a housewarden meeting. Ghosts are not real. So there would be no one to speak to about the afterlife.”

“No. I mean, there weren’t any ghosts that I believed in. Doesn’t mean that some people didn’t still believe.”

“Aren’t ghosts partially comprised of magic?” Silver asks. “Or they’re strengthened by magic, regardless. Would it be possible for them to exist in Gray’s world at all?”

I lift my hands helplessly. “You’re asking a lot of questions and I don’t have a lot of answers.”

“I suppose it makes sense that such a question would lead to more religious quandaries in your home,” Malleus says. “Though why people would desire for a place like that to be real…”

“I don’t know. A lot of people straight up don’t talk about that part of the religion. I mean I was technically raised Christian, and we talked mostly about Heaven- that’s the place that’s like the opposite of Hell, where everything is nice all the time and you go there if you do believe in God. But some people also believe that you just need to follow the positive teachings- like, as long as you’re generally a good person, you go to Heaven. My parents kind of believed that, that’s why they weren’t mad when I became an atheist- I didn’t believe in god, I mean.”

“It sounds very complicated,” Silver offers.

“I haven’t even gotten into the complicated parts! Like, so there’s Christianity, right, and that’s a religion that comes from another religion because they killed a guy that everyone decided was the son of God and also God himself, and there’s a third one in there somewhere too, but I didn’t understand when they talked about it, and no one talked about it much anyway, and anyway, there was Christianity and then it became a whole bunch of other little segments because everyone was fighting all the time, so there’s Catholicism and then there’s Protestantism which is also split into a bunch of smaller parts, like Baptist and stuff, and they all believe different things, at least a little bit, and people get into arguments about it all the time because everyone has a different interpretation. Oh, and this has all been translated multiple times because most people don’t speak the religion the original book was written in anymore.”

Silver blinks. He has an expression like someone just tried to brain him. Sebek frowns through a mouthful of pancakes. Malleus looks thoughtful. “Humans are wonderfully fascinating,” Lilia decides.

“It sounds very complicated,” Silver repeats. “Why is it like that?”

“Well, a lot of people disagree on the actual interpretations of the text,” I say, then, struck with inspiration, add, “Have you ever argued with someone on how they’re supposed to be interpreting a character in a book? Like, the character is written one way, but this person feels they’ve been written in a completely different way?”

“YES,” Sebek says, with force. Malleus, Lilia, and Silver all give indulgent, if somewhat teasing, smiles from around the table. I guess they’ve had to listen to Sebek ranting about books before. Or getting into arguments with other people.

“Okay. Now imagine that being able to correctly interpret the book had real, material consequences on your life and soul and someone else is saying something completely different with real, material consequences for their life and soul,” I say. Sebek’s mouth opens for a moment. Then he pauses. He looks a bit unsettled.

“It’s just that people all have different interpretations of what the religious texts say and how the world should be. And that influences their thoughts on religion. Or something like that. Like I said, I’ve never really been religious.” I rub my forehead. “It’s weird what kind of things they think are bad. Like you can’t… have two kinds of cloth together? Or gay people are bad. Or suicide. People say people who kill themselves go to hell. That’s sad, isn’t it? It seems mean.”

I slump over the table. There’s a delicate moment of silence before Malleus asks, “Are you feeling well, child of man?”

“Yeah, just… just tired,” I say, smothering a yawn.

“Perhaps you should get to bed,” Lilia says. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” I glance at the kitchen. “I should probably clean up, anyway.”

Silver casts a glance to the kitchen, then to the plates surrounding them. “Perhaps we should stay and help you clean up,” he offers.

“No, no, you don’t have to,” I say. “You can go back to your dorm, I’ll be fine-”

“Nonsense,” Malleus says. “It’s only right to reward your kind hospitality.”

There’s not much I can do after that except stand to one side and just let them work, directing them where things are when they ask.

