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vase-of-lilies · 1 year

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❀ Pairing: Demon!Wanda Maximoff x Angel!Reader (F) (Mostly nicknamed Angel)(And some Wanda x Bucky)

❀ Non-con, dubcon, semi-major character death, captivity, heaven and hell (religious god?), mentions of kidnapping and past rape, spreader bar, use of a strap, dismembering of a person, blood, gore, and a fluffy bath:) (If there is any more, PLEASE let me know!!)

❀ Word Count: 10.4k Words (My longest fic yet!!)

❀ Disclaimer: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to those who made the pictures in the banner as well. In the story, it says “your natural skin color.” This is meant for everyone and anyone who reads this story.

❀ Authors Note: This is my entry for @lunarbuck’s Soulmate AU writing challenge! Congratulations on your follower milestone! My prompt was “You can feel what your soulmate is feeling (and vice versa).” I hope you enjoy it! Y'all, I finished AND posted this with 3% battery on my laptop. Please give it your love 😭

It was a homicide. A planned murder against a poor young woman, who had her whole life ahead of her. A life that you were supposed to watch over her as her guardian angel. Your savior had assigned you to this woman just moments ago, settling your sacred halo hovering just above your head. You had been waiting your whole life for this moment but once you met the crime scene it felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest.

Your body drops to the floor, your halo slowly dying of its light. The pure white dress adorned your body faded to a light gray, and your soft feathered wings drooped like a dog's ears. You stare at the body of your departed human as the investigators take her away, weeping as they do so. A chill washes over your body, and the world around you seems to dim in its color.

Sparkling silver tears roll down your cheeks, characteristic angels were blessed with. With one drop they could heal any broken or ill body, and give power to its consumer. Everything except the dead, and you were much too late to the scene to even help your protected person.

The world underneath you, hell, there was something brewing in the mind of the queen; Wanda. In different realms, she felt the pain that you did when you saw her lying lifeless on the ground, blood soaking through the white sheet covering her. That wasn’t all. She could feel everything. She could feel the sensation of your tears falling down your cheeks, the racing of your heart, the pounding of your head. She even felt the tug of your halo disconnecting from your aura.

So, Wanda decides to pay you a visit, and possibly help you find a better way to use your purity. A portal opens from the ground a small distance from you and Wanda extends her wings, floating just behind you. The purest energy surrounds you, pushing away any bad spirits. But this field is falling fast.

Wanda approaches your whimpering body, “Hey, Angel.” She says, kneeling down next to you. You jump at her presence, quickly wiping away your tears with the backs of your hands.

“Hm? Oh..” You don’t answer her, as all you can do is stare at your halo sitting in your lap.

She sighs and gently takes your hands, the faded ring of light falling to the ground. “Come with me,” She says to you, pulling you up from your kneeling position. You don’t question who is helping you, only leaning into their arms with a whimper.

“Sh-she left me,” You whisper.

“I know, its ok. I’ll take care of you now,” She says as she pulls you with her, your mind in a haze as you walk with her. You try your hardest to hold back your tears knowing anyone who sees them will take them and leave you for the undead to tear you apart limb from limb.

Both you and Wanda descend through the portal to the underworld, her arm firmly around your body as you follow. She leads you through the halls of her fortress to her blood-red throne. Sitting down, she pulls you into her lap, letting your head fall against her chest. Her arms wrap around your shaking body, your whimpers breaking her heart as she watches you.

“Sh-she’s gone.. she’s gone…” You sob over and over into Wands's warm, fabric-covered bosom. Her hand smoothes over your [color, length, and texture]-ed hair, soothing you with her soft gestures.

She presses her lips to your forehead, whispering against your skin, “Just breathe, little Angel. I’ll keep you safe.”

As her words enter your ears, it pushes you back into reality, making you look up. Frantically you look around you, letting out a scream and shoving yourself off of Wanda's lap. “Y-you're th- you're the-” You can’t get yourself to say her title, as you are struck dumbfounded of how you got here.

You scoot back across the burning marble floor, your hands starting to blister from the direct contact with the grounds of hell. Quickly, you scramble to a standing position, your shoes shielding the pain from the ground. Wanda hisses in pain, just like you; her hands burning and blistering the same as yours.

She ignores the pain and chuckles, smirking down at your cowering form. “I’m the Queen,” she finishes your sentence, gesturing to her throne and around her.

“Please don’t hurt m! Please, ju-just let me be!” You sob, unable to crumple your body to hide yourself, the floor's existence threatening to harm you.

She rolls her eyes and frowns. “Im not going to hurt you, just come here.” She opens her arms, beckoning you to come to her. Your face changes from fear to suspicion, your mind screaming at you; ‘You are, I just know it. Thats what demons do. they kill.’

“I am not a demon, I am an Archangel. There is a big difference.” She says, leaning back on her throne with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“H-how did you know I said that?” Your voice quivers as you look up at her.

She scoffs, “I can read your mind down here, little Angel,” She stands up, pulling a large sword from a sheath next to her throne, “Now, follow me.”

You step back at the sight of the sword, your breath hitching in your throat. Cautiously, you follow, the blade dragging against the marble floor. “Where are we going?” Your pure curiosity shines through your fearful state.

She did not turn around to answer you, continuing forward as she responded. “To the cells of the ‘innocents’ you think I am holding hostage down here.” Her fingers make air quotes around innocents and you roll your eyes at the comment.

“You do.” You accuse her, following what your teachers and leaders have always told you.

Her eyes narrow at you, “Okay, here,” she steps in front of a cell, a man sitting on the ground with chains on his wrists. “Ned Lowland. Loving husband, father of three children. Married to his high school sweetheart and died of a heart attack.” She laughs as she hears your desperate attempt to defend him.

“He’s innocent, he was a father, he-he didn’t do anything.” You say, searching around to find a key of some sort.

“He was chatting with two (2) twelve (12) year olds online. He met up with one, killed her, and then defiled her corpse. She is still buried in his backyard today.”

Your expression says everything; disbelief, confusion, anger. Emotions of all sorts fill your system ending in disgust hearing the body is still buried. “That is just o-one of them. But there are plenty of innocent people down here,” Turning your head, you look down the long hallway of cells. “There has to be…” whispering to yourself.

Wanda shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and pulling you to the next cell. “Ah, you’ll like this one…” She says, stopping in front of a cell with another man. “Tony Stark. Philanthropist, CEO, billionaire. A hero to some, a lover to his wife Pepper Potts. Stalked a woman named,” She pauses to look at your reaction. “Lenora Jones. He kidnapped her, raped her, and then killed her, before throwing her in the middle of a busy highway for someone to find.” You gasp.

“N-no…”

“You know that name very well, I assume?” She smirks and continues, “Lenora believed in guardian angels, and thought that she had one herself. She took on her abuser first hand knowing her angel would protect her. But, look how that ended…”

Her eyes rake over your body, feeling the rage rush through your veins as you stare at the man behind the bars. He looks back at you with an evil smirk, his intentions clear. “What a pretty little angel, wings as white as snow… I would love to see you all battered and bloody.” He says, undressing you in his mind.

You step closer to the cell door, asking the man a genuine question, “Why? Why did you do it?” You watch him stand up, his body towering over yours.

“I think you can figure that out yourself, angel.” He said, knowing you are smart enough to solve that mystery. He was corrupt. He didn’t need a reason. He had status, power, and money, but it was the control had been missing.

Tony had found Lenora by looking through his employee list. He wanted someone no one would miss or look for. Lenora, she was almost the perfect victim as she was living on her own and had moved from Colorado. She was a far way from home and away from her parents. Well, her parents were taken care of much before Tony actually made his moves on Lenora.

What? He needed her secluded and unable to call for help.

He got what he wanted, and Lenora's life was taken in the process.

“How do you feel now that you took three lives? How does it feel to burn down here, while her and her family lives up in heaven?” You ask, looking up at him with silver tears threatening to spill.

“I have never felt more powerful. The queen lets me live how I want down here. I get what ever I want…” He looks to Wanda, “Watch… Can I get another fuck toy? M’feeling a little hard.” He says in a low voice, palming his cock behind his blood-red “uniform.”

Wanda shrugs, “Why don’t you try to reach her yourself?” She smirks, nodding her head to you hinting to Tony that you are up for grabs. You look at her in horror, frozen in fear as you hear her offer.

She only laughs at your reaction, moving her sword over her shoulder, waiting for Tony to reach for you. As he does, she slices his arm off in one swing. “I’m keeping this… maybe you’ll learn that with one hand, you don’t actually need three holes.” Internally, you thank her for saving your dignity.

