#can you imagine how pissed the Bishops would be

[justarandomlambblog]

What if.... self indulgent au where after defeating the Bishops Narinder realizes he's grown fond (*cough*inlovewith*cough*) of the Lamb and doesn't want them to die.... so when Lamb comes to free him he's just like. Actually it isn't time yet. Keep growing the cult. Yeah Mystic Seller the Lamb is my proxy you gotta talk to them and theyll tell ne what you said uh huh. No Lamb it's not time yet- one day it'll be time but not yet.......

[lovsalvatore]

Your name on the list

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: After missing a few notes during rehearsals, you have to prove once again to your Maestro that you still deserve a chance.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI!, smut, nat has a penis, loss of virginity, groping, overstimulation, rough sex, pet names, a bit of manipulation, light choking, unprotected sex, praising, abuse of authority, infidelity, age gap.

Word count: 6.2k

a/n: here's part two for all you horny people. also; comment if you want to be tagged in the next part <3 ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

"Okay, stop!" the Maestro's loud voice makes everyone stop playing their instruments immediately. Your hands that were previously on the piano keys just rest on your lap, playing with a loose thread of your blouse. "What's going on today huh? Just because it's Friday and you guys want to enjoy the weekend doesn't mean you have to play like a high school band."

When she says this your eyes go directly to your friend on the other side of the orchestra room, Kate. She widens her eyes, and makes a funny face like she's bored. Even though Natasha's words can be a little harsh at times, everyone here is used to it. Especially Kate. You remember one time Natasha just walked out of the auditorium after making you guys play the same song for hours and hours, saying it was still bad, and all that Bishop said was that at least she didn't say it was terrible, just bad, and that coming from Natasha is like a compliment.

You end up quietly laughing at your friend's action, but then Natasha's body get in the way, stopping a few meters away from you, right in the direction you were looking. All you see for a few seconds is her white shirt, but lifting your gaze you meet her green eyes, feeling her strong judgment in you. Fuck. Your smile disappears instantly. "If you keep playing like this, you don't even have to show up on the day of the big performance." she continues, looking away from you and crossing her arms in front of her body. "An empty stage is better than a whole audience listening to whatever this is that you're playing. Because as much as this symphony was composed by me, the way you guys are playing make it sound like shit, and I don't want people to think I compose shitty music."

She takes a step forward, getting out of the line of sight between you and your friend. You look at each other again, and Kate mouths an 'ouch.', exaggeratedly making an offended expression with her face. You again cannot contain a smile. Bishop always finds the fun in tragic moments, and you love her for it. And you know that if Natasha even saw these kinds of interactions that you two have during rehearsals she would be pissed, not out of jealousy, of course she's not jealous of you, but out of the fact that she hates not being taken seriously.

"In the next rehearsal I don't want any mistakes, especially in the violin part, you're not playing in sync." Natasha takes a deep breath through her nose, turning her face to look in your direction, but you’re more focused on staring blankly at the keys of the instrument in front of you. "But for now... you're dismissed." as soon as she says the words everyone starts to get up, walking towards the stairs to go down from the auditorium stage. You follow your colleagues, going to the first row of seats, which is where everyone usually leaves their belongings. 

"Today she's in a bad mood." Kate says as soon as you reach her side. You take a quick look at the person she's referring to, she has her back to you, tying her hair up in her usual bun. You tried not to spend the entire night thinking about what happened between you two. But all you could imagine when you closed your eyes was how her cock felt inside your mouth, and how good it felt. You don't even remember when, but your hand was already inside your pajama pants, imagining it was her. You even tried using two of your fingers to mimic the feeling of what it might be like to have her inside you, but it hurt, all you were able to bear was half of just one finger of yours, so you stopped. You already know that she'll want to do something else today, and you think if it will hurt too. Or if she's going to let it hurt.

"I mean, it's impossible for her to be in a good mood."

You ignore Kate — so oblivious to your thoughts that you don't even know what to say to her — before picking up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. Every Friday you guys usually go to the bar at the end of the street after rehearsals, but you remember Natasha asking you to stay today again, and the way her mood is you sure don't want to give her another reason to stay even more grumpy. "I... I'm staying a little longer, the Maestro is helping me with some of my compositions." you lie, you don't even compose songs. "But you can go to the bar with the others, I'll meet you there."

"Oh... okay... I'll definitely want to listen to your piece later." she says in an excited tone, closing her violin case. "Just promise not to take too long, the bar is kinda boring without you."

"I promise."

"Okay perfect, and good luck with her." she pats your shoulder twice before walking past you, and you just stand there waiting for everyone to leave the orchestra room. When silence sets in, you realize that you are finally alone with Natasha again. She remains onstage as you grip the strap of your backpack so hard it looks like you want to tear the poor thing apart. You think if you look good, if the outfit you chose today caught her attention, if all the strands of your hair are in place. You’re nervous.

Natasha stares at you for a few seconds, actually, she couldn't take her eyes off you the entire time you were playing the piano, which isn't all that unusual, but this time she knew that at the end of the day she would have you, and that she wouldn't come home just to have to relieve herself alone thinking about you. But she didn't have a good day, you could tell from the way she was harsh with her words throughout rehearsal. Not that she isn't like that naturally, but today she put a lot of work into the insults. So all she wants now is to have something to make this day better. And you are the best option she has to solve this problem.

Her steps get louder as she steps down from the stage to approach you, who still has your back to her when you feel her presence so close to you. "Why don't you drop this, you're not leaving." she says referring to your backpack, and you immediately do as she asks, dropping it on the floor. Natasha smiles, seeing that she doesn't need to ask you twice for you to obey her. "Don't think you're an exception Y/N, you also disappointed me today."

You swallow hard, feeling her smooth the strands of your hair to the side to be able to kiss the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, her breath so close to your ear that you pay no attention to any other sounds in your surroundings. "You're gonna have to work really hard if you still want to be my first choice for the world tour, because with all the mistakes you made today..." she sucks your pulse point after saying this, making sure to leave a mark for everyone to see. "...maybe you don't really deserve this opportunity after all, hm?"

You haven't missed a single note, since you've been playing for her you've never made that mistake. You play the piano since you were six years old, so hitting the wrong key is something very unusual for you. But when you hear her saying that you made a mistake, you end up believing, it's her song, not yours. And Natasha knows it, she knows you played the song perfectly. But she needs a something to make you give her what she wants, even though deep down she knows you'd give in for no particular reason. "I-I... I know I deserve it." you say in a weak voice. "I can prove to you that I'm the best option, I know I can, Maestro."

"Yeah?" you gasp as her strong hands grope your breasts, pulling your body towards her and making you feel her hard bulge against your ass. You tremble in anticipation knowing that you're going to lose your virginity to her today, and you've kind of been preparing for it all day, so maybe that must have caused you to miss a few notes. Yeah, that would make sense. "I can put your name on the list today, you wouldn't have to wait another day to be part of the world tour... but only if you prove to me that you really are the best choice. Would you like that?" she asks close to your ear, and you nod frantically. "Good."

You feel a cool breeze hitting your body as she suddenly pulls away. As you turn to face her, you see her grabbing your backpack from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder before taking your hand. You look at her confused, but let her lead you to wherever she is leading. The two of you enter the hall of the building that you come to every day to stay hours playing the piano. It's dark, probably all the other employees working here are gone by now. You're known as the late-night musician crowd here, the ones that play for more hours straight too, five hours of class in total. So it wouldn't be surprising if in fact the only ones left here are you and Natasha. "Did your parents complain that you were late yesterday?" she lets go of your hand to get a key from her pocket, and unlocking a door she takes your arm to pull you into the room.

"No, I told 'em I was practicing, and they believed." you answer, hearing the door lock behind you. It's a relatively small room, it has a piano against one of the walls, but unlike the one in the orchestra room — which is a grand piano — this one is an upright one. There's a couch with red upholstery, a few other decorations, and then a desk. You walk towards it, running your finger across the wood material from one end to the other. "Is this your office?"

Natasha drops your backpack on the sofa along with her glasses before walking towards you. "No." she answers, and you again feel her warmth behind you. "I have my own office somewhere else, I just leave my stuff here from time to time." her hands go to your hips, sinking her nose into your neck to smell your perfume. "I spent the whole night thinking about you." you understand that she's not here to talk, she just wants something specific from you. You let her grip your body possessively, her hands squeezing every inch of you like she doesn't want you to leave. It's hot, you think that's even a little weird considering the fact that it's winter, but having her so close to you makes it feel like summer. And you can't deny that feeling her gaze on you throughout rehearsal has you completely needy for her, you already know that your underwear situation isn't the best, and you can't wait for her to finally do something about it.

But then something on the desk draws your attention. A ring. Natasha is a married woman, but she rarely wears her wedding ring. She just puts it on before leaving the house to prove her wife that she wears it, but whenever she gets here for rehearsals she leaves the little accessory in this room. There were times when she forgot, and kept the ring on all day, but rarely did anyone notice. Because as much as she loves her wife, Natasha still hates showing everyone that she belongs to someone, and that thought only started when you entered her life, what a coincidence. You bend your body to pick up the accessory, and when you look at it you can see a date engraved on the inside. It has a name too, but before you can read it Natasha snatches the object out of your hand.

"Sorry." you whisper, expecting her to call you names for taking something that isn't yours, but she doesn't. She doesn't have time for that. Natasha puts the ring on her finger, before turning her attention again to gripping your body. You feel bad for a few moments, knowing she has a wife who don't even imagine the things she does to you. But your mind is immersed in desire when Natasha's hand starts to go down between your breasts, to the button of your pants. She plays with your zipper while planting kisses all over your neck, with that, you find yourself thirsting for her with every passing second. "Nat..."

"Did you hear what I said? That you didn't get out of my head last night?" she unzips, and slowly pulls your pants down to your thighs. You feel your cheeks burn, feeling her play with the hem of your underwear. Are you really prepared for this? You think. But also think of the world tour, and the answer becomes clear. "I had to fuck my wife thinking about you to relieve myself." you bite the inside of your cheek, hearing her say such words makes you wet. You feel bad for her wife, yes, but turned on to know that Natasha thinks so highly of you. She thought about you all night, just like you thought about her. Maybe this could be more than just an exchange of favors, no?

With one hand, Natasha spreads your legs apart. You have both of your hands resting against the desk, as her hand starts to move up your inner thigh. "You're always so quiet." she chuckles when her hand reaches between your legs, your body squirms, pressing her fingertips against your underwear Natasha can feel how wet you are for her. This just makes her harder. "Is it because you've never done this before? Is that why you don't know what to say sweet girl?"

"Uhum." you hum, closing your eyes when she presses on your clit. "I just... I just need..."

"What?" in one swift motion she pulls your underwear down, and you end up moaning as her hand goes straight to your slit. You spread your legs a few more inches apart when she starts to move back and forth over your folds, looking down Natasha groans at the sight of your cheeks so close to her covered cock. "What do you need?" she continues to spread your wetness all over your pussy while her other hand grabs one of your breasts, making you close your eyes at the aggressiveness she does. "Do you wanna tell your Maestro what you need from her, hm?"

You want to talk to her, you really do. But it's the first time anyone's touched you like this, and you can do anything but form a complete sentence. You didn't think she'd be this quick, you really thought you'd at least talk before she had all of you, but feeling her fingers slip through your slits makes you not mind too much about that. You just need her, you're practically begging her to finally ruin you. "I really need you to say it so I can keep going." she murmurs, opening your folds with her fingers before teasing your entrance. "Do you want me to stretch your tight little pussy? Want me to be your first?" she ends up sliding just the tip of her finger inside you, and since you tried to do the same last night, the sensation is not so strange for you, but even so, because she’s the one doing it, it makes you feel different type of feelings.

You manage to nod your head at her question, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she switches from teasing your entrance to playing with your clit. You smile trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to follow her movement into your sex with your hips. "I need words baby, please."

"Y-yes, fuck I need you, p-please."

The Maestro smiles, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. She pulls down her own pants and boxers, her hard cock as it springs out brushes lightly against your cheeks. Your hands that were once on the edge of the desk are now both pressed against your low back as Natasha takes your wrists, and with her other hand she forces your body into the desk, causing you to whine in pain when your cheek is pressed against the icy wood material, your breasts practically smashed against the table. You close your eyes for a few seconds at her subtle movement, and think about how easily she can position you however she wants. She's much stronger than you. And she wasn't really planning on ending up being this aggressive, but sometimes she can't help herself.

"Fuck... you're so wet." she says as she pulls back a little just to get a good view of your sex, her hand still holding yours against your lower back. "Who knew you got so turned on in the presence of your Maestro huh? What would your parents think of that? I don't think they would be so proud to hear that you lie to them by telling you're practicing when in reality you're letting yourself be fucked by your conductor."

You turn your head away to hide the embarrassment you feel, but pressing your forehead against the table is even more uncomfortable, so you end up turning your face away again, resting your cheek on the furniture. Natasha uses her free hand to rub her cock against your slits, groaning at the sight of your wetness mixing with her pre-cum. "Natasha... I..." you whisper, remembering that this can hurt. Even though you're so turned on, so wet that you might not feel a thing, you're still tinged with fear, and the red-haired woman can see it too. "I don't know if-."

