#a song of sin and salvation

[sporadicparadisewolf]

I just found out that there is a fanfic book published about Hellcheer and now I need to read it.

[empress-of-snark]

I’ve finally started reading the officially published Hellcheer fanfiction (aka “A Song of Sin and Salvation”) and just for fun, I decided to make a bingo card for all the tropes I spot along the way.

Five chapters in, and we’ve already gotten three spaces 😂

Will update as I read. I’m enjoying it so far!

(disclaimer: this is not intended to make fun of the book or Hellcheer fanfiction in general, it’s just a fun little game to spot the similarities—no hate here!)

[hedgefrogpresents]

Here is my full recap and review of every published novel written about eddie munson from stranger things 💕🦇

[dorothygalewrites]

A Song of Sin and Salvation by LH Blake

"'Don't hide from me,' he says softly, seriously. 'Don't silence yourself. The sound of your laughter is my favorite song.' My eyelids flutter closed as he kisses below my ear. 'Every sound' -a kiss to my collarbone- 'every face you make when I touch you' -a kiss between my breasts- 'I want to see and hear them all.'"

[gravedigginbbydoll]

So I’m working my way through my TBR, but…

I heard about the book that is essentially a published HellCheer fanfic and I am foaming at the mouth. So… am I about to spend my money on it, even though I have like 8 books in my TBR? Yes. Yes I am.

For those of you curious: it’s ‘A Song of Sin and Salvation’ by L.H. Blake.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

“because he never accepts that it's never been about righteousness--it's about repentance.” except javert killing himself IS repentance.

well, it’s like 12 different things, because bro had gone days without sleeping and very little food and water and he already had low self-worth and kept asking the amis to kill him and just assumed he was going to die AND THEN valjean upended his understanding of the world and morality. he was really going through it & there are a lot of overlapping reasons for why he jumps into the seine.

but javert is like Number One Most Responsible guy in the whole story. taking responsibility is his Thing (forever bitter the musical doesn’t include the punish me monsieur le maire scene). how else, in his derailment, could he atone for his conceived misdeeds other than by handing in his resignation to god? in the brick he had already left a note urging his superiors to treat convicts at toulon better, which is another step in his repentance (and another crime the musical commits by not including it). jumping into the seine was another step.

honestly a lot of ppl who like the book think the musical was dead wrong to exclude him from the big heaven group sing, because it COMPLETELY undermines the themes of forgiveness and compassion threaded throughout les mis. like the musical was simply wrong lol.

This is helpful context! I am still finishing the brick, although I have fully read the abridged version, and that detail about the letter wasn't included, so I didn't know that occurred! (And thank you for the message--this is a long response but I'd love to hear more of your thoughts!)

I agree that Javert is certainly deeply distraught and remorseful; like you mentioned, his worldview is literally falling apart, and his actions reflect his mental state. But his death isn't really repentance--in the sense that it's not what God would have wanted. To me it reads like a Judas situation: a desperate realization of a huge mistake, and doing the only thing you think can make it right, namely, ending it all. That's the just punishment for someone so wrong, isn't it?

But true repentance, meaning the repentance that the Lord desires, is about changing your ways, not "paying a price." Had Javert really understood the beauty of Valjean's mercy (an image of Christ's, just as the bishop's undeserved mercy was to Valjean himself), rather than killing himself, he would have lived to also become "an honest man"--in heart. One who could forgive and understand forgiveness, for himself as well as others. One who could recognize that he is not The Law, that he can fall, but that he can also be "brought to the light." One who could accept that men like Valjean, and men like himself, CAN change, and be changed.

It's tragic to me because so much of "Stars," and his character in the book as well as the musical, is about wanting to be righteous, to rise above his birth and the sinfulness he associates it with. It's about wanting to please the Lord by his actions. But in his end, he shows he never understood what God really wanted from him, and that's where my original phrase comes in: not righteousness, but repentance. To live, and face the man you were, knowing it's no longer the man you are. That it's never been about what you've done or can do, but about what's been done for you. That's the Gospel that he could never fully accept.

To use another example you mentioned, that misunderstanding drives why he asks the Mayor (Valjean) to punish him--in his worldview, mercy is unjust, or at the very least, unfair. Evil must be punished; "those who fall like Lucifer fell" receive "the sword." But "as it is written," God "desires mercy, not sacrifice" (Matthew 9:13). God would have wanted Javert to live, and Javert couldn't see that, and that's why it's devastating to me. In his misunderstanding of the heart of God, he misses what would have set him free from the chains of sin he's always been trying to escape.

That's why he's contrasted with Valjean, who (though he carries guilt about his past till the end of his life) is eventually able to face it and confess what he had done to those he loves. He knew there was mercy to be found, if only it was asked for. Javert was too blinded by pride and shame to realize it, and so, while broken, he never was able to truly repent.

For that, you must go on.

[celestiall0tus]

Into Another World - Ladybugs

Table of Contents

            Gateways in the sitting room between worlds lit up. Portals spun and people emerged from them all in various ladybug-themed outfits. They all exchanged glances as Lord Bug’s eyes widened.

            “No way! More of you guys!” Lord Bug cheered.

            “More? Absolution Ladybug asked.

            “Yeah! More of us, ladybugs. I met some others, not ladybugs, by other versions of me and my friends. We teamed up to take down something called the Supreme. It was honestly a joke, but what can you do?”

            “Interesting. So, we’re all just other ladybug holders from other worlds?” Carmine asked.

            “That’s what it looks like. Well, for most of us. I can’t really tell with you guys,” Lord Bug said as he pointed to a pair of Marinettes, one tall and toned while the other short and chubby, a Juleka with red violet dyed tips in an adventurer’s outfit, and an Adrien in a black prince outfit with red and green details.”

            “I was blessed by Tikki a long time ago. Well, my ancestors. That blessing lived on in my blood that grants me powers,” Court of Miracles Marinette boasted.

            “I was blessed too, but more recently by the kwami god of creation,” Scions Juleka announced.

            “I’m a lot like that Marinette, except I was also blessed, or cursed, with Plagg as well,” Rapture Adrien admitted.

            “I was gifted the power of Creation to combat the power of Destruction and free my city of their family’s tyranny,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette remarked.

            “Then why aren’t you transformed like the rest of us?” Siren’s Song Lady Beetle asked.

            “Transformed?” Juleka, Adrien, and Court of Miracles Marinette asked.

            “They mean with the jewels you get from the kwamis to put on tacky, well, tackier suits like they all have,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette commented.

            “Tacky? Excuse you! I designed this biker outfit myself!” Separate Worlds Lady Beetle protested.

            “Yeah! My girlfriend made my suit and she’s a remarkable designer!” Lord Bug added.

            Hope puffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot.

            “Hey! Roller derby clothes aren’t tacky, bitch!” Bloody Bug yelled.

            “That’s for debate, but do you really have any room to speak? The suit and everything sells gangster a little too much, don’t you think? You honestly look more like a walking cliché,” Carmine spat.

            “And what do you expect of me? To just run around in dresses, skirts, high heels, and blouses to take on another mafia boss? Let alone one that is the black cat? No, I think not. I would rather not be transformed unless absolutely necessary,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette snapped back.

            “Well, good for you that you don’t need your powers to take on your villain, princess. Some of us need ours otherwise we’d be dead,” Absolution Ladybug yelled.

            Of Virtue and Sin Marinette’s nostrils flared. “Call me ‘princess’ one more time. I dare you.”

            Absolution Ladybug opened her mouth when Bloody Bug jumped in the way.

            “Princess!” Bloody Bug hissed.

            Of Virtue and Sin Marinette growled and raised her hand when Scarlet Lord jumped in the middle of them.

            “Ok! I think that’s enough of that. I don’t think we were brought here to fight. I’m not sure why we’re all here, but let’s try to get along, right? Why don’t we all just sit down and talk?” Scarlet Lord suggested.

            “I agree! I want to get to know you guys. The ones I met before were interesting, so I want to learn more about each other,” Lord Bug added.

            The others exchanged uncertain glances before they shrugged and took a seat.

            “So… where do we start with all this? And why should we care?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Oh, come now, it could be fun, and that’s all it needs to be, but we do need a place to start. Let’s see… oh! What about who our villains are? I can go first. We’re dealing with my dad, who is Papillon. He’s destroyed quite a bit and killed just as much, but also losing his mind. We’ve also sorta got Ripper, who is a blood hungry serial killer. And a little assassin child named Widow,” Lord Bug shared.

            “We’ve got a crazy serial killer butterfly holder named Papillon who has been terrorizing the city and entire world for two whole years. Chat Noir was supposed to be our hero, but he failed one too many times. Now I’ll step in to be the hero he wasn’t,” Absolution Ladybug stated.

            Lord Bug paled. “I… I, uh, sure he tried his best?”

            “Oh, he sure tried his best to be a little attention whore and milk being a hero while everyone else suffered. Fucker is paraded around as a glorified sex symbol more than as a hero,” Absolution Ladybug shot back.

            Lord Bug curled his lip in disgust. “That’s… that’s unpleasant. Uh, what about you?”

            Separate Worlds Lady Beetle raised her brow. “Me? Well, we don’t exactly have a villain or villains like you two. Me, Snow Owl, and Gold Mouse just help keep the streets clean and free of crime.”

            “That’s a noble cause,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette said.

            “Oh? Well, thank you. We’ve been doing it for a few years, since we were teens in high school. It was Snow Owl’s idea. Gold Mouse and I joined because we were always a fan of comics and heroes, so the chance to be one was… enticing. It’s not easy, we’ve made mistakes, but we’ve done so much good. Seeing the smiles on peoples’ faces makes it all worth it.”

            “I agree with the mafia bitch. That’s very noble. Reminds me of why I took on the ladybug,” Carmine added.

            “Why did you?” Separate Worlds Lady Beetle asked.

            Carmine stared at the coffee table. “My sister and I watched a villain rise that was set on destroying the world. We watched him as nothing was able to stop the monsters he created by twisting normal people into abominations. He was killing so many with the monsters and no one could stop him. When my sister and I were given the chance to stop him, we leapt at it. For the longest time, all we could do was contain his rampage to Paris. It wasn’t until a golden dragon warrior rose from the ashes that we were finally able to do more than just contain him.”

            “That sounds a lot like my father,” Lord Bug said.

            “And our Papillon,” Absolution Ladybug added.

            “Something like ours too,” Metal Bug added.

            “What’s yours like?” Lord Bug asked.

            “Well, he’s not alone, but definitely the leader. Manipulative and cunning, but also terribly cruel. He works alongside the peacock, rooster, ant, and black cat. He’s currently also have Bumblebee under his thumb along with the ox and white cat because of Bumblebee,” Metal Bug explained.

            “Wait! Bumblebee? Your Marinette?” Lord Bug asked.

            “Y-yeah? You know her?”

            “Yeah! I met her. She talked about you and her Adrien. That must mean you’re Luka!” Lord Bug cheered.

            “You’re a Luka?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Uh, let’s get to topic. Uh, what about you? What’s your villain?” Metal Bug asked as he pointed to Hope.

            Hope tilted her head and pointed to herself. She considered, stood up, and waved her arms around in a flapping motion.”

            “What is this? Is this a game of charades?” Carmine asked.

            “Use your voice,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette scolded.

            Hope huffed and pouted. She reconsidered before she grabbed her yo-yo and slammed it onto the table. She swiped up on it as it opened. Creation energies poured from it, and she worked with them. She sculpted them into a life-size model of Echidna.

            “What the hell? Why are you fighting a fairy?” Juleka asked.

            Hope flicked her hand as echoes of Echidna’s voice repeated “Paradise.”

            “Paradise? What’s Paradise?” Absolution Ladybug asked.

            “A very dangerous power. Those that possess the powers of Life, Nature, Transformation, Protection, and Beauty are able to create a literal heaven, untouchable and unkillable, but sacrifices the rest of the land to make it, creating a barren wasteland outside of Paradise,” Adrien explained.

            Hope bounced as she pointed at Adrien.

            “Your butterfly seeks to make Paradise?” Adrien asked.

            Hope nodded.

            “Does she have all the components?”

            Hope shook her head. She flicked her hand again to reveal the peacock Erinona, the turtle knight Alexiares, and the dragon Delphyne.

            “There’s no snake here. They don’t have the snake?”

            Hope gave a thumbs up.

            “That’s a relief. Make sur they don’t get the snake. With the snake, Paradise will be made.”

            Hope nodded and gave a thumbs up, then pointed to Adrien.

            “Huh? Me? Oh, I don’t exactly have a villain, unless you count politics?” Adrien remarked.

            “Same here,” Court of Miracles Marinette commented.

            “Politics and a little of everything else that comes with being an adventurer,” Juleka added.

            “Oh, gosh, how do you all manage to deal with that nonsense?” Bloody Bug asked.

            The three shrugged.

            “What about you, short stacks?” Carmine teased.

            Bloody Bug shot Carmine a glare. “We were dealing with a fool butterfly user until a peacock came into the picture, Mayura. She’s a dangerous, manipulative bitch and she just loves to toy with us and that very fact that she’s leagues ahead of us.”

            “Mayura? You mean she’s evil?” Lord Bug asked.

            “I… I don’t fucking know. She does bad things. Fuck she nearly got my brother killed if I hadn’t saved him. But we learned she’s doing this because she wants to, I guess, do right by the kwamis, whatever that may mean,” Bloody Bug said.

            “Oh, that sounds almost like what happened with us. We were fighting Hawkmoth, also a crazy butterfly holder. He managed to get all the miraculous to fuse together, but when he did, he reforged Velze, so was quick to set things right for his, uh, kids,” Scarlet Lord explained.

            “Wait. For real?”

            “Yeah. He even distributed the miraculous out according to the new concepts.”

            “New concepts?”