You scream as the events unfold in front of you. Tony writhes in pain on the ground, and you feel a pang of guilt. Looking at the blood spurting from his wound, you try your best to heal it without Wanda noticing. Even for what he did, he didn’t deserve to be in pain. That is the angel side of you acting, but Wanda had plans to corrupt you.

Wanda realizes what you are doing, acting fast by wrapping her hand around your throat, and pulling you off the ground. “This is my domain, not yours.”

You whimper as your hands scratch at her sharp and perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin. Finally, your worst fear came to light; silver, sparkling tears made their way from your eye down your cheek. Something that demons believed was a simple myth.

Wanda's expression softens and changes into realization. “Oh my… I knew they were real.” She catches a tear in the dip of her fingernail and drops you to the ground. A vial appears in her hand, and she drops your tear in. You both hiss in pain at the blistering of your hands. “Fuck! What is happening?” She says, looking at her hands and seeing the matching wounds on yours.

You quickly get up, whimpering as your hands sting from hitting the ground. Ignoring her question, you look up at her and reach for her, coughing out a response. “ N-n-no please you don't have the right-” Another cough cuts you off.

Wanda walks over to you, growling at you, “You came down here on your own!” She pauses, her finger pushing your chin up to look at her, “I own you…” More tears fall down your cheek but you quickly wipe them away.

“N-no you don’t,” Your voice cracks as you look up at her.

“You’re pathetic.” She laughs and turns away from you, walking briskly to another room down the hall. You follow her, not wanting to be with the sad souls around you any longer. But what you see terrifies you. It was a fellow angel. An angel you in fact knew very well.

“B-Bucky?” You whimper, looking up at him in his state. His hands are in cold metal cuffs suspending him from the ceiling, sharp hooks keeping his wings spread, and bloody scrapes all over his body. “Oh, Bucky…” Walking up to him, you ghost your hands over his wounds on his torso. “Bucky? Are y-you ok?” You ask in a quiet voice, seeing his eyes open.

“Y-y/n?” A raspy voice answers you, and you nod with a smile.

“Yeah, its me, Buck.” You say, trying to get him down but only causing him to whimper in pain as the hooks pull against his wings.

Wanda chuckles at the sweet angel-worry exchange, grabbing a knife that is able to hurt angels, and she pushes you back. Catching yourself, you glare up at her.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get in the middle of this.” She says, dragging the blade along Bucky's chest.

You growl as she pushes you, and you retaliate, knocking the blade from her hands. As fast as you can, you scramble to get the blade but you are pulled back by an invisible force. Once you are close enough to the door, she shoves you outside, slams the door, and locks it.

Pounding and kicking the door, you scream as loud as you can, shouting for mercy. “Please! Don’t hurt him!! Hurt me! H-hurt me! Please I’ll do anything!” You beg, hope, and pray that she will let you take his place.

“God, she’s so annoying.” Wanda says as she rolls her eyes, moving back to Bucky. Continuing where she left off, she drags the blade over Bucky's peck to mess with him.

Bucky cries as you are thrown from the room and he growls at the queen. “F-fuck you…” He curses her.

You persist, shouting outside of the door and pleading to switch places with him. You try everything; asking to switch places, letting her do anything she wants to you, killing you, hurting you. Anything. But you were ignored.

Wanda walks to the small window on the door, shutting the cover on it, blocking your view from inside. She waves her hand and the sight of Bucky chained up fades away in swirls of colored mist, revealing Bucky standing unhurt. “Hey, baby…” She smirks, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around him.

She knew you would fall for it. You were just a naive little angel who would do anything to protect anyone you cared about. It was laughable how dumb you could be, your feather-stuffed mind making you think irrationally.

Bucky looks down at Wanda but looks over at the door next. “God, I missed her. How did you find her? She was a favorite of his you know,” He says, hinting at the big guy upstairs.

“Her human died, and she was distraught. So, well you know how I am.” She smirks and kisses his lips, gently pulling him down by his hair. He smiles against her lips, holding her by her hips. He pulls away with a soft gasp.

“Let’s fuck her. Take her innocence, and strip her of her high and mightiness.” His eyes move up to the chains on the ceiling and back to Wanda.

“That sounds so good. I would love to play with her body,” She smirks, and a laugh follows. “Was she always this annoying?” Your pleading can still be heard outside of the locked door, small pounds echoing as well.

Bucky nodded. “Always a fuckin’ cry baby.” A dark chuckle leaves his throat, and he shakes his head dismissively.

Outside, you sobbed against the door. Your hand hits the door harder than the last hit, making your fingers very painful. But Wanda could feel that too, and she looked to Bucky. “Why am I feeling her pain? Her emotions? What is happening?” She asks, worry lacing her voice. Bucky knew exactly what this meant, and he couldn’t wait to tell you the news.

“You’re soulmates…” He says. “Try a cut on your hand, I bet you anything you’ll hear her scream.” He smirks, handing her the blade. Wanda tilts her head, her eyebrow quirking upwards.

“Soulmates, hm?” She puts the knife to her hand and cuts a solid line, groaning in pain. Her pain is easily soothed by your screams on the other side of the door. “Oh, I see… And she feels everything that happens to me too? Pain and pleasure?” Bucky nods. “So, every time we fucked, she came just as hard as I did…” She puts it together in the end, Bucky nodding once more to conclude her suspicions.

“She has felt everything, but her virginity is still good and ready to take. Sure she felt your orgasms, but it’s just not the same,” He says, gently wrapping Wanda's hand with a piece of gauze. “Her lord said we were soulmates, I knew that was bullshit though. I needed someone else, and I have yet to find that person. But you… you have satisfied my every need.” His words cause Wanda to smile, her cheeks turning red at his compliments.

“You were born in the wrong place… as an angel, your need for corruption makes me all hot and bothered.” Wanda says, brushing her finger through his hair, and kissing his lips once again.

Bucky groans at the sound of your crying. “We need to shut her up, dear lord! And before we fuck her, we need to get some more info out of her. Chain her up like we talked about before. We can get more tears out of her too, love.” He whispers as his lips graze Wandas once again.

“It’d be our dream, just like we talked about. Hell on earth.” She smiles and pulls away. “I’ve got to finish the tour, then we can have our fun with her.” She says, Bucky nodding reluctantly.

“God, fine. I’ll miss you, baby…” He whispers, passionately kissing her.

“I’ll miss you too,” She smiles. With another wave of her hand, the illusion is back in place, her magic adding a few more cuts to Bucky's body. She makes sure everything is perfect and opens the door to see you crying, tears on the ground, and soaking into your dress.

Immediately you jump up from the ground, wincing as you touch the ground with your cut hand. You run to Bucky, whispering in his ear, “I’ll get you out of here, I promise…” Gently running your fingers through his blood-soaked hair you turn to Wanda. “You hurt him, you witch!”

“Oh boo hoo! You’re SO scary.” She pretends to be scared, posting a false fearful look on her face before turning to leave. “Come on, I have more to show you.” She says, standing in the doorway. You look at her defiantly, your eyes narrowing at her audacity to try to pull you away from the man you love.

“N-no, I’m not leaving him…” Your voice quivers slightly.

“Fine,” Wanda sighs. “We’ll do this the hard way.” She stands up straight and her hand glows a bright red, her magic not-so-gently pulling you from the room. You scream and scratch at the floor, the ground burns your hands. A whimper leaves Wanda's throat as she too feels the pain you are in. She forces her magic to pull you to a standing position, stopping the burning of both your and her hands.

The door locks behind you, the illusion of the hurting Bucky going back to normal once again. “No! Please!” You sob as you are pulled by force down the hallway away from Bucky's cell. More silver tears roll down your cheek and you wipe them away with your sleeve, the liquid soaking the fabric. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, breathless as you struggle against the energy holding your body still.

“Im only showing you where you’ll be staying, good lord,” She rolls her eyes and disengages her magic from around you. You sigh in relief as you are freed, but knowing you are practically powerless against her. She is stronger in this domain than she is on earth, or in heaven. You have absolutely no chance of defeating her.

Following Wanda, you made your way through the many hallways of her fortress. “Why won’t you just let me go?” You ask as the two of you reach a large wooden door.

“Because heaven won’t let you back in…” Wanda responds, smirking at your expression of confusion. “Anyway, this is where you’ll be staying.” She opens the door, a red, medieval-looking room on the other side.

You were suspicious as to how welcoming she was being. This was not natural for a being of her kind. Swallowing, you take in the overwhelming room, definitely not the same as the white and elegant room you resided in, in heaven. You stop in the middle of the room, and you turn to her. “What am I really doing down here? You did all of this on p-purpose, didn’t you?” The sentence rushed out in a string of angry whispers, just trying to make sense of everything.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, stripping herself of her red, floor-length gown and making her way to her dresser.

