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joelsgreys · 10 months

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fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. ��Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 3 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 13

Glorious Magnificent Goddess | Loki x Reader

You and Loki retreat to his hideaway to recouperate after your run in with Lugh. Loki helps you practice your magic again as well as rewarding you for your bravery. But how far can you really escape a God?

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, lots of praise, possessive Loki, making out, teasing, oral ( f receiving), p in v, cockwarming (if you squint), dirty talk but also…angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is mostly smut but there's definitely some plot there too. Please don't judge me for my terrible prophecy writing.

Also this chapter wouldn't have been written with nearly so much smut in it if I hadn't been so sexually frustrated reading @lokisgoodgirl 's The Lakes series. There's no little Tesco here and we're far from The Lakes but this chapter is dedicated to you :)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

—

Somewhere between your sheer terror of being kidnapped and Loki’s sweeping rescue of you from the floor, you’d passed out. When you woke you were lying on a sofa in front of a roaring fire, the logs crackling merrily in time with the soft low hum of Loki’s voice.

You turned your head to see him moving deftly around a small kitchen, pouring steaming soup into a bowl while he sang quietly. At first you didn’t recognise the words, but the more you listened and allowed the song to wash over you, the more you understood. He sang of home, of love and comfort, songs that spoke to the very bones of you until you melted into the cushions and blankets, at peace. Somewhere deep down your memories hummed back, even if you couldn’t remember the words yet.

He turned, still singing the last of the tune, and smiled gently. In the firelight he looked shockingly ethereal compared to his domestic surroundings, his hair glossy and dark, tumbling about his shoulders in almost cherubic curls. The shirt he’d worn under his suit was now only loosely tucked into his trousers, the collar undone and his sleeves rolled up just past his elbows.

“You’re awake,” he knelt next to you, cupping your face in his hands and drawing you close, kissing you so tenderly you thought you might still be asleep, dreaming of being awoken by Prince Charming.

“Was I dreaming? We went on that stupid mission and it was awful -” you scrunched your face the memory. “Do you think it’s always that chaotic?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Darling, unfortunately. We were intercepted by someone.”

It came rushing back, the man’s hands grabbing at you, the blinding light he seemed to be able to control and the spear he wielded. But then, you’d had a spear too, and armour, silver and velvet and flame. You looked down at your clothes, the armour was gone and in its place was one of Loki’s soft cotton shirts.

“I knew him, I think. I saw a memory with him in, and my mother, they were friends. He said his name was Lugh and we were in his home, it was snowing - But I was younger then. And I saw one of the men who - who -”

Loki placed a steadying hand on your arm, remaining by your side, his eyes darting over your face and searching for any trace of pain or suffering. “Hush, darling, let’s not talk of it now. You’ve had a trying time, rest and we can talk of it in the morning.

“But I’ve seen him before, Loki, I have and-” You sighed, falling back on the sofa. “I wish I could just remember.”

Loki kissed your cheek and moved back to the kitchen, “well, this Lugh, he frightened you and I will not tolerate that. Here, I made you soup, you should eat and get some strength back.” He placed the tray on an oak coffee table and piled cushions onto the floor for you to sit on.

Sliding down onto the nest of pillows, you allowed yourself to look around the room, it was small but cosy, furnished with solid oak and thick, luxurious fabrics in velvet, knits and heavy wool plaid. Large cushions backed the sofa and chairs while the walls were lined with books old and new.

“Where are we?” You asked, blowing on the warm soup before taking a small sip from your spoon.

“A secret place, a cabin. We’re still in America, if that’s what you were wondering. Those ridiculous spangled idiots showed up and blew our cover so I needed to retreat quickly. I can teleport, but not very far, and this was the nearest place I could drive to after we were far enough away.” Loki said, matter of factly, before joining you on the floor and dunking a thick crust of bread into your soup.

“Hey, that’s mine,” you reached a foot out to kick him gently and he laughed, pulling it into his lap.

“Share, Ásynja , don’t be selfish,” he smiled, dipping again but offering you the bread between his fingers.

“I didn’t know you lived anywhere else.” You’d always imagined that when he wasn’t at the compound Loki retreated to some icy fortress covered in black and green furnishings. Something dramatic and luxurious, you certainly hadn’t imagined a cosy log cabin.

“I like to have a few retreats, a few bolt holes here and there. Plus Brunnhilde uses them from time to time when she’s on official business, hotels aren’t really her style, she prefers to deplete my stores of whisky and mead.” Loki didn’t look upset though, he seemed pleased to be able to offer somewhere comfortable and inviting.

“I would’ve thought showing off in the lap of luxury would be right up your street.” You teased, Loki liked the finer things in life and there was no way you were complaining when he extended such luxuries to you too. But there was something so satisfying about teasing the god of Mischief.

“Oh, yes, it is,” his smile morphed from playful into predatory, his voice dropping an octave into that rough rumble that made you melt, “but it’s the privacy we enjoy. We’re in the middle of nowhere, my Darling-”

“And no one can hear me scream?” You joked, raising your eyebrows.

“Exactly.” He tugged on your leg again, before reaching forwards and pulling you into his lap. Beneath the wool slacks he was already hard, the firm length of him straining against the zip. His shirt was loose on you, rucked up around your waist to accommodate your spread legs and you were mercifully bare beneath.

“Loki,” you breathed, pressing yourself down into his embrace, moulding your bodies together. Between your thighs he throbbed, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, reigniting your adrenaline.

Loki’s large hands slid up your back, one splayed wide cupping your waist, the other on the back of your neck, tipping your head down so he could growl against your lips, “I love when you say my name,” he nipped at your bottom lip and you kissed back, sucking his tongue into your mouth like you were ravenous. “My Ásynja , take what you need my darling, I am yours, at your mercy, my breathtaking Goddess.”

Together you fell backwards onto the rug, Loki breaking your fall and gently laying you down beside him. His hands ghosted down your side, barely touching you while his magic melted your clothes away leaving you both glowing in the firelight.

“You were magnificent tonight, a true goddess of the Aesir, I -” His hands fluttered over you, his eyes trying to take you all in at once.

You had never seen Loki lost for words before and it was a glorious feeling, knowing that you had reduced him to this.

“I have to have you, darling, can’t keep my hands from you.” He growled, touching every inch of your bared skin.

“I couldn’t have done it without you though, Loki.” You assured him, kissing along his broad shoulders, inhaling the rich scent of him, so close.

“Ah, my darling one, I did nothing.” He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of you, each kiss like a butterfly's wings brushing against his skin.

“Wait-” You sat up, “you didn’t do anything?”

“No, did you think I had some part to play?” He looked at you quizzically, “you think I conjured a burning spear? Silver armour?”

