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thedarkheretic156 · 1 year

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VIII Eternal Flame VIII

The final moon before the feast dawns on the young demigod, and with it, it's threatening consequences.

Parts: ❧ I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX❧

Warnings: Fem Afab reader, she/her pronouns. Angst, mentions of death, violence, slight nsfw (if you squint).

Even as a child, I remembered how the fire dancers in the east would tell stories of the old. Their fires in hues I had never seen before. Deep crimsons and pale yellows with greens that rivalled rain forests. That was the first time I realised that every flame was different.

The dancers moved and their long braids swished around them, their movements sharp and lithe, not missing a beat. Fire dancing was an old tradition, performed every year, one night before the feast of manana. It was called the ceremony of the Khar-moon, the incomplete moon.

It was less a form of entertainment and more of a ritual, a portrayal of faith towards the Goddess. They said that the performers practiced all year long just for those few minutes on stage. And it never failed to take my breath away, twirling on the stage, aglow with the torches behind them, the dancers looked like flames personified.

This year, I knew the story well. It was the same boring text my aunt had grated into my brain. She would even sit me down and make me recite it over and over, until the words clouded my thought the moment, I closed my eyes. So, it wasn’t surprising that I recognised it at once. They were telling the tale of ‘the hearth’. The beginning of all life. Or what we understood of it.

The dancer dressed as the hearth was in silver and orange, their eyes lidded, a beacon of peace and tranquillity. The music fanned, low and rhythmic as the singer began the first song. Their clear voice rang out, rippling through the crowd.

My palms sunk into the grass as I leaned forward eagerly. My aunt swatted my ankle, “sit properly!" but the swelling music drowned out her voice.

They sang of how every fire was born from the Hearth. Each eventually taking different forms. Dancers dressed in gold twirled around the Hearth. The fire of the stove, I recognised. Gold bangles glittered around their wrists as they moved, calling fire that looked like molten gold, its flames docile and controlled.

The music shifted suddenly, becoming faster, louder just as a dancer in scarlet jumped high from between them, red flames curling around their wrists. The flame that lights the torch for war.

All the flames gathered around the hearth and bowed deeply. Paying respect to the one that birthed them. And that’s the end of the story, I thought.

“Can we leave, father? -” I started and my aunt hissed me into silence. I furrowed my brow; was there more?

It was then that another dancer jumped up front, my heart jumped at the sudden action. Their clothes were blue, flowing around them like water, replicating the shades that flickered within my flames.

It was a harsh contrast to the others dressed in shades saffron. A stranger, an anomaly.

I remembered feeling a pit in my stomach, the curiosity I had for the play suddenly dissipating like someone had put out a candle.

My flames were blue.

And I wasn’t told this part of the story.

It did not bow to the hearth, the dancer flicked their blue robes arrogantly, the fabric rising like the audacious plume of a peacock. I gulped nervously as my aunt finally pulled me back on the seat. I heard her mutter sharply but my father shushed her down,

"Leave her be Hathor." He grumbled.

I felt my breath shallow. As the head clan, I sat with my family at the very front. Placed closest to the stage, second only to the Gods. It was the highest honour, something to wear with pride, yet I wanted to crawl away. I couldn’t help but curl my fist around my father’s robes in anticipation. While every eye was on the performer, I was the one who felt the burn of their gaze.

The blue flame was different. I was told I was born with divinity. But there was nothing divine about this flame Without a shred of warmth, something born in hell, far away from the fire of a hearth.

The flames that dance on a pyre.

An immortal bound in death.

Even now, years later, as I stared at the Khar-moon high in the sky I couldn’t help but remember the performance, the fire dancers, and the pit in my stomach.

One night before the feast of manana.

I tore my eyes away from the moon, no point in brooding over that now. I looked over at Sesshomaru and he was already halfway down the hill. Prideful steps, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. So, it had taken him about 4 seconds before he went back to his mutt like ways.

I shook my head, gathering the hem of my kimono so I wouldn’t trip and land on his head. Rin and Jaken could be anywhere down the mountain. And it was about time I greeted them.

❧

“It’s a human village.” I realised, “We’re staying here?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Sesshomaru and his disgust towards humans was more than apparent, why in the world would he set camp in a human village?