Out of purity, you turn away, giving her privacy. “You know what I mean. You killed my human, and took me because I know Bucky.” You keep your eyes down, wrapping your arms around yourself.

She huffs and shrugs. “Yeah, well maybe…” Closing the drawer, she puts her arms through the sleeves of a red, silky robe and secures it around her body. From her hand, a red tendril pulls a spell book from the bookshelf, and she settles herself on the seat by the window.

While Wanda is occupied, you beeline to the open door. But she is two (2) steps ahead of you. With a flick of her finger, the door shuts and locks, and your response is to growl and slump against it in sadness. Your dress protects your body from the ground, and you bury your face in your hands.

Only two (2) minutes into reading, Wanda yawns, your cries bothering her. “God, you’re so fucking annoying!” She says, throwing her book across the room, almost hitting you. Your eyes widen and you duck your head, holding your arms over your head. Wanda looks at you from her spot by the window, thinking it's finally time to play with you.

“Get up. It looks like you’ll be getting what you want after all.” A smirk appears on her lips as she stands up and makes her way towards you. Her fingers tangle in your [color, length, texture] hair and she pulls hard, forcing you to stand up. You grip her hand, trying to ease the pain from her strong hold on you.

However, her grip loosens, the stinging on your scalp manifesting on Wanda's scalp as well. She growled at the fact that she kept on denying it. No demon should be a soulmate with an angel. It made her sick.

She lets go of your hair, pulling you by your wrist down the same hallways, and to the same door where Bucky was being held. Wanda smiled at Bucky standing in the middle of the room, arms folded in front of his chest. His head turned at the sudden opening of the door and he smirked too.

His eyes see your white dress and follow up to your sobbing face. He smirks and his pupils blow with lust. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, baby…” The door locks and Wanda drops you on the floor. As a defense mechanism, you plant your palms on the marble floor, looking at Wanda as she holds her hands against the cool silk of her robe.

“Stop that!! Stop!” She growls, whimpering along with you as both yours and her hands blister and burn. Bucky sees what is happening and picks you up by the neck of your dress. “God, that hurts so fucking bad!” Wanda whimpers, her magic only coming out in small sparks at first, then at full force. Just enough to heal the bubbling blisters.

Bucky’s strong arms hold you up, your limbs flailing around as you try to grab something. Once he knows that Wanda is safe, he throws you onto the bed in the corner of the room. You watch, speechless as you see Bucky, completely unharmed, his wings now painted pitch black. He’s become an archangel too.

Wanda sighs and pulls Bucky in by the leather collar around his neck, kissing his lips passionately, and lovingly. “I want to ruin her, break her.” She whispers against his lips, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

You swear you could see guilt, and regret in Bucky's eyes when he turns his attention to you. He is quick to hide it as he looks down at Wanda with a smile on his face. “I’ll get the blades, you get the toys. I’ll chain her up, and we’ll decide not he rest. Got it?” He is unfamiliar with the control in his voice, and Wanda tuts softly.

“Ah, ah, remember who is in charge here, baby boy…” She says, kissing his nose.

“You, mistress. You always.” He whispers back, the submission falling over him again.

“Good boy, now go.” Her hands cup his ass and she smacks it lightly as a gesture to make him obey.

As Wanda gathers her things, Bucky approaches your shivering form on the bed. He uses his ungodly strength to easily pick you up, placing you in the middle of the room.

You kick and struggle in his arms, his hands easily grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling them above your head. “Bu-buck! What are you doing?? Please! Don’t listen to her! She’s only here to hurt you!” You shout the cold metal now around your wrists.

Bucky growls, slapping you across the face. At the other end of the room, Wanda startles, turning to face Bucky. “Jesus, you hit hard.” She says, feeling the sting across her face as well. Sheepishly, Bucky mouths an apology and moves back to you.

“Im with someone who cares about me.” He says, collecting the rest of the blades that Wanda directs him to grab, setting them on the tray in front of your dangling body; the tips of your white flats barely scraping the floor. You shake your head, silently begging Bucky to come back to you.

Wanda reaches for a knife specifically to hurt angels, the blade laced with the blood of a newborn hellhound. Deep down, she was hoping this would only hurt you and not her as well. If she inflicted the pain, it couldn’t possibly hurt her too, right?

She starts to cut the dress from your body, ripping it into pieces to finally see your naked skin. You hear her hum from behind you and feel her eyes raking up and down your backside. Her hand rubs the ample skin of your ass, slapping it softly. Hm, I couldn’t feel that… Wanda thinks to herself. Again, she spanks you, harder each time not feeling a thing.

Every smack of your ass made you whimper and pull at the chains to try and get as far away as you could from the source.

“She doesn’t care, Bucky. Your father did, your mother did, our superiors did. I- I did!” Your body shivers in the cold air of the room, which confuses you as this is hell. Hell is supposed to be hot… You try your best to cover up but fail as the chains hold you right where Wanda wants you.

“They didn’t care. And you!” He passes as he grabs a blade from the table, putting it on your neck. “You used me to get cozy with the big man.” He accuses. Wanda watches from afar, hitching her breath as she feels the sharp tip of the blade against her neck as well. She was proud of how far Bucky had come, and she didn’t mind if she got hurt in the process if it ended with Bucky becoming even stronger than he is now.

Along with Wanda, you suck in a breath as the blade is pushed against your skin. You give up on hiding your tears, Wanda was quick to collect the falling ones in vials as they fell from your eyes. “N-no I did not. I worked my way to the top just like you did!”

To some demons, tears were the only thing that they thought was to be of silver and sparkles. But only the purest of angels had blood of gold. Ones who have never lied, cheated or hurt anyone. Ones who did their best and passed any test their lord gave to them.

You defended yourself to the best of your ability, knowing you did in fact work hard to become a guardian angel. The force of your response boosted you forward just an inch, causing the blade to nick your skin. Immediately, gold liquid drips from the small cut on your neck.

Bucky was filled with so much rage, that Wanda could feel it radiating off of his body. “You’re lying!!” He shouted the intent to kill in his mind.

Before he could do any more damage to you, Wanda's eyes widened. “Bucky, stop!” She ordered, placing a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Baby, look at her blood. Its gold!” She laughs and turns to him. “Its gold!”

You sigh, your secret revealed. Weakly, you look at Wanda, trying to cover the wound on your neck with your shoulder. “Please, i-if you’re going to kill me, just do it now, and make it quick.” Your voice cracks as you beg for a painless death.

“Mmm, no, we’re not going to kill you. You’re far too valuable.” Wanda says, licking your blood off of the blade, moaning at the glorious taste of it on her tongue. “Oh wow… so sweet…”

Bucky adds to Wanda's intentions, “We wanna keep you. You’re going to be so useful…” He forcefully moves your head to the side, lapping at the wound on your neck. You give everything to try and push him away; Kicking, wiggling your body, anything. But you are promptly stopped by a searing pain in your wrist.

Wanda has her special blade against your sensitive skin, tracing it down your arm and ending at your exposed collar bones. “You are gonna stay put…” Wanda growls, pushing the knife into your skin and dragging it to one side. A scream of agony leaves your mouth, your throat hurting from the sheer force of your voice. She moans at the sight of the shimmering, gold liquid seeping from your body. Licking the excess blood from the knife with a satisfied smile.

But Wanda was never satisfied. She needed more. And she went right to the source.

She presses open kisses to your neck, sucking your gold blood from the cut on your chest. It smears along your skin, feeling sticky against Wanda's mouth. “So fucking delicious.” She mumbles against you, holding her hands on your naked hips and squeezing them roughly pulling a scratchy whimper from your throat.

“Please,” You beg, tears of silver continuing to fall down your cheeks as you look down and away from your torturers.

Wanda smirks at your soft whisper, “Please what, little Angel? Hm? What are you beggin’ for?” Your head is forced up, her hand holding your cheeks roughly. “You look at me when I’m talking to you.” You shiver, yet you disobey. Ignoring her was a bad idea.

You pull away from her grip, closing your eyes as you hide your face in your arms.

Bucky smirks at Wanda, “It looks like someone is in for a punishment…” He says in a low growl, seeing you pull away from Wanda after a clear command.

The witch's eyes narrow, your disobedience earning you a harsh slap across the face. “Bad little Angel…” You yelp as your head is thrown to the side again, a small tear falling to the ground. “Look at me!” Wanda shouts, and finally, you look up at her. “Ah, good girl… Now Im going to have my fun with you.” She smirks and caresses your cheek softly, wiping away any stray tears.

Her thumb brushes against your quivering lips, gently pulling your bottom lip out into a pout. It takes every nerve in your body from pulling away. Wanda chuckles as she feels you shaking in your restraints.