"Shhh." she silences you, letting go of your wrists to brush the strands of hair that fall over your face. "It's okay, no need to be scared, it will feel good, I promise." you find comfort in her words, and that makes some of the fear go away, even though you know she's not that honest sometimes. The older woman even thinks of getting the lub she brought, but seeing how wet you are she thinks that won't be necessary. A gasp escapes her lips as she continues to rub her cock into your slit, and feeling the heat of your sex only make her more painfully aroused. “Stay still detka.”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel her tip slowly stretching your hole, and you realize it's very different from when you tried to use your fingers. She stays still for a while, and you think it's not that bad, at least not until she starts sliding even more inside you. You grunt in pain when half of her cock enters you, and even though you are wet, it still burns a little, trying to get used to this new sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight." Natasha breathes out the words, moving her hips back and making your pussy clenches around nothing. "Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

"U-uhm y-yes." you open your eyes again when she pulls your head by holding your hair, lifting it slightly but your body still pressed against the table.

"Good... This might hurt a little. Tap my thigh if you want me to stop."

You don't understand why you would have to tap her thigh when you can use your words, but feeling her hand pressing over your mouth you understand why. She uses her hand to stifle the scream that rips from your throat as she thrusts her cock all at once inside your pussy, and it hurts, it hurts like hell, but even so, your hand remains still, making no move to tap her thigh. Your entire body protests Natasha's gross invasion, but you remember she said this will feel good, and that's what you want to believe in. She pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you, before moving her hips forward in a blunt act, causing the table to swell slightly beneath you. "F-fuck." you mumble against her palm, every inch of her stretching your walls, feeling like at any moment she's going to destroy you from the inside by the thickness and length of her. She is indeed really big, you don't know what was on your mind when you thought this would be easy to take.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight, how am I supposed to move inside you hm?" Natasha's fingers continue to wrap around your hair as she presses your face back against the table, while her other hand grabs your hips to keep you still. She starts to fuck you slowly but hard at the same time. Her every thrust is aggressive, some things on the table even move with every move she makes against you. You palm your hands to the side of your body as that aching feeling inside you starts to turn into a feeling you didn't know would feel so good until now. "Do you think you can take more? Want me to fuck you hard?"

You clench around her dick at the thought of her fucking you harder than she already is, and the sensation this causes around Natasha's length makes her moan in pleasure. "Oh that's it... clench around my cock, fuck you're so hot." she sinks her nails into your hips, pulling you closer to her. "Do you want me to continue? Want me to fuck you mercilessly?"

"P-please." you beg, even deep down you want her to take it easy at first, moving your hips back when she stops suddenly with her movements. "Keep going, feels so good."

"Hm?" you feel her strong hand against your throat, pulling you up and making your body fully erect again. You feel the relief this caused on your cheek, but what holds your attention the most is the way Natasha's cock starts to fuck you from behind. "Like this? Want me to treat you like a slut?" your arms are pulled behind your body while her other hand is still around your throat. Natasha fucks you while preventing you from moving your arms, and at the same time making it difficult for oxygen to rise to your brain. You arch your back, your eyes rolling as you feel her hit against the deepest part of your pussy.

She's rougher with your cunt than she was with your mouth, sinking her thick cock into your tight walls and making you moan over it. It still hurts, you didn't have time to get used to its size completely, but you get wetter with each thrust that gets easier and easier for Natasha to fuck you hard. You feel your pants sliding down your legs with every pound of her, and it's not long before it falls to your ankles. "You wanted this didn't you?" she asks tightening her fingers around your neck even more. "I bet this isn't the first time you've wanted this from me, tell me, did you touch yourself thinking about me too? Did you use those talented hands of yours to imagine I was fucking you?” she wants to hear it from you, she wants to know that she wasn't the only one doing this all these months that you've been her apprentice.

"I-I, yes." you admit it, even though it's not true. Even if you had impure thoughts about your Maestro you've never really touched yourself thinking about her, but if that's what she wants to hear, that's what you'll say. And again, a big mistake you just made. "Fuck. it. hurts." you end up saying it out loud between labored sighs, feeling the tightness in your throat loosen.

"Want me to stop?" you shake your head from side to side quickly, feeling embarrassingly closer to the edge. Natasha slows down her thrusts inside you as she lowers the hand that was previously around your throat to massage your clit. She fucks you slowly, while making circular motions on your bundle of nerves at medium speed. With her light movements you can feel better the way she moves inside you, not just hard thrusts. You feel her cock sliding over your walls, and how her fingers work so well on your clit.

That's much better, slowly and carefully. You throw your head back, not understanding how you can still stand when the way she fucks you makes you feel boneless. "S-so good." you murmur, your arms move a little when you feel her ridge digging deep into the spongy part of you, but natasha holds them tighter, pulling you against her, almost making your back press against her covered breasts. She again feels your perfume invaded her senses, and thinks how she never wants to try anyone's scent but yours.

You didn't imagine that your first time would be in a random room, with a woman much older than you, and whom you admire so much. But now you don't think how it could just be better that already is. It's just wonderful the way her dick enters you carefully, as if this whole time it was meant to be. You wonder if it's normal to feel so ecstatic so quickly, you didn't think that anything other than your hand would be able to pull you over the edge so fast. And you want to hold on longer, trying to prolong her pleasure as well, but it gets hard when all you can feel is her thick cock sliding in and out of you, as your clit begins to grow sensitive to her touches. “You’re doing so good.” she whispers close to your ear, increasing the stimulation on your nerve just a little bit, only to pull you further towards the climax.

She hates that it took you so long to give yourself to her, and even though you're not completely hers yet, she already feels that way. She's wanted this for a long time, and now that she finally has what she wanted, it's going to be hard for her to let go. She rolls her hips over yours, and it's torturous but perfect at the same time.

Natasha has a hard time keeping her movements slow, all she wants is to abuse you until you can't walk the next day. But she also wants to make you feel good, she wants to make your first time worth it. And it's working. You feel the orgasm starting to build, and you know you won't be able to hold it back for long because of the way she makes you feel like you're out of gravity. "I... fuck... I'm so-." you don't even know what to say, you just try to control the moans that insist on coming out of your mouth. "Fuck I think I'm-."

"Come for me pretty girl, come on, I know you're close, come on, I got you."

It doesn't take long for you to reach your peak, and unlike when you're alone, this time feels totally different. You close your eyes tightly when the pleasure is all you can feel in every muscle in your body, Natasha rests her forehead on your back as she feels you squeezing her cock, feeling the wetness that spreads on her hand as she keeps stimulating you. "That's it..." she stops inside you, pressing her finger against your clit and feeling your sensitive area pulsating on her fingertips. Your breathing is uncontrolled when you finally break out of the trance, feeling your body sweating even though she did all the work.

It feels like you're drugged, and you're afraid you'll end up becoming addicted to her. And this was only the first time, you don't know if there will be others, but really hope so. With time she stops completely, waiting for you to get back together. And you thank her for it. It was so good, you want to go again, and again, until you can't take it anymore. You didn't know it would feel this good, you really were afraid that it would just hurt, but even though it did, in the end it was worth it.

You stay that way for a few moments before Natasha slowly pulls out of you, and you suddenly complain about the emptiness. Your legs are shaky as you turn your body to face her, her eyes showing nothing more than desire as they look directly into yours. "You okay?" she asks gently, cupping your face in her hands. You nod, staring at her parted lips. You try to bring your face even closer to kiss her, but the Maestro holds your jaw, preventing you from getting any closer. "No... no kissing."

"Why?"

"Oh detka, we're not trying to fall in love here, are we?" she speaks in a subtle way, even though she knew those weren't the words you wanted to hear. But you end up agreeing with her, it's really not what you're looking for, it's just an exchange of favors. You force that thought into your head, feeling the tip of her cock pressing against your bare sex. You look down, seeing the length of her glistening with your fluids, she imitates your act, this time getting a perfect view at your pussy. Is certainly one of the best views she's ever had. "Gonna keep fucking you okay?" she warns, running her fingers over your slits to make sure you stay wet, You shiver as she runs her finger over your clit before returning to your entrance. She pulls two fingers inside you, wetting them before leading them to her mouth. Natasha hums while feeling your taste on her tongue, and you think it wouldn't be possible for a scene to be this mesmerising, but ends up being anyway. Being completely aware of your arousal she quickly gets back to work.

Natasha groans, lifting one of your legs up to her hip to continue. She hasn't come yet. You weren't expecting it when she pushes her cock back inside you, and unlike how she was doing it a few minutes ago this time she just uses you like a fuck doll. And that's what you are to her, just someone to fuck, not someone to create emotional bonds with. At least that's what she's trying to get herself to believe in.

"You don't know how good it feels to have you squeezing my cock... my god how tight you are." you'll never get tired of hearing her tell you this, it just works the way you feel around her even more. The sounds you two make aren't low by any chance, and you're grateful that there's no one around to know what the two of you are up to behind closed doors. "You're so fucking beautiful, you're perfect."

Your legs feel like jelly, still trying to fully recover from your last orgasm, and noticing your difficulty standing up Natasha holds both your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of the desk, while thrusting her cock even deeper inside you.

She grips your jaw tightly, forcing you to look deep into her eyes as she fucks you. You see the darkness that consumes her, so lost in desire it makes your body convulse. "You're just a tiny little talented slut aren't ya? Look how good you take me all in." her breath hits against your lips, and you try to control yourself so you don't end up realising it again, feeling overstimulated by her every second. "So... so good for me, only for me.”

You rests both your hands on the table, wrapping your legs around Natasha's hips feeling her fuck you quickly and aggressively. Her hands grip tight on your thighs, and she tries to maintain eye contact with you, but she wants to see how she fucks you, she wants to see the scene of her destroying you from the inside. She lowers her sight to focus on the way her cock disappears inside you, how you take her so well even being your first time. "Gonna come so deep inside you." she whispers, feeling closer with her own words. "Gonna fill you up so good baby."

You feel the heat getting more unbearable, as it seems the walls of the room get smaller around you, one of your hands going towards her shoulder for better balance. You expect the table to break at any moment, just like Natasha is doing with your insides. And unlike her, you keep your eyes glued to the expressions on her face; how her eyebrows furrow up, how she tries to keep her moans from being audible. "Oh fuck... fuck... keep taking it... that's it..." you feel her nails digging deep into the skin of your thighs, and you know you're going to be bruised all over, but the thought of it makes your heart warm. "Is this making you feel good? Oh I bet so. Want to tell me how good I make you feel?"

"Y-yes... you make me feel so good." you say in uncontrolled breaths, squeezing her shoulder hard as you feel yet another orgasm slamming against your body like a brick. But still Natasha doesn't stop, even noticing the way your walls tighten around her cock, she still keeps pushing inside you harshly. "Fuuuck... fuck I don't think I can... Nat... p-please-."

"Shhhh, yes you can, I'm almost there, keep taking it." her hands lift your shirt up to your breasts, and she grunts at the sight of them covered by your bra. All she wanted right now was to get that stupid piece of clothing off your body, but being content with what she has she just squeezes them, your breasts fit perfectly into her palms, and she gropes them so hard it seems like your skin burns with her touch.

Your legs fall from her hips, feeling so overstimulated you don't have the strength to keep them wrapped around her. Natasha also finds it difficult to keep pushing inside you because you're so tight, and you try your best to keep taking her. That pain that had passed comes back, making you cry when you realize that you won't be able to hold on. "Please... please!" you beg, squeezing her shoulder and making Natasha hiss from the strength you do it. "Nat please I can't… it hurts.”

"Baby, begging isn't going to get you anywhere... you didn't ask me to stop, so keep quiet hm?" you nod your head realizing that what she says is true, you didn't actually ask her to stop, you just begged, but for nothing in particular. You feel so sensitive, her cock feels so big on you that it really hurts, but also a pain that feels really good. Fuck, it hurts so good you even feel ashamed to admit it. It feels like you're going to pass out, the room grows dark and your breath gets shorter. And the Maestro sees the tears running down your cheeks, and that's the last straw for her. With a few more thrusts you feel her warm fluid being released inside you, painting your inner walls all over. "Yeah... that's it... fuck… you feel so good."

Natasha practically collapses on top of you, resting her head in the crook of your neck as she continues to fill yourself with her cum. She moves her hips slowly to fuck the cum inside you, and you hate to admit that the wet noises of her action are so arousing. She closes her eyes for a few seconds feeling her dick throbbing inside you. "Nat..." you whine as she pulls away, and then taking her cock outside you you can feel the liquid seeping through your slits. You sigh with immediate relief, and only then do you realize your face is wet with your tears. Natasha grabs her shaft, rubbing it in your pussy and watching as her white juice spreads through your folds. She slides the tip back inside to keep every last drop that’s left in you, before going back to rubbing the end of it on your clit. Natasha is mesmerized, and even though she wants to continue she takes a step back.