            “Yeah. Obviously creation is creation still, but take the peacock for example. It was emotions, but now its beauty.”

            “It hasn’t always been beauty for you guys?” Lord Bug asked.

            “No,” Scarlet Lord and Bloody Bug said.

            “That’s… odd,” Lord Bug commented.

            “Very. Why would the peacock ever be something like emotions? Especially when all it knows is how to be a pretty little bird,” Court of Miracles Marinette mocked.

            “Pretty is a stretch. Granted the person I know that was gifted the peacock jewel is a pimp,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette remarked.

            “A what?” everyone yelled.

            “Huh? Oh, yeah. My family heads and myself have seen the peacock pimp often, usually in the presence of the other mafia boss, the Black Cat. We’ve tried to get information, but the lanky bitch won’t snitch,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette prattled.

            “And why is your black cat so… against you?” Coccinella asked.

            “Reverse it. I’m against him. He thinks he can just scare everything and demand respect through fear, he’s got another thing coming. I was gifted the ladybug, his opposite, to bring him down and restore balance. I will rule with respect to drive away his fear,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette answered.

            “Sounds a lot like the cat I have to deal with, in all his sexy glory,” Siren’s Song Lady Beetle cooed.

            “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Absolution Ladybug asked.

            “I agree, what the fuck?” Bloody Bug snapped.

            “What? Can you really blame a girl for finding her enemy attractive in all his raw, brutish, animal magnetism? I’d never tell my mother, but I could never bring that guy down, even though he fights against us to make a better future. I do wonder if I could convince him to fight with me, but then I just get lost in everything,” Siren’s Song Lady Beetle remarked.

            “Why are you smitten with your enemy? You should be bringing them down. Not attempting to convert them to your ways,” Coccinella scolded.

            “Oh, come on. Are you telling me you wouldn’t get weak in the knees having this big, brutish, muscular, unhinged man towering over you threatening to crush you like the little bug you are?” Siren’s Song Lady Beetle challenged.

            Court of Miracles Marinette bit her lip. “Ok, I can’t blame the girl. That’s basically my Kitten.”

            “Seriously? How can either of you justice having time for romance with your responsibilities, be it politics or a villain,” Coccinella challenged.

            “Why not? I mean, don’t you?” Lord Bug asked.

            “No! I have a whole team to keep in check as we battle a pair of bitches for who knows what they want. I don’t have time for any of that nonsense,” Coccinella shot back.

            “I don’t see why not. I mean, I’m with a few of my fellow heroes,” Lord Bug admitted.

            “Same,” Metal Bug added.

            “Well, love is sort of a thing with politics. I mean, I have to compete with other royalty for the hand of the Crown Empress. So, you know, right?” Adrien commented.

            “I agree with the Adrien. My Elders put me and Felix together to produce more Highborn heirs. That and I was going to be stuck with Felix regardless, so it’s just easier this way. I’m just lucky he knows how to make a girl feel special.”

            “Felix?” Lord Bug, Metal Bug, Bloody Bug, Of Virtue and Sin Marinette, and Juleka asked while Hope curled her lips in disgust.

            Court of Miracles Marinette nodded. She looked to the imitation Delphyne and reworked it to look like her Felix.

            Lord Bug’s jaw dropped. “That’s Felix?”

            “He looks so different,” Separate Worlds Lady Beetle whispered.

            “What’s with the scars?” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette asked.

            “Oh, that? That’s because of his father, Colt. Funny story. See, growing up, Colt was very rough on Felix as was necessary since the Black Cat is the enforcer for the Court. Whenever Felix dared to show any signs of weakness, Colt would inflict terrible sounds that would always scar. He started with Felix’s face before moving to the rest of his body,” Court of Miracles Marinette explained.

            “That’s… that’s fucked up. You’re saying he has scars all along his body?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Oh, yes. Sometimes when the slimy snake, Sass, feels Felix steps out of line, he reopens all of Felix’s scars as punishment. It’s usually a messy thing with all the blood, and Felix always passing out from blood loss, but no biggy as they always heal again.”

            “Oh my. My Felix is nothing like that. He’s just a musical theater actor. That’s horrifying thinking this could have been him,” Separate Worlds Lady Beetle whispered.

            “I’m not with my Felix, but that’s awful. I know the Felix in my world is under his father’s thumb, but I don’t know to what degree,” Metal Bug added.

            “Then who are you with?” Court of Miracles Marinette asked.

            “Huh? Oh, uh, my Marinette, Kagami, and Adrien,” Metal Bug answered.

            Lord Bug gasped. “Me too. Well, replace Adrien with Luka because I’m Adrien.”

            “My, you dogs. Well, I suppose not. The Adrien and Luka I know are just as much whores,” Court of Miracles Marinette mocked.

            “Hey, what’s wrong with multiple partners, fatass? I may not have more than Pom Pom, but I’m open for more. And she’s got Juleka,” Bloody Bug snapped.

            Court of Miracles Marinette held up her hands. “Never said there was anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t surprise me of everyone, it would be versions of them. Nor does it surprise me that those two are fucking. Besides, I have my own eyes on someone else in my Court.”

            Juleka pursed her lips as Court of Miracles Marinette winked at her.

            “What about you, sweetie? You got any lovers? I imagine all the men and women throw themselves at a beauty like you,” Court of Miracles Marinette teased.

            “Uh, well, no. Not that it matters since Luka always gets in my way of getting close to anyone. Like I’m not safe already with her.”

            Of Virtue and Sin Marinette tensed up. “Her who?”

            “She’s… she’s no one. I mean, she is. She’s a warrior clad in crimson armor. A defender of the weak and sword for the defenseless. Blessed by the kwami god Longg, bearing the curse of destructive flames, she roams the land. We’ve given her the title, Crimson Death, for when she jumps in, no villain is left alive from her burning, crimson glory,” Juleka explained.

            “Sounds like a case of hero worship,” Absolution Ladybug commented.

            “Or a hero crush. Quite romantic,” Separate Worlds Lady Beetle cooed.

            “Sounds like a bad bitch. You should totally hit that,” Siren’s Song Lady Beetle added.

            Juleka blushed.

            Of Virtue and Sin Marinette tsked. “Enough! Leaved her alone. If we insist on this topic, why not someone else share? You, the pink bug with pig tails.”

            Hope bounced and nodded. She reshaped the creative energies back to Delphyne. She silently fangirled as she mimicked a dragon.

            “You like your dragon?” Carmine asked.

            Hope nodded and grinned.

            “That’s adorable. There’s something about dragons that are lovable, isn’t there?”

            Hope jumped and clapped.

            “Is yours a dragon?” Court of Miracles Marinette asked.

            “Please. That dragon would never speak with me. Besides, my heart was stolen by a sly little trickster,” Carmine admitted.

            “My, how scandalous. What about you, little man bug? Any special ladies in your life?” Court of Miracles asked.

            “Who? Me? Oh, no! I mean, not that I don’t know any ladies. Rather there’s, uh, well there’s a guy I might sorta kinda like. But that’s a whole different story. Uh, anyway, what about you, uh, you?” Scarlet Lord rambled.

            “Me? Simple. I’m engaged to my Luka. We dated in high school, kept up a long distance relationship, until recently when he asked me to marry him. Obviously I said yes because he’s the music of my soul,” Absolution Ladybug answered.

            “Aww! How romantic is that?” Lord Bug gushed.

            “Nauseatingly so. Can we talk about something else already?” Bloody Bug demanded.

            “Like what?” Court of Miracles Marinette asked.

            “Oh! How about how we became the ladybugs? Or just about ourselves in general?” Lord Bug suggested.

            “Excellent idea. I’ve been curious about the pigtailed pink bug,” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette commented.

            Hope gave a nervous smile. She morphed the imitation Delphyne into a sequence of memories. Everyone watched Hope, as Marinette, sat in the back seat of a car that was rammed by a speeding car. Everything was a blur as the fire started. The memory faded into Hope at the hospital, hooked up to every machine possible. That scene faded to the years Hope spent recovering until she got Trixx, and then Tikki.

            “Unbelievable. You must have survived by a miracle,” Bloody Bug breathed.

            Hope nodded.

            “And the accident took your ability to speak?” Of Virtue and Sin Marinette asked.

            Hope nodded.

            “What about Tom and Sabine? Are they… gone?”

            Hope nodded.

            Absolution Ladybug touched her hand to her heart before she stood and hugged Hope. Hope’s eyes widened as she returned the hug.

            “I know what it’s like to lose your parents before you were ready to. I didn’t lose mine like this, but they were still taken from me. But you still look like a teen. Who takes care of you? You’re not alone, are you?”

            Hope shook her head. She turned to the projection and shared a memory of Bridgette.

            “Who is that?” Absolution Ladybug asked.

            “Ugh, Bridgette,” Court of Miracles Marinette commented.

            “Who’s Bridgette?” Absolution Ladybug asked.

            “Marinette’s cousin. At least, she’s my Marinette’s cousin,” Lord Bug answered.

            Absolution Ladybug shot Court of Miracles Marinette a look, then squeezed Hope. “I’m glad you have someone to look after and love you. Always cherish them.”

            Hope gave a smile, then frowned and pointed to Absolution Ladybug sighed.

            Absolution Ladybug sighed. “My parents were murdered by my Papillon. She created a monster that butchered Tom and prepared to cook him into pastries and nearly killed Sabine. Sabine saved herself thanks to the ladybug, but still succumbed to her injuries.”

            Hope’s eyes widened while Separate Worlds Lady Beetle, Lord Bug, Metal Bug, Adrien, and Of Virtue and Sin Marinette all gasped.

            “It hurts, and I’ll make that bitch pay, but always make sure to cherish who you have. And cherish every moment for it could be your last.”

            Hope nodded and hugged Absolution Ladybug.

            “Well, this is aggressively uncomfortable. Why don’t we lighten the mood. You, next to Metal Bug, what’s your story?” Court of Miracles Marinette barked.

            “Me? Oh, uh, funny story. I found out my father was Papillon and had my feelings of betrayal and hatred amplified to the point that he akumatized me and turned me into a rampaging monster that nearly killed everyone, so-,” Lord Bug started.

            Bloody Bug bristled. “Chat Blanc.”

            “Huh? Oh, yeah. H-how did you know?” Lord Bug asked.

            “Because it was a Chat Blanc that caused the initial destruction of my world. Because of him, another version of me made a reality-altering wish that made me the ladybug holder and fucked up everything,” Bloody Bug hissed.

            “Well, everyone is alive, right?”

            “Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. Everything has gone to hell with me as the ladybug. I’m fucked up, my brother was sexually assaulted, his life in shambles, and we’re dealing with a crazy ass peacock woman.”

            “Well, I mean, I’d rather all that if it means I don’t have to live with the knowledge that I nearly killed everyone, would have left them with life-altering injuries if not for a miracle serum, leveled the city, and would have… would have… anyway! Let’s move on! What about you?” Lord Bug desperately asked.

            Metal Bug raised a brow. “Uh, I made a deal with Tikki to be a songwriter, but it came with me being part of a game she was playing.”

            “Well, that sounds fun! Games are always fun,” Lord Bug commented.

            “Well, I wouldn’t-,” Metal Bug started.

            “What about you, other me?” Lord Bug asked.

            “Me? Oh, I was born blessed by Tikki and Plagg and am a Prince of my kingdom,” Adrien answered.

            “That sounds like me too. Though I’m no royalty, but a village girl. I was blessed by Tikki, kwami god of Creation, and Sass, kwami god of Life, with an inclination towards life over death. Luka got the death inclination,” Juleka remarked.

            “Huh, interesting. What about the tiny tight ass?” Court of Miracles Marinette mocked.

            Coccinella bristled. “Oh, fuck you. If you must know, I was approached by Tikki to handle the menace at hand. Nothing more, nothing less. Very much like the other blonde chick here.”

            “My, how boring,” Court of Miracles Marinette teased.

            “You know what, fuck this. I want out of here. I’m done.”

            A portal opened on the far side of the room. Coccinella flipped off Court of Miracles Marinette, then left.

            Lord Bug stood. “My, is it that time already? Well, I should… yeah.”

            Lord Bug ran through the portal after Coccinella. Juleka slipped around everyone and entered the portal. Of Virtue and Sin Marinette watched her leave before taking her own leave. Metal Bug sighed and left with Scarlet Lord right behind him.

            Absolution Ladybug gave Hope a hug. “Stay strong, little bug. We got this.”

            Hope smiled through her tears as she hugged Absolution Ladybug. Absolution Ladybug took Hope’s hand as they left through the portal together.

            Carmine snorted and strutted out with Bloody Bug behind her. Separate World Lady Beetle and Siren’s Song Lady Beetle considered before they stood and left after Carmine and Bloody Bug. Marinette and Adrien shared a look before they stood.

            “Well, this was fun. Don’t you think so?” Marinette asked.

            “I must admit, I didn’t hate it. It has left me a touch curious.”

            “Indeed. I hope to meet here again. Who knows what else we could meet in this room.”

            Adrien nodded before he followed Marinette out of the sitting room.

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[granonine]

Strength, Song, and Salvation

Psalm 118:10-14. All nations compassed me about: but in the name of the LORD will I destroy them. They compassed me about; yea, they compassed me about: but in the name of the LORD I will destroy them. They compassed me about like bees; they are quenched as the fire of thorns: for in the name of the LORD I will destroy them. Thou hast thrust sore at me that I might fall: but the…

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

[azullumi]

“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun. 

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song. 

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[shocymer]

Redemption

"To him who's giving you a second chance, If there's heaven and hell, would you still risk everything for him?"