His eyes looked back as I trotted up to him. In the darkness of the night, it was hard to tell, but there something haunting about this place. I pulled my eyes towards the village again. There was a morbid silence that coveted the landscape. The small bamboo knit cottages looked empty, abandoned. Like a painting standing still before us, there was nothing alive in this village.

“It’s been deserted…” I stated. A strange nervousness settled in me,

“Humans.” He said, his voice basically a pained sigh, “cowardly creatures.”

I started back at him in horror, what kind of a person thinks a deserted human village is a good resting spot? Even I knew that humans emptying out entire villages was bad news. And not just the ayakashi kind, the apocalyptic prophecy kind.

“It better not be plagued.” I tell him,

Sesshomaru just scoffed in response, “Try and keep up.” He replied, “I won’t come searching for you a second time.”

I gave him a sarcastic smile before starting to walk.

A singular fire burned in the still landscape, like a dying ember. Despite everything that had happened in this short period, I had always found myself back here. Maybe it was suiting that I spend my last night with them. The khar moon was already high in the sky, and I could feel the exhaustion of the travel weigh down on my shoulders. I dragged my feet down, trying to push unnecessary thoughts away. Spending your last night in a plagued town. I thought, how poetic.

❧

Jaken cried more than Rin. Which was surprising.

“W-what a r-relief.” Jaken sobbed out loudly, I looked over at the goblin grinning, “You did miss me how cute.”

Rin ran into an embrace, her wiry arms clutching onto my kimono like she was afraid to let go again. There wasn’t anything childlike in the way she cried, no angry tears, no broken sobs, just silent tears of relief. I stood frozen in my place, just…unsure. My arms felt like lead, and in that moment despite how glad I was to see the human child alive I couldn’t make myself show it.

Something tugged at my heart, but I pushed it aside at once.

Humans are delicate creatures. Death comes to them swiftly, whisking them away like they never existed. Befriend them and you live on with their ghosts.

I patted her head awkwardly, “Hey it’s okay.” I said. “I’m okay.”

The child pulled away reluctantly, she nodded wiping a runny nose with the back of her hand, “are you s-sure?” she sobbed out.

I stepped back so I could give her a turn, “All good, see?”

Rin gave me a skeptical look, “You don’t look very good.” She replied.

I threw back my head and laughed, my voice ringing out in the midnight sky. I looked down at the kimono I was wearing. It was one of Sango’s pink ones, and I had really put it through hell and back. “Do you have a spare?” I asked jokingly.

Rin peeked a smile watching me laugh, a sense of relief rushing to her face. “Follow me!” she chirped, the old self I knew slipping back. I grinned at the little skip in her step as she sprinting down towards the cottage. “It’s the one behind the big tree!” she said giddily, pointing towards a bamboo knit cottage. I grabbed the hem of my kimono, not realising the easy smile lacing my lips and ran after her.

❧

Jaken patted down his own tears, “I’m so glad you found her Lord Sesshomaru!” He said, “Rin must be so relieved now.”

Sesshomaru grunted in response, watching the human child skip towards the cottage and the woman clutching on to the all too big kimono to keep up with her. The two of them laughed, bare feet skidding on the dew-covered grass. A human world of their own.

It had been less than a month since the strange woman had appeared, Sesshomaru shook his head, he had saved her. He assured himself. Returned her safely, yet the daiyokai couldn’t seem to quiet his thoughts. The haunting stories of the infamous blood moon somehow sneaking up on him, ringing constantly at the back of his mind.

He tossed his hair over his shoulder, turning away. Once the wretched crimson moon had passed us, he thought, It’ll be quiet again.

❧

Rin grinned wide, stretching out her hands to show all the space we suddenly had. This cottage was way better than any we had come across before. With all the travelling and avoiding humans, there was hardly any liveable spaces to begin with. Much less an entire village. Rin dug into one the chests in the cottage pulling out spare clothes, they had even left clothes behind.

This place… its like the humans had just randomly disappeared into thin air. They had left everything behind. Clothes, pots of grains and rice, children’s toys scattered on the grass like they had disappeared while playing.

I jumped as Jaken snored loudly in the background. This sound I had not missed.

Rin giggled at my expression, “Master Jaken couldn’t sleep at all, while you weren’t here.”

