I've always been obsessed with the seven deadly sins (maybe because they are just so poetic?) but I decided to do a 2 part chapter covering all of them. Knowing me, the second part will probably be released in the next decade, but at least here's four? Some have 2 focus characters and some just have 1. Sorry lust is a little too up close and personal and wrath is a little rushed and weird. I wasn't really sure what to write for it.

greed

It was shameful, Kellan knew, to want for more when he already had enough.

A place of power to call home, no matter how volatile it was, and a role in a life that accepted him more than he thought he deserved. Other would have yearned for his position, but what meaning did it give him now that his prospects were widened? At first, he told himself it was a simple want, that he was simply being seduced by what could have been. It was little things, from the beauty of the fields to the drinks and carefree music that offered a way of life that enticed him. His loyalty to the Hunt was strong, unbreakable even, but even the primitive desire for more was not an instinct that could be easily shut out.

He often pushed away such rapacity in the past, knowing there would be no possible way for him to reclaim even a shred of his past life. Faint scars from old runes, though only noticed by him, reminded him of what he had and lost. It was no secret that he was one of the most forgiving and most selfless people in the Hunt, but he could not help but feel like even though he wanted less than most, he still craved too much.

He wasn't even sure what he wanted, for a life in the Seelie meant abandoning the life he had cultivated. If only he could take the pieces of his life and rebuild it. A purpose, a role, perhaps even a blood family, for even though the Hunt had been a replacement, it was a little too misshapen to fill all the holes. Was it selfish to want for such cohesion? Selfish to make it come true?

Selfish, maybe. Impossible, definitely.

"""""

"Please," the woman begged, her hands clasped in front of her, nearly touching Luca's kimono. "I will die if I cannot speak with him one last time."

Unforgiving and bored with her pleas, Luca lifted his hands to place under her chin, tilting her head up. A warlock like her should have thought twice before marrying a mortal and he found that he had no sympathy, nor charity for her. She should have been more careful before squandering her fortune away on love and ephemeral emotions. No, he was careful and precise.

"I have named my price," he said coolly, drawing a finger up her cheek before dropping his hands back to his sides. "What will it be?"

"I cannot pay what you have named," she lamented, shaking her head. "Please, have mercy."

"Mercy? I am offering you a chance of a lifetime," he laughed, the sound muffled. "That little bit of money...That money...And I'll get it done for you."

"Surely you can make an exception." This time, her voice was strained as if now willing to go at further lengths to convince him. Her fingers moved to clutch the front of his yukata, the fabric wrinkling under her grasp. "We are of the same kin. Surely you must have pity for a warlock."

"Pity? Maybe." Taking her wrist, he pushed her away as if casting her aside, turning to walk back up to the end of the church. "When you have the funds, that's when we'll talk."

wrath

Cole didn't understand why he could no longer control himself, his usually unbothered demeanor dissipating. Instead, his hand sought out a dagger out of its own volition, driving it into the vampire he had pinned against the wall. The wolf strained under his skin, his senses heightened as his pupils contracted, pin pricks in the craze of his irises. He could smell fear and pain and the vampire reeked of blood. It did nothing but set his senses alight, driving his adrenaline up.

He growled, the sound low in his throat, twisting the dagger to the side before pulling it back and stumbling back. The vampire, wounded but alive, gave him a look of fear and disgust before clutching his shoulder and starting off quickly, no doubt to notify his clan of the run-in.

As a Shadowhunter, he had never experienced such unbridled anger that he couldn't control and he was aware that his hands were wet and red and his jaw was clenched, giving him a headache. Usually, he would have been disgusted, but he stared blankly at the drying blood, his temper only starting to decrease. The thought that he could not even control himself anymore almost unnerved him, but it did nothing to curb the wolfish instinct that now tugged on his dagger, fitting it more comfortably in his hand.

Turning on his heel, he started after the vampire, tasting the air and the lingering scent of rot, more than eager to finish what he had started.

lust

Aspen kept his eyes shut. It was one of the few times he wished for a blindfold, his hand clasped over his face as he tried to ground himself, to focus instead of pant, gasp, suffocate even as if he was breathing in smoke. Without the ability to see, he could only guess, only feel hands as they touched him rather than fear when they approached him. He lifted his other hand to his mouth, biting into his thumb hard enough to draw blood to silence himself. He would not let the other person think he was aroused or mistake any of his movements or groans for anything that mimicked enjoyment. No, he kept himself as quiet as he could, only shivering a little when teeth dragged over his throat, pressing into the skin.