Pairing : mafia!Mingi × f!reader

Word counts : 6,1k

Contents and Warning : 18+ smut mdni! , mafia! AU, mention of illegal drugs, TW! mention of abused (undetailed), mention of rape (undetailed), attachment issue, suicide attempt (see the end notes), smoking cigs!mingi, action, gunfight, bloodshed, soft dom!mingi, oral (giving), size kink, slightly choking, unprotected sex, cumshot, creampie, husband!Mingi.

× This works is part of "The Brothers Series", and never meant to represent Mingi in any shape or form ×

Cold. Ache. Numb joints. Struggled to blink your eyes for a few times, you found yourself laying down in the dark alley for don’t even know how many hours have passed. Slowly moving your bruised frail hand to reach those chapped lips of yours. A familiar deep voice startled you. You saw those man through the corner of your eyes.

He's leaning against the alley wall next to you. Lighted his cigarette, before letting out a puff of smoke that slowly dissolve into thin air.

“Just like I told you before young lady. You should take my last offer.”

The tears rolled down your cheek. Recollecting your memories how he found you in the similar state a week before, except it isn’t worse as now. With the same bruises covered all over your body, due to escaping from your abused household, you could still save that perfect healthy legs of yours.

His words kept ringing inside of your head. As it’s like forced to get out of it. “Come with me, I can guarantee your safety.” Made you rethink over few times. Who else should I trust? People who only called themselves family constantly abusing you whenever they like just to venting out their anger issues. So far you could endure it all, but unfortunately not last night. In attempted to fight back, your legs get broken instead. Right in the middle of the night after all of those hell ride, you dragged your limping self to this dark alley with the only remaining strength.

The man shrugged his shoulder in impatience. Waiting for your answer who’s still silently cry while laying on the cold asphalt not moving an inches.

“So, how is it?” he’s asking your final decision.

You turn your head towards him, mouthing the words “Please take me.” Before the consciousness left you out.

He throw away the remaining cigarette that slipped between his fingers. Stepped on it with the tip of his sole then walk slowly towards your body. He crouched down while scanning your miserable state.

Shook his head as if he felt the pain after seeing you, then a deep sighed left from his mouth. “What a poor soul, you should’ve decided earlier.”

After he brushed off the dust on his black suit a little bit, he carried you into his arms. Proceed to walk step by step towards the end, greeted by his men who’s immediately open the car door for him. Then they drove away, taking you out of that terrible dark alley, leaving it’s coldness and your past behind.

⁠✧

“As expected you’re doing a good job.” His sweet voice echoed in your ears, quite the opposite of his intimidating looks.

It’s the same man who saved you a few years back, Song Mingi. He’d been diving in illegal activities since the beginning of his life, doing a lot of dirty works neatly. His men were scattered everywhere, all thanks to the connections he had built from a long time ago. And you think you’re also part of them.

You devoted your entire life for him as he’s your salvation. Obediently do everything he ordered without hesitation. Despite all of the sin he had done, never in any slightest he will put you in danger. To the point you’re getting bored of hearing his same message every time you’ll go on a mission.

“If the situation getting worse and you are in unfavorable state, find me. I’ll take care the rest of it.”

Sometimes you want to protest. Due to a lot of experiences of working under him for many years, you should be able to handle the worst possible thing. But he always forbids you, questioning your own safety and it ended with a long lecture. If so, what can you do? You can only sit with your head down waiting for him to finish his scolding. But deep down inside you’re happy about it.

“I just did what my master told me to do.” You responded in bliss everytime he praises you.

His fingertips run trough the strands of your hair, stroking it in delicate manner. “Good girl.” While looking into your eyes proudly. His smile is intoxicating. That’s become a strong reason for you to do his errands perfectly.

“This is for your hard work.” He put a white fancy paper bag on your bed. Then giving you few last caress on top of your head before leaving. Your eyes trailing his presence till it disappear behind the door.

When you peeked at the contents, it was a bundle of money and a jewelry box with small note on it.

Throw away the old one, I know it shredded into pieces.

- M.

You laughed at the note. How could you throw it away, that was the first gift he gave to you. You already guessed that the second you open the box, it’s an exact same bracelet that wrapped around your wrist for years, struggled to keep intact after it wrecked on your last two missions. Well, he’s pretty sweet for a criminal.

⁠✧

Different days, different matters. Beside the other trivial works, his biggest main source is the casino. What made him furious was someone trying to sabotage it by smuggling illegal drugs in. He already had one or two suspect names and somehow believed they’re located in a red light district area. Now, you’re into a heat arguments with him, hating every nonsense ideas that spurt out of your pretty lips.

“No. Definitely not.” He crossed his arms, sure thing your words flamed his anger even more.

“It’s much easier for me to blend in there. You’ll get their information faster.” You talk quietly afraid of his wrath. He always lets you join him wherever he goes. Except for one place, the red light district. Either he left you at his place or he never told you that he would go there.

Frustration overwhelmed him, ended up taking off his black spectacle. “I hate to say this sweetie, but I’m a man and you’re a woman. I can’t let you go there.”

“But the sex worker..” You averted your gaze from him, hesitant to continue. “are mostly women, I thought that I can disguise as one of them.”

He immediately got up from the chair and walked towards you. His thumb and index finger grabbed your chin, turning your face to him, made you looking straight into his eyes. “Listen young lady, it’s not worth of the risk. I-” he shook his head then release the grip from your chin.

“I lost my mother there. She was brutally ganged by multiple crazy bastard.” You could see his jaw tightened, his stare were full of resentment. “I was only six that time. Then, father brought me here.”

Ah, somehow you’re familiar with the father figure he told you about. You believed there’s 8 of them who’s adopted by the father. As you remember, they named themselves KQ Fellaz. They’re quite famous cartel where you used to live before. Even though their existence is still questionable, but at that time people keep talking about them. You don’t even know if Mingi was part of it. In fact, you think he’s the father itself due to him has saved you before.

Now you understand, why he strictly banned you from going there. He didn’t budge at all after spilling over his bitter past. Couldn't stand the look on his face, you bring your warm hand to cupped his cheek, caressing it slowly hoping it’ll calm him down. When you’re about to hug him, there’s a knock on the door. Both of you turned to the source of the sound in reflex.

“Come in!” Mingi yelled.

A tall male figure entered the room. He looked friendly, his arms were wide open as if he was waiting for Mingi into his arms. Mingi’s eyes instantly lit up, then he returned the hug like an old friend who hasn't seen each other for a long time.

“Oh Yunho, I thought you wouldn’t come.” Mingi said as he let go.

“I’ll definitely come. But I couldn’t promise you exactly when.” He patted mingi’s back.

They’re lost in conversation, talking about those casino problems which this Yunho guy believed all the ruckus caused by the same prominent figure that interrupted his own works too. Meanwhile, you’re busy looking at him from the corner of the room where you’re sitting. He's the complete opposite of Mingi. His facial features are delicate, his skin is white as milk, his hair is short with dark brown colors and well styled. What equates them is only their clothing, they consistently wear black suits, although Yunho is much more formal, meanwhile Mingi looks a little bit casual just like how people dealing in this kind of works are supposed to be look like.

There’s no intimidating aura emits from him. Made you wonder, what works he’s in with those kind of look? An entertainer? Or public figure? Who knows, maybe he’s one of informants that your master is looking for.

You stopped your thoughts when his eyes met with yours. He gave you a soft smile, before turned back to Mingi.

“You’re into adopting too ?”

“She is..” Mingi took a quick glance at you, a thin smile formed his lips, “..my tool. You know, I’m not as good as father.” He always takes time to praise no one know whether those figure exist whenever he mentioned its name. Using his index and middle fingers, he gestured you to come over him.

You obediently approached Mingi, his arm automatically wrap around your waist as asserting your ownership to the person he’s talking to. If he did this, it means Yunho is one of his important business partners. But wait, they’re mentioned those same “father” before. So..

Yunho only chuckled at the sight of you two. Then immediately diverted it, “Tell me what else do you need?” he asked.

“I really need their exact location. Ya know there’s dealers activity around the red light district, but I’m still doubting whether it’s legit their quarters or their operation zone only.” Mingi reached for the lighter in his pocket to light the cigarette that placed between his lips. Smoked on it once or twice.

“I sent my men to check it last week, but fuck there’s no words back till now.” He continued while looking far away out of the window.

Yunho could sense the annoyance radiating through his words. “And? What’s your next move?”

He grinned while imagining how he would ravage those wretch. “Wiped clean their base of course. I don’t like any pests slink in my lovely fields.”

Knowing what to do, Yunho promised him that he’ll be back for few days to dig more information. Before leaving, he put his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, leaning closer to talk beside him in low tone. “Remember, don’t act rashly.” When Mingi turned to him, he only gave him a faint smile, “Oh and keep an eye on your surrounding bud.” Then, he patted Mingi’s shoulder for few times and walk away out of the room, leaving you two alone.

⁠✧

“.. Yes sir, please go this way. We can talk about it in my office.” The old man that known as the manager guided Mingi as soon as he set his foot at the casino entrance.

You look around, the situation is still the same as the normal days. Crowded by people who enjoy betting their own wealth, plus the sound of slot machines were rumbling in the background as you go deep inside. The casino has been around for almost a decade. Even though it’s still quite new, but its reputation is well known to be able to compete with others. And of course Mingi despise any slightest intervention for the continuity of his business. So, he intended to find out everything with his own eyes today.

“How about we talk about the matters here. I want to enjoy the casino atmosphere right now.” He declined the offer politely, giving a convincing reason with the only sole purpose which is to observe everything clearly.

The manager immediately snapped his fingers, called several waiters to prepare the VIP seats that located in the middle of the casino. Of course anything is done for your master as the respective owner of this place.

“Sir, would you like some ladies for the companion, before we start?” The same old man made an offer while inviting him to take a seat.

He gestured with his hand to reject it. “No need, I bring my own. Shall we start now?” He pulled you to sit on his lap as soon as he sat on the couch. You catch what he means right away, then you begin to put your hand behind his neck while the other one rest on his clothed chest, acting like one of his own ladies. But on the contrary, he didn’t have any girls around.

All of his past trauma was swallowing over him, every girl touches made him uncomfortable in some kind of a way. Disgusted by the fact how his mother’s life ended by several men, he’s afraid of the possibility to unleashed the sickening behavior as a man whenever any woman approached him. But after he met you, he’ll bring you along whether to meet the clients or some of the influential person on his work. Therefore, beside of doing your job as his underlings, the other purpose was to avoid some ladies that sent to accompany him in every meetings with them. And that cause you often mistaken as his woman by a lot of people he met.

Back to the casino right now, you directed your gaze all over the room, trying to catch if something strange might be happen. Sometimes, you took a glance at Mingi who’s still talking to those manager, trying to read his cautious expression to the surrounding. He’ll occasionally caress your thigh for a few times, only to keep your composure.

You flicked your eyes to the side, noticing the odd. Proceed to run your fingertips from his chest up to his neck and end up covering your lips from the side which is pressing against his right ear. Mingi hold the grunts that almost escape from the back of his throat as he feel your soft breath hitting on his skin, and he finally giving the attention you wanted.

“2 o’clock direction. I’ll check it right away.” You whispered into his ear.

His eyes aimed at the place you’re referring to, then slightly lean away from you. “My sweetie is bored huh? You wanna look around?” He brushed his palm on your back gently, still didn’t drop the act.

“Yes please, can I?” You cooed at him, giving your pampered look as convincing as possible.

“Of course, everything for you baby.” Then he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds before let you go.

You didn’t expect he will kiss you right away. Isn’t it too much for a mere acting? Wait, did he repay your previous actions? Mingi’s expression was hard to read, he only smirked at you as if “good luck” was the only two words that written on his face. However, you swift away towards the possible problems occurred, after showed them your sweetest smile for the last time.

Well, it didn’t go smoothly as you wanted. You pretend to be interested in the slot machines that lined up near you, under the pretext of approaching those suspicious figures stealthily. But it ended up they’re in the middle of the crowd where it’s difficult for you to reach. You tried to sneak in, squishing your body among a lot of people. To be honest, this wasn’t your main forte. Your part is to deal with the target directly as a decoy. And there’s no other option, it’s too crowded for any commotion to occur, so the only thing you can do is watching them closely.

They drew closer to each other, it seems like exchanging something under their coat. You accidentally stole glances with one of them, and somehow he looks quite familiar but there’s no other clue because half of his face is covered with hat. You still tried to get closer carefully, but alas it didn’t work. They’re gone, blending in with the crowd, wearing the same black coat with people around in the casino.

You turned your gaze to Mingi from the place you’re standing right now. Only realized that his eyes was fixed on you from the earlier you left. Slightly shook your head at him, you gave him signal that the target was gone. He rolled his eyes, immediately stopping his conversation with the manager before barging out of the casino furiously. You followed him behind, who’s cursing along the way towards his car.

Pulled the highest gear and stepped on the gas pedal, he’s driving in full speed. His eyes pierced straight towards the road as if he could tear it apart. There’s too many questions running inside of your head, but you’re afraid to ask. So you just sit quietly on the passenger seat beside him.

He pressed the bridge of his nose every now and then, hoping it’ll reduce the headache a little bit. But it didn’t work either way. He decided to break the silence after quite some time. “Haa.. I can’t trust those old man either.”

You dared yourself to give him a response, “why? You have known him for a long time though.”

“It just.. my own suspicion. Nothings deep.” He looked much calmer than before while still focused on driving his car. “That’s why I bring you instead of useless bunch of my men.”

Right, the casino manager must be recognize them here and there if Mingi wanted to check it in secret. But it still didn’t work, you lost those troublemaker too. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t do it properly.”

He clicked his tongue before bringing his fingers that belong to his right hand, running through some stands of your loose hair. “Relax, sometime it tend to happen.” You thought he would be mad, but actually he calmed you instead. To the point you could feel the cold sweat enveloped over your palm because you’re too afraid of him.