“That’s…” I started, “Surprising.”

I took the new kimono Rin had offered me, finally pulled off Sango’s borrowed one I had on. Man I had really put these poor clothes through the apocalypse. Every time I got a new one, I’d just get attacked by something or the other.

Rin’s eyes pinned on the bandages, wide with worry,

She opened her mouth but the words seemed to hang in her throat.

“Someone very skilled helped me with it.” I assured her, although I didn’t know if kagome’s grass medicine could be categorized as very skilled, it had saved my life like it was ambrosia of the Gods.

Naraku’s poison had quite literally charred through my skin, clumped out the flesh. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, but this mortal body didn’t heal the way my ayakashi one did.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked timidly.

“No.” I lied.

Her thumbs fiddled with the hem of the checkered fabric, “Who was the woman that attacked us?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “We run into ayakashi all the time.” I said, She was so young. I thought, at her age all I cared about was chasing fire birds and setting yokai on fire. She shouldn’t feel the need to carry that much.

“This one unfortunately was the bad kind, that’s all” I tried to convince her, the lesser she knew about all this mess the better.

Rin’s face fell regardless,

What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I just thought…” Her voice wavered, lower lip quivering as she pulled on a brave façade, “I thought you got hurt.” She completed finally.

I turned on my side to look at her. Her eyes looked glassy from the tears, the runny nose and ears red from the cold, bony elbows sticking out of the blanket and a swelling mosquito bite on her cheek.

“No one would tell me what happened.” she said quietly. “Then Lord Sesshomaru left too, and I just had to wait here.” She completed.

Sudden anger flared in me, after everything she had witnessed, all he did was take off without a word? At least I was trying to make up lies.

“But it wasn’t just that.” Rin replied, cheeks puffed from trying not to cry, “It was that other thing.”

I turned my head towards her, “What do you mean?”

Rin’s face paled, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, “I don’t know what it was.” She started,

And I felt my heart drop. “I-, I think I saw something when we met that woman in the forest.”

“It wasn’t her, it felt darker,” her voice quivered, “Meaner, like there was something more than just the lady before us.”

She gulped, eyes glazing as she tried to remember, “It was all around her looming over the forest, like a spider made of shadows,” she said softly.

I felt myself holding my breath.

“It’s like I could feel how-” Tears welled up in her eyes again, “Wei, it wanted to hurt you so badly.” She croaked out.

Something bitter curled in my mouth,

Rin shook her head, her voice got very low, “I don’t even know if it was real, or I’m going crazy.”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “but I know what I felt. I know it, even though I couldn’t see” her brow knitted in frustration, “And even though master Jaken said it was in my head.” her eyes finally met mine, she shuddered, “Am I crazy?”

I stared at her, out of all the things I thought she would have to say…

“You’re not crazy.” I told her, knowing that I should probably just agree with Jaken and tell her she dreamed it. Keeping her away from all of this mess was the best mercy I could grant her. And yet I couldn’t make myself lie to her. At the end of it she deserved to know the danger before us, something we would soon be facing down whether I like it or not.

“The spider…” my voice trailed, how much of everything do I even tell her. “He exists.” I confirmed.

Just the memory made the scars on my chest sting, “and he did want to hurt me.”

I pulled my eyes to the shadows on the hay roof of the cottage, dancing in the dark like the curling legs of the spider. His strength had completely caught me off guard and the helplessness I had felt in his clutches still haunted me. I hated to admit it but the thought that I would probably be dead before I see him again was relieving.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I shook my head, “What matters is that he couldn’t.” But he will try again and again. If he wants hellfire then I’m his only link to it. I pursed my lips,

Rin’s silence rang of hesitation.

“Lord Sesshomaru can protect us from him.” She finally said, trying to sound dutiful.

“Yeah.” I mimed out absently. Honestly I’d like to think that too. Sesshomaru hadn’t ever shown me the extent of his powers, But if Inuyasha and the others don’t stop him from mining that ore, maybe even the daiyokai of the east won’t be able to stop him.

“Could you sense him too?” she asked hopefully, “The way I did?”

I shook my head, “Not really.”

Thinking back to the encounter, my reaction was purely instinctual, I hadn’t even noticed naraku’s powers until after I was already in his void. It wasn’t uncommon for humas to see demons. But it was nearly impossible for them to sense their magic. And Rin had seen naraku’s miasma even before he had shown up.