“Well - I -” He curled an eyebrow at you, encouraging you to complete your thought. “I did that? That was me?”

“Of course” he laughed out the words, surprised that you weren’t already aware.

“Well. Okay.” You lay back on the rug and stared at the ceiling, unabashed in your nakedness, and Loki fought the urge to simply climb on top of you.

“Hmmm, indeed.” Instead he traced his finger over your sternum and between your breasts, down to your belly button and then over your hip. Tingling goosebumps erupted in his wake and you watched as he skipped from your hip to where the bracelet he gave you still circled your wrist. “Besides, if I had created armour for you, it would be in green and gold.” He murmured, bending to place a kiss on the delicate skin below the bracelet.

“Would it now, have you thought of how you’d dress me for battle?” Now it was your turn to lift an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you show me how you’d prepare me for battle.”

Loki gave you a predator’s smile before pulling you closer. “Too many clothes required for battle, darling, how about we practise the celebration instead?”

As you drifted in and out of sleep the memory of Loki’s hands on you followed your sleeping thoughts, his hands spread wide on your thighs, squeezing and kneading while he feasted on you, his body supplicant before you, worshipping as he’d promised. You writhed, rolling closer to him and hooking your leg over his. There was still a deep ache within you, a roiling of your magic needing release and bubbling to the surface in your whimpers and bucking hips.

Loki stirred beside you and pulled you closer, your naked body was bed warm and soft compared to his perpetually cooler constitution and it felt good to be thawed by your presence. He cupped your cheek, turning your sleeping face so he could look over your features. There was still a tendency for your eye colour to shift without you realising, but everything else had settled and now every time he looked at you the same beautiful face shone back.

He kissed you on your forehead, revelling in the gentle smile that spread across your lips, he kissed your cheek and nose, moving across your face until your eyelashes fluttered and you snuggled closer, fingers digging into his sides. Slowly, so slowly, he moved down your neck, pressing kisses onto your collarbone and nuzzling into the swell of your breast, he laved wet kisses onto your nipples, blowing cold air over the sensitive flesh just to watch them pebble and tighten before him.

Loki’s kisses were featherlight, meltingly soft but you needed more, craved more. Light flared within you and, behind the grate, the fire crackled in response, burning blue and filling the room with light.

He lifted his head watching you with lust blown eyes.

“Incredible, my darling goddess, do it again,” he encouraged, kissing lower until he could nip at your soft belly, his thumbs pressing into your hips to stop you from lifting upwards. “Do it again and I’ll give you anything you want, name your price.”

“I can’t,” you whined, giving up on struggling in favour of looping your leg over his muscular shoulder.

“You can,” he traced his nose lower, lower, the point of his tongue guiding him until he hovered over your aching core. “You can do it, Ásynja , you are powerful and strong, you control the fire, you control the light, show me, make me tremble before you.” His words were a whisper, a prayer, his eyes locked with yours despite the lewd poke of his tongue from between his pink lips.

Frustrated you dropped your head back onto the rug and the fire roared again, the candles dotted around the room flickered. Between your legs Loki smiled again, murmuring something in the same old norse language that you were still trying to remember. But it was hard to care what he was saying when he was teasing you so deliciously, his tongue writing every sinful thing he wanted to do.

“Please, Loki.” You hummed, tugging on the long strands of his silky hair in an effort to move him.

“A moment more, my darling one.” He cooed, sucking on the inside of your thigh while his fingers entered you slowly, curling into your fluttering walls.

“You promised me anything,” you gasped, heat pooling between your legs, Loki marvelled as your arousal slicked down his fingers.

“I did, and what does my most wonderful Goddess require of me?” He asked, his voice hoarse with lust.

“Fuck me, Loki- ugh,” he felt you clench around him, so soft yet so strong, and he knew he needed to have you just as much. “Fuck me like you mean it, I’m your Goddess, yours, take me, worship me, and make me yours.” You reached down and squeezed his hard cock as you spoke, watching his mouth fall open at the pressure.

With a growl, Loki prowled up your prone body, hooking your leg around his waist as he settled over you. All you could see was the curtain of his hair, the sharp lines of his face and his glittering eyes. The swell of his cock between your legs was hot and heavy, a tease of what was to come. It felt like it had been so long since you were alone together that you were desperate, clawing, inching your hips up until he was notched at your entrance, waiting.

“Please,” you begged, breathlessly and he slid home in a single thrust, filling you to the brim and binding you together. “Oh! Loki!”

“Yes, that’s it my darling,” he began to thrust, rolling his hips to rub against your clit with every movement. “Say my name.”

“Loki, Loki, Loki.” His name became a chant in time with each thrust. “I’m yours, oh my god, never let me go.” You buried your face in his neck, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin as he ground against you, locked together so tightly he could barely pull back before you were bringing him closer again.

“Never, I’ll never let you go, you’re mine now. All mine,” he panted, the feel of your lips and teeth a blissful pain, “and I’m yours, all yours.” The flames roared, their reflection catching in the glass of the lamps artfully dotted around the room, painting the walls in jewelled colours, emerald, sapphire and ruby red.

He sat back, pulling you into his lap so he could kiss your chest and hold you closer. You moved together, riding towards your release as if you were charging into battle, never close enough, never fast enough, chasing your pleasure while Loki looked at you in awe.

With a final roar he buried himself inside of you and the banked fire of your desire burst forth consuming you both. In the fireplace the flames licked out onto the hearth, the candles flared and blue flames encircled you both.

Loki pulled away, his eyes tracing over your face as he always did, checking that you were happy and safe and smiling giddily as he was. And then he saw the flames, swirling like ribbons in the wind.

Guiltily you tried to pull away, but he held you firm, still deep inside of you and as he caught your gaze again you felt him throb against your sensitive walls, “magnificent,” he murmured, before tipping you back against the carpet and continuing his worship.

The morning came too soon, the mist that danced between the trees faded as it got closer to the cabin windows and you let out a puff of hot air against the pane. You set your cup of coffee on the side and drew a heart in the condensation, smiling as it turned green and gold as the rising sun beyond touched the tops of the pine trees in the valley.

On silent feet, Loki crept up on you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder where your shirt slipped away from your collar. Here he planted a wet kiss, squeezing you tighter when you giggled from the sensation. Between you both, you wondered if you’d ever have need to go clothes shopping again. With a flick of his wrist Loki had sent his suit into oblivion and had manifested a surprisingly sensible pair of dark jeans and a sweater. To his own surprise, try as he might, he couldn’t make it green and instead the fibres continued to insist on a rich, dark blue colour instead.

“Loki,” you chided, but you didn’t push him away, your body sought him at all times, reaching for his touch, so you allowed him to set his feet between yours and settled his hands on your hips.