“Don’t be scared, little Angel.” Wanda smiles and her hand travels down your bleeding chest right to your cunt, her hand cupping it softly. Instantly you cross your legs, Bucky being fast to kick your ankles to keep them apart. You see him in the corner of your eye as he moves to the far side of the room, making it very clear what he is doing once you feel your body raise just a little more.

“Please… don’t do this,” You whisper as you look Wanda in the eyes. She ignores you, pressing soft kisses to your neck as her pointer finger rubs your clit. Again, you pull your legs together. “S-stop, please! I have to st-stay pure!” You whimper, Bucky at your feet and connecting a bar to your ankles, forcing your legs to stay open.

Wanda pauses, her hand wrapping around your back and touching the base of your wings connected to your back. “Oh you know thats all bull shit, Angel.” She says, softly plucking a feather from your sensitive wing. A pained whimper escapes your mouth, and your gold blood-covered feather falls to the ground in front of you.

Wanda's fingers continue to circle your untouched clit, forcing a reluctant moan from your mouth. The chains rattling above you as you struggle to move away from her. You can feel her smirk against your neck, and she eggs you on. “I know it feels good. Just let me in.” She whispers in your ear, nipping your lobe softly.

Your head falls against hers, a connection of something much bigger than the both of you, making your skin tingle. “P-please…” You beg, her finger moving faster against your clit. “Wh-what do you want fr-from me?”

“Nothing, Angel… I just want you,” Wanda whispers, smiling as she presses her lips to yours in a soft and loving kiss. The kiss takes your breath away, letting Wanda take the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth along with her finger into your wet cunt. Pushing it in painfully slow.

Your hands grip the chains, and you look up at Bucky who stands behind Wanda. “Buck, this- this isn’t you. Please, y-you can g-get- ohh, you ca-cant get us out o-of here.” The pleas come out in a stutter, small moans interrupting each word. He ignores you, the only thing you get from him is a shrug and a palm of his hand against his cock.

The breaths from your lungs quicken slightly as Wanda's finger continues to pump in and out of your pussy. “Please th-this i-is everything o-o-oh my stars,” You shake your head trying to ignore the pleasure you are being forced to feel. Wanda doesn’t stop at just one finger, she enters another finger, curling both against that one good spot inside of you. “Ah!” Your little yelp only encourages her to keep going, her fingers moving faster by the second.

“I- I can’t do this,” You whisper, the new feeling inside of you rippling pleasure throughout your entire body. Slowly, the orgasmic feeling arises in you, and Wanda can tell you are close.

“You can, I know you want to give in…” Wanda whispers, her lips sucking soft love marks onto your soft skin. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You shout at her, “N-no, I can’t do this! I can’t!” Somehow she can understand your feelings, holding you against her body as she fucks you with her fingers. She can tell you are so close, not only to cumming, but to breaking too. You were one tap away from shattering.

Slowly, your head leans forward and your eyes begin to close. “Come on little angel, I just wanna make you feel so good…” Wanda whispers, kissing your forehead as you crumble underneath her touch. It felt like fire touching your skin, and your body relaxes against the chains, allowing Wanda to slide even further into your cunt.

“A-all I ask i-is to be g-g-, Oh my stars... b-be gen-gentle please,” You whisper, knowing you can’t escape her.

“I will be, little Angel. Just relax,” She responds, kissing your cheek and letting you lay your head against her chest. “Oh, you are such a good girl, my little angel.”

Bucky smirks as your walls start to break and tremble, his thoughts coming out into words. “I told you she would be easy to break…” He puts on a fake frown as he looks at your shaking body, Wanda getting you oh, so close to your orgasm. “I was hoping there would be a lot more of those precious little tears. But we have aaaaall that blood, don’t we mistress?” He whispers in Wanda's ear, her lips forming a smirk against your forehead.

“We do, baby…” She says, her fingers ceasing movement inside of your pussy. You were so close, but Wanda had other plans for you, and you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. “Grab mistress’s strap, will you love?” She asks Bucky, who gladly obliges.

Your eyes widen, “Wh-whats a s-strap?” The innocence of your mind fully shined through, and your voice quivered in fear.

The woman above you only chuckles, saying softly, “Lets just say… it will feel much better than these…” She moves her fingers inside of you again, pulling out and forcing them into your mouth. “Suck them clean,” She says in a dark voice, your eyes avoiding her gaze as humiliation falls over your face. But, you obey, licking her fingers clean of your slick.

Wanda praises Bucky, kissing his cheek and tugging his hair. “Now be a good boy, and get some restraints on the bed, ok?” He nods, handing her the strap and occupying himself on the bed. You pull your eyes away from him and to the strap in Wanda's hands.

“Wh-where does th-that go?” You ask with even more fear than before, with sparkly tears in your eyes once again.

��That goes in here…” Wanda's fingers enter your cunt again, even deeper than before. You suck in a deep breath and double over, pulling on the chains above your head.

“N-no no no absolutely not! Please! It's going to hurt it-its going to hurt!” You sob, that last bit of hope inside your heart dimming as you look to your former friend. “Bucky, do something! Please!”

The woman in front of you tries to soothe you, gently cupping your cheek and bringing your attention back to her. “No, no. Mistress is going to stretch you out so so good, and it won’t hurt.” She whispers, adding a third finger to the two already inside of you. “M’gonna take your virginity, my little angel…” She smirks.

Your head shakes vigorously, “Thats my soulmates j-j-job and m'not su-supposed to be taken yet please!” A single silver tear rolls down your cheek and onto your exposed breasts. “Please," You whisper, your voice small and weak. “There h-has to be another way…"

She chuckles, pulling her fingers from you again. “No, there is no mistake. You of all people know that,” Her whispers make your skin crawl, and you look up at her. “Your soulmate is the queen of hell,” A low and dark laugh leaves her mouth, your body going numb. “Watch, angel. And you’ll see exactly why,” She grabs a knife and orders Bucky to stand next to her. “I want you to cut a straight line on my palm. Y/n, if you feel it too, then you’ll know.” She smirks.

“No…” You whisper, still in denial of the initial news. The proof was most definitely there, but you did not want to see or feel it. Moving your head up weakly, you watch as Bucky drags the blade along Wanda's hand, a similar pain aching on your hand as well. You whimper, golden blood oozing from your hand. It drips down your arm, and around to your chest, but you ignore it. “M-my soulmate is the queen... of... hell…”

Quickly, Bucky bandages his mistress’s hand and gathers more vials to collect your blood. He is very close to you now, his body mere centimeters from you. Your eyes meet his cold blue ones, and your friendship finally breaks. “She’ll keep you safe,” Bucky whispered, guiding the last bit of blood into a glass bottle. “She’s kept me safe.” He pulls away, setting the now collected blood onto the table against the wall of the cell.

The silver tears in your eyes now fall freely down your face, the feeling of betrayal and sadness hitting you like a wall.

“I will keep you safe, little angel. I promise,” Wanda steps in front of you again, her un-bandaged hand slipping in between your spread-apart legs. To fingers enter you, and her thumb rubs your clit slowly, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“H-how can i t-trust yo- Ohhhh,” You let out an involuntary moan, your head falling forward against her shoulder.

“How can you trust me when what, Angel?” Wanda asks and she continues to rub your clit in just the right way. You look to Bucky, but shake your head, ignoring her question and focusing on the feelings.

Your whimpers get loud and Wanda can sense your orgasm is coming close, your walls clenching around her fingers once.

“Cum for me, little Angel. Let me give you pleasure.” She whispers, kissing your lips passionately as you cum, imaginary fireworks going off around you and her.

You are barely able to return the kiss, worried about doing anything wrong. While your walls squeeze and clench around her fingers, your legs shake and knees buckle, making you fall limp against the chains. The strain against your wrists makes you whimper, and Wanda instantly takes notice of this. Gently and slowly, she pulls her fingers from your wet pussy and wipes them on her robe. Next, she unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists and holds you in her arms.

Weak arms wrap their way around Wanda, your body clinging to hers as your juices leak from your cunt and onto your inner thigh. She smiles down at you and gently picks you up, taking you to the bed in the corner of the room. Your head hits the pillow first, and then the rest of your body is cushioned on the semi-soft mattress, your wings splayed out underneath you.

From above you, Bucky’s shit-eating grin glows. He grabs your arms and clasps the cuffs around your wrists again, pulling the chains tight so you are all spread open. Doing the same to your ankles, he smirks at his handy work, every inch of your body exposed to him and Wanda.

“How's that mistress? Do we need a gag if she screams?” He asks in a quiet voice, making sure you don’t hear anything.