His phone is ringing, the incoming call notification were written on the head unit screen, it’s from one of his men. Informed him that they had found the target location. He swerved the steering wheel all at once, immediately drove to the location they’re referring to. Just like how he speculated before, he felt satisfied that it was right, those bastards base was in the red light district area.

Upon the arrival, he gave you a warning sign to not to get out of the car no matter what happen, before rushing out and being greeted by his several men. You saw him through the car window, the way his annoyed expression drawn on his face, but still kept the composure remain. It can be seen that he burn the cigarettes tip and taking a deep drag of it, just to calm himself down.

He pulled out his favorite handgun, racking the slide once to load in the bullet, then he gave the command to break into those place. His men spreading all over the main hall in swift motion, but strangely there’s not a single person was on guard there. Due to unexpected of this big place, Mingi ordered them to split up and told them to kill anyone they met.

On the other hand, you just sat quietly in the car, even though occasionally heard the gunshots noise one after another coming from the mansion which couldn't be muffled by how tight the car was. Oh to be the passenger princess, you’re hating how useless you are right now.

You startled by the sudden rang coming from Mingi’s phone, Yunho’s name was pop out on the screen. Hesitant whether you should answer or ignore it afraid of being too nosy. After you think clearly like how careless is your master to left out his important being here, you end up slide the green button to the right.

“Hello, where are you right now?” Yunho’s anxious voice heard across the phone.

You answered him carefully, “Uhm sir, it’s me. We’re in the red light district right now.”

“Wait, where’s Mingi?”

“He’s in the big white mansion,” you look around trying to describe how it’s look like. “..it’s located deep in the area, we turned left from the four junction of the main road, then-”

He cut off your explanation, “Shit, he’s lured in! All of it was a trap.” He sighed, “can you reach hi-” Good heaven, the call disconnected due to signal lost.

You shook the phone, hoping it’ll catch the signal back, but it didn’t work. As soon as you gathered your mind, you took the 'smith and wesson' out of the glove compartment, slipping in between the thigh band under your little black dress. Getting out of the car, you entered the white mansion in instant.

It's weirdly too calm on the first floor. Feeling like lost the sense of direction, you just followed your gut. Running to the left wing of mansion, checking on every single room, you only wished to find Mingi as soon as possible. On every step you wondered, Why did the gunshots noise stopped? It makes you difficult to track the source of the fight.

Shit thing’s happen, you just entered the wrong room when lost in your thought. There’s a man relaxed sitting on a big armchair while smoking his cigar. You really want to back off, but he already saw you first. You decided to play along rather than causing more complicated thing.

“Good grief, they sent a new bitch”

You came closer to his side while giving him a formality smile. Putting your hand to his shoulder and leaning over him, just keeping the act before you intended to attack him quickly. Alas, he gripped your wrist instead, after that twisting your arm and held it back. He’s grabbing the chunk of your hair then yanked your head to the side, “ I knew you’re not just an ordinary bitches”

You elbowed him in the face with other free hand and giving him a round kick in attempt to released yourself. You took a few steps back, pulled out your handgun then shooting him right on his leg. But if feels nothing to him, he proceed to kick your hand which holding the gun till it flew away. You dodged his every blows as best as you can. Cause it’s impossible to counter him with your only bare hands meanwhile he’s much bigger than you. In the end, he managed to grab your hair again. The pain spreading all over your head as if it almost ripping out your scalp.

You’re just about to give up, there’s no energy left in you. But the door slammed loudly, woke you up. There’s your master firing shots eagerly to this bastard. As soon as his dead body fall onto the floor, you run towards Mingi who’s covered in blood stain.

Your voice was shaking while wiping the blood out of his face, “you’re hurt.”

“It’s not mine.” Referring to those blood. He hold your hand gently, staring deep into your eyes, looking at how messed up you’re right now. “But you are the one who’s injured”

He crouched down to pick your gun and giving it back to you. “Who else using this gun type besides you.” After that, he smoothed your hair, running his finger through it. How could he’d be this gentle despite in the midst of chaos. It feels like the world is collided and there’s only you two left.

But those feels didn’t last long, both of you drawn to the sound of explosion coming from the deep within the mansion. You just aware that half of it was burned in fire when you looked outside. He took you to another side of mansion which he considered it safe. On your way there, many dead bodies laying around. You could identified one and two of them, only realizing it mostly coming from Mingi’s side.

“You didn’t lose right?” You asked him while still running hand in hand.

“What makes you think like that?” He turned towards you, “ I killed ‘em all on the other side.”

Before continuing his words, both of you were blocked by the groups of his men right in the middle of mansion grounds. When he was going to hand you over to them with the intention of taking you out safely, one of them firing the gun. The bullet grazed your upper right arms, made you fall onto your knees due to shock.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?!!” Mingi was furious at the sight, he bombard the remaining bullets he had to them without thinking, gunned them down one by one. However, he’s still out numbered. Whether he want it or not, he received multiple shots that pierced through his body. You almost gone crazy, seeing him so badly injured with your own eyes. It got to the point he couldn’t stand on his own feet anymore.

You stepped to the front, covering him in injured state while shooting them with your trembling left hand. Not too long, the strong wind hitting the ground while you’re still busying yourself in the gunfight, followed by the sound of helicopter blade getting closer. You squinted your eyes trying to see it clearly, then found a muscular man shooting his machine gun towards Mingi’s underlings, from inside of the helicopter.

“Step back! We’ll take over.” Yunho shouted, walking from your behind while pointing his gun at them.

Catching on the situation, you backed yourself out. Proceed to put Mingi’s arm around your shoulder then carried him to the safer place. You laid him down slowly, before starting to rip some part of your dress in attempt to stop his bleeding. Your tears fell right away in a moment he struggled to reach your cheek.

You hold his hand, “please don’t move too much, I tried my best to treat your wound okay?”

When you finished covered his wounds, his grip was weakened. You can’t think clearly at the moment, checking his heartbeat back and forth by pressing your ear on top of his chest. You tried to talk to him over and over, hoping he would stay conscious. Till there’s one time you couldn’t feel his breath anymore.

“No! please don’t leave me!” You cried out, crumbling apart, there’s no point to continue your life if he’s gone. Everything’s went silence as if there’s no gunfight going on in the background.

You decided to racked the slide of your gun, then pointing out under your chin. The tears keep running out of your eyes as you looked down to his body. You took a deep breath, then putting you finger to the trigger. Chanting his name in the whisper. After that, you didn’t felt anything as you went black out.

⁠✧

More than a week passed since that day, you’re sitting in front of his room with your bandaged arm. Luckily you’re immediately fainted right before pulling the trigger. If not, you wouldn’t know if Mingi is still alive until now. He woke up a few days ago after he went into short coma. His three brothers took turns looking after him, you don’t know the rest of their name but surely Yunho is one of them.

To be honest, you really wanted to scold him the second he woke up, but Yunho already done that, so you don’t need to.

“He’s looking for you.” Yunho said that to you before he left.

You knocked on the door, then stepping into Mingi’s room. He smiled at you as soon as you come closer towards his bed. Right now, he’s leaning against the headboard with his naked torso covered in the bandage, he looks much better than the last time you saw him. You sure have known for a long time how fit his body is. But not today, you felt something strange when you looked at his toned chest as if you want to run your fingertips through it.

“What’s wrong?” His voice interrupted your thoughts.

You shook your head in instant, “nothing.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you to sit next to him. Then brushing his hair back before he put his forehead into the nape of your neck. “Is it weird if I miss you this bad?”

You chuckled, starting to caress his hair gently. “No, you’re not. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” he’s still in the same position, mumbled his words.

“Yes I do, sir.”

He grunted while looking up at you. “Don’t call me sir.” His lips pressing against your ear, “call my name instead, okay sweetie?” He’s started to nibble your earlobe, flicking it using his tongue then tugging it between his teeth.

Biting your lower lips, you tried to hold the sensation of him sucking on your skin. You put your hand on his chest, which had been itching to touch it since your first step into his room. Teasing him a little bit more by trailing on every curved of his chest to his abdominal muscle with your second fingers. He groaned, while he’s still kissing on the side of your neck.

He talked between the kisses, “you know what, actually I want to devour you back in the casino.” He bite on your neck, “the way your plumped ass pressed on my cock.” He bite you again, “the way your delicate fingers touched my skin.” He bite you for the third time before whispering into your ear, “and of course, the way your lips slammed with mine.”

You turned to him, circling your hands to the back of his neck. Staring deep into his eyes, mouthing “I love you” then began to devour his lips passionately. He gave the same energy by parting your lips with his tongue, trying to collide it with yours. You moan between the kisses as he grope your butt to pick you onto his lap.

But really, this isn’t the stamina of someone who just woken up from a coma while still being injured here and there. You grinded on his clothed cock, feeling it growing hard on every stroke you made.

He parted out from the kiss only to see the aroused face of yours. The way your half lidded eye staring on him and how red is your flushed cheek, making him groan on the sight of it. He brought his hand to pull your skirt up, starting to teased your wet clothed clit using his thumb that moving in circle. You throw your head back while moaning out his name.

His other hand slightly choking on your throat while you still dry humping his cock erratically, all of it brought you to the cloud nine as you came in your panties, drenched it out to the core.

“Ah Mingi, stop!” You couldn’t resist your body to spasm after pinching your clit hard, he didn’t give you break to riding down your first orgasm. He’s satisfied at how messy you are right now, then giving you a quick kiss on your lips as a reward.

Didn’t want to lose, you started trailing kisses on his chest down to his stomach. And stopped right in front of his bulge, unbuttoning his pants, then letting it out sprung free. His cock is swollen hard and throbbing at every single touch you made. You looked up at him, feeling proud of yourself as he can’t do anything and only anticipating what will you do next.

You licked the tip of his hard member, twisting it between your tongue to the left and right, before sucking on it hard. Your hand started stroking the remaining length up and down, while you’re bobbing your head to bring it deeper touching to the back of your throat. He couldn’t help but groan loudly, while he grab your hair as it guide you to move faster. “I- I’m so close baby.” You could feel his cock is pulsing, then he shoot his load into your mouth.

Sticking out your tongue, you showed him that you took all of his cum then you swallowed it all the way. “Baby, ride my cock right away.” He cooed. You yanked your panties, and started to slide his cock slowly into your tight pussy. It’s unexpectedly big, that it's bulging out your lower belly everytime it hitting on your womb. At first you grinding it slowly, made him throwing his head back to the headboard. But after quite some time, he dig his fingers on your waist, thrusting his cock deeper and faster. You only cried out incoherent moan as he thrusting it frantically. Pain and pleasure becoming one, he gave one last hard thrust, before filled his cum into your pussy. You squirm and spasm as you feel his hot seed keep spurting in your womb.

He groaned, “that was so good.” Then tucked your hair behind your ear. While still sitting on his lap, you put your head on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

“Baby..” he called you softly.

You still felt tired, didn’t budge at all in his arms. “Hmm?”

“I think my stitches are open.”

You immediately sat down to his side before seeing the blood seeping through his lower bandage. You shook your head. Ah, it looks like both of you have to be patient for quite some time, until Mingi recover completely.

⁠✧

Milan, 3 Years later.

“Mingi stop!” You pushed him while giggling at how ticklish he’s kissing you. He’s on top of you right now, planting kisses all over you neck, and leaving some mark on it.

You covered his mouth, this is your second attempt to stop him from attacking you. “Come on, there’s our babies around.” You sulking at him.

He back off easily every time you mention the kids. “Alright alright.” Then, he took a seat beside you obediently.

Mingi and you got a pair of twins right away after the marriage, now they’re almost two years old. Walking around the living room and playing with their toys.

Mingi decided to move out to the complete opposite of different continents after he recovered from the injuries. Leaving out the dangerous work and starting a new life with you instead. Sometimes he miss the old times. Just like right now, he’ll teasing you whenever remembered the piece memories of it.

“I can’t get it out of my mind the way you looked at me in those mansion.” He chuckled.

“What am I supposed to do? You’re dying, it’s not even funny.” You’re even more annoyed at him.

“It just, you don’t need to stain your hand by shooting those bastards to death.” He’s giving a serious looks on his face. “It was my biggest regret that I can’t protect you.”

You caress his cheek, “why? You’re doing your best and please stop blaming yourself.”

“It’s not like that, I want you to remain pure. So just let me bear all of your sin. I don’t want to drag you into the hell. An angel is supposed to be in heaven” He frowned, disappointed for all of the things that have been through.

You never know if he thinks about you like that, the sweet side of him never changed since the first time you met, he always save you no matter what happen.

You laughed, “I don’t want to stay in heaven by myself. Let me bring the heaven to you”

“Right, you always bring heaven to me though.” Shaking his head and starting to laugh too. He immediately stand up to approach the twins.

“Let’s wrap it up my prince and princess, it’s a nap time for you two.” He chase them around, which hating to take a nap.

You heard the doorbell rang, so you rushed to open the door.

“Oh Hello, Is Mr. Song at home?” A man who looks a little younger, looking for your husband.

“Wait a minute” You turned your back “Honey, there’s someone looking for you!” You’re going inside, taking his place to put your lovely twin babies to the bed.

Mingi walked towards the front door, fall silent for a moment, after looking at the figure who’s standing right in front of him. “Jongho?”

“Well, long time no see, brother.”

disclaimer : this works didn't instigate any psychological deviation so please seeking the professional when you feel unwell. All of it is purely fiction and for entertaintment purpose only.

[godspeedviper]

Christian Woman - Jonathan Crane x Preacher's Daughter Reader (+18)

𖤐 Synopsis: Jonathan Crane and the preacher’s daughter drive up to a lover’s lane in an old truck with the intention of indulging the Devil on this hot summer evening.