My heart felt heavy, now the coincidences were getting too cruel.

“But,” I started, my mouth felt like sandpaper, “There are some humans who can see and sense more than others.” I told her.

In the east we called it the gift of Manana, blessed by the moon with the power of premonition. Someone who could see terrible things before they actually happened. Wei, the real Wei, had the same powers.

I gave her a pained smile, “Just think of it as a gift.”

Rin looked horrified, “I don’t want it.” She croaked out. “I don’t ever want to see anything like that again.”

“It’s not all too bad.” I replied, “I knew someone who had a similar ability. She could sense things, before they actually happened.”

Not that it prevented her death, I thought bitterly.

“So, I can learn how to control it?” Rin asked.

Wei had learned to control it, I remembered. It was painted in my mind like an ink scroll painting.

Her eyes lidded as she sat before the fire, and her face crinkling as I broke her meditation. She would hiss out of frustration when I continued to egg her on, her leaf green eyes opening wide, “even the toddlers in the village know better, y/n, Toddlers!”

I averted my eyes painfully, “I guess you can.”

Rin flexed her fingers as if expecting the magic to show up on her palms, “How do I do that?”

“I don’t know.” I replied quickly, pushing away the torrent of emotions that often-accompanied Wei’s memories.

“Maybe you could ask your friend.”

“No.” I replied sharply.

I can’t ask her. Not anymore.

They would have gotten along. I had realised that the moment I had met Rin. wet tears slipped down my cheekbones sliding over the shell of my ears.

"Wei are you crying?" Rin's sleep heavy voice called out,

I felt my vision grow cloudy.

"No." I sniffled.

Rin hand threw an arm over my torso, "it's okay" the child mumbled, "I missed you too."

“You say you wouldn’t do that for anyone.” She had sniggered, twirling the scared bells around before bonking it on my head,

I pushed her hand away angrily and she had laughed, “But I bet you’d do that for me.”

I sat up suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Rin asked,

“Go to sleep.” I told her, I ran a hand along the nape of my neck, it was drenched in sweat. The cottage was too warm, and my mind was too heavy with the thoughts. I pulled my hair up in a knot. It was my last night before my death, and I didn’t want to spend it under a covered roof.

❧

The spring looked prettier than usual, but it didn’t help that the water in it was biting cold.

I groaned as I lowered myself in the spring slowly. With the full moon on the morrow, there was no scarcity of moonlight. A view like that would have enchanted anyone, mortal or not. I sank into the numbing cold water, my fingers trailing over my arm absently. This body the curse had put me in had only started to feel like mine. It was brittle and lanky, so weak I dared not test its limits. But I had surprised myself with everything it did withstand.

Maybe it wasn’t that easy to kill humans after all.

With everything I had survived, I wondered how exactly death would come for me under the moon tomorrow. I let my head roll back in thought. I didn’t even have the capacity to think how I was to die tomorrow. I took in a deep breath pulling myself under the surface.

It felt calm underwater, the water cancelled out the sounds of the forest. God, what would I give to fall asleep under the surface just like this. This would be a nice death, like you’re drifting away to sleep. It would be a sad death; they probably wont even sing of me in the east. I stayed under water until my lungs screamed for air, eventually bopping my head up over the surface.

“human.”

His sight just left me frozen,

What the actual fuck was he doing here now.

It was a little pathetic how much I ogled him as he lowered himself into the spring slowly.

His body was that of a warrior, honed over the years, stripped with scars, some fading some brazen. I couldn’t imagine how many stories he had to tell about just the scars on his arms.

I tried to keep my eyes on his torso, trying not to dip any lower than the magenta marks around his waist.

But while the chilly mist rising from the spring was thick, it was not opaque enough. His shamelessness in my presence was surprising, but then again, he probably thought of me like a bug. Who covers themselves in front of insects?

Even in the hot spring, he settled down like a king on a throne. His silver hair pooled around him like molten starlight. With the damp hair matted across his forehead, and the slitted amber eyes peeking through the bangs, he looked every bit the god they painted him in the folk tales.