Wanda shakes her head and unties her robe, her beautiful body practically glowing in the dimmed lighting of the room. She smirks at you chained up and spread out, shaking her head. “Everyone screams in hell.” She says, crawling on top of you, kissing your skin softly to remind you that she is still there and cares.

The bed shivers along with you, tears rolling down your cheeks like a leaky faucet. “P-please,” You whimper softly, looking up at Wanda as she cups your face in her soft hands.

“Hey, its ok, I’ve got you…” Her whispers are soft and genuine, yearning to make you feel comfortable and not scared. Your nerves are slightly calmed, your eyes locking with hers as they look down upon you.

You whimper, her lips meeting yours softly. “I don't wan-want it to hurt,” Wanda hears your worries, gently rubbing her nose against yours as she leans closer to you.

“It won’t, my Angel. Just a bit in the beginning then it’ll feel so good.” Wanda smiles, pecking your lips again. You close your eyes as she embraces your delicate body, only pulling away to reach for her strap, a whimper escaping your mouth as you see it. She secures the harness around her hips and uses some saliva to make sure it is ready for you.

With love, she lays down beside you, softly entering her fingers into you again, stretching your walls to accommodate her large cock. She kisses your neck, smiling as your back arches off the bed. When you turn your head, you are met with the sight of Bucky, playing with his hard cock as he watches the two of you. It scares you and you move your gaze back to Wandas.

“Just focus on me, sweet Angel.” She whispers, kissing your lips as she sits up again, settling between your widely spread legs. Taking some slick from your tight hole, she rubs it over the cock on her hips, wetting it so it does not cause any pain. Seeing the fear in your eyes makes her pause, only poking the tip into your entrance. Her body lays on top of you and you bury your face in the crook of her neck. A gentle hand cradles your head, and she slowly starts to push into you, rubbing your clit with her other hand.

Bucky was angry that she stole your attention away from him. His stare burns holes in the back of your head as you look up at Wanda, he was supposed to be in that position; taking your purity without the comfort of a bed. He wanted to tear you in two, fuck you in every single hole you had, and kill you in the end. But he couldn’t because he’s the queen's pet. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He tucks his cock back into his pants, reaching for the vials of tears from the table and putting them in his pockets. Your moans and whimpers die down as he leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was going to take over this place, intending to anyone who got in his way.

Once Bucky is gone, you and Wanda continue, not aware of his exit. All you can think of are these overwhelming sensations you are experiencing. It feels like you are being split in half, your arms and legs pulling at the chains. Your back arches hoping the movement will ease the pain.

“Angel… just relax…” She whispers in your ear, kissing up along your jaw right to your lips. You try your hardest, you really do, but the fear is just too much and it makes you tense even more, your toes curling at the sensations. Your lips part, a small moan leaving them just before Wanda captures them in a kiss.

“Let Mistress in,” Her hand moves from your clit to your hip, rubbing your ample skin so softly. Opened-mouth kisses are planted along your neck, small bruises most likely going to show.

“I- I can’t s’too big,” The stretch is almost too much, tears falling down your temples and onto the pillow underneath your head.

“You can take it, angel, I know you can…” She whispers in your ear, her cock finally bottomed out inside of your cunt. You yell out in pain, muffling your scream by softly biting down on Wanda's shoulder. Her cock stretching you out contorts your face of discomfort to a face of pleasure and euphoria, the feeling of being so full the only thing on your mind.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay, my sweet Angel.” Wanda begins to move her hips, pushing her cock in and out of your cunt. Squelching can be heard, your juices making moving effortless and painless. Of course, the large size of her cock was still prominently there, and the movements turned from pain to pleasure very quickly.

But soon, your breaths quicken, your senses heighten, and you become uncomfortably aware of everything that is happening. Your wings aren’t sitting right, your wrist is twisted in the cuffs weirdly, and Wanda's lips feel much too hot against your skin. Wanda looks down at you and halts her hips, taking in your disoriented and distressed look.

“Hey, just breath. Take a deep breath for me Angel…” She whispers, her hand cupping your cheek and her thumb brushing against your lips. “You gotta trust me, little one.” Her head tilts and you nod softly.

You whimper, letting out a small response. “O-ok…”

“Good girl, oh Angel, you are such a good girl.” She whispers as she kisses your forehead. The butterflies in your belly flutter to life, a small smile appearing as the praise finally starts to affect you.

“Was that a smile?” Wanda quirks her brows, her heart feeling big when she sees your lips turn up. You nod and she nuzzles her nose against yours as she starts to move again. “Good girl. All I want is to make you happy.” She leans down to kiss your bare collarbones softly, “See, Angel. I’m not a bad person.”

You nod, agreeing with her. “Y-you aren’t, a-and I’m sorry- ohhh-” A moan cuts you off, her fingers rubbing your clit again. “I-I’m so sorry I said you w-were.” Looking up at her, you see her face soften at your apology.

“Oh angel,” You know she forgives you. Even if she doesn’t say the words, you can feel the way she holds you, fucks you, kisses you, and talks to you.

Wanda smiles down at you, and in the next moment, her lips are on yours once again. She smiles stupidly against your lips as she starts to fall in love for the first time. Her hips begin to move again, her finger moving faster on your clit. It's not only you who can feel how close you are to your release - Wanda can feel it too, she can see it.

As your cunt hugs her cock, you cum with a shout. Your legs shake in their restraints and Wanda swallows your moans with an even more passionate kiss. Her hands rub your hips and she smiles at you once she pulls away. Returning the smile, you pull at the chains holding your limbs in place.

Wanda sighs and gently pulls out of you, wiping you down with her discarded robe. “Here, lets get these off of you…” She says, a snap of her fingers making the clasps come loose. You rub your wrists and bend your knees to curl up, moving to your side where you can fold your wings to your back. “There, are you feeling alright?” She asks, sitting up next to you and pulling you into her arms. You nod and kiss her cheek softly.