𖤐 Type: Established Relationship || Fluff and Smut

𖤐 Word Count: 826

𖤐 Rating: Mature || PiV || Underage drinking and smoking

𖤐 A/N: This is the second work in the preacher's daughter series! (Yes, I'm making it a series!) First work can be found here

Forgive her,

For she knows not what she does.

  One summer night – the moon was full yet the sun hadn’t fully set – the cicadas and grasshoppers and frogs all sang the song of the south, of lust, of heat. Tithonus’ hymn to Aphrodite. We drove out into the fields on her daddy’s old pickup truck, stopping at the edge of town where the terror of the Appalachians met the terrors of small town farmland, a symbolic sort of crossroads upon which to meet with the Devil and sin. 

  Sin! Sin! Sin! Oh! The Devil was ever-present in the south, you could feel his oppressive presence in the humidity, see his glowing red eyes nestled in the tall grass watching as you walked to and fro. God should forgive us for succumbing to his temptations, for the Devil was our neighbor, how could we not give in? 

A cross upon her bedroom wall

From grace, she will fall.

An image burning in her mind

And between her thighs.

  A crucified scarecrow bore witness to our consummation, watching solemnly from its post – I feel that way now, condemned to reminisce but not partake – but in the heat of the moment we paid it no mind. Through the veneer of love, everything is beautiful. Through the hunger of lust, everything can be devoured, and I was all mouth. A thick sheen of sweat coated her from head to toe, giving her skin a pearlescent glow that made me believe in divinity, even if only for a moment. Perhaps God was not to be found in the pages of the Bible or even in the pews of a church. Perhaps God was inside of her all along. 

Before him, beg to serve or please

On your back or knees

She looked at me as I undressed with a reverence I’ve not seen even amongst the most pious; I was her God and she was my salvation. 

“Fuck me,” she said. 

  Oh how sweet those foul lips taste! There is bliss in the profane. Perhaps this was the moment in which I became what I am today, where I first tasted the fruits of misbehavior. My inexperienced hands roamed her body like spiders, propelled by natural instinct alone, frantically running through every curve and crevasse. At long last my hands found purchase in her hair, holding the strands like reigns as I chased my orgasm at full gallop, thrusting into her with reckless abandon. I watched her eyes roll into the back of her head like a woman possessed and felt her body press into mine as her spine arched up off the bed of the truck. Her legs then wrapped around my hips, ensnaring me like game; she always was a good hunter. 

She’d like to know God

Love God

Feel, feel, feel her God

Inside of her

Deep inside of her.

“You’re going to Hell, Jonathan Crane.” She said with a giggle as I lit her cigarette, a tried and true cliche. “Fuckin’ the preacher’s daughter and providin’ her with smokes n’ drink. What a bad boy you are!” 

“If I’m goin’ to Hell it will be on your heels, my dear Eurydice.” I leaned in close to her and lit my own cigarette with the burning end of hers, gently cupping her face in one hand. 

“You ain’t no Orpheus,” she scoffed. “You’re too smart, and shit at the guitar let alone a lyre.” 

“And you ain’t no paragon of justice either.” I teased.

I got up off the bed of the truck and went around to the passenger side, folding the seat forward to pull out the small red cooler sitting on the back seat. I cranked the volume up on the dashboard, the music blaring out of the old speakers, and I jumped back onto the bed of the truck, one hand outstretched to offer her a drink. 

“O dreaded Persephone! Will you have me as your Hades?” 

“Hell yeah.” She replied, bumping her drink to mine. “Cheers!” 

In a town so steeped in religion, blasphemy felt like freedom. We had carved out this little pocket of existence for ourselves, outside of town, outside of our daily troubles. I stood up, outstretched my arms like a cross, and began to sing along to the music blaring from inside the vehicle. 

Jesus Christ looks like me

Jesus Christ, yeah

Jesus Christ looks like me

Jesus Christ, ah

Her laugh echoes through my mind, haunting my memories though her name has long since turned to ash in my mouth. That was the one and only time I felt any semblance of true confidence in myself, and the only time I was ever truly loved. This was the point of inception for The Scarecrow. The God of Fear born out of the only moment of confidence in my life. And so, I look into the rusty old mirror, and slip on the burlap mask.

"Jesus Christ looks like me." 

Ao3 || Ko-Fi || Submit

[whxtedreams]

Just my Luck

Joel x reader oneshot (jackson era)

Summary: If luck is on my side, i’ll return home to Joel once more

Word Count: 0.8k

Tags: Joel’s hugs, kissing, illusions to smut, love and devotion, injury.

Main masterlist

If luck is on my side, I'll have the chance to walk through the imposing gates of Jackson once more, greeting the dutiful guardsmen with a wave as I return to the place I call home.

If luck is on my side, I'll exchange a bouquet of flowers with the man, who will present them to his sweetheart, and in return he'll hand me the steaming cup of tea he diligently has prepared for me every time.

If luck is on my side, I’ll find a smile dancing across my lips as I stroll through the town, making my way towards the inviting warmth of the bar.

If luck is on my side, I'll witness Joel's stern facade soften from across the bar, his tense frown transforming into a gentle smile as he lays eyes upon me once more

If luck is on my side, I'll catch wind of his murmured apologies as he excuses himself from his brother's company and hurries towards me with purposeful strides.

If luck is on my side, I'll experience the warm, comforting embrace of his strong arms encircling me. Never to let me go.

If luck is on my side, I'll find myself cradled against his chest, my ear gently pressed to the steady thudding of his heartbeat. My favorite song.

If luck is on my side, he'll murmur softly into my hair, his voice low enough for only my ears, confessing that he missed me dearly.

If luck is on my side, I’ll gaze up at him with adoration in my eyes, as though he were the one who hung each star in the heavens, and I'll confess that my yearning for him was even greater than his own.

If luck is on my side, he'll escort me home and in his devoted nature, he'll follow me inside. Resembling a loyal puppy that worships the very air I breathe and never wants to part from his beloved.

If luck is on my side, my gaze shall fall upon his eyes, witnessing how quickly they transition from innocent adoration to a sinful, intoxicating desire as he gracefully leads me up the stairs.

If luck is on my side, I'll experience the tender press of his love upon my skin, as he writes his devotion into every inch of my being with his adoring lips.

If luck is on my side, I'll listen intently to the symphony of his love and passion as they spill from his lips, mingling with the symphony of ecstasy that resonates through our very souls as he sinks his devotion into my very core.

If luck is on my side, his lips will meet mine in a passionate embrace as our souls burst forth in a glorious union of love and passion.

If luck is on my side, I'll awaken once more, wrapped in the cocoon of his embrace. Secure in the knowledge that tomorrow, and every day after, will find me nestled within his protective hold.

Luck is not on my side, for I am not present in Jackson, nor am I ensconced in the warmth of the bar or embraced by my beloved.

Luck is not on my side as it has left me stranded and wounded with no one to come to my aid until it is far too late to offer any salvation.

Luck is not on my side as I find myself staring transfixed at the dagger lodged in my side. A simple supply run that went horribly awry.

If luck is on my side, the voice I hear calling out my name, reaching through the fog of agony that envelops me, is one that is real and not merely a hallucination conjured by my pain-addled mind.

If luck is on my side, the figure standing before my eyes is no illusion, a tangible presence amidst the swirling storm outside, his voice ragged as he calls out my name, mingling with the howling winds.

If luck is on my side, the man who kneels before me is indeed Joel, his touch tender as he gently cups my face with his firm yet gentle hands, treating me as if I were the one who had hung each and every star in the vast, dark sky above.

If luck is on my side, he’ll carry me home.

If luck is on my side, the sight that greets me when my eyes flutter open will be that of his face, as he is all I yearn to see and all I require to feel whole.

If luck is on my side, the heavenly powers will not rip me from the love I've discovered, allowing me to remain eternally at the side of the one who has captured my heart.

But in the end, perhaps I don't require luck. Perhaps destiny, or even love itself, will ensure that we remain together, no matter the odds stacked against us.

notes

the love i hold for this man -

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [3/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, kissing, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what they had done they lasted for a moment in the tight embrace of each other's arms, trying to calm their breathing, his hand stroking her soft hair.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" He asked so quietly that she barely heard him; she felt a tightening in her heart at the thought of how much she wanted nothing more and how inappropriate it was.

Nonetheless, she knew they were both scared, embarrassed and needed their closeness, proof that although the situation was complicated and hopeless, they were in it together.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him sigh loudly in relief, as if he feared that she now abhorred and hated him, that she would betray him, sell the story to the newspapers, destroy him as a man, as a priest and as a pope.

She thought that they were both complicit in this situation, and although she felt remorse knowing that she had contributed to him breaking his celibacy, some kind of warmth filled her lower abdomen.

She thought with despair that she had fallen in love with him.

She looked in her drawers for some of her uncle's old tracksuits that he had left in his flat and gave them to him to change into, showing him beforehand how to turn on the washing machine so he could clean the ones he came in. Taking advantage of the fact that he was in the bathroom, she changed into dry underwear and sighed quietly, somehow feeling clean again.

She waited for him lying on her bed – when he came out of her bathroom he looked at her for a moment standing in the entrance, clearly not knowing what to say, his face just like hers, red from tears and emotion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered helplessly. She sighed quietly, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with understanding.

"Do not apologise, Holy Father."

He swallowed heavily and moved towards her, startling her when he lay down opposite her and immediately hid his face in the material of her shirt between her breasts, his large hands clamped down on her back.

"Can you embrace me?" He asked uncertainly with a regret and embarrassment from which she felt a squeeze in her throat, the fingers of one of her hands sinking into his short hair while the other wrapped around his waist.

She felt him tense and wondered sadly after what she had learned, if anyone had ever hugged him, if he had found his place and understanding in someone's arms.

"Can I fall asleep like this?" He asked again. She sighed quietly, leaned in and kissed his hair, stroking it with her fingers – she felt a shiver pass through him, his hands clenched tighter on the material of her shirt.

"Yes." She whispered; she felt him move closer to her, snuggling his whole body into her, felt his desperation, the fact that he was and needed to be vulnerable, weak, protected, that he wanted to feel and love, wanted to suffer, to experience what others did.

"If it's a sin, why do I feel so peaceful?" He asked quietly, one of his hands trailing up and down her spine making wonderful shivers run through her – she nuzzled her nose into his hair, thinking on the answer.

She understood perfectly what he had in mind, because she felt the same.

She felt a kind of shame at the thought that her grief and remorse was less than she had expected and was only concerned with the fact that she was afraid someone would find out about this.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I am ashamed that my soul is so quiet now. Perhaps it hasn't yet come to us what has happened?" She asked quietly, watching as her fingers tentatively played with his hair. She heard his murmur of contentment, his face pressed tighter into her chest.

She wondered how it was possible that he could breathe in such a position.

"I need you by my side if I am to keep my sanity. I need you because Vatican is like a dark, black hole, like hell on earth, the centre of Sodom and Gomorrah." He whispered into the fabric of her shirt, his voice vibrating through her whole body, apart from their breathing all that could be heard was the quiet ticking of the clock standing on her bedside table.

She swallowed loudly, feeling her heart begin to beat faster, torn internally by her own insecurities and doubts; he felt it, his fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt tighter.

"It's too late. Too late. I can't take it back. This is God's answer to my prayers, to my plea that He not leave me alone. He sent you to me as a sign, as my revelation and salvation." He muttered, and she clenched her eyelids, feeling tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, hugging him tighter, realising with despair that he had possessed her the very first moment she saw him.

"A sign of depravity and bitterness? A taste of sorrow and eternal thirst? That is what I am and will be for you, Holy Father." She exhaled with difficulty, feeling her body begin to twitch, her breast trembled in a heavy breath. He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her, his large hand touched her cheek with a tenderness and respect from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"No. No, you are my joy. My flower garden to which I escape with my thoughts when I am tired. My faithful need me, and I need you." He said softly, wiping with his thumb from her warm cheeks the tears that ran down her face.

"I will not go to a monastery, Holy Father. It is not my vocation." She whispered and he pressed his lips together, swallowing with difficulty.

She could see in his gaze that he was struggling with himself and his disappointment, that he wanted to somehow make sure that he would have her exclusively as a man and a Pope.

"So what is?" He asked finally; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain, realising with that she didn't know the answer to that question, that she didn't know what she wanted to do after university, where she wanted to live, how she saw the next years of her life.

"I don't know. It's a very difficult question." She muttered in a trembling voice, bursting into sobs when this time it was he who pulled her close and embraced her, letting her snuggle into his chest, locking her in a tight grasp of his arms as she did before, placing warm, tender kisses on her hair, combing through it with his fingertips.

"− shhh − it's okay − I'm here for you, child − I won't let you get lost − I'll take care of you −" He whispered, and although she knew there was something ambiguous and indecent in his words, she felt relieved, her fingers tightened into fists on the material of his sweatshirt, his wonderful scent filling her lungs.

There was something wonderful and tender about the fact that neither of them tried to touch each other anymore in a way that could be perceived as purely physical – they just cuddled, stroked and intertwined their fingers. She felt the heat in her chest every time she turned in bed lying in his arms facing him, his lips placing a lingering, soft, wet kiss on her forehead.

"− sleep, child − sleep, I am with you −" He whispered tenderly. She felt butterflies in her stomach and sighed softly, cuddling her face into the hollow of his neck smelling of his perfume as they fell asleep again.

It was the most beautiful night of her life.

She was woken in the morning by the sizzle of oil in the pan; she opened her eyes, unsure for a moment where she was and pulled herself up on her bed, frowning.

She got up and walked out of her bedroom into the corridor, but stopped immediately with her heart beating fast, seeing him standing with his back to her in her kitchen, again all dressed in a white tracksuit. She realised by the smell that he was making scrambled eggs.

The Pope she had spent the night with was just making them breakfast in her kitchen.