I averted my eyes awkwardly, heat rushing to my face. My body remembering the time he had actually let his reatsu out after we had hunted the boar. The way it had crawled over my senses, overwhelming me until I could feel it in the back of my throat- stop it. I screamed at myself, pressing my thighs together.

“What are you doing here?!” I snapped at him. Even after being in a human body my demon instinct still persisted and I did not have the time to deal with how badly my ayakashi-self wanted to ride him.

“Your scars.” He stated casually,

I looked down finally realising that I was also naked before him. I gulped, “urm, yes.” I replied awkwardly. In the moonlight it looked even worse than it actually was.

“It’s still poisoned.” He stated. “I can still smell his miasma off of you.”

I winced as he said that, brushing my fingers over the wounds. I had been afraid of that being the case, even without my ayakashi senses, I could feel the poison in the wounds, keeping them from healing properly. Remanets of his disgusting magic that have permanently branded themselves on my body.

“It will only fade in his death.” I sighed, a miasma like that is connected to an ayakashi’s soul.

“You won’t have to wait too long for that.” He replied.

I felt very cold, “What do you mean?” I whispered out.

His voice sent chills ran down my spine. “Isn’t it obvious?” he snarled out, “I am going to seek out the spider.”

My jaw slacked, “what do you mean seek him out?”

His eyes flicked towards me, already annoyed, “Do you think I’m a coward that sits back silently, Human?” he growled,

I shook my head, “You cannot defeat him.”

He snarled in reply, the sound making the hair on my arms stand.

“Not another word-” He growled out.

I felt a lump in my throat as his amber eyes narrowed, they were truly a beautiful colour, I forced myself to think clearly, “You don’t know what he’s capable of.” I told him.

Sesshomaru grunted, “How strong he seemed to a human like you is irrelevant.” He replied, “To so much so as look at someone under my protection was a death sentence.”

“He will pay for this insolence towards me. For even thinking of challenging me. For a spider like that to do this…” he growled out, “How humiliating.”

What stung my heart was how familiar it all was. His words, ego masquerading as nobility. How selfish the words truly sounded.

It sounded like me.

“To you?” I scoffed out, my voice low.

“I am standing here and I can fucking feel what he did to my body.” I told him, the scars, the phantom pain, the fear will never wash away. “And you have the audacity to talk about how he slighted you?”

My breathing was heavy and angry. “Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?” I said, “you’re just worried about what the world will think of you, the great daiyokai bested by a spider.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, “She used to tell me revenge is selfish, and I… I just couldn’t understand her.” I mumbled out.

My shoulders slumped; I am a fool.

All my fucking life, I had created an idea of myself. The great demigod, a ruthless warrior, and I had truly believed I was meant to live that life. But in the end, it had all been so meaningless. What had that gotten me? I had lived through my immortal life haunted by Wei’s voice, buried under the weight of her death. Tortured by just the thoughts of all that could have been. The whole truth shattered around me into a million pieces.

I buried my face in my fingers, my legs going very weak.

“What I thought would give her peace, was truly just a step I took for myself. I should have pressed that ego down. I should have stayed with her, somewhere I knew it was what my heart wanted. But I was scared that the act would be called too cowardly.”

“I failed her.” I completed. “I failed her in every way.”

The taunting voices in my head were dead silent.

“Tell me Sesshomaru.” I asked him, “Do you wish to kill him because by attacking me he questioned your authority? That you felt emasculated that someone under your protection was taken from right under your nose. Or is it truly because you wish to bring someone justice?”

He stared at me silently as I continued.

“There’s a difference, you know. A difference I just realised existed.” I shook my head, giving out a dry laugh.

“One you do for your own ego, to put someone who has defied you in their place. To tell the world that you aren’t the coward. The second…” my voice trailed away. Why hadn’t I understood such a simple thing when she was alive?

“What of the second, human?” he hissed out.

I looked up at the daiyokai sadly, “The second you do out of love.”

He actually laughed, which I soon realised was a lot more horrifying than his poker face.

He turned his head away, “It’s this trait of you humans that I cannot understand. You worry too much about your fragile lives, it’s foolish, weak.”

I frowned, my own anger bubbling up to the surface.

“Not only that, you begged me to abandon you to save her.” He continued.

His amber eyes slitted, the mountains around us seemed to shift, “you are fooled if you think you’re not weak.”