“Darling, we should talk about what happened, now that we’ve had time to rest.”

Loki led you both out to a small covered porch at the back of the cabin, it’d been too dark to see your surroundings when you arrived but now you could see over through the trees to an open vista. A lake took up the majority of the valley, tailing away into a rushing river at its furthest point. Both sides of the valley were covered in dense trees, golden brown patches in the late autumn and dark green pines knitting together the amber canopy, the mist still rose from them while you settled into an old swing chair. The view was incredible, stealing your breath and your words as Loki settled beside you.

“It reminded me of Norway,” he said, casually, “and so I had to have it. Especially as things became so -” he waves his hand, “messy, in Asgard.”

“It’s beautiful, I could stay here forever.”

“As could I, darling, but we must address what happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked and I grow concerned it could happen again.” Loki was rarely so serious, even in the early days of your training he had been playful and coy, teasing your abilities from you.

You sat in silence, sipping your coffees while you thought of how to proceed.

“So, I suppose we start with the obvious, we know one of the players in this game now,” Loki said, decisively. “Lugh, it is not a pantheon I know well, though my father was always respectful and my mother knew various members. Though it is possible when my memories were taken, I forgot about other gods as well.”

“I suppose... I don’t know why he’d pretend to care now when he had me happily locked away like some fairytale princess.” You huffed.

“He mentioned your mother? That they were friends? With your mother gone, we could assume he is trying to act on her behalf, protect you as she would.I know my father often behaved in such a manner, keeping secrets when he ought to have told the truth, and then calling it protection, kindness.”

“Do you think - do you think he was the one who kept me locked up as well? Despite it all he didn’t seem like he wanted to be violent, I can’t understand how anyone working for him would be violent when he could have killed us both there and then. And then there’s the boy.”

Loki looked at you, his head tipped to the side. “The boy?” You had mentioned the boy earlier as well, but he had thought you were simply delirious.

“When he touched me, Lugh, I saw a memory of us together. My mother and I were at his house, he was kind and gentle. He encouraged me to go outside and play with a boy, it seemed like I was - happy?” You stared into the trees, hoping some clarity would emerge inside you to stop the churning feeling in your stomach.

“I learnt a lot from my father and one of the most important lessons he ever gave me, well, I don’t believe he intended to teach this as a lesson. But I learnt to never trust his mood. One minute he would love me and call me son, the next he would send me away for decades at a time. I would counsel against trusting Lugh, if he’s lived as long as Odin, the time has eaten away at what’s left of his sanity and I don’t doubt he would be kind to you in one moment and lock you up in the next.” Loki shrugged, melancholy at the memory of Odin, and then took a long drink from his mug.

You looked over to see a sad smile tugging at his lips, as if making fun of Odin was easier than the honesty of his statement.

“Perhaps - but, I recognised his eyes, the boy. I saw him again, he came for me. After I got away from those Asgardian’s, he tried to get me to go with him and I refused. He told me to stop using my magic, just as Lugh did, and then I was taken again by - hmmm.”

“If he warned you against the magic and then you were taken again, perhaps it was not Lugh who kidnapped you.” Loki raised his eyebrows and you nodded, silent and contemplative, already wondering the same. “Perhaps he really was trying to protect you?” Loki still hadn’t told you about the sigil he’d seen, about how he knew who your last captors were. How would he explain to you that your betrothed was out to find you? He had no memory of that war between the Aesir and the Vanir, how could he spoil what was growing between you with a fear like that.

“Perhaps. I just wish there was something in my past I could trust and believe in.”

He felt sick lying to you, even if it was by omission.. Loki had promised himself that he would protect you and he would, for now you needed comfort and peace more than you needed the truth.

You lapsed into silence, finishing your coffee and setting it onto the wooden porch floor. The quiet washed over you, the sound of the water and the rustling trees, even the calls of the birds felt perfectly placed to put you at ease.

After a while, Loki spoke again, quiet and low with that same serious voice that was so unfamiliar. “I still loved him, Odin, though he kept many things from me. Just because things are confusing now, doesn’t mean your happier times are forgotten. You used to speak of your Grandfather and now - well - there has been no mention of him for some time. You are allowed to miss him, and your life before this. It is no slight against me for you to have enjoyed happier times with others. I only wish for you to be happy again now.”

Emotion welled within you, “I do still think of him. I miss him so much, even if - I know, I know he wasn’t real. But he was real for me. He was kind.” You stuttered, reaching out for Loki’s hand to ground you.

“I’m glad.” Loki squeezed back, tangling your fingers together and he held you as you cried “ I think we should consider going back to Tønsberg , to show Brunnhilde what you saw. Perhaps she has some more answers, now that there has been time to think.”

“I thought we were supposed to rendevouz with the team again?” You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “won’t they be looking for us when we didn’t meet to swap cars?”

“Well that’s what we were supposed to do, but they’ve got their item now, I thought we could enjoy some time together here and then, when you’re ready, I shall take you home.” Loki put his arm over your shoulders and held you against his side, the deep scent of amber still lingered on him, mixed with the crisp, clean, scent of pine. You tucked your feet up onto the seat, leaning your weight into his warm, strong body and allowed yourself a moment of peace to think of it, a home for you and Loki.

You hadn’t felt as safe and secure since you first left your flat, any time the God was in your presence you felt at peace, content with the world and your place in it. Loki was right, you needed some time together, and practising your fire skills was exactly the kind of cosy activity the glowing hillside and crisp air required.

You whiled away a few more hours, snuggled together in the early winter air, Loki created a small green fire that glowed in front of you while you practised sending blue sparks dancing around the edge.

Inside the cabin the fire smouldered, warm and inviting. Wood stacked by the fireplace shuddered and a single log rolled off onto the floor surrounded in white light.

Distracted outside neither you nor Loki watched the divine woodwork taking place inside as the log slowly became smaller and smaller, leaving chips of wood in it’s wake. Finally, after an hour of craftsmanship, the light faded and left behind a small wooden box. It grew hot, as it sat before the fire and opened, revealing a misty mirror inside, and a swatch of delicate lace wrapped around a glass sphere.

The lace unravelled, allowing the marble to roll away from its container, bumping against the back of the sofa and coming to a stop before the fire, heating up and then cracking, releasing the secret inside.

A soft voice escaped, “I saw a vision of a flock divided, a tup of pure chaos and a ewe of love, a ram standing watch, a singular lamb frolicking, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.”

Frigga’s voice, lost to the mortality that even the seemingly infinite possess, faded into the quiet of the cabin.

And outside your chatter continued obliviously, happy and full of love.

<< Part 12

Part 14>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New

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enam3l · 1 year

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not.