Good God, she thought with amusement and walked closer – he heard the sound of her footsteps and turned over his shoulder, a soft contentment on his face.

"Good morning. We have to leave soon, so I decided to prepare something quick. I didn't want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully." He hummed with some kind of warmth and tenderness from which her heart beat faster; she swallowed quietly, trying not to think about the fact that she felt his words deep between her thighs.

She wanted to ask him if he really thought she should still be working for him, to tell him that it wasn't wise, but she realised that there was no desire in her to object.

I will take care of you.

She wasn't sure what he meant by those words, but she knew that some part of her wanted his assurance to come true.

After a short prayer, which took her completely by surprise, and which apparently was a daily occurrence for him before every meal, they ate breakfast while listening to the morning broadcasts on the radio.

She didn't know where she should be looking, so she just focused on her plate, tasting what he had prepared, finding to her surprise that his scrambled eggs were perfectly fried and spiced. She grunted quietly and lifted her gaze to him when she suddenly remembered something important, from which she felt a cold sweat on her back.

"We should go to confession…shouldn't we?" She asked, not daring to suggest for what reason, figuring he would know what she meant. He raised his surprised gaze at her and took a sip of his coffee, then set his mug down on the table.

"Of course." He replied, and she lowered her gaze to her plate, feeling that she had lost all appetite, terrified of the humiliation that awaited her and what she had to confess.

She allowed herself to be touched by the priest and took pleasure in it herself.

"Go to Father Lenz, I will also pay him a visit. He is a very good confessor. He's the only one I trust." He said matter-of-factly, throwing her a look that told her that gossip spreads like a disease in Rome and Vatican and she could not confide such a sin to just anyone.

Clearly not everybody respected the seal of confession, she thought with dismay.

"I'll go now." He said getting up abruptly from his seat, taking his player out of his pocket, putting his earphones into his ears and pulling his hood over his head. "I'll meet you in the Vatican."

He said and simply walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving her with a look of disbelief on her face.

She covered her mouth with her hand, clenching her eyelids and swallowed loudly, wondering what she was actually doing.

What had exactly happened between them?

Who was she to him now?

His lover?

She thought with pain that as long as he was by her side everything was well, but now that she was left alone with her thoughts she was crushed by the weight of what had taken place, of who the person who had touched her was.

What they had done.

She felt tears of fear and shame under her eyelids, of bitterness and anger that he wasn't just an ordinary man about whom she could have some hope, that even if not now, in the future their relationship would stop being something bad.

In their case there was no such possibility, what they had done was a contradiction of everything they should represent, what he symbolised as the Head of the Church.

She thought sadly that he was wrong.

That it was not God who had sent her to him, but the Devil, as a temptation that would lead to his downfall.

She drove to the Vatican with a heavy heart, sad, distracted and heartbroken, thinking with shame that she had acted like an animal that couldn't control itself and lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

When she got out of the car in the courtyard Father Lenz was waiting for her as usual. They both moved inside the building, but she stopped him in mid-step, placing her hand on his arm.

"I would like to make a confession." She muttered, the man cast her a calm glance over his shoulder and nodded.

She thought with shame that he already knew everything.

To her surprise, he did not take her to the basilica or any chapel but to the garden; they sat side by side on one of the white stone benches, the sun shining high above them.

She wondered for a moment if she should keep the formula, but decided after a moment that it was just a waste of time.

"I have sinned, Father. I gave in to the weakness of my flesh. I led a clerical person to his and my moral downfall." She muttered, feeling that with every word she spoke her voice quivered more and more, tears of regret and bitterness gathered in the corners of her eyes.

A long silence answered her, during which she only looked at her knees, wiping her wet cheeks with her hands, trying to calm her ragged, broken breathing.

"You are not responsible for anyone's downfall but your own, child, though I think you are using too solemn words. What happened?" He asked, although she knew perfectly well from his posture that the Pope himself had confessed to him exactly the same things she was telling him now.

"He touched me and brought me to fulfilment with my permission." She whispered in shame, swallowing loudly, feeling small, dirty, worthless, breathless at the memory of how wonderful it had been to fall asleep in his embrace and wept quietly.

"What happened next?" He asked calmly and she sighed heavily, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"We went to sleep, cuddled together. But nothing more happened between us." She mumbled, fiddling with the material of her black dress between her fingers in a nervous gesture, her leg bouncing with stress.

She wondered how she could have done it.

"Hm." He hummed and sighed quietly, bowing his head.

"I'm going to tell you something now, child. I'm going to tell you this as a man, not a priest, and you're going to listen to me. Vatican devours people. It sucks the energy out of them, their strength, their free will. Cardinals manage to believe in God or do a merciful deed, however, they are first and foremost businessmen, officials, monarchs. Do you know why Cardinal Targaryen was elected Pope?

Because they thought he would be easy to manipulate.

Quiet, withdrawn, reading books or concentrating on prayer. He spoke to no one, befriended no one, confided in no one. They thought they had planted someone lost, weak-willed and without an opinion on Peter's throne. Meanwhile, he had fooled them all. He planned it deliberately."

He spoke calmly, looking ahead with blank eyes. She stared at him in disbelief, feeling her heart pounding hard, her throat squeezed so tightly that she breathed with difficulty.

Meanwhile, he had fooled them all.

He had planned it deliberately.

Was it the same with her?

Was it possible that her uncle wasn't the only one treating her as a pawn?

"He never confided in anyone, never spoke to anyone for longer than necessary. He doesn't let anyone sit or eat in his presence, he locks himself in his solitary room and sits there for hours. Except when you visit the Vatican. I exchange a maximum of four sentences with him during the day, while with you he talks for hours." He said looking at her finally, the expression on his face gentle and heartfelt, her lips parted in disbelief, her cheeks hot with emotion.

"He has fallen in love with you. He had already admitted this to me after confession, asking me for advice. And although it creates a temptation to sin I told him to keep you close. I believe that God sent you to him like cold water to a man who has sunk into hell and is burning in it every day. He is completely alone. Despite my deepest efforts, I cannot help him."

He muttered, covering his face with his hand and she watched in disbelief as the grown man sitting next to her burst out crying like a small child. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stifled the sobs that wanted to escape her throat, hot tears one by one running down her cheeks.

He fell in love with you.

"He told me he trusts only you, Father." She whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm her ragged breathing. Father Lenz looked at her and laughed in a way that made her feel at least uncomfortable.

"He knows that I report on him. He knows that one of the cardinals, a fierce opponent of your uncle, is blackmailing me. But I don't always tell him about what I see and hear. Not about everything. Do you understand?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded, looking at him with horror and fear, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

"Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." He said lowly, making the sign of the cross in the air with his hand in front of her.

"Amen." She mumbled, not looking at him but at her feet, quivering all over, tears of disbelief and despair making the world around her seem blurred.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good."

"His mercy endures for ever." She whispered and rose from her seat, moving quickly ahead, covering her mouth with her hand, bursting into hysterical sobs, feeling that she had panicked.

She headed towards his office where he usually worked, the same one her uncle had taken her to when she first saw him. One of the guards, on seeing her, simply opened the door, as if he had been warned that she would come.

She walked slowly inside, and the door closed behind her with a loud clatter of wood.

She looked to her left and saw his figure clad in a white cassock, sprawled comfortably in his chair, reading some documents. He lifted his gaze to her and for a moment just looked at her, as if shocked by her condition, then rose quickly, staring at her with concern.

"Good God, what's happened?" He asked in a trembling voice, his eyebrows raised in fear.

She knew she wasn't allowed to do this, she knew she shouldn't, that if anyone saw them it would be over, but she couldn't help herself.

She wept as she ran to him and pressed her face to his chest, feeling the cold cross hanging from his neck against her cheek, embracing him tightly around his waist, clenching her fingers on his cassock.

"Holy Father." She mumbled like a helpless child who needed someone to lead her by her hand, like a frightened bird that had fallen out of its nest, like a ship that was unable to find its way to port.

"− calm down, child − I'm here − shhh −" He hushed her, sinking his face into the top of her head, stroking her neck and back with his hands with calm, tender movements full of affection, his wonderful scent filling her lungs.

"− it's okay −" He whispered soothingly, combing his fingers through her hair – she felt a wonderful shiver ran down her spine every time he did it and closed her eyes thinking only of how safe she felt.

She murmured quietly, relaxing and calming as she felt his lips on her head, heard him place drawn out, wet kisses on her hair.

"I love the way you smell. I saw your perfume in your bathroom and bought myself one just like it so I can remind myself of you when I fall asleep here alone. After my escape they increased my protection, they don't leave my side." He whispered softly, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought of how deep his feeling, his devotion, his commitment, his desire was.

"I want you to pose for a painting made on my request as Mary Magdalene."

She could not put into words how ambiguous, lewd, intimate his proposal was. He gave her time to think, indicating that he would respect her refusal, but said that he wanted to have her by his side also in the quarters in which he slept, said he would hang the painting opposite his bed.

When she asked him if this sight would distract his thoughts from God he replied that he had never felt the presence of God as strongly as when he thought of her.

Lying in her room in complete darkness, she thought about what Father Lenz had told her.

He has fallen in love with you.

Vatican devours people.

He is completely alone.

She closed her eyes, swallowing loudly, thinking about the question he had asked her that morning regarding what she thought her vocation was, and wondered if in some incomprehensible way God was trying to tell her something.

I believe that God sent you to him like cold water to a man who has sunk into hell and is burning in it every day.

She felt tears under her eyelids at the thought of his sullen, absolute loneliness among people who were so vain and power-hungry, and she wondered where he was going to get the strength to fight against paedophilia, abuse of power, bribes and profligacy when almost everyone around him was content with this state of affairs.

She found herself wondering if her presence could support him in some way, give him courage, a sense that there was someone by his side who didn't care about his position or money, someone who simply loved him, gave him comfort and tenderness in moments of doubt.

She thought with a kind of relief that there was nothing disgusting, nothing disturbing in this thought, that although certain things would remain taboo, the feeling that God had aroused in her heart could not be wrong in nature, because it did not stem from a desire to objectify.

For some reason she felt the desire to sacrifice herself for him, to suffer for him, to die every day for the love of him.

She agreed to his proposal.

He made sure that the painter's arrival at the Vatican was covered by complete secrecy – it was agreed that she would stay until the evening to work and then come to one of the small rooms where they would wait for her.

When she walked in she saw them in half darkness, the Pope dressed in his white cassock with a large cross on his chest was speaking with a middle-aged man about what stood before them, a small platform on which lay an ornate cushion and a cloth on which lay a skull, the only source of light was the tall and low candles standing around on the floor.

When they saw her the Pope grunted and nodded, folding his arms behind him.

"Come closer, child. This is Marco, the painter I mentioned to you." He said softly, though his expression stern, contentment lurked in his eye.

She swallowed loudly and walked towards them, feeling her heart pounding like mad, terrified of what they had come up with, of someone catching them.

"Marco has prepared a robe for you to pose in. Wear just that and let your hair down. We'll wait in the other room." He said calmly and nodded at the man, walking out through a small door, closing it behind them.

She was left alone.

She walked over to a chair on which lay a cream-coloured, simple linen long robe – when she picked it up she found it pleasant to the touch, with pieces of cloth hanging down the sides to tie around her waist.

She stripped naked and, with trembling hands, placed the garment over herself, arranging it like a bathrobe, tying a knot at the waist so that the whole thing would hold together somehow and not reveal anything. She pulled the pins out of her hair and undid her braid, letting her dark curls fall to her shoulders.

"I'm ready." She muttered in a trembling voice and heard the sound of the door opening.

The Pope stepped inside and paused, letting out a loud breath as if this sight surprised him, his lips parted slightly; she felt heat in her lower abdomen when she saw him involuntarily lick them with his tongue.

"Lie down and take this skull in your hands. Yes, just like that." He said, stepping closer to her, placing his warm hands on her shoulders covered by her soft cloth, arranging her as he had apparently seen her in his vision, moving the skull in her hands so that it lay in front of her, next to her body.

"Your body is to lie down, but your face must be tilted towards me. Perfect." Said Marco when she did as he asked, glancing down at his canvas and at her.

She felt strangely cornered and small, tense that all attention was on her.

"No. One more thing." The Pope hummed. A powerful shudder ran through her body, her lips parted in horror as he gently grabbed the fabric that covered her chest and pulled it aside, revealing a part of her breasts and the golden cross between them, her sternum and stomach, just a hint more and her nipples would be visible.

"Gorgeous." He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that was dark, hazy and dreamy, she felt the muscles inside her clench desperately around nothing at his words, her breath stopped in her throat.

She was terrified and aroused.

She was wet.

"Do not be afraid, child. Marco does not feel lust at the sight of a woman's body. You are safe here." He said softly, with a kind of need to soothe her, to give her the feeling that he did not desire to take advantage of her, that this was about something more. She sighed quietly as his hand rose to her cheek, closing her eyes in relief when his thumb ran over her warm skin.

"Beautiful." He murmured and stood up, looking at her with proud satisfaction, as if he had just gazed upon some mystical scene, a revelation as if from the Bible, as if he truly believed her to be sacred.

He stood behind the painter, who had already begun to sketch her silhouette, and pressed his lips together, furrowing his brow.

"You have to properly render the shape of her lips, the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her hair. That's the most important thing to me, I want the most significant point of the painting to be her face." He said dryly, the man nodded wordlessly, apparently writing down his words in his head.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, the loud ticking sound of a tall, large clock standing against the wall all around them.

"No. That's not the look I mean. Get out. Give us a moment." He said, startling them both. Marco grunted and put his pencil down on the easel, nodded and walked out into the other room, closing the door behind him.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked in a trembling voice, raising herself up on her elbows, but he commanded her with a hand gesture not to get up and sat down beside her with a quiet rustling of the fabric of his cassock.