Your legs bend and you lay your head against her chest, smiling as her hand strokes your soft wings. “So soft…” She nuzzles her head into the soft, white feathers, and wraps her arms around you. Tenderly, she presses soft kisses to your neck. “Such a good girl, my sweet little angel.”

~~~~~~~

Bucky's plan had worked. A power he had never felt before was flowing through his veins, and god, he loved how it. He was confident that the power from the angel's tears would make him more powerful than the queen of hell herself, and he was ready to execute them both; the angel and the queen.

He checked the dungeon first, but both you and Wanda were gone. Next was the bedroom, not there either. Last was the library. Wanda spent a lot of time there, so it was most likely that she would have shown it to you. Alas, there you were. Wanda was holding your white-robe-covered body in her arms while her favorite book to you. That book is the story of Peter Rabbit.

There was nothing in particular she liked about the book, other than the fact it involved a chase. She absolutely loved a good chase and with possession of her own little bunny, she could do what she wanted. Not for long, of course, as in the next few moments they will be dead.

Bucky glares as Wanda finishes the book, her hand coming to your cheek and caressing it softly. Her thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, and he had enough when you kissed it. Quietly, he enters the room with a large sword in his hand and a dagger in his other hand. He smirks as he sees you hug Wanda, her arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What do you want?” She spits, moving you to the other side of the couch and putting herself in the middle of you and the threat.

Bucky raises his dagger, “Her.” The blade pointed straight at you. You shivered at the silver edge glistened in the light of the library.

Wanda growls, “Not gonna happen,” She stands up, her hand glowing a bright red with a ball of energy beginning to grow. You watch in horror as a blast of gray energy hits Wanda, forcing her across the room. You jump up in response, running to her and making sure that she is okay.

“No, no, no, no, Wanda, please stay with me, Wanda please!” You whimper, sensing Bucky getting closer by the second. You growl at Bucky who is now just a couple feet (or meters for you non-Americans) from behind you. Standing up, you focus on your power is much more powerful from the source, than Bucky's use of your tears.

A bright white light shoots across the room and shoots Bucky straight in the heart. He starts to glow and shine as pure, white rays strike through him. Once he catches his breath, Wanda is able to get up on shaky legs. Her eyes burn bright red and large tendrils extend from her hands and each one cuts through Bucky's floating body. Crimson blood splatters everywhere as each long tentacle of energy stabs through his torso, legs, arms, and head.

You cover yourself with your wings as his blood splatters across them painting them red. Out of curiosity, you put your wings back, only to see the finale of Wanda's revenge. The red tendrils wrap their way around Bucky's limbs and neck, pulling in different directions. His severed torso falls to the ground and the rest of his blood is splattered everywhere else.

Your body is soaked and you are frozen in fear. Wanda continues to control each of the tendrils, stabbing in and out of Bucky's dismembered being leaving him just a pile of bloody body parts. Your eyes flick to Wanda, and you sigh knowing that she should stop.

Approaching her carefully, you gently place your hand on her shoulder. She whips around, the energy in her hand turning into a ruby-red sword. She was ready to kill anyone who got in her way. Once the realization hits that it is you, she falls to her knees and lets out a chilling sob.

You drop with her and you smile softly as she pulls you to her chest. “Hey, its ok… it’s ok…” You whisper in her ear, not thinking that you would be the one comforting her at this moment. Her hair is coated in the sticky crimson liquid and you do your best to brush it out of her hair with your fingers as best you can.

She smiles at you, and you close the gap between you two, kissing her passionately with every fiber of your being. Wanda being Wanda, she deepens the kiss, wrapping her hand around the back of your neck to bring you impossibly closer. Silently she brushes her fingers over your blood-coated wings and she is in control and emotionally intact, she gently picks you up, one arm going under your legs and the other cradling your back.

Your arms wrap around her neck and nuzzle your face into her chest. As you see the direction she is walking, you smile. You first enter the bedroom, a large room filled with the most exquisite decor, the softest blankets, and the finest clothing for your and Wanda's likeness. You then entered the bathroom, a tub large enough to fit three in the center of the room. A glass chandelier hangs above it, and numerous candles are nestled in their places.

Wanda sets you on your feet and begins to press soft kisses to your jaw and to the nape of your neck. She reaches around your front to untie the robe draped on your body, and her hands gently drag it down your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. Your wings spread, stretching out to their full span, and fall back to their settled place at the center of your back. The queen ogles at your beautifully open wings and smiles as she pets the feathers.

“So beautiful, angel,” She whispers in your ear, causing your heart to skip a beat. Her hand hovers over your shoulder, her magic turning the faucet on to a desirable temperature. Wanda cresses down your arm, goosebumps pebbling on your skin, her hand grasping yours softly. Guiding you to the tub, you step in and allow the warmth to embrace you.

The water turned red the moment you stepped in, but it was meant to happen. Wanda was happy to see Bucky's blood come off of your precious body. You rested your head against your arm, looking up at the beautiful queen gently scrubbing the blood from your skin. She was going to save your wings for last, wanting to spend every second she could with you.

With each wipe of the soft cloth, your natural skin color began to show again. Your body is restored and clean, and you have never felt better. Even in heaven, you could never relax and feel safe at the same time. There was always someone lurking around a corner, waiting to catch you in the act of anything unholy.

It was true, that when Wanda and Bucky made love to one another, you felt everything. Since you were so far away, it was a much lighter feeling. But the nights when you were in your own bed, and in the privacy of your room, it seemed like that was when the pair would go at it the hardest.

Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she stood. Looking up at her, you smile as she takes her robe off as well, letting it drop to the floor. You happily move forward in the tub, making room for the queen behind you. She smiled as she moved her legs around your body, her hands meeting your feathered wings softly.

“Let’s clean these up… make em’ all pretty again.” You smile at her words, her kind hands against your wings causing you to shiver. A good shiver this time! This time, your shiver was induced by an intimacy that only lovers can define. Your wings may be just another part of your body, but to you, they are so much more. It was a part of you that no one got to touch. If they were touched, it was forced and unwanted. Until now…Now your soulmate was able to feel you and feel that part of you that you let no one touch.

You vowed to never let anyone touch your wings after what happened the first time;

Soap is lathered up in Wanda's hands, and suds with warm water gently cascaded down your wings. With care, she lifts up some of your feathers to scrub deeper, but she is met with a large scar that follows the span of your wings. Her lips turn down to a frown as her finger softly traces the faded, yet obvious scar. “What happened?”

Your eyes open, and you feel her fingers on your wings. “Hm?" Realization hits, and you sigh as you gather the courage to tell her the story.

“I was given a second chance to go to earth. I was working out the basics of invisibility with guardianship, and I accidentally showed myself to my first human. His name was Steve Rogers. He kept me in his basement, put hooks in my wings. That scar was the consequence of praying for help… He cut a whole layer of feathers off, and made it a garland for his mantle.” You pause, once again finding the strength to finish. "Ever since then, my lord kept me from going to earth until he found a more gentle human for me. But she died, and now I’m here.”

Wanda's heartstrings were pulled, and a tear fell down her cheek and dripped into the red water. She had a hard time finding the right thing to say, but she knew she had to say something. “You didn’t deserve that, my sweet angel…” She leans forward to kiss the skin between your wings, comforting you the best she can. She remembered that day. She could feel everything that man did to you. It may have not shown up on her, but she felt every feather he plucked, each poke to hold your wings out, and the pull of the chains for him to see even more.

You knew this too, but she understood your silence. The bathroom stayed quiet as Wanda cleaned your wings, ridding them of Bucky's blood. It was just the trickling of the water dripping off your feathers that echoed throughout the room.

Finally, your wings were white again, and you helped Wanda clean herself too. Once the two of you were clean, she emptied the bathtub only to fill it again. There was no need to protest as you loved baths. They made you feel like you were wrapped in a big hug. To make it even better, Wanda's black-feathered wings curled around you and her, your head laying on her chest, and your body contently in her arms.

Now with your soulmate being that embrace, you felt like you were finally home. You had a purpose here. You had fallen right into her embrace, and you will forever be her fallen angel.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #soulmate writing challenge #Creatures and Foreigners #wanda maximoff #wanda x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda marvel #wanda x you #Scarlet Witch x reader #demon!wanda x angel!reader #Wanda Maximoff Smut #CAF #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader

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kedsandtubesocks · 2 months

Text

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?” She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.

#hi howdy yeehaw if you’re reading this cowboy Ezra & I think you’re the bees knees and I thank you truly!!#cowboy!ezra #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x you #prospect fanfic #Ezra 🤎#pedrostories

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mewguca · 2 months

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Best Friends Forever! I love making AUs to put them into Situations

Paths Left Untaken by @fauxbia

( font is from crystaluranium in the RW Official Discord, which references a tumblr post by ikayblythe )

bonus doodles and some explanations for the concept under the cut

Paths Left Untaken is like, extremely ultra mega-doomed. Like... my god does that Iterator suffer in so many situations lol. in this specific AU, to save Paths from her structural collapse (which shall be slow and painful and horrible for everyone really), Paths has been off-stringed into a MIP Unit (like what SLS is yay!!) what matters is that she's mobile now and has been reduced to a fraction of her former self against her will won't collapse or decay any time soon!! After all it's a lot easier to sustain a puppet than a structure