"You did so good, I'm proud of you." she runs her knuckles over your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You close your eyes in her caress, feeling your pussy throbbing. "You were perfect."

And then the room is back to its normal size, the walls aren't suffocating you anymore, and the heat isn't so unbearable. Natasha picks up your underwear on the floor, and passes them by your feet to help you put them on, and you end up getting up from the table so she can pass the piece of clothing to your thighs. She doesn't say anything as she picks up your pants as well, holding them out to you before running her fingers over the strands of her hair. She's still hard when she tucks her cock into her pants, and as soon as you're fully dressed again you approach her. "I can help you with that..." you say directing your hand to the bulge in her pants, but Natasha shakes her head no.

"No, it's okay sweet girl." you smile when you hear her call you by the nickname, then just nod as she starts walking towards the door. She unlocks it, and holds it open for you to pass. As you move you can feel some of her cum that was still inside you wet your underwear, and then it hits you, you really did it, it doesn't even seem real, and the worst of it is that you liked it more than you should have. After you pick up your backpack on top of the sofa, you two begin a silent path through the corridors. You feel your legs weak, and you fear it will only get worse when you wake up the next day. But as has been said before, it was all worth it. When you're next to her, you see Natasha fiddling with her phone, talking to someone in messages. You also notice the way she squeezes her cock over her pants, the discomfort you left her in still isn't entirely gone. "Are you gonna get an uber or something?" she asks as soon as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the building.

"Uhm... no... I'm gonna go to a bar with my friends at the end of the street."

She just nods, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. You tighten your backpack straps, rocking your body back and forth not knowing if you should just walk away or wait for her to say goodbye first. She types quickly to whoever is talking to her, and you see the way her brows furrow, like she's worried about something. "I uhm... I should go." she says before finally looking up at you, giving you a weak smile. "Are you okay with what happened today?"

"Yes." you answer immediately. "It was... really good."

Indeed it was, you could do it for hours. You didn't know sex could feel this good. Or at least the sex with her definitely was.

"Okay good." she's relieved that she didn't make you do anything you didn't want to, even though she knows the real reason why you actually did it. "And... I'll talk to you next week about what I told you earlier."

"What?" you ask, not really knowing what she's talking about.

"The list... Your name on the list."

Oh, this.

For a moment you even forgot about it, you felt so good in her presence that you didn't even remember that in fact all of this was for other intentions. "Oh yes of course… okay." Natasha stares at you for a few more seconds before walking towards her car, leaving you alone. When she drives away you follow the vehicle with your eyes until it completely disappears from your view. And then you're back to reality. And what a shitty reality.

taglist: @kksalexa @madelineleong @shaniaauld03 @natashafanatic @gayerthanevertbh @wifeofnatasharomanoff

[bullet-prooflove]

Blankets - Bishop Losa x Reader

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @annetje @abby2 @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @vannabanana1995 @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @est1887 @lilvampirina @creativitybeware @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @lyly00 @oureternalbond @beccabarba

When Bishop first meets you, he isn’t at his best. He’s exhausted, the stench of smoke and cordite clinging to his skin. He’s seen too much tonight; he just wants to go home and drink himself into oblivion, but he can’t because now there’s a kid involved that he has to do right by.

When he’d heard that there was a stash house in his backyard he was pissed. He thought the club had sent a clear message the last time Vatos Malditos had encroached on their territory, but apparently, he had been wrong. They’d expected drugs, a little smack, a couple of kilos of coke but they hadn’t expected the kid. He’d known they were into some dark shit but trafficking kids for sex…

Putting bullets in those animals had been way too fucking quick.

They’d found the kid cowering in the corner of a princess themed bedroom, nine years old he guessed, hair in pigtails, a schoolgirl’s uniform with a skirt that was far too short and a tie that was far too low. They’d tried talking to her in English and then in Spanish, it wasn’t until Bishop saw her hand gestures that he realised she was deaf. He couldn’t imagine how fucking terrifying that must have been, to be at the hands of monsters with no way to communicate, to have your voice stripped away from you. He knew a little sign language; he’d started learning when Aidan had been diagnosed with hearing difficulties.  He’s rusty has fuck but he manages to tell the girl she’s safe, that no one in this room is going to hurt her, she signs back to him quickly, too quicky and he has to hold his hands up so that she understands that he’s a novice.

He discovers her name is Mari and she sticks to him like glue after that. He’s forced to ride in the van with Creeper because she refuses to let him out of her sight.

It’s Coco that suggests taking her to the community centre. Stitches has been running a clinic out of there and knows the manager, she’s helped out in situations like this before. It’s a happy place he tells Bishop, kid friendly and they’ve been doing some great work in the community. He can’t stand the idea of just dropping Mari off at social services, so he has Creeper swing by.

You’re waiting by the front door when he arrives. It’s been a while since he has been by this way and the place has changed a lot. Shit has been going downhill since the Galindo Agra Park project stalled and it looks like you’ve stepped up, he notes the additional services that are now on offer. The clothing drives, the food banks, the pop-up children’s library…

All of these things make difference to people who are barely managing to keep themselves afloat.

He thinks he recognises you, but he can’t be sure, it might have been back after Aidan was born and he was taking him to the Tummy Time play sessions. Even back then he knows he would have noticed you. He’d been committed to Antonia, but there was definitely something about you.

“Thanks for helping out with this.” He says, shaking your hand. “I only know a little ASL.”

There’s a thrum of connection there, something he hasn’t felt in years. He almost pulls away, but he finds that he can’t bring himself too. You like him, he’s gruff but earnest. He could have dumped Mari at social services, but he chose to bring her here, to a place that hopefully she’ll feel safe so that you can find out more about her.

Mari refuses to venture anywhere without him, so he finds himself seated on a red bean bag in the children’s library, his motorcycle boots resting on a brightly coloured patchwork rug. It makes his chest ache being back here, it’s different than before but the memories of Aidan, they’re everywhere. When he sees the Gruffalo book, it almost feels like he can’t fucking breathe.

It’s the motion of your hands that distracts him. You’re sitting cross legged on the rug across from Mari, continuing a conversation in ASL. It’s moving too fast for him to follow, but he’s captivated by the flourish of your movements, the speed and grace in them. It’s clear that Mari’s impressed too. The kid has been withdrawn ever since they found her, now she’s animated and rapt. He figures it’s been a long time since anyone’s actually spoke to Mari in her language.

“She says she was brought here by her Uncle.” You tell him later on in the break room, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. “When he couldn’t pay his own fee, he traded her to pay off the rest.”

“Man, that’s fucked up.” He says, his gaze on the young girl curled up under a blanket on the couch. The kid is fast asleep, a stuffed lion clutched to her chest, it breaks his fucking heart. “What’ll happen to her?”

“I have a friend who works at a charity who deals with this sort of thing. She’ll be here in a couple of hours.” You told him with a grimace. “Sadly, it’s more common than you think.”

Bishop sags back in his chair, his head tilting back as he sighs. The world is a fucked up place and he knows that but tonight, somehow it feels a thousands times worse.

“Obispo.” You say his name quietly, your hand coming to rest upon his. It’s warm, your touch. He doesn’t expect it, part of him wants to yank his hand away because that brief moment of connection is too much. He’s been alone for such a long time, he’s forgotten what it feels like to have someone actually give a shit, about him, about the people around them. You could have told him to fuck off tonight, you could have called social services, stayed at home drinking a glass of wine or whatever you did to wind down, but you hadn’t. You’d stepped up and he fucking admired that. “You did a good thing tonight. If you hadn’t found her…”

You let the words trail off  because the truth is you can’t bring yourself to say it. He gets that, he doesn’t want to think about it either. He slouches down in his chair, arms crossing over this chest. It’s cold in here, colder than he thought it would be. You’re wearing a black sweatshirt with white stars over your jeans, it clings to your form in a way he tries not to notice. All he has on is a short-sleeved shirt and his kutte.

“I’ll stay until she gets here, your friend.” He says, his gaze coming to rest on Mari as he rubs his hands together to warm them. “I don’t want her to wake up scared.”

“Ok.” You tell him, before snatching up a blanket from the back of the second couch and handing it to him.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t need that.”

“You have goosebumps.” You point out, gesturing at his biceps. “I’m still working on getting the heating fixed but it’s a process…”

He fixes you with a stare, it’s meant to be a glower but you can see the exhaustion in his handsome features, how tired he is both mentally and physically. He’s stubborn, you shouldn’t like that, but you do. You set the blanket down in his lap. He huffs before rolling his eyes and shaking it out. You watch as he tucks it around his chest and upper body, drawing it up to his neck.

“I’m doing this because the heating’s out.” He tells you with a scowl.

“Not because it’s comfortable as fuck,” You summarise. “Yea I think I got it.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you busy yourself collecting the coffee cups and depositing them in the sink.

“You didn’t have to stay you know.” You tell him, glancing at him over your shoulder. “I can keep her company.”

Bishop tilts his head towards the little girl asleep on the couch, he remembers the way she clutched onto his kutte when he helped her to feet, how she refused to let go of his hand when they’d first stepped inside the community centre…

“Yea.” He said, closing his eyes as he hunkers down in the chair. “I do.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[profanepurity]

Oh my god now I can’t get the image of the way Lilith and Lucifer treat kids being this

(Sorry if the image doesn’t show up, tumblr was being weird anytime I tried to upload it. It’s that one image of the dad swaddling a child in a towel and underneath it him it’s him holding his son by his foot)

You are spot on, I was thinking of this exact meme when I originally drew them lmao!

There were a few occasions though where this wasn’t the case.

For instance, in Praeteritum, Primo had both a fantastic and horrible dedication ceremony. He was born outside of the church, and wasn’t found until Primo’s mother had actually wrote to Nihil that she’d given up their son to an orphanage years ago. Primo would often hear a dark but oddly comforting whisper at night that would teach him things about the stars, plants, when people were going to die- math. It was always dismissed as the whining of a troubled child seeking attention. After Primo was discovered and tests were run in order to be certain, he was dedicated like all children within the church by Papa Nihil.

To say Lilith was pissed would be an understatement. Nihil and Imperator had recently married at this point, but both of them had decided not to have a Prime Mover ceremony, since Imperator wanted to keep her current position in the church. Technically Nihil conceived Primo while he wasn’t with Seestor (with Secondo and Terzo he definitely was), but the fact that he had a child with someone outside of the church was not good. It meant that the “sacred devotion” that ran through the Emeritus family as totally dedicated Satanists was “ruined”. Lilith would be happily proven wrong by Primo though, as he proved to be a very gifted and unblessed prophet of Lucifer.

So imagine, you’re just a little kid. You’ve been living in some orphanage with no real contact or connection with anyone other than the scary voice in your head for as long as you can remember. Then some people come and “adopt” you and take you to this massive church and introduce you to your father. You’ve been briefed by some spooky monks about some ritual, and now you’re kneeling in front of an altar in front of a giant goat monster and this really angry woman screaming things you don’t fully understand at your “dad”, but you know it’s bad stuff about you.

This is when Lucifer reveals himself for the first time to Primo.

He can finally see the face of the person that’s been his only source of company his entire life. Lucifer is very much hands off when it comes to his followers, even the ones he dubs as serving a particularly special purpose, like all the Emeritus boys, but that hug may as well had been a binding pact. Primo will be incredibly close to Lucifer for his entire life.

I mean, what’s more prophetic than one of your bishops being possessed by Lucifer himself while he holds and presents your son to the manifestation of Satanas, while the unholy mother is screaming in your face for not waiting to have kids with your new hot girlboss you pulled at some party in Transylvania.

Notice how Lucifer is holding Primo the correct way to hold a child. Notice how Satanas is allowing his nose to be pet. This was a very special occasion within the church.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

A little bit of context: I love when good guys enter their villain arc (just as a little treat)

So we’ve seen how Leo reacts when a loved one is hurt he gets angry and he lashes out. So that got me thinking: what would happen if someone took all his siblings in season 3? (shhh I’m manifesting season 3). Like can you imagine if Bishop becomes an actual villain in season 3 and takes the boys (and maybe even April)? Can you imagine how pissed he would be? He would burn the whole fucking city to the ground. He’d tear shit apart in a blind fucking rage. And here's the thing Donnie and Mikey aren’t around to hold him back and I highly doubt Splinter would/could stop him. And the bad thing is I want to see it. I want to see how truly angry Leo can become I want to see him snap. 

Me to Leo:

[she-karev]

Intervention (Marina Angst Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Three

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Carina DeLuca and Maya Bishop

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 1

Mental Health Resources: https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

Summary: After breaking down in Maya’s arms Carina calms down and talks to her about what happened with Maya offering advice on how she can help her brother. She then holds an intervention for Andrew who breaks down in tears.

Words: 1740

Maya brings two cups of earl grey tea to Carina on the couch. She calmed down after crying in Maya’s arms for ten minutes. Maya was able to change into Carina’s pajamas so she can be properly dressed while getting to the bottom of her girlfriend’s dilemma. It surprised Maya how Carina cried and sobbed in her apartment because usually Maya is the one in their relationship to be near to tears. But it’s not gonna stop her from being a good girlfriend to a woman who deserves all the love in the world that hopefully Maya can give her from now on.