He’s exactly like me.

Rein in your temper daughter of the hills, the voices sang,

But you can’t put out fires from hell.

"You talk of how I'm lesser for saving Rin, yet you came crawling to search for me remember?!" I said pointing a wrinkly finger at him,

Sesshomaru looked like I had just slapped him across his face. The water around me chilled. I knew the moment I should stop yapping, but my bitter temper just continued to pour out.

“You’re the one that’s weak and cowardly.” I snarled out. “Cowering away under the guise of arrogance when all you have is your empty honour. Even the measly humans you seem to hate show more chivalry.”

His growl rang in my ears as he charged. Within a second his fingers were curled around my throat, pinning me down.

His hair fell around me like a rain of starlight, his ragged breath fanning my face as his fangs slipped out. My heart hammered in my chest, as he spoke, “You have constantly, tested my patience human.” His grip tightened around me, nails digging into my skin.

“Do it.” I spat out. The anger in his eyes flickered, taken aback with something of the same ferocity staring back. After everything I had gone through, with my death facing me down tomorrow, did he think a tantrum would scare me?

“You’re only angry because I’m right.” I gurgled out. “Wei tried telling me that.” I told him, watching his brow furrow with confusion. His grip loosened and I pushed him away.

,It may be that mortal lives are delicate, but they aren't like flowers that wilt away. Many like battle scars leave their mark. They are immortalised in memories, daughter of the hills. Even bound to death, they are worth living.

“Maybe my death will make you realise that.”

❧

I strode towards the camp angrily, in my rage I hadn’t even dried myself, just draped my kimono over my body, screamed at him and left.

I cringed a little, such dramatics. Couldn’t have just dried myself before making such impactful exit. Now the clothing along with me was sopping wet, water dripping down at my feet making small puddles as I walked back.

Something rustled making me halt. As I stared, a strange figure seemed to loom around the opening of the groove.

I furrowed my brow, the silhouette looked like that of a child that was crouched over. Did Rin follow me all the way here? I craned my neck, about to call her out when the figure spoke up first.

“Does mortality fare you well? Daughter of the hills?”

The voice was light and girlish, unrecognizable. My heart went still,

It couldn’t be.

The figure stepped forward, striding into the moonlight so I could see her.

It was a child, yet it wasn’t. The alarm that rang in my bones wasn’t from fear, it was recognition. The more I looked at her, the more inhuman she looked. Markings adorned her body, inky lines running up her face and arms, whorls made of runes mapped like galaxies on her body.

It was the same creature, that 14 moon before had appeared before me differently. My breath shallowed as time slowed around me.

The crone.

I raged towards the crone, but it felt like someone had tied boulders to my feet. Illusion magic? The invisible weight slammed me into the ground. The impact knocking the breath out of me.

She pointed a chubby finger at my face, “Have you learned nothing?”

I looked up at her aghast, the girl was no bigger than Rin, barefoot with windswept hair like she had just casually wandered out of a nearby village. She tossed a flat- stone between her hands, giving me a grin that missed a front tooth. “By now you should know you can’t compete with me.”

I growled angrily at her words, my nails dug into palms so hard I drew blood, while, she just watched me a mocking smile.

I knew it was the unnerving eyes, the iris was completely white, blinded by a cloudy white haze, like the moon peeking from behind clouds. Her unyielding gaze was pinned on me. I knew in that moment it was nothing but her gaze that had pinned me to the ground.

Don’t fucking stay down this time.

I pushed through the invisible weight with everything I had. The more I struggled against it the worse it seemed to get, gripping down my bones until they broke. I screamed through the pain, the pressure sending a stream of blood down my nose. The first time I couldn’t face her, this time- I will not go down that easily. With spots dancing before my eyes, I managed to drag myself up to my knees. My smouldering gaze finally met her, “Give m-!”

Within a second the pressure doubled, it felt like someone had grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back into the ground with a thud.

“Mmph!”

She put a hand to her ear theatrically, “I’m sorry, what was that?” the cheeky tone of her voice really pissed me off. “Couldn’t hear you with your face planted in the dirt.”

I looked up at her painfully, spitting out grass. “Give me...” I growled out. “My powers back.”