Things hadn't always been like that, when the weight of someone over him had excited him rather than oppressed him. When he had longed for the firm reminder that he was wanted, even with their fingers wrapped roughly in his hair, working him a little harsher than he liked, never quite caring about how he felt. Then, he had arched into them, his arms around their neck as he kissed them back, not minding if they dug their nails into his side and muttered demeaning things under their breath.

Caspian wasn't like that. He was concerned, curious, and strangely gentle.

His wings ached beneath him. Lips brushed his ear, hips pressed into his, and fingers pulled at his wrist to wrench his hand away from his eyes.

Without saying a word, Aspen laid bonelessly on the sheets after the person finished and drew away to redress. They only addressed him afterwards to run their fingers against a scratch on his inner thigh and slip a few notes into his hand where it was limp on the pillow by his head. However much they had given him, he didn't really care, letting the paper fall onto the bed as he rolled over, curling into himself to try and soothe his mind.

"""""

Kellan had asked him if he had ever given into the festivities, and Ethos had neither denied or affirmed, finding it difficult to answer anything in a straightforward manner. But he hadn't ever given into them, no, finding little allure in what the dances and drinks could make one do. He found he was more modest than the average Seelie, preferring to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground to avoid any uncomfortable run-ins.

He had almost been tempted, though. It had been after a drink stronger than he was used to, figuring his steady conscious and good judgement would keep him reasonable. And it did, mostly, but he had to admit that he was less repulsed by the drunken laughs of faerie girls, tugging on each other's hands to dance, their wings and jewelry sparkling as they flickered in the light. They neared him at times and he only drew back a little bit, setting his drink down and deciding he had had enough. Some faeries were pulled into the mix, laughing or kissing or walking off to chatter excitedly.

"Hey. I haven't seen you at these before," some girl said, kneeling by him. Her teeth were sharp, nymph-like, and her eyes were deep and violet. "Want to join?"

"I prefer to only go as far as spectating," Ethos said delicately, watching her with a slowed reaction as she curled her fingers around his wrist to tug on him. "I don't involve myself."

"A pity." She stopped pulling on him to press her lips against his hand, her eyes following him before she rested his hand at the base of her dress where it skimmed her thighs. "Don't you want-"

"I should go," Ethos murmured quietly, uncomfortably, pulling his hand away to stand up and take a few steps back. The girl only shrugged, scooting back and then heading over to another faerie to sit by them and chat. He wasn't sure what disturbed him so much about such a gesture, but it gave him a bad feeling in his head, like he had done something dirty, and he started away to head to the creek. There was no attraction to a stranger, wondering how others found enjoyment in such a thing, but he didn't question it for too long. The Seelie had always been shallow. Of course they enjoyed the meaningless conversations. As soon as that criticism entered his head, though, he wiped it away, scolding himself for being excruciatingly nihilistic.

envy

Crossing her legs, Steff refused to lean back in the park bench, too on edge to be relaxed. It was supposed to do her good, taking time from Shadowhunting to read in the mundane spaces, but even Central Park had not allowed her to forget about the world she was born into. Even without the curse leashing her to orders and the semi-faded scars from when the Hunt had captured her, she could not help but look on to the others and think of how easy they had it. Most of the time, she did not wish for anything else, for if she was a mundane, how would she protect her friends?

But the sight of two younger siblings chasing each other in the grass brought a pang to her heart, for it was something she longed for. That sense of normality. The little girl laughed as her brother pulled away, hiding behind a nearby tree. Their lives were so carefree. The little girl did not worry about what was hiding, for she was coddled with safety and affection, no doubt with parents that would pick her up if she fell. Bandage her knee when she scraped it.

Steff stopped clutching the pages of her book so tight, realizing she had been staring for longer than she meant to. Her expression was wistful, no doubt, and it only changed when she was aware of a stinging papercut on the tip of her finger.

She raised her finger to her mouth on instinct to wipe the speck of blood away with her lip before studying the cut with a sigh. It was small, only a little annoying, much like the longing she felt when she watched the two kids. They were gone now, disappeared into the distance to find their parents, she guessed. Their life was easy and she could envy clean linens every morning and dinners with relatives and Christmas parties, maybe. It was too easy to stare at the families in the park and wish that she was part of them, but she pushed against living up to the jeers that her head was always in the clouds, in stories, imagining up romantic scenarios from her books.

Her family had never been normal like that. Then again, she did not think Shadowhunters had the privilege to be normal. They enjoyed certain things in life, but mundane activities and simple pleasures were often lost on them.

Closing her book, she silenced her thoughts for they did her no good but to tease her with what could have been.