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal.

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable.

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie.

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him.

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages.

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed.

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon.

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped.

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest.

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson.

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye.

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn.

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.'

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all.

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay.

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie.

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself.

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning.

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived.

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies.

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

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rhan-hastur · 1 year

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Sketch prompt: canon Armand from the vampire chronicles, so not the one of the tv series but from the books please 😭 🦇🦇🦇

Ethereal murder cherub . ᵥᵥ .

Prints: [X]

#asks #the vampire chronicles #the vampire armand #interview with the vampire #it's been a decade since I read the books and I have yet to see the show #but that's pretty much how I pictured him? a kid with auburn hair and an angelic face #can't judge the new cast yet but movie armand was... a choice

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mikodrawnnarratives · 5 months

Text

Writing this down cause if I don't I might explode

Paying attention? Doesn't matter

Dcamv let's go

Solar Lunacy -> ANIME that originated from manga books and stretched across 4 seasons, only first has aired though manga is complete, but I want you to focus on the anime part and what the intro would look like-

Copper Cogs Rusted Through -> Disney/Ghibli style series that functions similarly to a sitcom but with P L O T

That or anime again.

Sleuth Jesters -> oldest out of all of these but wasn't animated, possibility of musical adaption IN UNIVERSE potential later on

Cryptid Sightings -> Scary movie got popular and got season or two addition, everyone loves good Thriller + romance nearing it's finale (wrote this in April)

Cherub au -> GHIBLI 👏 GHIBLI 👏 GHIBLI 👏 STYLED MOVIE YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND

#in drafts since april #may as well post now #solar lunacy #ccrt #copper cogs rusted through #sleuth jesters #cryptid sightins #fnaf cherub au #cherub au #if u guys want to tag the creators go ahead but im not gonna rn #dcamv #daycare attendant multiverse

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desertdollranch · 1 year

Photo

When the end finally comes for the terrible yellow fever epidemic that swept through New Orleans in 1853, Cécile and Marie-Grace help put together la célébration of the end of the sad times and the return of normal life. The two girls get to work making paper flowers to decorate the theater and give to the audience!

For the happy occasion, I made this dress for ma fille précieuse Cécile, based on the book illustration! I spent a long time looking for the right fabric, until I finally found this green floral print at JoAnn Fabrics. For the smaller details (since I’m overflowing on fabric and notions), I tried to stick to using stuff that I already had in my sewing stash, including this green silk ribbon, lace trim, tiny buttons, and antique cherub charm that I used instead of what looks like a cameo brooch.

Cécile’s green dress actually makes only one appearance in her series, but it also shows up in some promo images. For the first illustration, the one that shows the majority of her dress, I think it was meant to be a half-page book illustration, but at some point the decision was made for the books to have only a few full-page illustrations instead.

This is one of my favorite of Cecile’s dresses, even with just a small glimpse of it. Unfortunately, like most of the clothes seen in her series, very few of them were actually produced by American Girl.

#cecile rey #cecile's gift #handmade doll clothes

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don-dake · 28 days

Text

R I P L E Y (2024)

***Contains SPOILERS***

A review (of sorts, but more a rambling opinion piece that veers off the main subject occasionally).

So I've watched R I P L E Y (2024), all eight episodes of it. One word: Bravissimo!

As someone who loves the Ripliad series of novels by Patricia Highsmith immensely, and having watched all the Ripley film adaptations there are thus far — Plein Soleil aka Purple Noon (1960), The American Friend aka Der Amerikanische Freund (1977), The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999), Ripley's Game (2002), and Ripley Under Ground (2005) — I went into this new series (released on Netflix on April 4th) with expectations…

Not high, for I've learned it's never good to have high expectations or you'll more than likely just be setting yourself up for disappointment…but with expectations all the same!

Thus far, my favourite Ripley film adaptation had been 2002's Ripley's Game starring John Malkovich as an older Ripley. Had been. Until this series that is! I still love Ripley's Game a lot of course! (heh!) And there really should be no comparison given it's two different mediums and the two Ripleys are portrayed from different times of the character's life.

So saying, this new series definitely sets a new standard for a Ripley adaptation! And as someone who love the books a lot, I'm glad this series is very closely adapted from the first book!

The decision to go for a black and white cinematography, I was skeptical about that at first but after looking at the trailers and reading on the director's reasoning for going B & W with this, I can understand why, and generally agree with his decision.

Though at times, especially when looking at the wonderful interior sets, I'll be wishing I could see it in all its colour glory and thinking what a waste it was not to have it in colour, but that is but a minor hitch, for the B & W cinematography is done with superb mastery and skill, and it's hard to find fault with going this route. And it does contribute to getting into the film noir feel from films of yesteryear.

On the actors, I was skeptical on Andrew Scott as Ripley at first, but I'm happy to say he has proven me wrong and his Ripley, while not as young as Ripley should be at the start of the novel series, is one that is characterised the closest, and if Showtime/Netflix has any plans to adapt the rest of the novels, Scott will be perfect as an older Ripley, I think!

Maybe that was/is the plan…that's why Scott was chosen even though age wise, he doesn't quite fit in the beginning…one can hope! (heh!)

Moving on, just a brief rambling on the other main actors/characters because I'm getting tired:

Love Dakota Fanning as Marge Sherwood, she was exactly how I imagined Marge to be as I read the (first) book. A superb performance by Fanning I'd say!

Johnny Flynn as Dickie Greenleaf was underwhelming for me partly because in my eyes, Jude Law was/is the perfect Dickie (even if his — Law's — American accent was/is questionable), but partly also because I find Flynn is lacking charisma (sorry, Flynn fans!), I didn't get the sense of what was so fascinating about this Dickie that Ripley would be so enamoured with him or his lifestyle, enough to kill for it.

Perhaps the fault lies partly with the script too for I felt we the audience didn't get to see more of what drew Ripley to Dickie, besides his obvious wealth and status.

Eliot Sumner as Freddie Miles. Now this was the character that underwent the most drastic change as compared to the book and the 1999 The Talented Mr. Ripley film adaptation. In both the book and the 1999 film, Freddie was described (and portrayed to perfection by Philip Seymour Hoffman in my opinion) as an American with carrot-red hair, stocky, loud and all round obnoxious from miles away sort.

2024 Freddie is slim-built, androgynous looking, with a cherub face and British…he's practically a whole different character except in name.

As such, it's unfair to compare I guess, but having envisioned Freddie as described in the book for so long, helped along by PSH's award-worthy performance, I'll just say this is not the Freddie for me.

But, that doesn't mean Sumner's Freddie was bad. In terms of being almost a foil to Ripley, Sumner's Freddie is still quite effectively annoying.