The kid gave me a toothy grin, “Even if I did,” She said cheekily, “You know your current body won’t be able to contain it right? Your flames are so ruthless, they won’t even show their own master any mercy.” She giggled as if it was the funniest thing in the world, “They’ll roast you from the inside out!”

I looked at her morbidly, “I miss the crone.”

The girl laughed, “We’re not much different.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. “What more could you possibly want?” I told her, “You have taken everything. Everything.”

My neck felt like it was going to snap from the pressure, “My powers, my body, everything that made me, myself. You stripped me of my very being” I cried out.

The creature sighed, “yes, how unfortunate.”

My anger surfaced again “You vile masochistic demon.” I snarled out, thrashing on the ground as the invisible force continued to pin me, “What did you gain by putting me through all of this?”

The child arched an eyebrow,

“So your mother levelling mountains because someone ticked her off is divine, but me cursing a sad demigod is vile?” She challenged, “Such double standards.” She said clicking her tongue, “I was right the first time, your ayakashi blood does make you stupid.”

My eyes widened, my mother?

I felt my mouth go very dry, I should have figure that the scorching light wasn’t just any spell, it was divine spirit energy. No ayakashi can put curses out like that. No, I realised bitterly, it wasn’t a curse at all, it was a prophecy.

A Goddess.

She could bend everything that the moonlight fell over. Bathed in divine light, the goddess of the crimson moon.

Just like the different phases of the moon she appears different each time.

Oh seven hells. Maybe I should apologise for calling her a masochist.

My jaw tightened, “You’re her.” I gasped out, goosebumps flooding my body, “You are Manana.”

A ghost of a smile played at her lips, the blind eyes crinkling at the sound of her name, “Well then,” she said, sounding very pleased. “Now that you know, we can actually begin.”

“What do you want?” I said, feeling the exhaustion in my bones. I had fought for this stupid human life for days, scrambling to keep myself alive. I hadn’t expected mortality to be so heavy.

“What I want?” She asked, giving out another laugh, “I thought you would be rubbing your nose at my feet begging me to spare your life tomorrow.” She completed. “Tell me daughter of the hills, do you not fear the fate tomorrow’s crimson moon will bring you?”

Considering how much it did scare me, I should have been begging her for life. For most demigods in the stories, begging for mercy to a Goddess worked out well.

“Unless..” She picked up on my thoughts, “That’s no longer what you wish for.”

I pulled myself to tell her what was truly ripping me from the inside, “If Naraku holds my dying heart, he’ll get his hands on hellfire.” I said,

“But my death will prevent that” I explained flatly, “There won’t be a beating heart to hold.” I told her bitterly. My eyes met her’s with a broken smile, “it’s not much, but I can accept a death like that.” It’s the best defence I can provide the others.

The ends of her mouth twitched, “Are you really naive enough to believe that something so mundane as death would stop him?” She replied, “There’s no stopping his ambition. He’ll find a way to attain your flames even if he has to carve out your corpse.”

No. I mouthed.

“That’s not what was supposed to happen.” I whispered out, my throat going very dry, my death won’t matter. He will continue to hunt everyone I will leave behind.

I curled my fists, “You don’t understand, this isn’t just about me anymore.” I looked up at her, trying to gather any shred of sympathy. “If he gets his hands on my flames, I–“ I shook my head, “I don’t even know what all he would be capable of.” I looked up at sudden desperation closing up my throat, “No one else understands.”

“Not Sesshomaru not inuyasha and the others, they don’t fucking understand how powerful he is.” But I do.

I felt the brunt of his powers firsthand, the poison in his miasma and how his talons tried to carve out my heart. “They will not be able to stand up to him.”

“And?” she asked.

My words faltered, “And?” I cried out angrily, My voice cracked, “The death and destruction he will bring would be a thousand times worse than what I did.”

“Human lives obviously.” The Goddess said, “Naraku’s descent into power will spark a war bartered in lives, ayakashi and humans.” She flicked the flat-stone and it disappeared mid-air.

“But it’s a war that does not concern you.” She said, “It is something you won’t even have to deal with at all. What has changed so much, that it has you pleading, daughter of the hills?”

“That doesn’t…” I pursed my lips, no longer knowing what exactly to say. I will die tomorrow. And whatever fucked up shit naraku is brewing I won’t be a part of it. Wasn’t that the easiest way out of it?