“Are you certain you’ve been well?” Malleus asks at one point, pausing in the washing to stand next to me.

“Yeah. Are you?” I ask. “You’re sure you’re all recovered from… from everything?”

“I am fine,” Malleus says. “I had much medical attention when I was recovering.” He looks at me. “Ace mentioned to Sebek that you’ve been… unsettled since- since my overblot.”

“Not really,” I say. “It’s just been- it was a lot.”

Malleus waits, but when I don’t say anything, he continues. “If there is anything I can do, to make things more comfortable for you, you may ask it of me. Silver told me you assisted him during the dream travels.”

“I didn’t do much. I was just kind of there,” I say. “Are you sure you’re all right? You were the one who got hurt.”

“I’m recovered,” Malleus says. “Everything will heal. It will take time. But it will heal.”

He turns to look at the others- Lilia is flicking soap in Silver’s face, who’s just wiping it away without attempting to get him back. Sebek is scrubbing furiously at a pan, a line of suds dripping slowly down his cheek. I wonder if Lilia got him without him noticing.

Malleus’ expression is soft and fond. Despite what he’s lost, I can’t help but feel like he’s gotten everything he wants.

My chest hurts, so sharp that it makes me wince. Fortunately, Malleus doesn’t seem to notice. He just gazes warmly at his family.

“Um, hey, I actually had something I wanted to give to you,” I say to Malleus. He blinks at me.

“For me?” he repeats.

“Yeah. Hang on.” I scramble off, up the stairs and slip through my room, trying not to disturb Grim. I grab the little item off my desk and hurry back downstairs.

Malleus is waiting when I come back to him. “Um. I kind of was thinking about making this before the over- the everything, you know. But after- um. I just thought- maybe, because you lost your, uh. Well, it can be kind of a ‘feel better’ gift, you know?”

I tip it into his hand. He lifts it to his eyes to stare at it.

Admittedly, it’s not that good. It was something I thew together with a plastic figure I got from Sam’s shop, some air-dry clay, some wire I salvaged from a notebook, a few tools from around the house, and some gray paint. I just took the little lizard monster figure and bulked it up with wings, horns, and added some spines to its tail.

“It’s supposed to be a gargoyle, actually,” I say. “I, uh, punched a hole through it, so it actually has a water spout, kind of.”

Malleus blinks. “Ah. You really made it a gargoyle.” He inspects the spout.

“You’re going to have a hard time finding a building to mount it to, I guess,” I say. “Um. Maybe it can hang out with Roaring Drago?”

Malleus looks at me for a moment more, then laughs. It’s a surprisingly warm laugh, even if it still has a supervillain edge to it. “You are a strange one, child of man! Certainly, I should be gifting you with something instead, after all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I just thought you could use something to- Um. Just. I thought maybe it would help you feel better.”

Malleus pauses, expression clouding. “Ah. Perhaps… If I was still able to use powerful magic, perhaps I would be more useful in your quest to find home.”

I wave my hand. “No. I- Ortho looked into it. We were trying to find- It didn’t work. I don’t think- I don’t know if anyone can fix it.”

There’s an awkward silence, broken only by the clinking of plates in the water and Lilia, Silver, and Sebek’s voices. “There must be something I can do to repay you,” Malleus says. He’s being a little insistent. Then again, aren’t fairies all about fair deals? Maybe that’s why. “Sebek has mentioned you have a penchant for creating small creatures out of yarn. Perhaps I could spin you some supplies?”

“Spin me some- you actually know how to spin yarn? Really?”

Malleus nods. “Spinning wheels and fibrecraft are staples of Briar Valley. It would be shameful for the future king to now know of their workings.”

“Man, I’ve always thought spinning yarn is so cool,” I say. “Ever since I started getting into crochet, I thought it would be cool to be able to spin it.” I’ve been watching a bunch of yarn spinning videos on Magicam recently- they’re fascinating, almost hypnotic, especially when you can’t sleep.