Special mentions to Maurizio Lombardi and Margherita Buy as Inspector Ravini and Signor(in)a Buffi (Ripley's landlady) respectively! I enjoyed watching these two characters.

Also a special mention to Lucio (Signor(in)a Buffi's cat), who, had it been able to speak, Ripley would certainly have silenced! (heh!)

Last but not least, a special mention to John Malkovich as Reeves Minot.

I was so excited when I first saw Malkovich in the trailer because not only is his casting a nice tribute to his turn as Tom Ripley in Ripley's Game (2002), I thought he would be playing Herbert Greenleaf at first, but he turned out to be playing Reeves Minot! Even better! Gives more hope that new seasons of R I P L E Y (2024) may happen!

Those who have read the books will know that Reeves Minot is a recurring character in the later books — I can't really remember how many exactly, it's been some time since I last read them (and I should again!).

To sum up, I did enjoy this series tremendously and will definitely rewatch many times to come, and I hope we'll get further adaptations of the other books with the same standards as set for this one!

P.S.: I've seen a few people mention “this (R I P L E Y) is like Saltburn!”. I never heard of the film Saltburn before looking at some opinion pieces, but after looking it up, dare I say, Saltburn ripped off the Ripliad stories and its characters (the Ripliad books first came out in the 1950s) and I think it's more appropriate to say “Saltburn is like Ripley”!

#Dake Rambles #Ripley 2024 #Ripley Netflix #Andrew Scott #John Malkovich #Ripley's Game #The Talented Mr Ripley

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

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Hi! By the time this posts, it should be well beyond the debut of the second series, so I hope you all are doing okay! I am ISO crossovers with small or obscure fandoms which might be more difficult to search. I enjoy recs from popular crossovers as well! But sometimes there’s only one fic in a category which can get buried, and I’m specifically looking for that random good omens- tiny-fandom crossover where someone picks up one of their obscure old fav and creates something exciting with their love for good omens. Thank you kindly!

Hello! This was actually a lot of fun to search for! There's no 'easy' way to do it, but if you want to go hunting yourself I recommend using AO3 to filter out the popular crossover fandoms by adding them to the 'tags to exclude' list and just browsing through what's left. These aren't all necessarily small fandoms, but they don't have loads of crossovers with Good Omens. I'm recommending these ones simply because they sound fun and I want to read them myself!...

Perfect Books by risky_writing (G)

When Ted was looking for a book to perfectly communicate what he needed to each of his players, he found himself in the most peculiar bookstore in London. But, it sure is a swell place.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me by hapax (G)

A frog with a dream. An angel with an assignment. A pig with regrets. A demon with a mission. The crossover that nobody asked for, but everybody needs.

Hell and Back by anticyclone (T)

"Perhaps we could assist you with the …subjugation… of this angel," Winifred suggested, which made Crowley groan again and Anathema cringe. Aziraphale just rolled his eyes. "You see, I still have a connection to my Book, and I need to bring it back to Hell with me." "This book? With the eyeball?" Crowley looked at it, and then up at Aziraphale, who smiled at him. The demon turned back to Winifred. "That's not happening." The Sanderson sisters have been in Hell for some three hundred years and have still not had the pleasure of being introduced to Satan. But Winifred thinks she has a way to rectify that, if only she can get her hands on her Book. Luckily, some angel put it on an unprotected shelf, where it's able to find itself a witch.

Ineffable Dogma by ThetaSigma (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley find out there is apparently a massive plot threatening all of creation. With a bit of experience stopping the End of Everything, they set off to make sure nothing goes wrong. Which is a good thing, as no one told Bethany & Co what was really at stake. In the end, it takes all of them -- Bethany & Co and the Ineffable Husbands -- to fix this. *** Bethany has the feeling, on and off, since they left the club with the shit demon, that they’re being watched. Oh, she knows that both Heaven and Hell are watching their actions pretty fucking closely, really, but it doesn’t feel like that. It’s like someone, maybe several someones, are following them, following her. She catches glimpses, sometimes. Of red hair, or a scowl, or white hair, or a cherubic face wreathed in disappointment. But it’s gone as quickly as it came and she’s left doubting if it ever happened.

"So Fetch" Omens by IneffableAlien (T)

After sixteen years of van life with her religious hippie parents, homeschooled Azi is enrolled in public school for the first time.

The Divine at the Warfront by creativeimagination206 (T)

In the throes of the Korean War, Aziraphale is sent to a mobile medical unit near the front to address the sudden influx of prayer from that area. With Crowley by his side, the angel must determine and straighten out the cause of the heaven-sent pleas, all while navigating the unfamiliar territory of the 4077th and the rather eccentric cast of characters that await them.

The Starting Hinge by lucky_spike (T)

When a rare book collector is mysteriously killed, DI Barnaby and DS Winter are on the case. Meanwhile, the question of what will become of the victim's extensive library stirs a small group of rare books collectors into a furor. Who can be trusted? - This is predominantly a Good Omens fanfic with some Midsomer Murders thrown in just because I could do it and I wanted to. Contains death of an OC and (obvs) murder and attempts thereof. Nothing gory, though, so party on.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #crossover #human au #mod d

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a-d-nox · 4 months

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Hi! I love your blog, i read the fall things series, do you have a 4 season planning? i would LOVE a winter or summer astro things. :)

a-z how they are represented in astrology: winter things edition

now that winter is officially underway let's do this!!! warning: i can be harsh, please don't take everything i say as predestined, astrology is possible outcomes not guaranteed ones. plus let's not forget orbs matter, dominance matters, etc. it's never just one planet or one asteroid that rule over an outcome or how things effect you. this is just a starting place for when examining singular objects in an entire galaxy. take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

angels

neptune

lucifer (1930)

why this is useful information: angels typically are put on the top of trees to ward off evil and because they are a higher power. neptune and lucifer are likely indicators of where you have to ward off evil evil and where you are guided by a higher power (even if that higher power is just your brain's ego).

ballet

venus / neptune

why this is useful information: the nutcracker is one of the most popular winter ballets and ballet tends to be popular in the winter time because of it. venus and/or neptune can showcase your grace and elegance just like ballet can.

bitterness & the cold

saturn

why this is useful information: i live in a northern region, and everyone who travels to this area is always like "how can you stand this cold", and i am like "its only going to get colder". frost, cold, and bitter winds are bound to happen in the winter, so saturn is likely to indicate where you are most vulnerable to that coldness and how it effects you.