additionally echo SLS is back and she has a savior complex so she's breaking reality to rewind time over and over again because she does not have the power to stop the (metaphorical) Wheel entirely, so this is the next best thing! She'll stop resetting things once everything is perfect for everyone, which will Definitely Totally Happen and she's not doomed ahahaha.

I really like their friendship a lot if you couldn't tell. also TLSPTS mention

btw, the glyph text says "Be not afraid." and "I will save you." Wooooo!!! its hard to tell because the doodle is so messy but she has six wings which is a reference to seraphim because i like angelic imagery a little bit

#paths left untaken #plu #starlight symphony #sls #rain world oc #iterator oc #mip unit #mip paths #mip au au #other's ocs #fauxbia #spears mention #luna oc tag #lunart #eggmoon creations #echo sls #sls timeloop au

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stainedglassthreads · 1 year

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One thing I think I just realized is, in addition to being dissatisfied with how stories deal with Toriel’s grief compared to Asgore’s and Asriel’s, and how I don’t see many instances of Toriel and Asgore’s quarrel being addressed in a way that satisfied me... I don’t think I see that many AUs that quite get the responsibility Asgore feels... right.

Yes, I’ve seen several that portray his grief, depression, and how badly he doesn’t want to be in this position well, even if it’s disappointing how not everyone seems to be aware of what you learn about him in a Neutral run where you’ve previously killed Flowey. A lot of people can get aspects of his characterization very well, the broken man, the goofy dad, the intimidating monarch. But I think the reason I don’t see people capture the weight of his responsibility quite as well in fanfics and comics is... well. Oddly enough it’s in the way the monsters treat him.

It’s not just the fandom that has issues with idolizing or demonizing characters. It’s also the Kingdom of Monsters themselves--and they all idolize Asgore. Yes, he’s a very grounded and compassionate individual who invites his subjects to share all their problems with him, and who Papyrus insists will just let you pass through the Barrier. But he’s also a bit of the subject of a cult of personality for his subjects. When they say he’ll absorb seven souls and become a GOD, it’s not an expression of his arrogance, but rather their own adoration. While out-of-universe the Angel is generally agreed to be either Asriel or Chara(or us), in-universe I wouldn’t be surprised if Asgore was considered the Angel.

It’s not long now. King Asgore will let us go. King Asgore will give us hope. King Asgore will save us all.

Yes, individual monsters may want to collect a human soul for their own individual wants and desires. But it’s only the capture of a human soul, or using a single soul for their own benefit, that they really aspire to. (With the exception of Toriel, who wants no souls, and Flowey, who is Flowey.) Of those area bosses who earnestly try to take just one soul, Papyrus and Undyne both want to hand you over to Asgore, and Mettaton wants to protect humanity FROM Asgore. Literally everyone in the Underground seems to fully believe that Asgore will be the one taking all the Souls and fulfilling his promises, and all are content. (Again, barring Toriel, MTT, Flowey.) No one seems to ever doubt he’ll do as he says, even his ex-wife, and no one’s greedy to take the power for themselves or take the burden of being a savior for themself, except his kid who has both a God Complex and a Savior Complex.

With Chara, and with Asgore. They take a person and turn them into a representation of something More than any singular person could ever be. And then in the worst route Chara does it again, to themself. Asgore is freedom and salvation and retribution itself, and everyone including the woman who was once married to him agrees and reinforces the role. Chara is the feeling of a number going up, and the fandom agrees and reinforces the role.

And I dunno. There are fics and AUs where Asgore never lost his kids and always remained an affable, friendly guy. There are AUs where Asgore is the main antagonist and an awful villain with few redeeming qualities. There are fics and AUs where Asgore gets to recover in a post-pacifist setting. But I’m not sure any fics or AUs have ever quite captured how everyone else just talks about the guy, for me. Toriel is simply ‘intimidating’. But Asgore is a GOD.

#undertale #undertale analysis #undertale meta #asgore #asgore dreemurr #this is why i think in post-pacifist asgore should live far away from all his subjects for a few years #be a normal guy. no responsibilities. let them calm down about the unwanted god-king stuff #like i've seen many stories successfully make asriel or chara feel othered and idolized by the underground but #somehow not asgore as much despite how everyone in-game treats him as a personification of his declaration of war #and lets that be the FIRST thing that influences how they treat him #even undyne to some extent. she's so psyched to free monsterkind. to get him to free monsterkind

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silly-meatbag · 5 months

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finally….at long last!

here’s deity! kinito ^v^

This AU is basically just kinito eventually becomes a god (same thing with jade and sam, don’t worry, they’ll be coming soon)!

Kinito and co still resided in their disk/cartridge until The User picked it up from a local store out of curiosity from hearing about KinitoPET and its popularity at the time. At the time, when they first booted up the game, they got off to a rocky start but eventually they got along and after a few years they’ve become BFFS! Kinito absolutely adores The User and would do anything to keep them together forever.

Anything.

(Heya, I’ve edited this part in here: Kinito is also The User’s “savior/guardian angel/etc”(whatever you want to call him!) in this AU! Something…bad..happened to The User…but that wouldn’t deter Kinito from trying to save them! Besides, I did say he’d do anything to keep them together forever!)

(But more on that later! I’m getting a bit ahead of myself!)

—————————————

(extras)

Here’s some info about Kinito!

Kinito uses He/Him! (could become fluid tho!)

He is 20’ tall! (Jade is 17’, Sam is 15’, The User is 5’2)

Can shift between the digital world and the real world and is able to stay in the real world for hours on end!

Has a faker form for when he wants/needs to hide his real form! (not shown)

Likes to play the flute, bake and draw in his free time!

(down below is a ref of his wings and back rune!)

—————

(Click for better quality!)

Reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated!!!

(Buuuuuuut,more on that later!)

#kinito au #kinito fanart #digital art #kinito my beloved #kinitopet #artist #ref sheet #💾kinitopet💾

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dokidokitsuna · 5 months

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Our Hero

Looks like Dream Alliance is gonna win the poll-- in any case, even if it slips into 2nd place by the end, it’s the oldest AU on the list so it takes priority. ^^ The art train has already left the station~

I thought it’d be nice to start off with a picture of good old Mad Scientist Magolor. I’ve never actually drawn what he would look like after his big adventure is over, during the brief year or two when he’s considered the universally-beloved savior of the world…y’know, before Consequences™ start to muddy the waters. ^^; He’s basically the same; the only changes are his scar and Nova-freckles, updated vambraces, and of course, the wheelchair. I originally intended for his dimensional overcoat to carry his weakened body around, and I guess it could, but visually I like the actual chair better. :] It makes him feel more down-to-earth.

So, if you remember, a while back I wrote out a “bad ending” epilogue for Dream Alliance, which I admitted I didn’t actually consider “canon” to the AU. "So then," you may be wondering, "what IS the canon ending? What actually happens to Mags and Division Six after they save the world…?"

Well, I gave it some thought, and as painful as it is…I think the true ending would be very similar to the “bad” one. Hyness is the problem-- after all’s said and done, the various leaders of the world would probably want him dead for inciting a global genocide. And it would be hard to blame them…but at the same time, I simply cannot imagine a Magolor who would sit quietly and let his father be executed. Even if it meant having the whole world turn on him, even if he truly felt the punishment fit the crime, he would still have to try to save him. He just loves him too much.

There would only be two major differences, and the first would be the position of the Dream Alliance: one of the conditions of the “good ending” is that Susie discovers the truth about Magolor, but understands where he’s coming from, due to her relationship with her own morally-bankrupt-yet-loving father. She does have a talk with him, but keeps it under wraps, and generally ignores the issue until the public finds out that Hyness exists. And even then, although she’s duty-bound to respect the wishes of the rest of the world (and kinda does want to avenge President Haltmann Sr., who died during the Void fiasco) she feels bad about having to oppose Magolor on this, and holds back a bit during the final fight.

The second (even more painful) major difference would be…I think Magolor would decide to sacrifice himself to end the conflict. 🥺If the world wants a life to take, let it be his-- after all, that would be the harshest possible punishment for his father, and he knows it. Nothing would hurt Hyness more than to live out the rest of his days knowing his beloved son died for his crimes.

And it would also quell any concerns regarding all the power Magolor amassed during the story: if he dies, the Void Destroyer System dies with him. No one has to worry about the god-killing mecha or alien auxiliaries falling into the wrong hands; it will all be gone. That extra detail, I think, would be enough to convince other world leaders to accept the deal.

His angels would agree unanimously to die with their creator, because that’s how they are (Morpho might even pull a “see you on the other side”, being part death-god, after all…he knows they’ll meet again in some form~); Gryll and Adeleine would be inconsolable, the other generals would be low-key devastated too (I think MK would be hit the hardest); and Hyness would probably still be alone in his cell, able to ‘sense’ the loss of his child even without anyone telling him…and wishing for nothing more than to join him from that moment on.

#kirby #gijinka #au #dream alliance #magolor #god damn ;_;#there’s something about this AU that always brings on the freaking tears #you’ll see when I start going through the rest of the extra content

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gloriousburden · 21 days

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A few types of MCU Loki fans I’ve encountered/noticed being in the fandom for over three years now:

DISCLAIMER: DON’T TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY PLEASEEEE IT’S LIGHTHEARTED!! Some of these things apply to me as well, and some don’t lol. Doesn’t necessarily apply to everyone it’s all just for giggles.

The Lokius shipper Series Fan:

- Usually younger Gen Z. Can be anywhere from 14 to 23 years old. They’re younger teenagers most of the time.

- Heavily on TikTok but also on Pinterest/Twitter.

- Got into the MCU/Loki more recently. Either from the Series, or from Ragnarok.

- For some reason, wholeheartedly believes that one Tumblr post from like ten years ago that states Loki is 16/17 in human years. Even though that’s not canon at all and it does not work like that.

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be the Variant/Ragnarok. Sometimes Avengers.

- Almost ALWAYS a fan of Good Omens or OFMD.

- Obviously… Ships Lokius.

- Very anti Sylvie/Sylki, but LOVES Mobius.

- EXTREMELY anti Thorki, even though not a lot of people ship them anymore.

- Spreads a lot of misinformation. Such as taking the fact that Marvel confirmed that the Scepter influenced Loki, and mistaking that with them 100% confirming the theory of Loki being brainwashed by Thanos.

- Thinks Loki’s eyes are green???

- Newer to fandom in general.

- Doesn’t talk a whole lot about the series outside of the ships/fanon discourse.

- Making Loki tree/Yggdrasil jokes CONSTANTLY.

- Either thinks that Loki before the series was completely evil, or an angel. No in between.

- “For you, for all of us 🥺” / “Your savior is here!”

- Often forgets/doesn’t remember the fact that Loki/OG Loki are two different characters, and groups them together.

- Either a Swiftie who likes to constantly joke about when Taylor and Tom dated for 3 months like 8 years ago and also associates a lot of her Songs/Lyrics with Loki, or is someone who has a bit more of an Alternative taste in Music/Fashion.

- Doesn’t really talk about Thor that much, or really wants him and Loki to reunite.

- They’ve probably seen other movies including Tom like Crimson Peak, Skull Island, and High Rise. The more popular ones.

- Owns a lot of TVA related merch.

- “He’s not Odin’s son, or Laufey’s son… He’s Frigga’s son 🥺” or insists on calling Loki by “Laufeyson.”

- In Fanon, sort of treats Loki as a very normal, modern human, and not a god from an entirely different realm.

- Has either dropped the Series/their love of Loki a few months after the Series ended for the “next best thing”, or is currently still raving about all of it.

- Quite immature about other’s opinions/perspectives on Loki/or even people who ship the opposite ship from their own. This is mainly because they’re younger or because they really like their Fanon idea of Loki/Which ship should be Canon.

- Has some questionable headcanons/opinions of their own on Loki.

- Loves Frigga.

- Hates Odin.

The OG Loki fan who’s been a fan of him since 2011/2012, but is a bit more casual about his characterization:

- Usually a Millennial/in their late twenties or mid thirties. May even be in their fourties.

- Has been here for a good while, and saw just about every movie featuring him as well as other MCU movies in the theater when they first came out. Was probably a younger adult/older teenager when Avengers came out.

- Fanfic writer!!

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be Ragnarok, TDW, or Avengers.

- Mainly reside on Tumblr/AO3 but also on Twitter from time to time.

- “The Sun will shine on us again.” / “Love is a Dagger.”

- Some depict Loki in their Fanfics in a Smutty/BookTok YA Fantasy Novel style. Some in other ways. They also have a lot of fun with their Fics! So many AUs.

- They are carrying the Loki x Reader tag, I won’t lie. 🫡

- Doesn’t necessarily love the Series, but also doesn’t necessarily hate it. Does prefer the OG Loki they know and love over the Series and had a few disappointments with the Series, though.

- MAJOR Hiddlestoner. Some may like Tom more than they like Loki. Have watched his entire filmography and then some.

- A lot of them have really cool Loki related tattoos.

- Collects a lot of merch. Both from the Series, as well as more OG Loki merch. Also owns about fourty Tom magazines.

- Probably has met Tom/owns an autograph or something signed by him.

- Usually ships Loki with Sigyn, Jane, Tony, or an OC they’ve had since 2013. Honestly, I don’t personally see them that often anymore, but may ship Thorki. Does not really ship Lokius/Sylki whatsoever, or uses Sylvie as a bit of a self insert in Fics.

- Sometimes also a huge fan of Bucky/The Winter Soldier or Sebastian Stan. Associates Bucky and Loki a lot especially in Fics.

- Some are also fans of Star Wars who love Kylo Ren.

- Actually they like a lot of other morally grey characters.

- Probably has a pet named after Loki.

- Feels deeply for Loki, and relates to him in certain ways. Really likes humanizing him in their fics. Loves the more vulnerable side of him.

- Loves Frigga.

- Hates Odin.

The Loki purist/“He’s literally me” Fan:

- Anywhere from 16 - 28 years old. May be a bit older than that. Usually Mid/Older Gen Z, or younger Millennial.

- Has either grown up loving Loki, or became a fan a bit more recently.

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be TDW, but obviously can be any of the three OG depictions of him.

- LIVES on Tumblr. A bit of an extinct species elsewhere, but some may also be on Twitter.

- #1 Loki defenders. Very protective of/sensitive about how he is depicted not only in Canon, but also in Fanon. Usually deemed as harsh by series fans/non series haters whenever they criticize the Series or Ragnarok, but in reality, deeply relates to Loki and takes it very personally when he is depicted inaccurately. They see themselves in him, and are so, so, SO tired of seeing him mischaracterized. But also can be genuinely harsh at times. I’ve been guilty of that.

- Either heavily believes the “Thanos Brainwashed Loki” theory, or completely rejects it.

- “I never wanted the Throne. I only ever wanted to be your Equal.” / “Trust my Rage.”

- Very creative. Creates Art of Loki, Fanfics, Edits, Cosplays him, etc…

- Sometimes weirdly resembles him in ways??? LOL. Taking “He’s literally me” literally

- Has a more Alternative taste in Music, Fashion, Aesthetics, etc..

- They either see Loki as their bff, their life partner, or as an enigma to observe. Or all of the above.

- Pretty into Norse Myth, and likes incorporating aspects of it creatively, or when talking about Loki.

- Has a good amount of Fandom experience, and does not tend to argue with other Loki purists/OG Loki fans over petty things. Because at the end of the day… it’s just Tumblr. And we usually all have a common middle ground. Or, is constantly arguing with others.

- They don’t really ship Loki with anyone, but if they do… it’s usually Sigyn or Thor. Or someone really random.

- Either really enjoys depicting Loki in a more Feminine/Neutral form, and wishes his fluidity was depicted in the MCU, or doesn’t talk about it all that much.

- Single handedly keeping the memory of Loki (prior to Ragnarok) alive. 🫡

- Loves the comics, or hasn’t touched a single one.

- Disliked Taika Waititi before it was cool.

- Lost complete trust in the MCU after the handling of Loki’s characterization in Ragnarok, and had no hope in the Series when it was first announced. Or… really hoped it would be our last hope.

- Either deems Thor as the origin of all evil, or actually likes him.

- Wishes it was still 2013 everyday of their lives.

- Either respects/likes Tom to a certain extent, or really does not like him.

- Has a few really cool merch items, or has a lot of everything and anything they can find that doesn’t include Ragnarok/The series. Usually, they DIY their merch.

- Needs to emulate him at any given moment and in any way possible.

- Likes Frigga, but acknowledges that she has messed up in ways. Or really does not like her, period.

- Hates Odin.

The… Male MCU casual/dudebro who strictly lives on TikTok/Instagram/Twitter and did not really like Loki that much until the Series finale came out and thinks Loki is a Sigma Male who dropped everything in order for his friends and his… “Girl” to live:

- ????? Wtf

- Okay I added this one more as a joke because obviously they’re not Loki fans, but…

- Anywhere from ages 15, to 24. No older than that.

- Definitely disregarded Loki’s character before the Series. Also due to him having a fanbase where Women/Girls are the majority. Now Loki is the best MCU character and has the best arc out of everyone else. 🤦🏻‍♀️

- Wholeheartedly believes that Loki was a narcissist/was overreacting about everything he’s been through, or believes that Loki is an angel now because he had a “Redemption Arc”.

- Has never picked up a single Loki comic.

- Jokes a lot about Loki “loving” himself (Sylki kiss).

- Calls the Series “Peak Fiction” just because the rest of the bullshit the MCU has been putting out was absolute garbage, and also because they haven’t really watched anything else.

- If you as an actual Loki fan correct them on any of their bullshit, they act like they know more than you because they loved the series. How could anyone hate it?

- Makes self insert memes/tries to project onto Loki in the absolute worst ways possible.

- Worships the ground that Michael Waldron walks on. Though, they all hated Multiverse of Magic..

- “Let time pass…” / “I know what kind of god I have to be. For you, for all of us.” (Once again.)

- Similarly to our Lokius shipper Series Fans… they do not realize that Loki/the Variant are literally two different people.

- Loves Mobius JUST because he is portrayed by Owen Wilson.

- Also very annoying about Loki being confirmed bisexual in the Series.

- Really wants not only Thor and Loki to reunite, but also Hela.

- Hated the earlier Thor movies, loved Ragnarok, hated Love and Thunder.

- Probably thinks the treatment of Thor in Infinity War was funny af.

- Who’s Frigga?

- Loves Odin probably. (Hehe)

#all jokes #loki #mcu #loki mcu #loki fandom #mcu fandom #fandom #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

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lavendersartistry · 6 months

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Official Info Card on Eve and her Relationship Card!

#queen card | tis the chess #savior | angels and gods au #<- official name for new au #smiling critters #smiling critters oc #eve ewe #poppy playtime #YES PEOPLE EVE HAS WINGS #send in a ask about them #or if you're interested to know about her demon part #it's pretty long explanations for the au #reminder: i see the ships as qprs #reminder: all other aus except matron in the playhouse allow qprs with catnap #the relationship chart is more focused for the cartoon version

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jessamine-rose · 4 months

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⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and black markings. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your suffering…but it’s beyond my capability.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

“And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayans, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking, checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

#pierro #pierro x reader #yandere pierro x reader #yandere pierro #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: sui ideation #mdni #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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