Carina is still sitting on the couch in her living room looking down at her hands in torment. Maya puts the tea in front of her on the coffee table before sitting next to her. Maya takes a sip before starting.

“So, are you ready to talk about what’s wrong?”

Carina sighs and takes a beat before looking at Maya with red rimmed eyes. She clears her throat that is hoarse from the sobs, “You remember how I told you my dad has bipolar one?”

Maya nods, “You said that.”

“Well, my…” Carina sniffles and sips her tea to calm down, “My sweet baby brother has inherited it.”

Maya nods keeping a neutral face, “Okay well mental illness is scary but we’ve both seen it on the job and know that with the right treatment he can control this.”

Carina whimpers, “He doesn’t want to, he’s convinced there is nothing wrong with him but everything is. He spent the last two years being madly in love with his girlfriend, asking her to move in and worshipping her. But in the past two months he has verbally lashed out at her, kicked her out, ignored her calls and did everything our father did to our mother when he first started getting worse. I know this because I shielded Andrea from that when I could and maybe…maybe if he saw it, he would see he is repeating the pattern.” Carina starts to tear up, “And when he screamed out loud that his patient was being trafficked it was like seeing my papa at his absolute worst. He was right the patient was being trafficked but the way he acted and the way he handled it…it isn’t how the Andrea I grew up with would have helped that girl. And now…now he’s at a low that always comes after the mania and I don’t know what to do.”

Carina grabs a tissue and wipes her tears away and blows her nose while Maya rubs her back in circles to keep her centered, “I don’t know what to do.” Carina repeats in a broken voice.

Maya looks at Carina with sympathy understanding where she is coming from, “My brother has problems too. Mason was the black sheep in the family, everything he did pissed my dad off, him coming in third, him quitting track, him taking up art. I was the daughter for him to bask in the glory of my medals while my brother was the artistic idiot who couldn’t do anything right by his book. And even when I did everything right it still wasn’t enough for the man but Mason had it worse.” Carina holds Maya’s hand while she continues, “Running was like a drug for me and for Mason…drugs were his drug. I was so busy trying to please our father and winning at all costs that I didn’t pay attention when he ran away from home until it was too late. The last time I saw him was two years ago when I found out he was living on the streets. I tried to make things right, I offered to let him live with me but he was stubborn like your brother is. I gave up after that because I couldn’t force Mason to overcome his problems…but I still could have let him know if and when he wanted help, I would be there for him.”

Carina looks at Maya in awe before she continues, “When Jack had PTSD, we were worried and we wanted to help so we held an intervention for him. It was a bust but eventually he saw the problem and we helped him get better. I think it helped that he had a room full of people who wanted to show him that it was okay to have an illness. It helped that he could see despite what he thinks he has a family to help him back on his feet. I think your brother needs that because from what you told me he is going further down the rabbit hole and needs to get out.”

Carina shakes her head tearing up, “I-I can’t, he’ll hate me I know he will.”

Maya kneels down on the floor grasping Carina’s shoulder for support, “I know your scared but he needs help.”

“I tried he won’t let me.” Carina reminds Maya with a lump in her throat.

“He needs more help than you can give him from people who know what to do. He needs to see that he can get a handle on this otherwise he will never be the brother you know and love again.”

Carina shakes her head again, “He’ll hate me.”

“No he won’t, he doesn’t. Once he hears how much this is hurting you, he will realize he needs help. And when he does, he’ll love you for getting him out of his bad place, I know he will because it’s how I felt after I admitted what my dad did to me was abuse.”

Maya carefully wipes a stray tear from Carina’s cheek, “I don’t know if I can do this to him.”

“You’re not doing anything to him you’re doing this for him. Right now, you’re the only one who loves him enough to do this for him. Okay?”

Carina takes a moment sitting on the couch inhaling and exhaling before nodding slightly, “Okay.”

The Next Day

Carina almost backs out of the intervention she is currently leading right now when she sees how broken and scared Andrew looks when he steps into the room and realizes what is going on. She thinks about doing what she did as a child with their papa and bring him to bed, feed him when he gets hungry and wait for the depression to pass and the happy mood to return. But she knows she can’t, she knows that it would just repeat the pattern and her fears would come true. So, she stays, perched on the arm of a chair, gripping the notebook in her hands so hard that her knuckles turn white.

She tried to get his ex-girlfriend Amber Karev to be there hoping seeing her will make him see the hurt in her eyes that he caused. But she said no stating she has been hurt enough by him and she knows when to walk away from more pain. At first, she was angry when Amber walked away but as a daughter of a mentally ill man, she understands the frustration that comes with it. And with her brother Aaron inheriting her mother’s illness and Andrew lashing out when it happened to him it’s understandable, she would be burned out. She only hopes her, Bailey and Webber are enough to make him see the truth.

She regrets saying no to Maya’s offer to be there with her, missing the firefighter’s presence as she observes her brother’s pale face and drawn features, immediately reluctant to participate in this charade. She closes her eyes for a moment and tries to hear Maya’s voice in her head, telling her that she is doing the right thing and reassuring her that everything will be okay.

All eyes are on her as she stands and reads the words that she and Maya spent all night writing and rewriting agonizing over what words to use. She can barely look him in the eyes at first, frightened of seeing hate or anger, but when she begs him to accept their help, she looks straight at him, her eyes pleading with him and silently asking that he hears her.

She gets nothing back, just mild disdain that he is being put through this nonsense.

Doctor Webber is next and he tells Andrew that he’s special – and he is, Carina has always thought so. Then Bailey tries to appeal to him telling him about her OCD and how she manages it with therapy and medication, but every time they tried, they hit a wall.

Soon he admits he feels shame for breaking the only goal he had in life that mattered, not ending up like their father. His explanation breaks her heart, because all he wants is to not be like their father and she knows that he isn’t anything like Papa, but the illness is overwhelming, it always has been. She tells him that, but he rejects her and gets angry and she understands that anger more than anything because she feels it herself.

He grips the door handle to leave but his emotions become too much and he ends up banging the door closed, over and over again, and it makes her jump because he has always been the calm one compared to her fiery nature. She watches him slide to the floor and he goes to comfort him like she did when they were kids and he could get scared hearing their parents’ fight. She sits beside him and remembers Maya’s words and asks him to let them help him. To trust them, to trust her to take care of him when he can’t take care of himself.

Carina feels the love for him in the room and she prays that he can feel it too. And finally, he relents and he leans into her, like he did when he was small, curling into her and letting her clean the tears from his cheeks. They are blocking the door but no-one rushes them to move, and Carina soothes him in their native Italian, promising him that everything is going to be okay and willing herself to believe it as much as him.

After what seems like an eternity he finally relents and says okay, allowing himself to get into treatment. Carina sniffles and pulls her baby brother in for a hug, finally feeling like things are going to be okay for them.

[tblsomedoodles]

Awww Raphie being such an attentive daddy <3

He very much is! He loves little Dee so much already and he's only had him a week!

Thank you!

Yup! He's already surprising him with his smarts and taking apart Donnie's tech when he's not looking. lol

Thank you!

Yup! Dee loves his Blue Plush! : )

Thank you!

Poor Uncle Don indeed. He has to hide all his good tech or baby Dee is just going to take it all apart to see how it works. (as if Don wasn't enjoying watching him do it. He totally was, btw, he just didn't want to put them all back together tomorrow lol.)

Thank you!

Thank you!! : )

Nope! They even got Leon his own bed and they still just end up on the floor sometimes. Raphie's starting to think they do it on purpose (and sometimes they do. but they also just sleep so deeply while in the 03 lair that they don't notice they've fallen off the bed.)

Thank you!

That would be a good way for Bishop to get bit again lol. and to see exactly how pissed Dee can get about people messing with his twin.

Thank you!

Lol! That too! Leon bites a few people in each au. Dee has bitten every single member of his adopted family except Splinter and April before the first three months are up. I imagine it evens out : )

Should just call them the biting twins instead of the disaster twins lol

Thank yoU!

[cheemken]

More villain au stuff tho sorry cause I've been thinking™

Like,, what if the Unova kids did get through Dia for some fucking reason

No no, just hear me out, a lil what if scenario yknow hahaha

Like the Great Dragon is there staring down at Dia, Gira, and Yveltal, and like this was probs the first time that Iris, and even the rest of the Champions, ever saw Diantha lose her composure. Bc she didn't predict Zekrom to still be active, that her own pkmn could be taken down, that for once she was the one being cornered, and that kinda messed her up. Like imagine being the most dangerous Champion bc you're always ten steps ahead of everyone, and suddenly you miscalculated a risk now you're lagging behind, shackled as you couldn't take another step, like being trapped in chess, that no matter where you move your king, a rook, a bishop, and a queen would be right around the corner waiting to kill it.

And just chmdndn Dia being so vulnerable at that moment, her mind is running like crazy, thinking of a way to turn the tides still, but shit man everything's so hazy for her, she's still reeling over the fact that the kids bested her, that they still had one more trump card up their sleeves, and she fucking hated it

But like,, yknow, imagine if the kids did try getting through her, to find out just what drove her into doing all this, or at least let her get a taste of her own medicine. Hilbert was still pissed at her yknow, Diantha did some pretty horrible things, and he wants her to feel that pain too, imagine him just going "how would you feel if we kill someone close to you?! It'd feel like shit wouldn't it?!"

And Dia's there laughing like crazy, it's so fucking surreal seeing her like that, and she goes "my brother is safe. My League is safe. I made sure nothing will happen to them." But damn tho imagine if that really got through to her and got her paranoid abt it

Cheren noticing that and he's there stepping up standing next to Hilbert, all "and how are you sure of that? You're not in Kalos with them."

Dia laughs at that, finally catching her breath, she brings a hand to her head, sweeping her hair back a bit, wiping along blood and tears and sweat, she then looks at them, her posture finally upright again, "you're honestly playing this game with me? I have my informants back at Kalos that report back to me, the same way I have them here in Unova."

And ofc, that kinda set them off cause holy shit WHAT, then again no wonder they knew abt Iris' battle w Hilbert. But also damn Diantha's determination was also smth else, that despite being caught off guard, she got herself back up to her feet, and they know better than to just be confident that they can easily win, they may have the Original Dragon now, but they know that what Diantha lacked w great offence she makes up for her strategies, and they'd rather not test that, especially w how desperate she is now

[nayialovecat]

Former Bishops and Lamb (fragment)

About Hell of the Gods a little. Lamb tries to be a good new god of life and death and show respect to defeated enemies, but with their reluctance, it's not easy…

This is Lamb's second visit to the Hell of the Gods. In the first, they fixed what Narinder had done - for everyone except Shamura.

The fragment comes from the 10th volume (which is currently being written), from chapter 1 - In the Hell of the Gods. I avoid the spoilers.

---------------------

Chapter 1 - In the Hell of the Gods

They lifted everything into the air and stepped into a familiar corridor with barred cells. They put things on the table and then flew up to the levers lifting the bars. "Well, let's jump," they muttered. "At most, I'll destroy everything if I get pissed, right?"

"Don't even joke like that," snorted Red Crown, but seemed amused by such a concept.

The bars went up. At this the creatures behind them twitched. Lamb sank to the edge of the table and waited a moment while the distrustful former Bishops hesitated to leave their cells. After a moment, Leshy was the first to emerge, with a deft glide he found his way to the table and grew in front of Lamb like a mountain. He blinked his four intensely pink eyes.

"Oh, the sacrificial beast is back," he shouted behind him.

"I'm back and I have for you what you asked for... and what you didn't ask for," announced Lamb cheerfully, and then lifted the things destined for Leshy with a flick of their finger. "I figured that seeds alone won't do you much good, so here are some other things too... sorry if these tools offend you, I just figured they might be useful... I'll also make you a water source in the cell right away to water your crops, but for light I don't think I can do much... maybe some miniature sun? Glowing mushrooms? I'm not sure how plants work, especially such dead ones..."

"Hmm..." Leshy let out a murmur, but his eyes lit up as he recognized the seeds. "Your followers grow such species of flowers?"

"They do. I have many enthusiasts in the village, every now and then they order or bring in new seeds. You can't even imagine how beautifully the temple is decorated for each flowering festival, weddings or the fedtival of the Sky Fires."

Shamura stood slightly off to the side and watched Lamb. They immediately flew up to them, levitating the books behind them. The spider stepped back, refusing to be touched. "I didn't choose these books, but trusted your former vessels... The Council was very helpful," Lamb announced, trying to get closer. However, the spider kept their distance and the small leader knew why. They sighed. "They also advised me against healing your wounds, and seeing your reluctance to do so, I think I will temporarily give up. I'm in no hurry to hemorrhage my brain. But don't think I'm abandoning the idea altogether, Shamura. I will still help you. Just... not now."