books

read about it in the fall post

boots

read about it in the fall post

candy

read about it in the fall post

cathedrals

jupiter / saturn

lacrimosa (208)

why this is useful information: something about the winter holidays causes all of us to reconnect with our traditions. i find that those that rarely go to religious gathering places frequent churches this time of the year to likely reconnect with their family traditions / childhood memories. so by examining cathedral like planets/asteroids, you can see what are physical symbols of your traditions.

charity

jupiter

abundantia (151)

why this is useful information: this is an infamous time of the year where all the very sad commercials play about donating to animals, children, elderly, sickly, etc. jupiter and abundantia in your chart could indicate where you like to share your abundance.

cheer

venus / jupiter

why this is useful information: "the best way to spread christmas cheer is sing aloud for all to hear" haha but no. for real - these planets can indicate cheerfulness and what can provide cheer, not only at christmas, but year round.

cherubs

venus

anteros (1943) / cupido (763) / amor (1221)

why this is useful information: cherubs on trees and in our homes during the holidays are meant to act as guardians and life-bringers during the cold, treacherous winter months. cherub objects in your chart can indicate what brings you life and protects you during these harsh winter months.

chimney / fireplace

aries (1°, 13°, 25°) / leo (5°, 17°, 29°)

mars

why this is useful information: the chimney was designed to let hot toxic gases and smoke out of the home so that no one would get smothered by the air in their own house during colder months. these symbols of the chimney/fireplace in your chart can indicate what toxic and smothering things need to be released from your space during the winter, so that you can survive without internal strain/stress.

church

sagittarius (9°, 21°)

jupiter

why this is useful information: "something about the winter holidays causes all of us to reconnect with our traditions. i find that those that rarely go to religious gathering places frequent churches this time of the year to likely reconnect with their family traditions / childhood memories. so by examining church like planets/asteroids, you can see what are physical symbols of your traditions."

coal

capricorn (10°, 22°)

saturn

why this is useful information: originally, coal was a heating element during the winter months that kept a home warm. later the tradition of coal in a stocking came to pass. namely the poor would put coal in their children's stocking claiming that a higher being was punishing them and made them poor, but at least they would be warm given this simple gift. ever since it has been a trend that santa would give coal to a bad child (typically a greed one) to teach them a lesson regarding the need to reexamine the world around them - such as noticing they weren't as bad off as they originally thought, they don't need as much as they previously assumed, etc. capricorn and saturn can thusly indicate where you can find warmth this season, and/or where you should be grateful for what you have and not be too greedy.

coat

read about it in the fall post

confinement

12h

why this is useful information: cabin fever is real in the winter months. this is the most popular time of the year for people to feel trapped in their own space. they often find themselves trapped and isolated from others. the 12h can help you better understand who you are when confined, how you can better cope with being isolated from others, and/or what makes you feel isolated/alone.

cooking

read about it in the fall post

gifts

venus

pandora (55) / santa (1288)

why this is useful information: gift giving is the name of the game at the end of the year - these gift objects can better help you understand the gifts you have in your life, what you like to receive, and even what you tend to gift to others.

gift giving/receiving

why this is useful information: this is when we give and receive the most because it is post-harvest season. post-harvest suggests that we have reaped plenty of rewards throughout the year, and thusly we find we don't need it all so when share our goods with others. hence the season of giving and receiving. your 2h can help you better understand your tendencies of giving and receiving and you willingness to do so.

holidays

venus

why this is useful information: the holidays. it stands to reason that the holidays are plentiful at the end of the year, thus my associating them with winter. venus in your chart can tell you about how you like to spend your holidays, what your holidays are like, and/or how you can have the best holiday possible.

holly

aries (1°, 13°, 25°)

saturn

why this is useful information: holly was originally believed to promote protection and good luck. thus when decorating your home with it, holly was thought to provide those who lived within to be protected and have good luck during the harshest part of the year. it was the prickly spines on the holly leaves that were thought to snag evil spirits before they could enter a home. what symbolizes holly in a chart can indicate where you have good luck and/or are protected during hard times.

ice

capricorn (10°, 22°)

saturn

why this is useful information: the most common part of the winter. it's cold, rigid, indifferent to our cause. it can really cause you to get off track, and prevent you from getting where you need to go. but ice is also a symbol of purity and even clarity... while it can cause you to get off track, or prevent you from getting where you need to go, it can also teach you to adapt. it is ultimately your choice as to how you approach ice - do you stay off course, do you let it stay in your way and prevent you from moving forward - it is up to you. what symbolizes ice in your chart can indicate where others my find you cold, rigid, or indifferent - it can also symbolize where you get off track or feel prevented from getting where you want to go.

icicles

saturn / neptune

why this is useful information: icicles are a sort of surrealism - they were once dripping water, because it was warm enough, but then it was suddenly cold and the dripping water froze slowly but surely. and now way above, sometimes unseen, are these sharp ice picks. my grandmother, when she little, was outside looking at icicles when one very suddenly detached and narrowly missed her eye - she does have a tiny scar on the bridge of her nose. icicle planets can show you where illustrious danger lies in your life and where the unseen can be dangerous in your life.

lumberjacks

mars

why this is useful information: TIMBER! a lumberjacks job is to harvest and transport trees. the wood of trees is what keeps us warm - no matter it's form, be it a home or a fire. mars in your chart can indicate where you facilitate warmth for yourself and others.

mittens

mercury / venus / saturn

why this is useful information: they always say to keep your hands and feet warm in the winter because if you aren't doing so, you can risk frostbite and thus permanent nerve damage. mittens are one of those hand coverings that everyone despises because your dexterity is limited because of a lack of available digits but with mittens your fingers can actually share warmth. these mitten planets can tell you about where you might feel like you lack proper mobility in life, but at least you can preserve warmth.

nutmeg

jupiter

why this is useful information: nutmeg is often considered a symbol of romance and affluence. there are a lot of stories surrounding why people use to carry it around. when going to gentlemen's clubs, in the 1800s, men would carry the whole spice gem in their pocket to promote luck both with women and with gambling. even earlier than that people would carry nutmegs in the middle ages to ward off the plague. jupiter the nutmeg in your chart can show you where you can have increased luck.

peppermint

venus / jupiter

why this is useful information: peppermint is thought to soothe and refresh - which is why i'll assume that it's popular during the winter months, where nothing is really fresh or soothing naturally. peppermint planets can indicate where you can find refreshing and comforting things when all seems bleak and monotonous.

pine tree

capricorn (10°, 22°)

mars / saturn

why this is useful information: these trees are conifers - they don't drop leaves to preserve their energy in the colder months. instead they preserve energy in their spines, which are more efficient to retaining water. what symbolizes the pine tree in your chart can help you to better understand how you can persevere during the harsh winter months, and how you can maintain your energy.

ribbon

venus

why this is useful information: the ribbon that adorn your presents are merely the garnish on your presents. no matter what research i do, it appears as though the ribbon was implemented in the 20th century and that is the extent of it. ribbon in your chart can show where your are meant to promote aestheticism.

sunset

why this is useful information: the sunsets earlier in the winter where i live and an early sunset is often associated with seasonal affective disorder for the majority of those living on this side of the united states. the 7h and it's ruler can tell you how an early sunset will effect you.

wool clothing

jupiter

why this is useful information: wool is one of the best materials for promoting warmth, thus jupiter in your chart indicating where you can keep warmth in your life.

writing

mercury

author asteroids

why this is useful information: it's the most wonderful time to sit down and write - often people will take up creative writing or journalism this time of the year to better cope with the hardships of the season or feeling trapped inside in general. what symbolizes writing in your chart can tell you about your writing styles and habits.