Malleus smiles. “Perhaps I can give you a lesson, then? As repayment?”

“Oh, that’d be-” I pause. “Um. Actually. Maybe we can rain check? I just don’t know when would be a good time. Um. I’ve got. School. And things. And you probably have a lot to catch up on too, so.”

Malleus looks like something sour is crawling up the back of his throat. “I… see. Of course. A… rain check.”

I nod a few times. It feels like I pissed him off by rejecting him, but… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter that much.

Maybe I should be mad at him. I was when the overblot happened, but… I don’t know. It feels so pointless to hold on to. Maybe I am a little more afraid of him now, someone who’s still so much more powerful than me. But it feels numbed, I guess. Afraid of Malleus, afraid of Leona, afraid of Vil, of Riddle, of Jamil, of Azul, of Idia… What’s the difference? I might as well be afraid of everyone at the school. Being afraid of him in particular now is like a fly being more afraid of a car crash than a flyswatter- the only difference is how thorough the obliteration is.

I feel bad for Malleus. I’m angry with him, too, in both a genuine and sort of spiteful way (oh, poor baby couldn’t handle losing his family? Must really suck to be you.) And some part of me, the part I try to bury, is hurt in an even worse way.

You made such nice dreams for everyone else. Why couldn’t you make one for me?

I still gave him the little gargoyle, though. I’m angry at him, but… well, I get loneliness. I can’t help but feel bad for him. I hope the gargoyle helps, a little. With everything that happened and everything that’s still coming.

“Gray?” Silver calls over to me. “We’ve finished.”

I look over. The sink is clear of plates and the rest of the pancake batter is put away. I’m going to have to check with Sebek later to make sure Lilia didn’t touch it. I wouldn’t put it past him to ‘fix it up’ as a sort of thank you. “That was fast. Thank you.”

“No need to thank us!” Lilia waves me off. “The company and the food were enough.” He looks over at the clock. “We should be saying thank you for your hospitality so late at night.”

“We’re sorry if we disturbed you,” Silver adds, prompting Lilia to make some noise over ‘what a polite boy I’ve raised.’

“You didn’t bother me, I invited you in,” I say. “I’m glad you’re all doing okay. And it was nice talking.”

Malleus smiles as they head for the back door to resume their walk. “Yes. Thank you for the time.”

“And get to bed after this,” Lilia says. “You young folk should take better care of yourselves.”

“Yes! Sleep is vital for maintaining your physical condition!” Sebek barks, fixing his gaze on me.

“I will, I’ll go to bed,” I promise.

“Fare well, child of man,” Malleus says as he heads to the door. I wave to him and the others as they depart.

I head inside and peek through the windows to watch them head out of the garden. Malleus was leading the way when they arrived, but he drops back as they leave to speak with Sebek. They talk for a moment, heads bent together. Malleus gestures back at Ramshackle and both he and Sebek look my way. I duck back behind the curtains. I’m not sure if they saw me, but when I look again, the procession has left Ramshackle and are heading in the direction of the hall of mirrors.

I duck back behind the curtains and head upstairs.

I pause at the room I locked Sassy in and poke my head inside. I don’t see her. “Girl? Where’d you go?” I don’t smell anything, so at least she didn’t pee on something in retaliation. “Sassy, are you here?”

There’s a mewl from behind me. I turn around. Sassy is giving me a distinctly unimpressed look. “Sorry, but you can’t throw a tantrum in front of our guests and not expect to get shut away somewhere. What was even up with that?”

She just goes, “Mrrp,” and heads over to me, rubbing herself against my legs. “Just don’t do it again,” I sigh in resignation. I head out of that room and start moving toward mine, Sassy trailing every footstep.

One of the ghosts, the skinny one, drifts over my shoulder. “Gray. Are you finally heading to bed?”