"It's... bad idea..." whispered the spider, and then accepted the books. They looked through the titles. His eyes lit up. "Oh... great... I remember this book... and this one too... maybe it will be easier... will understand..." After a moment, they raised their gaze to Lamb again. There was a trace of the old intelligence in their eyes. Lamb endured the look before it became misty again. "Did you get along... get along with them?" Shamura finally asked, tilting his head. "The Council? Did you have a conversation?"

"Yes. I've formed an alliance with Silk Cradle and I'm on track to appoint a new Bishop there."

The spider's eyes lit up.

(...) "And here, please fo ahead, your things..." said Lamb cheerfully. [Kallamar] was astonished when they pressed a bundle of sheets of paper and a writing pen onto his tentacles.

"I didn't ask for anything," he noted.

"I know, but Narinder revealed to me that you like puzzles, so I asked several people to create puzzles. Would you rather sit and be bored?"

He hesitated. He carefully lifted the first of the cards with one hand. He looked at it. It had a short note at the very top of the page. "Banal," he snorted, but looked intrigued.

"I didn't take you the ink because Narinder said you didn't need it, but..."

He just waved his hand. "Yes, yes.. let it be. I accept your somewhat pathetic gift... although if it was meant as an acknowledgement of my intellect, I feel insulted for now..."

The giant squid retreated to his cell, browsing the pages vaguely and snorting disdainfully. Lamb glanced at the table. The dress for Heket still lay there, and she herself had not moved from her cell. They flew to the table and picked up the dress along with the shawl, then landed on the ground and cautiously moved to one of the middle cells. The light in this one was off.

"Heket? Are you all right? I have something for you too..."

"I didn't ask for anything..." they heard a whisper. They twitched slightly. Was something wrong that she whispered? All in all, they cured her as the last, maybe not completely, maybe something broke... Kallamar had ears and hearing, Leshy could see, but she...

"I know you didn't ask, but Anura inhabitants..." She twitched slightly. They noticed a large shape moving in the darkness, but only slightly, as if she had changed position. She seemed to be lying on the bed. "I don't say followers, because they didn't even know you.... But they found something of yours... Yellow Crown approved it and..."

The shape moved and arose. Lamb lifted their head. Heket was really big compared to them. So after a moment's hesitation, they flew up to her eyes. In the darkness, they could barely see the yellow eyes focused on itself.

"Here. They wanted me to pass this on to you. All of them. Yellow Crown and the beings of Anura."

"Is this..." she began uncertainly, extending her hand. Her long fingers stroked the fabric. "It is so... realistic..."

"It's an exact astral copy of your dress," explained Lamb. "I can't move material things here."

"Did you burn my gown?"

"There was no need to do so. It was enough to give it as a sacrifice without destroying it."

"Get out of my cell."

They was bewildered. Saddened. "Thought you would be happy..." they bubbled uncertainly. "I'm sorry if..."

"Get out," she repeated with a sigh, still in a whisper, and they was certain that she rolled her eyes. All four of them. "I have to change, right?"

They lightened their muzzle slightly. They nodded and wandered out of the cell. They looked over at Leshy, who was already ditching the soil in the seedbed with excitement and placing seeds in it - one at a time, with deep respect. Lamb flew up to him.

"Then where do you want this spring?"

"Anywhere... I do not care about other furniture, you can remove the bed..."

They nodded its head. They lit up their eyes, changing the structure of the cell, and after a while, instead of a bed, there was a water reservoir against the wall, from which a small fountain erupted. "Well, I'm not an artist and engineer like Kallamar, but I guess that's enough, right?"

The worm nodded. He glanced at the lamb. He paused his work for a moment. "But you are aware that I hate you anyway?" He asked with polite curiosity.

"Yes. You have the right to do so."

"Good. If doing you harm wasn't a risk of annihilating my siblings, I wouldn't hesitate to lash out at you and wring your neck."

"Pff... good luck to you, you would have acutely succeeded," snorted Red Crown, although the worm could not hear him.

"I know, a very definite lust for murder beats from you," admitted Lamb.

"It's good that we have that clear. Now get out of my cell. Even if you are the god of life and death, this one piece of your domain belongs to me. Get out of it."

They obediently flew outside the bars. They smiled, however. They hesitated to glance at Kallamar, who didn't even react to the remark about himself, when at that moment it heard a clatter of footsteps. Heket stepped out of her cell. Shamura raised their gaze to her and something in their eyes flashed. Kallamar leaned out of his cell and also froze.

Heket looked truly beautiful. The pink of her dress blended with her red skin in places, making the dress look like it was part of her body, giving her an almost phantom-like appearance. She wrapped a shawl around her neck and tied a bow in the back. The long sleeves reached almost to the ground. She smoothed the folds around her waist uncertainly - she must have once been a bit slimmer, but the dress still lay perfectly on her.

"Well, well, sister..." said appreciatively Kallamar, blinking with obvious satisfaction. "I didn't think I'd see you in that creation yet... let me think.. A dress for the beginning of the flowering season, isn't it?"

She nodded her head beaming.

Shamura walked closer. They hesitated before reaching out a hand to touch the fabric. Heket turned around. "Beautiful..." whispered the spider. "It's been so long since we've seen you like this..."

"True..." Heket lowered her gaze. She was already speaking normally, and her voice delighted Lamb once again. "Since the mutilation by Narinder... I lost the desire to attire myself. I felt ugly... hideous..."

"You were never ugly..." Shamura touched her cheek affectionately. "And now... now you're blooming like you've never been before... Pity, what a pity..."

She blushed. Lamb that was looking at them suddenly felt strangely intrusive.

---------------------

Rozdział 1 - W Piekle Bogów

Uniosło wszystko w powietrze i wkroczyło do znajomego korytarza z zakratowanymi celami. Położyło rzeczy na stole, a potem podleciało do dźwigni podnoszących kraty.

- No, to siup... - mruknęło. - Najwyżej rozwalę wszystko, jeśli się wkurzę, tak?

- Nawet sobie tak nie żartuj - prychnęła Czerwona Korona, ale wydawała się być rozbawiona takim konceptem.

Kraty podniosły się. Na to istoty za nimi drgnęły. Jagnię opadło na krawędź stołu i czekało chwilę, podczas gdy nieufni dawni Biskupi wahali się, czy opuścić swoje cele. Po chwili jako pierwszy wyłonił się Leshy, zręcznym ślizgiem znalazł się przy stole i wyrósł przed Jagnięciem niczym góra. Zamrugał swoimi czterema intensywnie różowymi oczami.

- Och, ofiarna bestia wróciła - rzucił za siebie.

- Wróciłom i mam dla was to, o co prosiliście... i to, o co nie prosiliście - oznajmiło wesoło Jagnię, a potem uniosło jednym ruchem palca rzeczy przeznaczone dla Leshego. - Uznałom, że same nasiona na niewiele ci się zdadzą, więc masz tu też kilka innych rzeczy... przepraszam, jeśli te narzędzia cię obrażają, po prostu uznałom, że mogą być przydatne... zrobię ci zaraz także w celi źródło wody do podlewania twoich upraw, ale na światło chyba niewiele poradzę... może jakieś miniaturowe słońce? Świecące grzyby? Nie jestem pewne, jak działają rośliny, zwłaszcza takie martwe...

- Hmm... - Leshy wydał z siebie pomruk, ale oczy mu rozbłysły, gdy rozpoznawał nasiona. - Twoi wyznawcy hodują takie gatunki kwiatów?

- Owszem. Mam w wiosce wielu pasjonatów, co i rusz zamawiają lub sprowadzają nowe nasiona. Nawet sobie nie wyobrażasz, jak pięknie jest przystrojona świątynia na każde święto kwitnienia, śluby czy święto Ogni Niebios.

Shamura stał nieco na uboczu i obserwował Jagnię. To natychmiast podleciało do niego, lewitując za sobą księgi. Pająk cofnął się, nie dając się dotknąć.

- Nie ja wybierałom te księgi, ale zaufałom waszym dawnym naczyniom... Rada okazała się bardzo pomocna - oznajmiło, usiłując bardziej się zbliżyć. Pająk trzymał jednak dystans i mały lider wiedział dlaczego. Westchnął. - Odradziła mi też zaleczenie waszych ran, a widząc waszą niechęć do tego, chyba chwilowo zrezygnuję. Nie spieszno mi do krwotoków mózgu. Ale nie myślcie, że całkowicie porzucam ten pomysł, Shamura. Jeszcze wam pomogę. Tylko... nie teraz.

- To... zły pomysł... - wyszeptał pająk, a potem przyjął księgi. Przeglądał tytuły. Jego oczy rozbłysły. - Och... wspaniale... pamiętam tę księgę... i tę również... może łatwiej... będzie zrozumieć...

Po chwili podniósł znów spojrzenie na Jagnię. W jego oczach był ślad dawnej inteligencji. Jagnię zniosło to spojrzenie, zanim ponownie się zamgliło.

- Dogadałoś... się z nimi? - zapytali wreszcie Shamura, przekrzywiając głowę. - Rada? Rozmawialiście?

- Tak. Zawiązałom sojusz z Silk Cradle i jestem na dobrej drodze do wyznaczenia tam nowego Biskupa.

Oczy pajaka rozbłysły.

(...) - A tutaj, proszę, twoje rzeczy... - rzuciło wesoło Jagnię. [Kallamar] Zdumiał się, gdy wcisnęło mu na macki plik kartek i pióro do pisania.

- O nic nie prosiłem - zauważył.

- Wiem. Ale Narinder zdradził mi, że lubisz zagadki, więc poprosiłom kilka osób o stworzenie zagadek. Wolisz siedzieć i się nudzić?

Zawahał się. Ostrożnie uniósł jedną dłonią pierwszą z kart. Przyjrzał się jej. Miała krótką notatkę na samej górze strony.

- Banalne - prychnął, ale wyglądał na zaintrygowanego.

- Nie wzięłom ci atramentu, bo Narinder powiedział, że go nie potrzebujesz, ale...

Tylko machnął ręką.

- Tak, tak... niech będzie. Przyjmuję twój nieco patetyczny dar... chociaż jeśli miało to być uznanie mojego intelektu, to na razie czuję się obrażony...

Wielka kałamarnica oddaliła się do swojej celi, przeglądając kartki pobieżnie i prychając pogardliwie. Jagnię spojrzało na stół. Szata dla Heket nadal tam leżała, a ona sama nie ruszyła się z celi. Podleciało do stołu i wzięło suknię wraz z szalem, a potem wylądowało na ziemi i ostrożnie ruszyło do jednej ze środkowych cel. Światło w tej było zgaszone.

- Heket? Wszystko w porządku? Dla ciebie też coś mam...

- O nic nie prosiłam... - usłyszał szept. Drgnął lekko. Czy coś się stało, że szeptała? W sumie leczyło ją ostatnią, może nie do końca, może coś się zepsuło... Kallamar miał uszy i słuch, Leshy widział, ale ona...

- Wiem, że nie prosiłaś, ale mieszkańcy Anury...

Drgnęła lekko. Dostrzegł wielki kształt poruszający się w ciemności, ale tylko nieznacznie, jakby zmieniła pozycję. Zdaje się, że leżała na łóżku.

- Nie mówię wyznawcy, bo nawet cię nie znali... ale znaleźli coś twojego... Żółta Korona to zaaprobowała i...

Kształt poruszył się i powstał. Jagnię zadarło głowę. Heket była naprawdę wielka w porówaniu z nim. Po chwili wahania podleciało więc do jej oczu. W mroku ledwo widziało żółte ślepia skupione na sobie.

- Proszę. Chcieli, abym ci to przekazało. Wszyscy. Żółta Korona i istoty z Anury.

- Czy to... - zaczęła niepewnie, wyciągając dłoń. Jej długie palce pogładziły materiał. - Jest taki... realistyczny...

- To dokładna astralna kopia twojej sukni - wyjaśniło Jagnię. - Nie mogę tu przenieść materialnych rzeczy.

- Spaliliście moją suknię?

- Nie było potrzeby. Wystarczyło złożyć ją w darze bez potrzeby niszczenia.

- Wyjdź z mojej celi.

Zdumiało się. Posmutniało.

- Myślałom, że się ucieszysz... - bąknęło niepewnie. - Przepraszam, jeśli...

- Wyjdź - powtórzyła z westchnieniem, ciągle szeptem, a ono było pewne, że przewróciła oczami. Wszystkimi czterema. - Muszę się przebrać, tak?

Nieco rozjaśniło pyszczek. Skinęło głową i wyfrunęło z celi. Zajrzało do Leshego, który już z eskscytacją rozkopywał ziemię w rozsadniku i umieszczał w nim nasionka - po jednym, z głębokim szacunkiem. Jagnię podleciało do niego.

- To gdzie chcesz to źródełko?

- Gdziekolwiek... nie dbam o inne meble, możesz usunąć łóżko...

Skinęło głową. Rozświetliło oczy, zmieniając strukturę celi i po chwili zamiast łóżka pod ścianą znajdował się zbiornik wodny, z którego wybijała niewielka fontanna.

- No, nie jestem artystą i inżynierem jak Kallamar, ale to chyba wystarczy, prawda?