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 months

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God's Monsters: Vengeful Spirits, Deadly Angels, Hybrid Creatures, and Divine Hitmen of the Bible. By Esther J. Hamori. Broadleaf Books, 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: Biblical studies

Series: N/A

Summary: The Bible is teeming with monsters. Giants tromp through the land of milk and honey; Leviathan swims through the wine-dark sea. A stunning array of peculiar creatures, mind-altering spirits, and supernatural hitmen fill the biblical heavens, jarring in both their strangeness and their propensity for violence--especially on God's behalf. Traditional interpretations of the creatures of the Bible have sanded down their sharp, unsavory edges, transforming them into celestial beings of glory and light--or chubby, happy cherubs. Those cherubs? They're actually hybrid guardian monsters, more closely associated with the Egyptian sphinx than with flying babies. And the seraphim? Winged serpents sent to mete out God's vengeance. Demons aren't at war with angels; they're a distinct supernatural species used by Satan and by God. The pattern is chilling. Most of these monsters aren't God's opponents--they're God's entourage. Killer angels, plague demons, manipulative spirits, creatures with an alarming number of wings (and eyes all over)--these shapeshifters and realm-crossers act with stunning brutality, each reflecting a facet of God's own monstrosity. Confronting God's monsters--and the God-monster--may be uncomfortable, but the Bible is richer for their presence. It's not only richer; the stories of the monsters of the Bible can be as fun, surprising, and interesting as any mythology. For anyone interested in monsters, myths, folklore, demons, and more, God's Monsters is an entertaining deep dive into the creaturely strangeness of the Bible.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: descriptions of violence, mention of suicide

I picked this book up after it got a shout out on Dan McClellan's TikTok/YouTube channel. I've been diving into critical studies of the Bible and thought this would be a fairly good entry point.

Overall, I thought this book was incredibly accessible. Hamori summarizes the major stories she discusses so if you're not familiar with the Bible, it's still easy to follow her analysis. Hamori assumed a passing familiarity, but she's not writing to a specialist audience; of anything, she's writing to undergraduates or casual readers with an interest in diving into more academic interpretations of the Bible. As a former academic, I did want something a little more rigorous, but I am also not the intended audience, and that's OK.

Hamori also writes with a casual style that a lot of people might find enjoyable. Her prose includes a lot of glib humor and pop culture references, so it feels less intimidating than the prose in a textbook or academic monograph. Personally, I kind of wish the prose was a little more straightforward since I value the insights over the delivery method, but I also recognize this style might help a lot of readers connect with ancient texts.

Hamori's book also cites very few secondary sources (at least compared to a traditional monograph), and I think that's so casual readers and new students aren't overwhelmed by Biblical scholarship. It's fairly effective, though if you're looking to put Hamori's book in conversation with the broader field, you'll have to do your own digging.

In terms of the content, I very much appreciated the literary analysis and the historical insights that Hamori provides. Each chapter is devoted to a single type of monster, which means the organization is easy to follow, and within those chapters, Hamori is guided by a singular question: what does each monster reveal about God? I appreciated this guiding question because it meant that I wasn't reading a list of trivia facts about ancient beasties; instead, I was reading about each monster's relationship to the divine and how ancient writers would have thought of God based on these monster tales.

TL;DR: God's Monsters is a good introduction for students or readers with a casual (yet more academic) interest in the Bible. Though I personally did not vibe with the pop culture references and humor that characterizes Hamori's writing style, I can see how it makes this book more accessible, which it very much is if you're not used to reading academic monographs.

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nofomogirl · 8 months

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Book of Life in Good Omens

This was initially supposed to be part of my "Metatron's manipulation" series (link goes to Part 1 of currently 7), specifically the "alternative offers" post I'm currently working on (which will be Part 8). But I've decided it would work better as a separate thing. Allow me to run more freely in any direction my nasty little heart desires. So here you are.

It's hard not to speculate about the Book of Life, considering how many times it was mentioned this season, how big it is, and how nothing seems to come out of it yet. It's also hard to speculate about it, considering how little we know about it. But let's try.

Facts we have from the show

Right after Gabriel appears at Aziraphale's bookshop, Michael calls Beelzebub to inform them that if anyone is found helping Gabriel, Heaven is prepared to use Extreme Sanctions, aka. Book of Life.

When Beelzebub summons Crowley to Hell, they tell him that they heard anybody Heaven finds involved with Gabriel will be dealt with, meaning Extreme Sanctions.

Crowley doesn't initially believe it's a real thing, he insists it's just something they used to joke about to frighten the cherubs.

Beelzebub finally explains what it is: erasing from the Book of Life which equals erasing from existence - "they won't just be gone, they will never have existed".

After Gabriel and Beelzebub are gone, Michael threatens Aziraphale directly, insisting she is authorized to remove the name of anyone who helped Gabriel from the Book of Life.

Metatron shuts her down by saying she doesn't have the authority to do it.

They're... not very helpful. More gossip and hearsay than facts.

A quick look at Christian tradition

It has such a concept as a Book of Life, however, the titular Life is not literal but rather a commonly used metaphor for salvation. It also has a counterpart, the Book of Death. Having your name in the Book of Life simply means being destined for Heaven; having your name moved to the Book of Death equals being condemned to Hell. I've never once come across either of them mentioned in any other context than that of judging human beings (though admittedly, I haven't read that much on them).

So, not very helpful either, and it looks like Neil took only a name and made his own rules.

Possibly. Because we don't know any rules yet. We have no idea who can access and use it and when. We think we know that if you remove someone's name from the Book of Life you erase them completely from existence, but it might not even be true.

Honestly, I wouldn't be all that surprised if The Book of Life turned out to actually be a celestial boogeyman Crowley initially believed it to be. It wouldn't also be inconsistent with the original Good Omens spirit, where supposedly great things turned out to be insignificant and/or easily solved in the end.