“Yeah, might as well.” The ghost, Skinny, nods and drifts by. I catch his gaze on me as he goes. Even the ghosts have been nudging at me when I stay up too late now, and I can feel their gaze on me in most of the house, even when I can’t see them.

Fortunately, the gaze vanishes when I step into my room- standing orders are ‘no ghosts in my room or bathroom without my consent.’ Or Grim’s, for that matter. The rest of their house is theirs as much as it is mine. But I deserve a little privacy.

Grim has, as is his wont, migrated to the center of the bed and spread himself out to take up as much space as possible. I shuffle into my pajamas (which are mostly mismatched, oversized sweats) and curl my way around Grim so I’m not intruding into his area. Sassy hops up on the bed and snuggles into the crook of my leg.

I scroll on my phone for a bit. I should probably take the potion, but it’s already kind of late, and I don’t feel like getting up. It must be well-past three AM by the time my eyes slip shut of their own accord and my phone falls out of my slackening hand.

Read the next chapter here.

[earthling-writer]

Alien concept:

In a planet manly made of Ocean water, with little to no land and little to no fully terrestrial creatures, with the most of them to be able to go on land being semi-aquatic, life mostly evolved in the ocean.

There is however, a species as intelligent and conscious as humans, which, not so ironically, resemble jellyfish.

That's crazy!! You might think, Jellyfishes don't even have brains!!

You would be correct, but i would like to remind you two things:

-on an alien world you could find literally anything

-this is my headcanon now and you can't do anything to stop me

So the concept is that those jellyfish looking creatures do have brains, located inside the "cap" i think it's called...

Nevermind it's called a bell

Back on the anatomy done my way because i am making an alien species: the bell might seem way too fragile to contain such an important organ, well you see, the bell is covered in poisonous gel that only the species itself is immune too. Depending on the unfortunate individual to try and damage the alien can either suffer immense pain and live by pure luck or just straight up die

There aren't many creatures that actually go hunting for this species, like for us, if an animal does attack it's more likely not because it sees us as prey or food, although just because it's unlikely doesn't mean it's impossible.

Long story short, this creature is the definition of "i will take you down with me" if attacked. EXTREMELY IMPORTANT MENTION: THEY ARE

HUUUGE

I don't know how huge compared to our biggest jellyfish but huge enough to make everyone instantly shiver from fear, intimidation is also a really good defence.

Back on the brain, they also have a nervous system! Starting from the brain and extending to all tentacles and oral arms! Of course that isn't enough for them to be able to make tools or modify their environment

It's kind of a curse really, being granted an immense intelligence, being aware of itself to such a complex level, just to be stuck in the ocean with no way to leave KNOWING that there must be something out there in the stars, knowing that they will never reach them.

(⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)🪼っ (i want to hug them but I can't 'cuz it would sting)

"How would they communicate though?"

I shall declare they communicate with sound waves, emitted with quick contractions of tentacles and muscles

Or/and

They communicate through the electricity they emit from the oral arms

"Well then what about the eyes? You said they know about outer space so they must see it somehow"

Well my dear reader, they don't see it they have no idea what it looks like and how vast it is, they can simply feel radiations, magnetic fields and other interceptable things coming from the closest or stronger celestial objects, and they know it comes from far away, but they have no concept of what the sky or space it, they don't know the difference, they don't know where they separate, they can just feel something is there, and they would do anything to learn what that is

Other things:

They sense magnetic fields and nuclear energy emitted from living beings

They are carnivorous

They have no sense of mythology and religion, as a species they prefer to follow the logic of "I won't believe it until i see it" or in their case "sense it". When talking about the species i generalise the common philosophy but they can be individuals who differ thoughts.

They love their partner for life

Most couples have only one offspring

They canonically sound like your stereotypical wise all-knowing being with a feminine whimsical voice for no reason

No you can't actually hear them

It's just the vibe~ ya know?