Robak skinął głową. Zerknął na Jagnię. Na chwilę przerwał pracę.

- Ale masz świadomość, że i tak cię nienawidzę? - zapytał z uprzejmym zaciekawieniem.

- Tak. Masz do tego prawo.

- Dobrze. Gdyby zrobienie ci krzywdy nie stanowiło ryzyka unicestwienia mojego rodzeństwa, nie wahałbym się rzucić na ciebie i skręcić ci kark.

- Pff... powodzenia, akurat by ci się udało - prychnęła Czerwona Korona, chociaż robak nie mógł jej usłyszeć.

- Wiem. Bije od ciebie bardzo konkretna żądza mordu - przyznało Jagnię.

- Dobrze, że mamy to jasne. A teraz wyjdz z mojej celi. Nawet, jeśli jesteś bogiem życia i śmierci, ten jeden kawałek twojej domeny należy do mnie. Wynoś się z niego.

Posłusznie wyleciało poza kraty. Uśmiechnęło się jednak. Wahało się, czy zerknąć do Kallamara, który nawet nie zareagował na uwagę o sobie, gdy w tym momencie usłyszało plaskanie kroków. Heket wyszła ze swojej celi. Shamura podniósł na nią wzrok i coś w jego oczach rozbłysło. Kallamar wychylił się ze swojej celi i także zamarł.

Heket wyglądała naprawdę pięknie. Róż jej sukni zlewał się miejscami kolorystycznie z jej czerwoną skórą, przez co suknia wyglądała, jakby była częścią jej ciała, nadając jej wygląd niemalże zjawy. Wokół szyi owinęła szal, zawiązała kokardę z tyłu. Długie rękawy sięgały niemal ziemi. Wygładziła niepewnie fałdy wokół talii - niegdyś musiała być nieco szczuplejsza, ale suknia nadal leżała na niej doskonale.

- No, no, siostro... - rzucił z uznaniem Kallamar, mrugając z wyraźnym zadowoleniem. - Nie myślałem, że jeszcze zobaczę cię w tej kreacji... daj mi pomyśleć... Suknia na początek pory kwitnienia, czyż nie?

Skinęła głową rozpromieniona.

Shamura podeszli bliżej. Zawahali się, nim wyciągnęli dłoń, aby dotknąć materiału. Heket obróciła się.

- Piękna... - szepnął pająk. - Tak dawno nie widzieliśmy... cię taką...

- Prawda... - Heket opuściła wzrok. Mówiła już normalnie, a jej głos zachwycił Jagnię po raz kolejny. - Od okaleczenia przez Narindera... straciłam chęć strojenia się. Czułam się brzydka... ohydna...

- Nigdy nie byłaś brzydka... - Shamura dotknęli jej policzka z czułością. - A teraz... teraz jesteś kwitnąca, jak jeszcze nigdy... Szkoda, co za szkoda...

Zarumieniła się. Jagnię, które patrzyło na nich, poczuło się nagle dziwnie intruzem.

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

If You Have No Imagination, You Can’t

Imagine

Stephen Jay Morris

3/15/2024

©Scientific Morality

            The late John Lennon was one of many voices of a generation, though many of those voices didn’t want the job. I think I wrote about this song some time ago. Well, recently, I saw a video posted by a Catholic bishop, denouncing the song, “Imagine,” by John Lennon. The name of the video is, “Why I hate the song, Imagine.” Hate, you say? Now that is a pretty strong word for a bishop of the Church. He initially gave faint praise to John Lennon and then proceeded to criticize the song, reciting it line by line, and explaining how each one was inspiring a rebellion of God, which is a sin.  He declared the song a “secular anthem.”

Okay, Boomer! But it’s not. What it is, is a wishful fantasy about the uniting of humanity. Can you imagine if he had written a line like, “Imagine no priests molesting little boys?” In that case, the bishop would have a reason to complain.

            John Lennon was the voice of a generation whether he wanted to be or not. This issue is similar to the Taylor Swift controversy today. In the early 70’s, the government, oil companies, and protestant churches were shitting bricks over John Lennon. So, like MLK, they spied on him and tried to extradite him from the USA.

            I remember the hatred and anger that spewed over this song in 1971. I was listening to a Top 40’s station when—I forget who the disk-jockey was—after playing the song, the guy went on a tirade about how John was a hypocrite because he was rich. It seems American conservatives have this misconception that, if you have leftist views, you must take a vow of poverty. Wrong! I’d rather be among rich communists that piss poor conservatives. So, am I to believe that if you are a conservative, you must be rich, otherwise you can’t be one? The anfractuous folly of the political right is endless.

            The song is a soft, wistful ballad that seems to have been written from a spiritual state of mind. Lyrically, it is suggesting the listener consider the propositions; ruminate over them. This type of fancible idealism started in the late 50’s to the mid 60’s.  The pacifist movement merged with the folk music era. Afterward came the Flower Children with their visions of world peace, and then the New Age movement in the 70’s. Lennon wanted to captivate the Boomer generation with this ballad, and he did.

Conservatives are afraid of artistic influence over the younger generations, for they are proponents of masculinity. Anything sensitive targets their accusations of inofficiousness to the Christian state. Femininity is evil and masculinity is godly.

John Lennon offered a great and novel proposition when he wrote:

Imagine there's no heaven.

It's easy if you try.

No hell below us

Above us only sky.

Imagine all the people living for today!

A well-said proposition. Most adherents to the three main religions look forward to death. They feel the earth is Satan’s property and that Heaven will be like Disney World. Suckers! Why not live for now?

Now for the political portion of the piece:

Imagine there's no countries.

It isn't hard to do.

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too.

Imagine all the people living life in peace.

Yeah, the conservatives are always preaching about small government. And yet if you say “do away with it” they lose their lunch. Good introduction for newbies to anarchism.

Now the line that pissed off conservatives:

Imagine no possessions.

I wonder if you can?

No need for greed or hunger.

A brotherhood of man.

Imagine all the people sharing all the world.

You may say I'm a dreamer.

But I'm not the only one.

I hope someday you’ll join us,

And the world will be as one.

Oh, gee! How fucking blasphemous!

So, in my confabulatory take of the religious shit, there are no such things as good and evil. God floods the earth and Satan talks about world peace. Forget about it!

This song is fantastic and if you don’t like it, fuck you! And fuck your material property’ too!

[targentis]

just had fucking galaxy brain visions. descole and rook literally never interact once but i need them to. descole's detragigant and rook's funky hooks do you see where i am going with this. a new adventure awaits? an adventure that involves two to three ex-targent agents perhaps?? level 5 hire me Now

[togrowoldinv]

You're Stuck With Me

Kate Bishop x Reader

After a crazy few days, Kate comes to see you.

Note: This is my first time writing for Kate Bishop, but I've been wanting to for a while. I loved her in Hawkeye and I can't wait for her future in the mcu. I hope you enjoy this one!

Masterlist

It’s late in the night when you hear a knock at your apartment door. You approach the door cautiously and are about to look through the peephole to see who it is when the person knocks again. This time it’s to the rhythm of We Will Rock You and you know who’s waiting on the other side. It’s your girlfriend of eight months that you haven’t seen or heard from in five days.

“Kate, where the hell have you been?” you ask as you open the door and let her in. A dog you’ve never seen before trots in after her.

“Hey, sorry I know its late, but I need to explain what’s been happening,” Kate says as she casually enters your living room.

“Yeah. I’ve been worried to death about you, you know? I saw something on Twitter about your mom being indicted for some mafia thing,” you explain, and she sits down on the couch. “You look exhausted, baby.” You sit close to her and place a comforting hand on her thigh.

“I’m sorry I’ve been M.I.A.. Believe me I would rather have been here with you then what I was actually doing,” Kate says with a sigh.

“And what is it that you were doing?”

She takes a deep breath and tells you all about her week with Hawkeye, dealing with a Black Widow that she wants to be friends with apparently, and fighting a mafia leader.

“Kate. That’s- God I just thought I’d pissed you off or something and you were ignoring me. I feel stupid now,” you say once she’s finished telling you what happened.

“No, definitely not. You’re stuck with me, y/n. I just couldn’t contact you because the mafia was tracking me and I didn’t want to put you in danger,” she says, and you bring her in for a soft embrace.

“You’ve had a lot on your plate these last few days. How are you, really?” you ask her and Kate burrows further into your chest.

“It sucks about my mom, but what can I do?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you kiss her head. “We can talk more about her later?” you pose as a question because despite her usual witty responses, you know sometimes she just wants to sit in something before she talks about it.

“Later,” she confirms. “You know me so well.”

“Yeah well, I do love you,” you say. And she shifts in your arms to look at you again.

“I love you too. So much, babe. It’s been the craziest five days of my life,” Kate says. “Meeting Hawkeye was one thing, but fighting the mafia was another. It was fucking insane.”

“I bet. Tell me more about this Black Widow you want to be friends with,” you and she smiles at you.

“Yelena seems really cool. She’s Natasha Romanoff’s sister.”

“Like the Avenger Natasha Romanoff?”

“That’s the one. It’s kind of insane how it all went down, but I think under different circumstances we could’ve became friends. Maybe I’ll see her again someday,” Kate ponders.

“Maybe so. You ready to go to bed?” you ask her and move to stand but her hand catches you.

“One more thing, do you want to go to Clint’s with me? He offered to take me home for the weekend to meet his family since my mom is in jail, but I told him only if I can bring you.”

“Going to an Avenger’s house is not how I imagined spending my weekend, but yeah of course. I’d go anywhere with you. I missed you so much this week,” you answer, and she kisses you deeply until you are interrupted by the dog Kate came in with barking.

“We should get going. Clint’s waiting downstairs,” Kate says, and you go to pack some of your things for the trip.

“Is this your dog?” you ask once you are both in the elevator.

“Technically yes, I rescued him, but I think Clint wants to keep him at the farm. It’ll be a fun life for him outdoors,” Kate says and your heart warms at her care for the animal.

“You sure you’re good?” you ask Kate as you step out of the elevator and Clint comes into view.

“I’m always good when I’m with you,” she replies and kisses your blushing cheek.

“You’re such a cheeseball,” you tease.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[myckicade]

Prompt: OMG. Love the Taza imagine! If you're OK with that, would you be OK with a Bishop one? I'd love to see him jealous!

A/N: Uhm. Yeah. So. This is now a thing. This one is a little different, in more ways than one. (I have a feeling I’ll be doing a second part). I should warn about some ugly language in this one, just in case. I want to wish you a happy read, and to apologize, at the same time.

Title: Bottom of the Bottle

Teaser: Your world has gone on as normal. You just haven’t included Bishop in it.

Two days.

It’s been two days, Bishop reminds himself. Two days since he’s heard from you. Two days since you left his bed, his home, his life. It’s dramatic as hell, and he knows so, but the bottom of his bottle is whispering ugly thoughts in his face.

(Y/n)’s cheating.

(Y/n)’s dead.

No, (y/n)’s definitely fucking another man.

Groaning, Bishop pulls the bottle away from his mouth and scrubs his free hand over his face. “This is insane,” he growls, snatching his phone from his nightstand.

Two. Fucking. Days.

Opening up his recent calls, Bishop stares at the screen. He’s made fifteen calls in the last forty-eight hours. Two to Taza. One to Marcus. The other twelve all have your name on them. All twelve, no answers. All twelve, unreturned voicemails. He scowls. He’s sent more text messages than that, even. Those haven’t been returned yet, either.

Fuck, he has it so fucking bad.

You’re fine, he knows that much. He’s been by your apartment more than once. The cat is fed, and content. Litter box has been changed. There are clothes all over your bedroom floor, coffee mugs on the kitchen counter. Mail hasn’t piled up. Your world has gone on as normal.

You just haven’t included Bishop in it.

He doesn’t understand it. What went wrong? He can’t remember being that big a dick to you before you left. He’d teased you about the smudge of mascara under your eyes from the night before, but that was it. You’d given him a kiss, and one of your brightest smiles. There was no indication, not that Bishop can see, that you wouldn’t be coming back.

See you soon. That’s what you’d told him. See you soon.

Forgive him. He doesn’t consider fifty-four hours and some change to be soon.

Heaving a sigh, Bishop abandons his stare-off with his call records in favour of a swig of vodka. He can’t call again, he just can’t. It’s getting pathetic. He’s getting pathetic. He can’t remember the last time he was like this, even before his divorce. Lovers come and lovers go in his life. That’s just a part of the life. But, you… God, you’re something else, entirely. You don’t intermingle with the Club, very often, but there’s no tension (that he’s aware of) over how he earns a living. It’s refreshing, he has to admit, both halves of his being playing so nicely together. (It’s so damn close to harmony, he won’t look at it, too closely, for fear of disappointment). He can work the whole day away, and come home pissed off, and worn out, and ruin every damned plan you have for the night… And somehow, you adapt. You. You. Bishop swears there’s nothing you won’t alter. A nicely-set table becomes plates in front of the television. A night out drinking becomes shots at home, cards and conversation filling the spaces between. And, on those rare nights he’s too tired to pleasure you? He hasn’t heard a peep about it, by way of complaint. You just accept that he’s going to shower, and hit the hay, and that’s the end of it. Sometimes, Bishop feels like he takes advantage of your good nature.