"No, sweet flower. But I can see your terror." He said softly, touching her cheek with his palm again, into which she immediately cuddled her face, desperately needing his touch, his closeness, his wonderful scent filling her lungs and her mind.

"Your tension." He added, his voice changed slightly, deep and sharp; she trembled hearing the way he said the words, involuntarily clenching her thighs.

He noticed it out of the corner of his eye and sighed quietly, as if he had been forced to the last resort, as if fate had left him no choice.

"It's all right now. Come here." He hummed, his hand sliding lower, in a gentle motion full of care and respect digging his fingers into the soft skin of her thigh hidden beneath the material of her robe – her heart began to pound like mad, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head.

"Open." He commanded, and she shook her head quickly, her legs twitching all over in his grasp, feeling the sticky liquid running down her buttocks onto the bedding beneath her. He pressed his lips together, looking at her like a naughty child who refused to comply.

"Open, I say. I see your suffering. The Holy Father only wants to help you, child." He said calmly, as if he was explaining something obvious to her, something that was essential and necessary.

She swallowed loudly and parted her lips as her thighs finally opened, a sigh of contentment came from his nose – she tilted her head back suppressing a moan of surprise when his hand from her hip slid between the material of her robe, right between her legs.

"− it's alright − it's alright − shhhh −" He hushed her hearing her quiver of delight as the tips of his fingers ran over her fleshy womanhood, collecting her moisture, spreading it in circular, steady strokes around her bud, the tickle she felt in her lower abdomen was unbearable.

"− oh God −" She mumbled out, her body quivering before him with pleasure, her breathing quickened as he deliberately began to tease the spot between her folds, it seemed to her that the whole room around her was spinning, her heart pounding like mad, she could feel the tension even in her lips.

"− you shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain − if I do not close these lips will you continue to blaspheme? −" He growled and leaned over her, startling her completely when his full, swollen, hot lips pressed against hers in a sticky, hot kiss. She moaned loudly and threw her arms around his neck, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his sigh of delight.

Her body began to tremble and shudder beneath him as his fingertips dug into her hot folds, squeezing them with increasingly confident motions, teasing her slit, sliding in a little only to slide out a moment later and start all over again, his fingers wet with her moisture.

"− I'm wasting so much of your precious nectar − I should lick it all off, shouldn't I? −" He breathed out into her mouth. She clenched her hands tightly in his hair at his words and just came on his fingers with a surprised moan of pleasure, tilting her head back, his lips pressed against her neck, placing greedy, hot, wet kisses on it. She cried out when she felt his middle finger slide into her hot core and stay like that, her walls clenching around it again and again.

He lifted himself up on his hand, looking down at her, sliding his finger out of her in a slow, careful motion with a shameless click of her moisture.

"− Blessed Ludovica Albertoni −" He whispered and lifted his fingers to his face, sliding them deep into his mouth; this sight was so perverted that she looked away, her body breathless at the memory of the sarcophagus on which the saint cruves in wonderful convulsions, her face and parted lips expressing the relief of fulfilment.

"− Bernini −" She whispered in a trembling voice, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that she knew what he was referring to.

"− exactly − you look magnificent −" He murmured and covered her thighs back with the material of her robe, rising slowly, looking with satisfaction at his masterpiece.

"Come in, Marco. She is ready."

_____

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[bandgie]

Soulful | Armageddon Event

Request: Gratitude | Kim Hongjoong (ATZ) by anon song!

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, choking (brief), reader is a priestess, PIV, no protection, pussy play (brief), finger sucking (m!), no idea if this counts as blasphemy?, cumming inside, crying (f!)

notes! I've said it once and ill say it again, writing for Hongjoong is so hard for me. ya'll don't understand

2.9k words

Beg. Beg on your knees if you must. Until the skin on your bones is raw and red, kneel for forgiveness.

The high priestess’s words swirl in your brain until the words twist into pleas. The marble beneath is usually comforting on your skin. It should bring you peace, and some tranquility, but you’re filled with dread. It eats at your stomach and heart until it closes around your throat. The cold floor does nothing to soothe you, nothing at all. 

And the statue of him. His sculpted face peering down at the altar, where you kneel, is suffocating.

Being a priestess means to live a life of solitude. To be unwed, untouched, and unable to experience the fleshy pleasures of life - it’s something not anybody is willing to give up. You thought you could do it. You thought you weren’t just anybody. There wasn’t a mortal man worth devoting your life to, but even you succumb to the touch of one.

And when you confessed, to your high priestess no less, she looked mortified. You were sure you’d be exiled from the temple, but she convinced you to spew your sins on the altar.

Only the Lord can determine your punishment now. Pray that Lord Hongjoong takes mercy on your soul.

He won't. You know he won’t. He was the only deity you promised your life to. You swore it. The salvation of your soul was traded for a man whose name you can’t recall.

How could you?

The question rings so loud you think it echoes in the empty sanctuary. The voice comes from your consciousness, you’re sure, and with your tears pouring it’s near impossible to know it’s the statue that spoke.

Your head is down, your puffy eyes are closed, and you’re gasping for air as you cry. The quiet steps are unheard, and it’s when you feel a presence that you finally look up.

“How could you?”

He stands in front of you now, flesh and bone rather than the hard marble you’re so used to seeing.

Instincts kick in. You throw yourself back and shrink with wide, teary eyes peering up. It’s hard to tell with blurry vision, but you know who it is. His chiseled face and the curve of his upper lip that frowns tell you everything.

Maybe him being materialized in front of your very eyes should fill you with fear, but the presence of a God only fills you with wonder and adoration.

Until you remember why he’s here in the first place. 

“I-,” you gasp for air. “I didn’t mean to.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes growing confused. “You didn’t mean to? You wanted to. Did you not?”

You scramble on your knees, crawling to his feet. “I-I did. But I didn’t know it would make me fall from grace like this.” It’s so hard to talk. Your voice is thick with tears and just remembering how his hands trailed upon your nude body makes you shiver in disgust.

Conviction. You’re feeling conviction.

“You cannot beg for forgiveness and lie to me in the same breath. I detest that.” Hongjoong’s face twists into the first signs of disgust.

You whimper. “No- No I would never…It is you I’ve committed myself to. I had- I had a moment of weakness. I let my skin be shown, be- be touched in a way I’ve sworn never to be touched. I’m so ashamed.”

Tears drip onto his feet. The cries you’ve tried to keep at bay finally free. It sounds like you’re choking, drowning in a sea of misery and guilt that you’ve put yourself in.

When his hand comes into contact with the back of your head, you shiver. A God’s touch can make you feel at ease, and that’s exactly what Hongjoong does as he kneels on one leg.

“N-No.” You look at his eyes with your own. “You mustn't touch the ground. It’s dirty.”

But his hand slides to your cheek, ignoring your concern. His face is close to yours, but his smooth, clear skin is nothing compared to his eyes. They stare into yours: seeing, understanding, feeling.

“You truly are sorry.”

You’re unsure if you’re supposed to touch him, but you grip his wrist anyway. “I am. I will be sorry my entire life and beyond. I’ve broken our promise like it meant nothing, like my oath meant nothing. It is…it is me who is nothing.”

The fact hits you hard. Your only reason for living was to worship him and you’ve ruined it. Even if he does banish you from the temple, if you become nothing more than a disgraced priestess, you’ll spend your years begging for forgiveness.

He’s scanning your face. You know he can see your dried tears this close, the redness in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, but you don’t care. He is the only one to see you this way, now and always. 

Hongjoong eyes slide to your neck. “You’ve been soiled.”

Tears sting your eyes again, but you can fight them back. “I have.”

His gaze goes lower and lower until you lay back for him with the cool floor on your forearms while he crawls over you. “And you still want to serve me.” It’s not a question, but a fact. You don’t have to nod, you both know the answer.

“Humans always sin. It is but a part of nature. Just as birds sing and bees buzz, humans will sin.” Hongjoong’s body is warm on top of yours. He’s pushed you back until you lay on the floor, hair sprawled and gown ridden up indecently, but you know he will love you whole just as you love him.

His fingers trail over your throat and down your neck. His touch leaves goosebumps in their wake, and you inhale a shaky breath.

“I know this and yet, I despise his body on yours. You promised yourself to me.”

This time when you shiver, it’s not the repulsion from remembering, but excitement of something more. “I…I still am. I always will be.”

Something in the air shifts. You can taste possession on your tongue, something dark in this Divine being stirring the atmosphere.

The wrath of a God. 

“Not just in spirit.” Hongjoong’s eyes are dark. “But in mind, soul, and body. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nod. “I do.”

“This life you live will change. Devotion is all that you will know, no more devil's temptation. You will belong to me in every way.”

With shaky hands, you grab a hold of his wrist on your neck. You bare your throat to him and look at the painted ceiling. “I already do, my God.”

He squeezes. A small gasp of air catches in your throat as his free hand trails to your hip. The pressure is comforting, almost addicting when his fingers dig into your flesh.

Your white gown feels lighter. You can’t look down to see what’s happening, but you can feel how the material moves and rips until the pieces shred into lumps of thread beside you.

Now you’re truly bare to him. The air makes your nipple harden, but you hardly feel cold. Everything is warm, down to your skin to the bones. How Hongjoong constricts your airway isn’t painful, but delightful. You like the fuzzy feeling, the way your vision blackens until all you can see is his glowing body.

But when he releases, you feel how you pant for air. His touch goes further until he settles with the plush of your stomach.

There are marks, you realize. Bruises and bites from your night of sin. You wait for the disgust. For Hongjoong to scrunch his nose and turn you away, yet, he doesn’t. His slender fingers press into the marks instead, the first sliver of pain he’s given you. You whine at the pressure and hide behind your arms.

“You have him on you still. It defiles you.” Maybe Hongjoong can feel the worry rolling off you because he quickly says, “I am not mad. You will be cleaned. Filled with holiness.”

You finally dare to peek from your arms and you're stunned to see him nude. The slip he wears is no more and it’s a broad chest with etched lines on his stomach that you gawk at.

It might be his power that opens your legs, or maybe it’s your own volition, but you tremble for the first time in fear. Your experience with sex is insignificant and it was rather…bearable than it was enjoyable. Even living with only women, you still could hear the whispers about the pleasures of sex. It didn’t tickle your fancy back then, but as you got older and realized what magic your hands could do in the late night…

Not that it matters. Sex in itself was a lie. You did not feel joyous or ‘glow’ as some ladies said they did. It was rather sad how he up and left, leaving you to replay the touches and uncomfortable feeling between your legs by yourself.

And although Hongjoong keeps you warm and promises to keep you by his side even with all your sins, you worry.

His cock settles over your stomach. A flush pink tip that rests below your belly button. Perhaps it’s indecent, but you stare. Your cunt clenches at the thought of him inside and you see his cock twitch.

He must be thinking the same thing.

Hongjoong lifts the underside of your thighs in his grasp, making sure to keep you spread so he can see your folds glisten.

“So beautiful,” he hums. One hand glides down to your pussy, thumb touching your clit gently. You sigh when he adds pressure, rubbing his digit in circles so you can writhe and moan.

You feel his thumb dip. It prods your entrance, dipping in with ease before sliding out to smear your arousal on your clit. “I know you taste as good as you look.” Hongjoong doesn’t pull his thumb away, not so soon. He swirls it on your swollen button, flicking the flesh up and down to see your cunt ooze more slick.

The warmness on your skin seeps into your stomach. You were always shy playing with yourself, but to watch your God do it so smoothly and almost entertained has that warmth bubbling into something more.

Hongjoong pulls away, tongue reaching out to his finger like he can’t wait for it to land in his mouth. His lips purse and his cheeks hollow slightly. You can see his tongue lapping on his thumb, over the tip and pad of his finger.

Your clit jolts, imagining that it’s the one being licked. You can’t look away from him as you think of his eyes looking over your breasts instead. Gods are one to work dutifully. Although you’ve never been tasted in such a way, you can imagine Hongjoong can do it properly.

His tongue wouldn’t only play with your clit, opting to suck and hold it in his mouth tenderly. It’s there that he would lavish your nub. In the warmth of his mouth, wet and hot. You would plead with him to give your pussy kisses. His lips would feel soft against your own.

A wet pop! makes you snap out of your thoughts. Hongjoong is looking at you as if he knows your thoughts are filled with fantasies, but he only smiles. “You look as though you’re standing at the gates of heaven.”

You reach for him, grabbing onto his thick thighs beside you. “And if I say I am? I feel as though it’s true.” Your eyes unfocus for a moment, anxiety washing over you again. “But…”

His grip tightens. “But?”

How silly you feel with a God between your legs, but you can’t help but ask, “Will it hurt?”

You feel like a fool when his smile turns into a laugh. You wish to hide behind your forearms again, but he intertwines his fingers with yours. “You ask as if you’ve never done this. This is exactly why you’re here with me, no?”

“Y-yes but…” gods, your face is burning, “but… never mind.”

Hongjoong’s smile morphs into a look of concern. His hand squeezes reassuringly, adjusting his hips until it perfectly lines with your entrance. One of his hands lets go, running down the skin of your stomach, down to your pelvis, over your cunt to his cock. He taps his tip on your clit and you tense.

“No. It won’t hurt. What we’re doing isn’t sex. This is not flesh.”

You’ve never been one to question a God, but with your bodies nude and close, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think I-”

It doesn’t feel anything like your first time when Hongjoong slips in. There’s no gasp of surprise or sharp pain you hiss from. Instead, your mouth gapes open. Your sentence cuts off with a satisfied moan when he fills you.

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage. You knew bodies were warm, but you didn’t know they could scorch your insides like this. The pressure between your legs goes beyond the little pleasure you’ve known and you clench as if you’ve come already. “Oh, my God.”