They are pretty :3 (yes i am serious)

They are highly social, no matter how shy and quiet they seem

They have their own games and entertainment

If they don't eat it, they probably see it as a pet (referring to other animals)

They love crustaceans like how we love cats, mischievous but adorable

IF they have anything even barely resembling octopuses on their planet they would see them the same way we do "i have no idea why they aren't the intelligent species instead of me... They could be if they wanted to"

They have vivid imagination and dreams, and they love telling oral stories of imaginary scenarios, therefore they are highly creative. They could do so much if they had limbs and hands 😔💔

I am going to tag this as humans are space orcs even though there is nothing of human interactions

...

YET

eheheheheeheh >:) 👽🪼

[passionateseadruid]

Silver Tongue and Golden Apple

if this blurb does really well (I’m talking at least 150 notes) then I’ll consider making it into a full series.

For @mariaseelie

So the basic premise is Lucifer dresses up as the pope and the Hazbin Hotel’s Heavenly scriptural expert (the reader) isn’t impressed. Let’s all be honest, Charlie has no idea how to get a soul to pass heaven’s guidelines so that’s what the readers job is.

CW: Lucifer and Reader hate each other. Talks of Religion (the reader is heavily implied (but not outright stated) to be religious). Heavy Criticism on Lucifer. No hate to MariaSeelie. You’re wonderful and I do hope that you don’t take this as a criticism of your beautiful art

link for that is here. If people don’t like this I implore them to go give that a like. (And also give the art a like if you do like this)

‘Calm down. He’s just trying to piss you off! …like usual.’ They thinks to themselves as Lucifer sat on a golden throne in an outfit resembling the pope.

“What is it, my Child? You seem quite unpleased about the situation that you’ve found yourself beholden to.” Lucifer smirks.

They glare at him. “Everyone else may put up with your bullshit but I see right through you!” He smacks them gently on the head with his cane. “Ow! What the Hell- OW!” He smacks them again.

“No swearing in the presence of his excellency.” Lucifer smirks. “I thought you’d know better than that, being the… what do you do here again?” He looks at them, boredly.

They roll their eyes. “I came down from Heaven to help Charlie get souls to pass Heavenly Standards. Something you know nothing about- Ha!” They catch his cane as he tries to hit them again.

“Lucky catch…” he mutters.

They scoff at him. “Tch… why are you even dressed like that in the first place?”

“Well since you don’t respect me as the king of hell I decided to become someone you would respect.” Lucifer smirks.

They growls. “This doesn’t make me respect you. It just gives me one more justification for hating you! You have no respect for me, or anyone in the living world who can see right through your bullshit!”

Lucifer makes a dumb adorable face in fake offense. “You think I don’t respect you?!”

“You’re only doing this to piss me off! Religion is not a costume! And frankly I’m tired of you treating me like a joke!” They push him slightly.

He growls. “YOU DIDN’T GET THIS PISSY AT ALASTOR WHEN HE DRESSED UP AS A NUN A FEW MONTHS AGO!!”

“I talked about it with him in private like I’m doing with you! The difference is that HE apologized and explained that he just needed a rhyme! HE wasn’t trying to make a mockery of me!” They got up in his face.

Lucifer rolls his eyes and makes a talking motion with his hand. “Yap Yap Yap! You’re far too sensitive!”

“Oh am I? I’m sensitive about the fact that I’m constantly being belittled by everyone here? Was I too sensitive when you wrongly implied that you gave humans free will-”

He cuts them off. “I did.”

“BULLSHIT! If Lilith and Eve didn’t have free will how did they choose to leave Adam! How could Eve have disobeyed the elder angels and eat the apple if she didn’t have free will?!”

He grabs their wrist. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re just a stupid human who blindly believes everything they’ve been told!”

“No! I just think critically!” They pull away from him. “The tree was a test of Obedience! You made Eve fail on purpose! She would have never taken the apple had YOU not lied to her!”

His anger grows as his horns sprout from his head. “You have no idea about the Nuances of what I did!”