Oh, good nature, hell. You’re a fucking Saint.

He really should have seen this coming, this all blowing up in his face.

Is that it, though? Has he really driven you away by not paying attention to your needs? He hasn’t seen the signs. You’re such a damned sweetheart, there probably haven’t been any signs to miss, at all. You’ve just smiled, and smooched, and carried on as normal, until it got to be too much.

That’s it. He’s forced you away, and that’s why you’re ignoring him and fucking another man.

A low roar forces its way from Bishop’s throat and, a second later, glass is shattering against the bedroom wall. Shards are sticking up out of the carpet, vodka streaking down the wallpaper. Fuck, he hates that wallpaper. He can’t remember why he put it up, to begin with. He’s been asking you to pick a colour to paint over it with, any colour that isn’t white, and you’ve been finding it in yourself, each and every time, to remind him why he shouldn’t paint over wallpaper. Sometimes he brings it up just to make you laugh. Just to hear the explanation on repeat. Now he’s never going to hear it again.

Fuck, he needs a fucking cigarette.

And, of fucking course, the pack is empty. Crumpling the paper in his hand, Bishop tosses it to the carpet beside the growing vodka patch. He’s in no condition to be driving, a rarity, these days. (He won’t admit it, under pain of death, but he’s been drinking considerably less with you around, too). Probably why he’s two steps from sloshed, now. He should just stay home, yes, he should. There’s no need for cigarettes, not at this hour. He should keep himself calm and go to bed. Wait for your call.

Standing to his feet, Bishop grabs his keys and his wallet, and heads for the door. Without you around, what is he saving himself for?

*

Well… Okay, so, that’s decidedly not the convenience store.

Bishop stares at the apartment building – your apartment building – in something akin to wonder. He has no recollection of how he ended up here, parked in front of the entrance. It’s been twenty minutes, easily, that he’s been staring up at your living room window. The lamp beside the couch is on, the soft glow almost inviting to his impaired senses.

He really should go knock on the door.

He really should have stayed home, too.

So, you’re definitely home. Looking around at the parking lot, he doesn’t see your car. But you never leave lights on, not on purpose. Whether you’re paranoid about fires, or worried about an expensive light bill, Bishop can only guess. Right now, he’s thankful. It gives him something to focus on, something to calm him… Something to entice him closer to your front door. Step by step, he tries to talk himself out of it. But he can’t stand this, living this way, not knowing where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re doing, if it’s not him. It’s distracting, and he truly can’t afford to be distracted, not even by you, not like this. He has to go up, he just has to. He has to know, to figure this shit out, face-to-face.

Knock, knock, knock. Bishop finds himself comforted by the solid connection of your door against his knuckles. He could use his key, but it doesn’t feel right, not now. He could scare you, or piss you off, neither of which is on his list of desires. You’re a civil person, peaceful to a fault, so he might get away with it, sure, but… But…

This has to go right. He has to do this right. Whatever he did, or hasn’t done, Bishop’s confident he can fix it. You two have a good thing going. Sure, he’s got a few years on you, and there are gaps in understanding one another, every now and again. And, yeah, you’ve had a spat or two in the last few months of your relationship. He’s always seen that as a sign of things getting comfortable, though, not a warning of bigger problems. Your arguments aren’t dire, anyway.

Who the fuck is ‘Nicki Minaj’, and why is she on my speaker system?

Why is your toilet paper on the roll the wrong way?

How the hell can you be a Mets fan?

No, I’m serious. Who the fuck is ‘Nicki Minaj’?

That’s not enough for you to be screwing around on him, right?

As your door opens, and Bishop gets a good look at what’s been going on… Well, apparently, it’s enough.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bishop spits out before the man at the door can even get out a greeting. Not exactly his nicest choice of words, but all Bishop can see is young and tall and handsome. If this motherfucker is a day over thirty, he’ll go vegan for a fucking year. Well-dressed, smells decent (he’s close enough to tell, okay?), without a frown line or a speck of grey on him.

He’s not insecure. He’s not fucking insecure.

Handsome smiles, albeit a bit forced. “Oh, ah, hi! Are you looking for (y/n)?” He’s so polite, it stings. This kid – kid – is the poster child for Ivy League education, for all the right things in life. So clean-cut, his creases have creases. Meanwhile, here Bishop stands, in yesterday’s jeans, boots, kutte, and a wrinkled shirt he can’t swear is fresh.

He can’t stand this, either. As a result, in the blink of an eye, he has Handsome backed against a wall, hands fisted in his now-not-so-perfect shirt.

“Hey!” Handsome shouts, trying – and failing – to shove Bishop off of him. Bishop can’t really fathom how, must be from sheer force of rage, probably fueled by his liquid indulgences. He can’t help it. His heart is in his throat, rhythm a little sketchy, at the thought that this is what you’ve chosen over him? This? Some kid with a million-watt smile, and fucking Dockers? What fucking year is it, anyway?!

The idea forces an extra shove into the wall. Bishop hopes something cracks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hasn’t raised his voice, not a bit. If anything, it’s probably dropped an octave, settling into a low, dangerous growl. He’s two steps away from redecorating that perfect little face, just for the sheer joy of it, make it something you definitely won’t like, anymore.

That’s when he hears it.

“Obispo!”

It’s you. Even through the deluge of seething rage threatening to consume him, Bishop knows your voice. He looks over his shoulder, finding you standing in the still-open doorway. There’s a duffel bag slung over your shoulder, a bag of groceries in your other arm. You look surprised, but who wouldn’t be surprised to be caught, red-handed?

“What are you doing?” you ask, setting your bags down.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Bishop finally shouts, hands still twisted in your little boyfriend’s shirt. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Your confusion seems to be growing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He sneers. “You know what I’m talking about. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for two days!” Bishop points back to your unwanted visitor, ignoring the way his hand shakes. “You ignore me to whore around with this prick?!”

“The fuck did you just say?” Bishop nearly has a coronary as a second guy steps into the doorway, behind you. Where the hell did he come from? This one… He’s just as tall, but he definitely doesn’t miss a day at the gym. If Bishop tries to put this one against the wall, he’ll find himself pile-driven into the floor. His arms may be full of groceries, but the look on his face is threatening bodily harm, and worse.

Doesn’t stop Bishop’s mouth from running, though.

“Oh, wow,” he chokes out, forcing a laugh from somewhere that feels wrong, cut-up and bloodied and wrecked. He shifts his eyes from Muscles, to you. “You running a whole thing outta’ here? Taking ‘em two at a time?”

Muscles puts his bags down, advancing on Bishop, who lets go of Handsome and takes a step back. Muscles puts himself between Bishop and everyone else. Defensive. Protective. And does that ever fucking hurt. If this guy is so ready to go to bat for you, he’s known you a lot longer than two days.

How did he fucking miss this?

Again, Bishop’s eyes find yours, and the sight of your beautiful face completely destroys the bravado. He feels his shoulders droop, chest deflating, defeat slowly creeping in. He’s still angry, he’s still hurt, but the devastation, the thing he’s worked so hard to avoid having to feel in his life ever again is beginning to win.

“How?” he asks, arms spreading out to either side of him. “How could you do this, (y/n)?” He shakes his head slowly. It’s been so good, everything has been so damned good. He’s trusted you, all this time. How could he be so stupid? “No, you know what? I should’ve known.” His words are blending with his thoughts, a little mismatched, but he doesn’t much care. A finger is suddenly pointing your way. “You’re full of shit, just like every other cunt out there.”

Instantly, he knows he shouldn’t have said it. He can’t take it back, no matter how hard he prays on it. Your expression is one he’ll remember for the rest of his days, coming back to haunt him in his darkest moments. Hurt, betrayed… Heartbroken… Oh, but, your words. The quiet murmur that follows that look, voice teetering on the edge of tears, will put the final nail in his coffin.

“This… This is my cousin, Alexander…” You gesture to Muscles. “And his husband, Curtis.” A nod to Handsome.

Those… Those names sound awfully familiar. A recent conversation, if memory serves. And, shit, as he thinks about it, you did mention them, didn’t you? Which means that, all this… The last two days, no calls, no texts… It means that you were-

Is it really possible for blood to ice over?

“We just got in from that music festival…”

Music festival. The one Bishop hadn’t wanted to go to. The one you’d had your heart set on. Who the hell went into the desert to listen to music? How the fuck did instruments even work in that much heat? He remembers asking those questions, remembers telling you to go with whoever you wanted, but to leave him out of it. You… You’d laughed. Thanked him for his permission. He’d found your snark so damned cute.

Now… God, now, there’s nothing he won’t do to get that wet shimmer out of your eyes.

He just can’t get a single word to come out of his fucking mouth.

Silence stretches on, uncomfortable, no one knowing what to say, what to do, and with good reason. As the tension reaches its peak, you clear your throat, gently. “Sit down, Obispo…” You instruct, quietly, before he can even try to offer anything. You’re already heading for the kitchen, not looking at anyone, any longer. “I’ll make everyone some coffee.” You want him sober up, and he knows it. Won’t let him drive back, so obviously drunk, even after what’s just transpired. A Saint to the fucking end.

Fuck, what has he fucking done?

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[profanepurity]

So Lucifer's favorite is Primo. Terzo is Asmodeus' favorite. Do other Demon Lords consider Secondo or Copia their favorite?

Oh, very good question! You guys are going to get more design peaks and small name changes for the Lords with this one! (and a lore dump oops)

Secondo and Beelzebub actually see eye to eye on quite a few things. You would think two very similar, powerful men- stubborn, cold, and bitter powerful men I might add- would clash. However, they actually get along quite well. Secondo always provides exceptional offerings and has proven himself to be a worthy devotee and prophet, so much so that Beelzebub has even invited Secondo out to drink with him on several occasions. (They both made a freind you guys this a big accomplishment for both them.)

Beelzebub even offered to personally oversee Bellamy's education when she is older. To the church he may be a bishop, or a terrifying king of Hell, but in some circles he is known as "Reverend Professor Avarice". Many of the siblings, like Sister Natalie, can attest to how good of a teacher he is.

Copia on the other hand is a bit of a special case, since he gets baby privileges with the fact that many of the demons want to be close to him for one reason or another. But Saltarian and Imperator have Copia so locked down that Satanas even has to "put effort" into reaching out to him. This has deterred a lot of demons from working with our rat boy unfortunately...

except for Belial...

Belial is a wicked and cruel king. There are very few members within the church that are willing to work with him, simply because of how dark his energy is. (Something to note, Belial is very good at spotting witches, keep that in mind for later). His name roughly translates to "Godless", "worthless", "evil" and you feel that when you are in the presence of Lucifer's second. "Father Null" on the other hand is a very sweet young man, but is simply a lowly priest, often over looked and often dismissed. As Copia gets older, that is perhaps what draws him to Father Null and the darkness of Belial. Copia just wants companionship in the shadows from someone who's like him, over looked and dismissible.

If you look back at my post about Copia's "dedication", you can see a very old sketch of Belial in the background. Many of you caught on to how pissed he looked lol. Lilith actually ended up telling the other Lords what the church had done a few years after Copia had been born. Many of the Lords had been "out" for one reason or another, so when they'd returned they had done so excitedly, expecting to come back to two of their partners and a baby. Instead, Lilith looked more pale and ill than the day they had found her in that cave. She could barely describe what had happened without breaking into sobs. Lucifer was like a wounded animal being forced to perform as "Bishop Stell", giving sermon after sermon for the church while Saltarian practically held him at "gun point" to do so. It would not matter how many people spontaneously combusted into fire in the pews, how black the water became, how many swarms of locusts and toads covered the church, Lucifer could do nothing for Copia. He could only drag his bloody claws against Imperator's door at night, whispering all the things he as going to do to her in Hell (Oh I have a comic idea for that later hehe).

So you can imagine just how livid Belial was to come back to this. He only regretted not spending more time comforting Lilith initially. After she told him where Copia was, Belial took Lilith's head in both of his slightly shaking claws and kissed her in silence. He only broke it once her breathing had evened, and he watched her until she looked up at him. Belial was a sadistic fucker that rarely took anything seriously. His humor is a reflection of just how black his heart is.

But he has never looked more concerned and angry than in that moment in quite a long time. He looked at Lilith's face, which Belial adored, even as it was stricken by grief and anxiety. He had pressed his forehead to hers.

"Baby, can I leave you alone for a little bit?"

The Unholy Mother said yes, but she wanted him to come back with Lucifer. She was scared for him, terrified of Lucifer tearing himself apart trying to get them to release Copia.

Of course, Belial promised her everything would be fine.

He killed 36 monks who were under Nihil on his way to the nursery, one for each month Copia had been kept from his mother at that point. He left their bodies piled in the hall of Imperator's office, practically trapping her inside with corpses draped in red, cotton robes and sparkling grucifixes in front of her door.