But just for the fun of it, let's pull at what we have in Christian tradition and what we know from the show.

Combining the two

Extending the use of both the Book of Life and the Book of Death to supernatural entities is not much of a stretch. However, if this was the case, removing Aziraphale's name from the Book of Life would mean his Fall, not erasure from existence. In fact, this would be exactly how the Fall would happen - you remove an angel's name from the book of beings meant to be in Heaven and move it to the book of beings meant to be in Hell, and you get a demon.

It also explains how it could be done the other way - a demon's name could be removed from the Book of the Death, reentered into the Book of Life, and bam! fully angelic status restored. After all, we were made aware this season that Fall could be reversible.

Honestly, it would make a lot of sense to me.

In the Resurrectionists minisode Aziraphale tells Crowley: "I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice." If you were a little taken aback that Aziraphale says things like that at that point and found it somewhat jarring, that's because it kind of is. The line is taken directly from the original book, where it was explicitly stated that Aziraphale and Crowley only started developing free will on Earth, due to extended exposure to humans. It was part of their "going native" and what made them different. But in the show, it's quite clearly not the case.

When it comes to morality, angels and demons in the show are a lot like people. They're neither static nor quoy, at least not inherently so. They're fully capable of growth and change and making their own decisions, both good and bad. So IF we agree, that being assigned to either Heaven or Hell is a reflection of someone's moral status, and someone's moral status can change with their choices and actions, it's logical that there is a mechanism that technically allows them to be reassigned as many times as necessary.

It also makes sense that Heaven would block that mechanism after the Rebellion and the Fall, and insists that whatever side anyone is on, that's final. All that's left is to fight each other.

Is it show-canon compliant?

There's one major issue with that theory - nobody in the show seems to perceive the Book of Life this way. It's synonymous with literal life ie. existence. It's not tied to Fall in any way. There's no mention of the Book of Death.

How do I defend against it?

It's not that hard, really.

As I've pointed out already, nobody seems to really know what they are talking about. The Book of Life? It rings a bell, there was such a thing, although maybe it wasn't, maybe it was a joke... Nobody is a reliable source of information and I'm pretty sure that whatever we will learn about the Book of Life in season 3 will prove information from season 2 to be incomplete and misleading.

Of course that doesn't exactly support my theory, it's just not an obstacle it seems to be at first glance.

And just in case it wasn't clear, I'm not really trying to predict where the story will go, but rather speculate for the fun of it.

So, I merrily speculate several reasons why there are two books whose purpose is to decide who belongs in Heaven and who belongs in Hell, but everybody in season 2 believes there's one book whose purpose is to decide who exists.

Reason #1: The truth about two books was hidden by some higher-up in Heaven, possibly Metatron, to hide the inconvenient fact that all there is to being an angel or a demon is to be entered into an appropriate list. That can be edited. Unlimited amount of times.

Reason #2: The misinformation was created and spread by the Metatron specifically for this situation. He expected that whoever might meddle with the whole Gabriel affair would either be a demon, who you cannot exactly threaten with falling, or Aziraphale, who might not care enough for that to be effective.

Reason #3: Everyone's knowledge comes from before the Fall. So it's partly forgotten and partly censored, but above all, before the Fall, when everybody's names were in the Book of Life, they might simply have misunderstood the meaning of having your name removed from it, as it's never happened before.

Reason #4: Erasing someone's existence completely is in fact possible if you remove someone's name from one book and never enter it into the other.

(Please note that this generates a lot of questions on how exactly you move names between the two books if being in neither means you don't exist and never have. There would have to be some security measures to make sure people won't just disappear during transfer.)

Reason #5: Being erased from existence is a metaphor for the fundamental transformation you undergo when shifting from an angel to a demon (and possibly vice versa). Especially if you consider that a supernatural entity wouldn't probably just have their name moved, they'd most likely be entered under a new name. So they would be the same being but not the same person anymore.

Pick any combination of the above.

Who should fear the Book of Life?

The book is first mentioned when Michael tips Beelzebub that Heaven is prepared to use it against anyone found helping Gabriel. Beelzebub later conveys the message to Crowley, plus an extended explanation.

The key word here is anybody. If Gabriel was helped by both Aziraphale and Crowley, they were both risking punishment.

But Crowley acts as if only Aziraphale is in danger and indeed, when Michael brings it up again, in the finale, she only threatens Aziraphale and completely ignores Crowley.

Why?

Crowley can be easily explained by his continuous disregard for his own safety. But Michael? Why did she call Hell to warn Beelzebub how serious Heaven was about it if she wasn't ready to actually go through and punish a demon? Does she not realize how deeply Crowley was involved? Does she think Aziraphale did it on his own? Is she reluctant to actually administer the punishment that feels outside her jurisdiction? Or is she simply more focused on Aziraphale because he pissed her off?

If we assume my theory about the Books of Life & Death is correct, then Michael's threat was an empty one for a demon, whose name was no longer in the Book of Life anyway. But if we assume my theory is right, then none of them should be aware of that.

However.

If we assume my theory is true minus Reason #4 (the loophole that actually allows for someone to be permanently destroyed from existence), let's think about the theory that Metatron blackmailed Aziraphale into taking his offer by indirectly threatening Crowley's existence.

Aziraphale is unaware of how it all works. He picks on Metatron's threat and interprets it in accordance with how he believes the Book of Life works. He comes to the conclusion that if he doesn't obey, Crowley will be removed from existence. But Metatron actually means the metaphorical erasure I described as Reason #5. He means the destruction of Crowley's personality and most of his self. The trauma that would happen if Crowley underwent the transformation that is the result of being moved from one book to the other. At the same time, Metatron says that if Aziraphale becomes the Supreme Archangel, he could make Crowley an angel again. This would happen by removing a demon's name from the Book of Death and entering him, possibly under another name, into the Book of Life.

Yes, I have amused myself during the weekend by creating a theory in which the thing Metatron threatens Aziraphale with if he doesn't obey and the thing he promises as a reward if he does IS THE SAME EXACT THING.

Spread the news to all the angst-loving mostly canon-compliant fanfiction authors!

Removing things from existence

As a final point in this post that has long run away from me and I'm not sure has a point any longer, I'd like to remind you of something.

Mentioning the Book of Life in season 2 is not the first time that the concept of removing something from existence and making it so it would never have happened appears in Good Omens Universe.

Please remember Adam Young, the Antichrist, who faced Satan at the Tadfield Airbase and declared he was not his father and never had been. Reality listened to him and Satan disappeared. However, it didn't change the timeline, didn't erase the events that already happened, and didn't exactly strip Adam of his powers.

What does it mean?

No idea.

Thank you for your patience.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens meta #good omens unhinged meta #I just rolled with it

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