“YOU DOOMED HUMANITY! YOU ARE THE FATHER OF ALL THE EVILS IN THE WORLD!!”

He steps closer to them. “You think it was easy for me! You think I don’t spend every day regretting my actions?!” They step back as he gets closer and closer.

“Well, if you’d stop sulking-”

“SHUT IT! You’ve talked enough! If you seriously think that I don’t regret my actions then you’re as close minded as all those repressive dictators in Heaven!” He blocks them in against the wall.

They mutter, “At least I’ve never lied to Charlie-”

Something inside him snaps as they say that and he punches the wall next to their head so hard that it shatters straight through and causes his knuckles to bleed. “…go home…back to that Gilded cage you call paradise…”

He walks out as they slide to the ground shaking in fear.

“I hate that Devil…” they squeak out.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Corazón: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Spencer's headaches get worse so he turns to medicine to figure out why he is having them. He doesn't take the news well. Meanwhile, you're dispatched to Miami when someone uses religion to justify his killings.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks." - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

You haven't seen Spencer this nervous since he wanted to ask you out on a first date. You two have come so far since then, so he knows you're the only one he can trust with this. One of his biggest fears is getting the disease his mother has, especially when it presents itself in people in their twenties, which is what Spencer is. He's been getting more and more headaches recently, most of them caused by bright lights.

It's why he's sitting in the hallway of the doctor's office in the hospital with sunglasses on. He's bouncing his leg up and down nervously, and you're sitting next to him to offer some support without saying a word. He reaches over and grabs your hand, and you run the back of his hand with your thumb.

"Everything is going to be okay, Spencer."

Your words go through one ear and out the other. Unless you're the doctor, he's not gonna listen to anyone. A nurse comes into the hallway with a clipboard, and Spencer winces when he looks up at her.

"We're almost ready for you, Dr. Reid. Just a few questions. Are you having one of your headaches right now?"

"Yeah, I am."

"How long have you had it?"

"Um... Not really that long. I don't know."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Maybe two days."

"Does the light hurt your eyes?" Spencer nods. "Any hallucinations?"

"No."

"Alright. Come with me."

Spencer is taken into the MRI room, and the nurse gives him a few minutes to change into a hospital gown. Spencer gets onto the table and looks at you with fear in his eyes. He doesn't want to be alone.

"Is it alright if I stay here with him? I'll be quiet the whole time."

"Sure, but you need to remove all metal. Let me get you a vest."

You remove every piece of metal that's on you before putting the radiation vest on. Spencer grabs your hand as he is moved into the machine, and you're glad that you're able to hold his hand without inhibiting the results of the test.

"I'm right here, baby. Everything is okay."

Spencer squeezes your hand which is your indicator that he heard you. After the test is done, you two leave the hospital knowing the results won't be in right away. They'll call when they get in but that doesn't stop Spencer from overthinking. You can practically hear his thoughts on the drive to the BAU.

"What if I get my mother's disease?"

You park at the BAU but don't get out just yet. You two are running late but you're going to take care of him before you even think about work. You look at him to see Spencer nervously fiddling with his fingers in his lap. You reach over and cup his chin, moving it so he's forced to look at you.

"It doesn't matter if you do. I love you. We're getting married no matter what those results say."

"Would you still love me even if I forget you?"

"Baby, it doesn't matter if you're young or old. If you forget me, I'll just remind you of who I am," you lean in and kiss him, "and I'll still love you."

You two head into work and see Emily and Penelope with coffees in their hands walking from the break room.

"Hey, you two okay?" Emily asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"You two are never late."

"Have we started the briefing yet?" Spencer asks.

"Just about to."

"Then we're not late."

You walk into the briefing room and take your usual seats.

"Attention, intrepid BAU adventurers. The land of Bermuda shorts, white leisure suits, and sans belt slacks requests your presence," Penelope says.

"Arizona?"

"Vegas?"