Hongjoong sighs with contentment. His fingers find their place on your hips and blunt fingernails dig painlessly into your skin. You can feel his cock burying deeper, walls fluttering open with ease. His shaft catches your clit in the process and you shake when he drags it downwards with him.

“No,” his eyes look up to yours. “Call me by my name.”

That. You’re not sure if you can. Even if he looks at you with sincerity and utter command, speaking his true name is above you.

You want to shake your head, to say that even thinking about it isn’t something you deserve, but Hongjoong bullies into you. The tip of his cock touches a certain spot not even you have managed to reach. It makes your stomach tense, the goosebumps on your arms rise, and a squeal erupts from your swollen lips.

This God isn’t one to be defied.

He’ll make sure you have no choice but to moan his name. Every drag of his cock is swift and his thrusts are harsh. Hongjoong buries himself to the hilt, your clit on his pelvis every single time.

His length shouldn’t feel like it encompasses your body, but it does. Despite being a God, Hongjoong doesn’t seem to tower over mortals as legends claim, but he manages to make you feel small when he lies on top.

With a forearm on the ground and a hand keeping one of your thighs up so he can slide in with ease, Hongjoong does everything in his power to make you succumb to his wish.

“Say it.” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. You’re panting, moaning, and whining with all that he’s giving you, but his hips don’t so much as falter no matter how much you squeeze. “Don’t make me ask again.”

But how can you even speak when the glorious feeling builds? Hongjoong is more than deep in your body. He’s reaching for you, grabbing the soul you thought was damned, and keeping it in the palm of his hand. It’s there now. It’s safe and it feels divine.

“I’m!-” going to pee? Will you truly soil yourself in front of your God? Again?

That’s what it feels like when he pulls back. You miss the heat of his body immediately, but the earnest way he fucks into you makes the loss bearable.

“Wait! My- my…Hongjoong! Hongjoong, I’ll get you dirty.”

But maybe your God has a thing for messes because his hand moves from your thighs to your clit, rubbing in fast circles.

Something leaks from your cunt. You can feel it slide down your ass and hear how much wetter his thrusts sound. It’s warm and you find yourself liking how Hongjoong eyes finally tear from yours to look at the white cream leaking.

He groans, one of the first sounds of pleasure. You feel your heart swell.

“Didn’t I already tell you? I’ll clean you.” Hongjoong pushes your legs until they’re near your head. You feel so exposed like this, breasts bouncing and swollen pussy on display, but he drinks it up.

“Yes.” His eyes roll back. “Good.”

You snap. The feeling you were trying to hold back floods onto his cock. Whatever liquid you felt dripping only triples when you cum.

Your cunt spasms. It grabs onto Hongjoong’s cock like it wants him to stay still for a moment, to let your body indulge in this pleasure, but he doesn’t. Can’t when his release aches in his stomach before pouring inside you.

It warms your heart, something you didn’t think was possible by doing something considered sinful. The orgasm forces him to stop, opting to have your pussy swallow his shaft and cum until it has no choice but to leak on the sides.

You both moan when he pulls out. The way his cock glides out makes the release pour out with it.

Hongjoong rests his hand on your stomach. A gentle hum fills the air, but you think it’s a side effect from the ‘glow’ women have talked about.

But does a glow really feel like this? Lightweight, free, and safe?

No, not in the presence of him it is because of the glow. With his hand on your abdomen and his cum seeping from your cunt, you know it’s his holiness that does it.

With a look of infatuation in your eyes with the possession in his, you know it is finished.

[madwomansapologist]

my love mine all mine

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "my love mine all mine" by mitsky for gale. song "class of 2013" by mitsky for karlach. companions (gale, karlach) x druid!tav. background cast (mystra, halsin, lae'zel, shadowheart, selune, astarion, wyll). this game really is about faith and bodily autonomy. hurt/comfort. falling in love.

There is something endless about suffering. Once you felt hunger, nothing can complete that empty spot inside your soul. No amount of hope can ever make you forget about how painful it was to be helplessness. The sun is warm, but not enough to melt winter away from memory.

No brave adult can forget what felt to be a trembling child facing harshness all alone. It would be so much easier to forget how cruel the world was, but all you do is wonder to yourself: why didn't no one helped me? Why didn't no one saved me?

Even the word survivor feels wrong. It implies that something cruel happened in the wild, far away from home. A survivor has a tale to share with pride, scars to proof how strong you became. But sometimes suffering is just suffering, and the wild is your home.

It doesn't end. The suffering doesn't end, even after it does. It haunts you, laughs as you fumble, stains the good moments with sin.

But not with you.

For every time life was painful, you are caring. For everytime it burned and ached, you are gentle. There is something soft about you. No edges to get cut, no harm to be done. You care without shame, and your delicacy is welcome.

It's been long since someone cared for Gale Dekarios. Not for Gale of Waterdeep, the prodigy able to compose the Weave as he so desired, Mystra's lover and worshiper. But for Gale Dekarios, a man and nothing more than that, it's been so long.

Gale's value is his capability to bend the Weave. No one helped him for a reason other that. No one cared, or loved him for something that wasn't his talent or competence.

He was alone, except by Tara, and he got used to it. It's easy to get used to bad things when you think that you deserves them. It's no surprise that he so easily got used to being a dead man walking.

It was fine. Fine that his goddess wouldn't save him, that she would cast him away. Gale took it on himself, he knows that. Sometimes people don't get salvation. Sometimes they don't get a second chance. Sometimes things just end.

But you helped him. You held his hand and pulled him out of stone, unaware that you were actually pulling Gale towards you. You didn't asked for a payment or answers. You just held him.

And Gale held you back.

The world trembled. Poisoned mace. His defenses were already low when the goblin attacked. He knew his party won, but he can't remember how. His conscience was barely a whisper, as uneasy and skittish.

His feet were moving, he could feel it, but Gale wasn't controling them. Darkness devoured him, and the world was reduced to a cold freeze against his face.

"Karlach, you got the first watch," a distorted voice startled him. He wasn't alone. It took Gale a second to understand who was talking. "Halsin, Lae'zel broke her wrist. Shadowheart, follow me."

Gale is half asleep, half dead, but he could recognize that voice anyway. Always demanding, aware of what to do, being right. You. Sweet, caring, loving you.

"Alright, soldier!" Karlach dropped her dripping wet backpack near the fire. Something bumped on his shoulders, and a cry left Gale's lips. "And you get better, mage. I'm counting on you for that!"

Her hand. It was her hand that almost made him collapse. But Gale didn't. That was when he noticed his eyes were closed, and someone was holding him.

Your hands gripping his waist as you tried to walk, your warmth reaching him. He could see a drop of sweat making its way on your neck. Blood staining you silver armor. You smell like... you. He can't describe it in any other way.

"You'll be fine," you whispered. As if you knew his head was about to explode. "We'll take care of you. Close your eyes."

You asked. Gale obeyed.

When he woke up, a black sea stained his vision. He breathed in and out, and understood it was the night sky. Gale stared at the moon, shining down on him, and for a second he though it was staring back.

Gale tried to pray. Would Selune embrace him? If he kneeled and promised his loyalty, would she protect his soul? Gale tried to pray, but no words made to his mind.

When he opened his eyes, you were there. Kneeled beside his bed, so close he could hear you breathing, but looking away. Bright eyes, reflecting the moon, looking down at something. Furrowed brows, lips tense, your shoulder stiff as you moved.

Gale heard the water before he saw the cloth you dipped into it. You agile hands folded it carefully, and placed it on his belly. It was hot. Almost too hot, but you were quick. You pressed it against his skin, and went back to dip it. The white cloth was now stained red.

Oh. You were cleaning him. His eyes noticed the bucket filled with redish fabrics. Gale wondered if cleaning him felt like rubbing wine stains into rugs. If by trying to make it right, you only made it worse. He wouldn't care if you made him worse, not as long as you keep on touching him.

When he reached for your cheeks, Gale didn't even thought about it. He just wanted to touch you, to make sure that you were real.

It startled you, a little gasp escaping your throat. You looked at Gale, analyzing every inch of his face.

For a time, Gale could only look at his hand against your skin. His thumb stroking your cheek, so soft beneath his touch.

"Why are..." that voice wasn't his. It wasn't anything like his. For how long did he slept? "Why are you here?"

You looked at the hand you placed on his waist, and realized how it must be to wake up with someone else touching you. "I was just cleani..."

"That's not what I asked," the mage stopped you. You went back to look at him, and Gale felt your gaze softening his entire being. "Why are you here?"

"I worry about you," you admited. "Specially when you forget what shields are made for."

"Why are you like this?" Gale found himself trying to make whatever was on his mind understandable. That doesn't happen very often. For him to be unsure about his words. "Why do you keep on taking care of me? You don't owe me anything."

"Because you are... you," you went back to cleaning his skin. Gale didn't move his hand, and you didn't seen to mind. "Close your eyes, go back to sleep. You won't even notice I'm here."

With his hand on your cheek, eyes staring at the moon, Gale hoped Selune was staring back.

He don't know what will happen to him after his death. Mystra didn't forgave him, so Gale isn't counting on her protection when his soul is to be judged. But one thing Gale knows: the moon was here before him, and will remain after.

So he prayed. Silently, he begged Selune to protect you. He begged for her to shine on you, the only one who ever made him feel worth something. One day he must die, sooner than later apparently, so he hopes she'll protect you when he's gone.

"Impossible," Gale stroked your jaw. "Utterly impossible."

Every single one of your companions love how sincerely you care for them, but they all see how it can be a problem too. How many times have they told you to not be so welcoming? It makes you you, but it's also the reason why you bleed so often.

How many times have you tried to help someone just to discover they didn't deserve it? How many times will it happens until you finally understand your lesson?

Fainting after a encounter with a ruthless dwarf, Shadowheart thinks it's the best moment to ask you to tone it down, only to be reminded about how you still befriended Astarion even after his introduction. If Wyll explains there is no way you can win this fight, that it isn't even yours, you point at Halsin and he can do nothing but to shut up. And whenever Astarion is a pain in the ass, you explain that mercy and kindness are what brought Karlach to the party.

They are scared for you. No one knows how much pain your heart can take before if finally stops healing. You're kind, and they want you to stay that way, but not if it diminishes your soul. There must be a limit for your hope, and they aren't interest on finding it.

Worried about you hurting yourself, they didn't noticed how that hurted Karlach too.

Few can say they escaped from hell, and even fewer would be stupid enough to not enjoy a second chance. Karlach knows she sounds too distracted at the worst times, too excited when there's nothing to celebrate, but how couldn't she? She won't waste her chance.

If only she could be touched. If she could hug her friends, be near those she loves without hurting them, hold without bruising. If only she could touch you without boiling your precious skin.

Don't matter how affectionate you are, there are thing you just can't do. You showed her only your best sides, so welcoming and caring. After a fight, you rush to check on her. Late at night, you tell stories about your life. When it's peaceful, you show her different ways to tie a know. But you can't touch her.

Karlach thinks you look warm. Not cold. Nothing like distance or indifference. And not hot. Nothing like the infernal machinery inside her chest. You seem peaceful. Calm, in a way that she might never fully comprehend.

You hold Lae'zel's hands to stop her from offending someone. And don't flinch when Astarion pulls you by your waist. It's been some weeks since started to teach Shadowheart how to swim. And Wyll tried to help you with your dance moves. Halsin's hand seem to be glued to your shoulder.

She envies them. Karlach envies everyone that you touch. She just feels so lonely, and she'd already spent too much time pretending not to be. Avernus is behind her, and the person she was there won't ever see daylight again. Karlach is free, and she'll be always true to herself.

Poking the flaming wood with a sticky, trying to make it spread to the others, she was to focused to noticed when you sat beside her by the log. Her mind was somewhere far, far away.

After a few moments, Karlach saw you. She kept herself quiet, just enjoying your presence. As if her silence would make you not want to leave. As if her silence would be enough so she could lay her head at your lap, feel your fingertips undoing the knots on her hair, without burning you in and out.

As she stared at the soon-to-be bonfire, you glared at the sky. You searched on your pockets, looking for a coin, but all you found was a forgotten jasper. It'll do the trick. "Jasper for your thoughts, Mama K?"

Karlach looked at you. "What, soldier?"

"You're quiet today," you said. "Too quiet. Let me help you. If you want to talk, I want to hear. If you want to kick some butts, my boots are ready. So, jasper for your thoughts?"

She opened her hands, and you dropped the crystal on it. Karlach played with it for a second, amused by your words. "I'm tired," she said. "Of not touching. Or being touched. I know I'm not alone but... sometimes I can't help but to feel like that. Even Mama K has her moments."

She has so much love to give. Just like you. If only she could give it as freely as you do. Karlach respects you for it. For trying to be better, don't matter how much it hurts you. Scars are signs of bravery, just as pieces of broken hearts.

You think it's worth the cost, and so does Karlach.

"One day," you breathed in. Looking at the fire, you saw why Karlach was so interest on it. Don't matter how much you learn, it still looks magic. "I will braid your hair. Massage your shoulders. Wash your back. Teach you archery, my chest against you back and my hand holding yours. Take the eyelash that fell on your cheeks. Straighten your necklace. I will let lips do what hands do."

You turned to her, with a beaming smile on your face and wet eyes. "But for now, can you wait? Can you dream for a few months more, until we find a solution? Because I swear, Karlach, I will find one. Don't matter if I'll need to walk throught the Nine Hells. I will find a cure for you."

"Damn, soldier," Karlach hissed. Maybe it was the light, but her eyes were redish. You did the noble thing and pretend to not have seen the tears. "You really are the sweetest hero around."

"So don't think you're alone anymore!" You suppressed the urge to punch her arm. Scratch brought you a red ball, and you caressed him. "I'm here. We all are."

And that's one thing they all will be forced to understand: they are not alone. Not anymore.

Part 3!

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