When "Father Null" entered the nursery, he saw Copia playing on the ground, alone, with a couple rats who he was sharing his food with. In that moment, all the vile, sick intentions of the wicked king dissolved. All he saw when he looked at Copia was two of the loves of his life. He saw Lilith's eyes and Lucifer's smile in little Copia, who barely even noticed the priest had walked in. Null sat with Copia for a little while as a gentle priest, watching Copia play with his tail that he decided to unmask. Copia thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Before Belial returned to Lilith, he came into Bishop Stell's office to do as he promised. He approached Lucifer slowly and knelt before his king at his chair. Belial pulled both his beloved's hands away from his work, and kissed each of his damaged fingers. Lucifer didn't say a word as he looked at his lover, covered in the blood of traitors. Then he saw Belial smile at him. The evil demon, with such pure and warm affection, told Lucifer that their child was beautiful. He promised he would remain in the church for the entirety of Copia's childhood to ensure their child would be looked after in the shadows. Belial was seen as worthless and wicked in heaven and on earth, but Lucifer, the perfect being, has always looked at him with weakness and adoration. For that, Belial would be eternally devoted.

"I know you're angry, but you're scaring her."

Belial had whispered that against his head, and that was all it took for Lucifer to finally break down into sobs- that he'd been suppressing for three years- into Belial's arms.

Lilith felt like she could breath again when she saw Lucifer walk in behind Belial, hardly hearing him apologize to her as she pulled both the fallen angels closer to her and the other kings.

Copia has no idea how loved he is.

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Stingy

Pairing: Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes x Black!OC

Summary: EZ has a problem sharing and his girl, Monique is quite over it.

Warning(s): Some angst with a fluff ending

Word count: 2,552

AN: Ahhhh my first EZ fic. Based on a request I received from the lovely @ly--canthrope with an assist coming from Ginuwine’s Stingy. Thank YOU so much for your patience and encouraging words. I hope you enjoy this xo

You can say I'm tripping but I'm stingy And I can't hide it Wanna keep you all to me I'm selfish, why try to fight it?

An abandoned episode of Girlfriends played on the tv in the background as a woman sat straddling EZ’s lap as the two made out. His hands were rubbing up and down her sides under her shirt and her hands were gripping his face. One of her favorite things to do was kiss her boyfriend. She loved that they could just get lost in each other and it was the perfect opener for the mindblowing sex that was coming.

The familiar ringtone and buzz from her phone’s vibration echoed against the coffee table as she received a text message. She pulled away from the kiss and turned her head, trying to see if she could read the message from her position. She felt EZ stiffen, his hands moving down her hips to grip her thigh.

“I swear to God, Monique.” EZ began, feeling himself become annoyed. He can’t even enjoy her company at home without being interrupted. He’s tried so hard to be understanding, but that selfish part of him was fed up. The opening of Galindo’s company really put into perspective how often he misses time with her.

As Miguel’s assistant she had a very big hand in putting the opening celebration together. She’d been Miguel’s assistant for a couple years now. Her mother was a close confidante to Dita before she passed away. Dita wanted to keep an eye on her so she asked Miguel to give her a job. She was fantastic at keeping things organized and she already knew about the other side of business. 

Working for Miguel was great because though some would hate being an assistant, he actually gave her a lot of responsibility. She was often put in charge of events while making sure everything in his life runs smoothly, at least on the legal side of things.She was so proud of her work tonight but she hardly had time to celebrate until she saw her man walking through the door.

She’d been with EZ, Ezekiel as she liked to call him because she loved his full name, for a little over a year. It was the best relationship she’d ever been in. He was kind, honest, caring, and oh so very fine.

She ended her current conversation before strutting over to Ezekiel, her arms immediately going around his neck. “Hi baby. I’m so happy you’re here.” She kissed his lips.

EZ loved seeing his girl in her element. She was very much out of his league in his mind and he felt lucky every day he woke up to her. “Hey beautiful.” He greeted her, hands resting on her lower back and pulling her close to him. “I see all your hard work has paid off.”

“It really has. Things couldn’t be going better. Especially now that you’re here.” She grinned at him.

“Oh yeah? You’re happy to see me?” He teased, smiling back so she kissed him again.

The two of them engaged in some conversation and heavy flirting before they were interrupted by her boss.

“Monique, I need you for a second…” Miguel announced, no time for pleasantries. He was always about his business. She could respect it but it was also annoying because he could have greeted Ezekiel

“Oh hi Miguel. We weren’t having a conversation or anything.” She sarcastically replied, giving her boss a look.

“Reyes..” Miguel acknowledged her boyfriend with a barely noticeable head nod before bringing his attention back to her. “You’ve put in the most face time with the Castillos and the lovely matriarch has requested your presence. We don’t want to keep them waiting, verdant?”

EZ rolled his eyes at Miguel but didn’t say anything. He was used to Miguel’s shit and honestly he didn’t like him either so the less they communicated the better.

The Castillos were a very important family that have entered into an arrangement with Galindo enterprises both on the legitimate and illegitimate side of business. It was already fragile so she wanted to keep everything on the up and up.

She retreated from EZ’s arms without a second thought. “Is everything alright? When we went over the final documents she didn’t bring anything up.” She began walking alongside Miguel but stopped in her tracks.

“I’ll be right back.” She walked back over to EZ and planted a distracted kiss on his cheek. 

He mustered up a slight smile and then she was gone. 

She didn’t come back until the end of the night.

She sighed, pushing her way out of his lap and snatching up her phone once she stood up. “He’s my boss, Ezekiel. You have got to let this thing with Miguel go. Enough is enough.”

“He just does this to piss me off.” And it worked. He wanted to have her all to himself, but he couldn’t do that with Galindo constantly texting her and having her work long hours. At this point it felt she was the one singlehandedly keeping his businesses afloat.

“So stop letting it piss you off.” She replied, like it was the easiest thing and to her it was. 

He shot up from his seat and exasperatedly asked, “Why do you always defend him?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous. You knew who I worked for when we started dating.” She was annoyed they were even having this argument. Her attention was focused on her phone as she replied to Miguel with the information he needed.

EZ grew even more irritated that even in an argument he couldn’t have her whole attention. “What could he possibly need from you at 2 in the morning? Hm?” He snatched the phone from her hand.

“Are you out of your mind? Give me my phone back!” She gasped, shocked at his audacity. She and Ezekiel had been together for awhile now and he’s never acted this way. He’s never lost his temper with her. “Things happen. Emergencies. I never say anything when you have an emergency with the MC.”

“Bishop doesn’t text all hours of the night. Bishop doesn’t hate you and try to disrespect our relationship at every turn. And quite frankly, Bishop isn’t a woman so it’s not the same at all.” Ez snapped, his voice getting louder.

“And just what the fuck are you implying, EZ?” There was a clear warning in her tone of voice as she matched his volume. Now they both were yelling at each other. She never called him EZ either. Always preferring to call him Ezekiel.

He knew he should have backed down and cooled off but he was beyond tired of this shit. The angry words slipped outta his mouth before he could stop them. “I’m just wondering what all the late nights are really about. If I’m dating Miguel’s side piece just tell me!”

That was a mistake. Yelling was a mistake. Saying those words was a mistake. He knew it the moment he saw tears form in her eyes. 

“Excuse me?” She whispered, voice slightly cracking. How dare he call her a cheater! He officially has lost his mind.

Ezekiel felt his heart drop into his stomach when he heard the hurt in her voice. It went too far. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, mariposa.” He started to walk closer to her, but she stepped back from him.

“This has nothing to do with me. Or us. This is you and Miguel continuing to have a dick measuring contest. Th-this all goes back to Emily.” The name rolled off her tongue with mild resentment. The two never had a bad run in with each other, but all the stories about Emily and EZ’s past relationship and how she was the love of his life always made Monique get defensive.

“That’s not true.” EZ refuted, but she interrupted him before he could further explain.

“Yes it is!  And if somehow it’s not then we got some serious problems baby.” She just shook her head at him before demanding, “Get out.” 

You're the only one, you're the only love That's strong enough to claim me So please forgive me I'm just stingy But how can you blame me?

It’s been two weeks since the fight with Ezekiel and Monique was really missing him. She was mad that he would be such a dumbass, but she still just wanted to be laying back on the couch with him watching tv.

Miguel watched as she pushed her salad around her plate, clearly not hungry. “Todo bien hermanita?” He asked, watching as she finally brought her eyes up to meet his. This was the quietest lunch the two ever had. Usually she was talking a mile a minute.

She smiled a little at the nickname. He only called her that when he was concerned or when he really wanted something. Truth is, the two had a sibling kind of relationship. She just wished EZ had seen and understood it. “I’m fine. Not really hungry.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “Nestor and I had a meeting with the Mayans yesterday. Saw your novio and he looked like shit.” Miguel casually mentions and she tries to act nonchalant even as her heart races at the mention of a certain biker. “Imagine my surprise when he asked to pull me aside for a chat.”

“What!” She gasped loudly, jaw dropping.

“I’m sure you could guess what we spoke about.”

“Miguel…” She was ready to apologize to him for whatever accusations were thrown his way.

“I know I’m very demanding. It’s part of who I am. I demand a lot from myself and from those around me, especially those closest to me. That includes you, hermanita. But I don’t want to be the reason for your unhappiness. Even if it is with Reyes..” There was only mild disgust in his tone and she took that as an improvement.

“It’s not your fault he doesn’t trust me, hermano.” She sighed.

“He is crazy about you, you know that right?”

Monique went to answer, but Miguel stood up from his seat. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and walked over to her, pushing down gently on her shoulders to keep her from getting up. He leans down and whispers “If in the end, you don’t want him and he won’t take the hint you let me know. He can visit my pew.” 

She jerked her head back to give him a stern look, hating when he brought up that damn pew. He just kissed her head and walked away. She sat there dumbfounded for a second. “Wait, what-” She turned her head to call out to Miguel but her voice caught in her throat as she spotted Ezekiel right behind her. He walked over and took the seat Miguel was just in.

It was silent before she decided to break it. “You and Miguel working together? Hell must have frozen over.”

He cracks a grin at that. “Ha. Guess you could say we’ve called a truce. At least when it comes to a certain beautiful woman.”

“Calling a truce with my ‘side piece’? I’m sure Emily appreciates it.” She sarcastically replied, making him sigh in reply. 

“I never should have said that. I was pissed off and being a sarcastic asshole. This never had anything to do with Emily. Yes we have history, but I don’t think about that anymore. I haven’t for a long time.” Monique looked down, wanting to believe him but having a hard time doing it. “I think about you. I think about you when we’re apart, I think about when I’ll see you again, I think about our future when you’re in my arms. You’re never not on my mind.”

His words make her want to smile, but she wasn’t done. “Then what’s been going on with us lately? Anytime I answer a call or text from Miguel you’re huffing and puffing. You sit there literally pouting like a 3 year old every time I have to do something for work. What’s the problem?”

“First, I don’t pout.” She started to disagree but he loudly continued, earning a playful glare from her. “SECONDLY, I know you’re an independent woman out here making it on your own and shit. I know it’s just been you and your job for a long time. But now you got me, mariposa. I’m here by your side and I like spending time with you. I like the quiet moments at home and our nights out. I want more of them. You work so much and you forget about everything else. Me included.”

“What do you mean I forget you? I don’t forget you.”

“Galindo Enterprises.”

“What are...Oh-” Her face completely dropped as she remembered the night. She got pulled away by Miguel and never went back to Ezekiel. She didn’t mean to, but she ended up checking on other things with the party and even though it hurts to admit she did forget about him. “Oh baby…” She held one of his hands that was on the table between both of hers.

“I’ve never been the one to cling and I don’t like to be needy but you’ve changed me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love being in your presence. Maybe I am kind of a baby, but I think wanting your attention is a good sign for a relationship. I’m not asking you to quit your job, but some boundaries would be nice. ”

She felt so bad. He was absolutely right. She had been alone for a long time. She wasn’t used to sharing her life with someone else. An adjustment was obviously needed. “I never meant to make you feel like I wanted anyone or anything more than you. Or that I cared about those things more. I promise that I will work on communicating more with you and not just doing what I want with no consideration for you.” 

He nodded his head, but she had to add one more thing. “You do need to know that sometimes just like you can’t help getting called away the same goes for me. But I’ll talk with Miguel and we’ll work out something that works for us all. I can’t believe I didn’t realize. I’m so-”

Ezekiel cut her off before she could begin criticizing herself. “So amazing, captivating, elevating,” after every word, EZ placed a kiss on the palm of her hand. “Anyway you put it I’m happy to be your man.”

“I’m still salty at you insinuating I was sleeping with Miguel.” She declared, causing him to nod with a sad look on his face.

“How can I make it up to you, mariposa?”

“Hmm…” She pretended to think when she already knew what she wanted. She leaned forward and beckoned him closer with a wiggle of her finger. She whispered in his ear, “I wanna ride you with only your kutte on until you lose your mind.” She lightly bit his ear lobe.

She busted out laughing at how fast he scrambled out of his seat and took her hand, pulling her behind him as he hustled out of the restaurant.