"Palm Springs?"

"I was going to say Miami, but a point well made about the dizzying number of locales with unfortunate fashion tendencies. Here we go."

Penelope puts two pictures on the screen that match the ones in the file on your iPad. It's of two victims both with seashells over their eyes and mouth.

"Shells in the eyes and mouth. You don't see that every day, not even in Miami."

"There are three victims, and the last one was found with a decapitated cat. All were found within a mile of each other in a mostly Latino neighborhood in Miami called Allapattah. The first victim is Eduardo Guzman, homeless. He was shot to death seven days ago. The second victim is Yanira Espinal, a prostitute who was bludgeoned to death three days ago. Lastly, Victor Cabrera was an unemployed janitor. He was slashed with a machete yesterday, as was his cat," Penelope explains.

"You know, considering the homeless man lived in that alley, all of the victims essentially were killed in their homes. This took some time."

"You know, cowrie shells and ritual offerings are common to several Afro-Caribbean religions," Spencer explains.

"But the upside-down cross looks like Satanism. The first two victims had fingers missing, but on this one, he took both hands."

"All of this could have been religious?" Penelope asks.

"This could have specific religious meaning or it could just be part of the unsub's signature. Either way, his timetable's accelerating. We have a day, maybe two before the Miami PD has another body on its hands."

Normally, Spencer sits with the rest of the team but this time, he's stuck in the darkest corner. He's sitting on the long couch flush against the wall where the sun can't reach him. You feel so bad for him. He'll try to do his best with this case but you know all he'll be thinking about is his mother and her disease.

"The first victim was frail and an easy target, and yet the unsub shot him from behind and at a distance. By the second victim, the unsub chose not to use a gun anymore. He got up close and personal."

"Four days is a rapid increase in confidence. By the third victim, he was comfortable enough to use a machete."

"Still from behind," Hotch adds. "He's not invested in watching his victims suffer which fits what the ME said about the mutilations being postmortem."

"So, we're back around a religious ritual," Emily sighs.

"Reid?" Everyone looks at Spencer who looks up from the paper file in his hands. He takes off his sunglasses and squints which makes you feel worse. He's in pain and you can't really help him. He looks at you and you nod in encouragement. "Anything helpful?"

Spencer slides closer to the group and squints more when the sun gets brighter.

"Yeah," he clears his throat, "The Afro-Caribbean syncretic religions began with slaves who mixed their traditional religions with Catholicism in order to camouflage them." He shows pictures of an altar with candles and figures of women and flowers. "The elements in this altar look like Santeria. It's a Yoruban-based religion developed in Cuba. Practitioners worship Orishas which are deities that roughly correspond with Catholic saints."

"What about the shells?" Derek asks.

Spencer flips to another picture of a pumpkin with shells where the eyes and mouth are. "This is Ellegua, the deity of the crossroads who is a trickster and the impartial enforcer of justice."

"So, is the unsub sacrificing his victims to Ellegua?" Ashely wonders.

"None of these religions openly call for human sacrifice, only animals."

"We need to determine whether these killings are part of an existing ritual." Spencer gets up and moves to the bathroom but doesn't go inside of it. You watch with sad eyes when he rubs his eyes. "Or whether he's using religion to cover his own psychopathology."

"The last victim used to frequent a local community center. It might be a good way to get some background," you say.

"Good. Take Reid with you," Hotch says. "Prentiss, Morgan, and I will go to the last crime scene. Dave and Seaver, get set up with the PD."

You get up and approach Spencer who continues to rub his eyes.

"Spencer." He stops and looks at you. "I have some ibuprofen or Tylenol in my bag. Do you want one?"

"Yes, please," he whispers. You turn to leave but he stops you. "What's the weather like in Miami?"

Your face turns grim. "Sunny." He sighs. "You're going to be okay."

You get the medicine for him and he takes it with a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile.

When you land, you and Spencer head to the local community center that the victims went to. Right off the bat, it's clear that you and Spencer stick out like a sore thumb. Some of the residents don't like newcomers, and others don't like the authorities. You're not wearing your FBI vests but it's clear you're not one of them. Spencer walks next to you with his head down and sunglasses over his eyes.

"What, you're not gonna give me a bunch of facts about the area and the demographics?" you ask.

You need him to think about anything but his headaches.

"The Allapattah neighborhood is named after the native American word for alligator."

"There he is," you grin. You stop walking when you realize you might be in the wrong place. "Alright, this is 5372 Seminole Street." There are only residential houses, not a community center. "This can't be it."

Spencer walks over to a vendor who is cutting up goat meat. He is using aluminum trays that reflect the sun.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know where the community center is?"

"It's down there. This is Seminole Alley."

Spencer squints from the reflection of the bright sun, and he puts a hand to his temple.

"Spencer, you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better than that goat."

"You got that right. Thank you."

You two head into the community center which is more like a soup kitchen. There is only one person who is willing to talk to you, a man by the name of Antonio Mercado. You look to the right and see one of the workers behind the counter staring at you and Spencer. He looks away when he sees you watching him.

"Do you know any of these people?"

You show him photos of the deceased and Antonio points to the most recent victim, Victor. The chihuahua in his arms sniff the photos but is otherwise a good dog.

"Victor was my best friend. We were like brothers."

"We're sorry for your loss, Mr. Mercado."

"He was sick for a long time, but he was finally feeling better."

"He was sick?"

"I'm talking about his penis. He had cancer."

"Where was he being treated?" Spencer asks.

"No, he didn't want any doctors. They don't do anything but make you worse. They throw radiation on you and poison you. He did his cleaning every day. That's why he was feeling better."

"What do you mean by cleaning?"

You put a hand on Spencer's thigh from under the table because you can tell he's getting nervous. Thankfully, he doesn't move it.

"He cleaned his head and his body, but he got one of the saints mad. Maybe he forgot to feed Ellegua." A man comes over and clears Antonio's plate away but he doesn't forget to give you and Spencer a hard look. "I must go."

The same man who was staring at you from behind the counter is looking at you again, so you decide to go over to him and talk to him. He looks like he's busy even though you know he's not.

"Excuse me. Do you run the place?"

"I don't talk to cops unless you got a warrant."

Looks like you're not going to get much information here. "Come on, baby, let's go."

Emily, Derek, and Hotch met with Detective Perez at Victor's home. Inside his bedroom is an altar with animal sacrifices laid out to please whatever deity Victor was worshiping. Perez has seen a lot of animal sacrifices in his day--roosters, goats, possums--but never cats. The unsub turned Victor's crucifixes upside down and brought the shells and the murder weapon with him. He must have brought gloves too because the only fingerprints they found belonged to Victor. 

That means he's older and more organized than you originally thought. However, he left behind a footprint which is what an inexperienced unsub would do. It's as if he planned this entire thing very carefully only to realize his imagination is nothing like reality.

That throws him off balance and causes him to make a mistake, hence the footprint.

Still, he's learning from each kill to be more precise and well-executed. In the first killing, he had to saw the finger off so he made sure to bring something sharp for next time. Now, he knows what he needs to bring with him and what the victims already have in their homes.

He's been to Victor's house before but there is no sign of forced entry. Victor must have let him in. There are chalk designs on the floor that were made before the blood spatter, but they're not smudged at all. There was no sign of a struggle so maybe Victor chose to be part of the ritual. After the ritual, the unsub turned Victor over and wiped the blood off his face.

It could be a sign of remorse or the unsub feels conflicted about harming his victims. They could represent someone to him. The placement of the shells reminds you of "see no evil, speak no evil". It's like he's symbolically silencing his victims so they can't tell anyone about him. By posing the bodies, he's sending a message. He may not want the victims to see or hear him, but he wants somebody to.

x

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