“I can’t just leave now.” I said finally, my head dropped, No matter how much the fire clan sang about glorious deaths, and how much I thought I desired a gore-y end on a battlefield. I realized I wanted to live. Even as a sad, unattractive, mortal, mountain girl. I still wanted to live. Especially now. Especially now that I’m-

My voice quivered, “I’m leaving behind too much.” I rasped out. “With my hellfire, I can give them a chance.”

“What does it really matter which tyrant holds the flames?” She tilted her head, “Do you think he would use it any different than what you did?”

The world around me went very still. Hellfire isn’t something I deserved either.

I begged her, “I know… I know I deserve my end.” I bowed to the divinity before, surrendering every sense of ego I had, “So please, Please” -

I thought of Rin and Kagome, and all those who had shown me so much kindness. They would all fall under his hand, hounded by my flames. The same flames I could have used to protect them. Even if I can’t change my destiny.

“I don’t have anything else to barter.” I replied, “You already have my life, so I can only beg this to you.”

“You can’t let Naraku get my flames.” I told her,

“I don’t care what you have to do to this body for that.” I continued, burned, eaten by animals, “Whatever brutal death I’m fated to tomorrow” I said, “Please, make sure it rids my entire existence, and I’ll pull my hellfire back into hell with me.”

There was a momentary silence, where I thought, she would start laughing again. But the Goddess just hummed curiously.

“Fine then, daughter of the hills.” She spoke, the voice ringing out hauntingly in the grove.

My eyes widened

“Tomorrow when death comes for you, I’ll allow you a chance.”

The Goddess beckoned her powers and magic shook the forest awake. I could feel the ancient, strange spirits of the forest peek over the shadows around us. Stirring from years of slumber to witness another prophecy.

Her white iris gleamed, “Just one.”

I stared at her in absolute silence. Just like the first time I had encountered her, the temperature around me dropped, making my ears ring painfully.

The tips of her lip curled, “I’ll give you one chance to change your destiny, where you can seize back your flames, return to a life of immortality.”

As I watched, the markings on her face began to glow, knowing what was coming I shielded my eyes from the blinding light. It still seemed to sear into my skin, like I had embraced a burning star.

“Daughter of the hills, death will come for you under the crimson moon.” Her voice boomed around me, “But as the blood moon rises for my feast, I shall grant you one final bargain. Take it, and you’ll find your flames again.”

When the light died, I was still on the ground, my kimono soiled from dirt and sweat. As I came to myself, I felt my heart hammer in my chest, a singular thought running in my mind.

Even if the earth splits open and the sky shatters around me, even if it was nearly impossible, even if I only had one chance, somehow, anyhow, I had to survive.

❧

“Wei!” Rin called out in the darkness and I jumped.

In the dark she looked like a little tent, sitting up on her knees the moment I walked back into the cottage.

“Didn’t I tell you to sleep?” I sighed,

The child looked at me expectantly, “I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

I shook my head, far too exhausted to think about this again, “Rin I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Hear me out.” She persisted as I dropped down on the mattress beside her.

“Next time.” She told me, “When I see something, we can just run away together.”

She said it with such sincerity I wheezed. That did seem like a simpler solution.

“Don’t laugh!” Rin said, her fingers tugged the sleeve of my kimono, “Promise me.” She said seriously, “Promise me that the next time we’re in danger you won’t stay back alone.” her sound was barely was a whisper, but it hung in the icy air like a sword over my neck.

“Promise me that we’ll run away together.”

I stared back at her,

One chance.

I tried to give her a small smile. One

A fool’s bargain, yet a bargain nonetheless.

“I promise.”

❧

GUESS WHICH SLOTH JUST UPLOADED?????

#sesshomaru #rin #inuyasha #reader x sesshomaru #lord sesshomaru #sesshomaru x reader #inuyasha fanfiction #sesshomaru imagine

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tiredrxtz · 5 months

Text

Eternal love of a demon king and the one he called his wife

She was harmonious, that was what he would say.

The way her heels clicked and scraped against the grass of the barren field she found herself in at the break of dawn, her eyes dazed as she gazed up into the night sky; [e/c] reflecting the divine emotions held by the very moon that took up the large canvas splattered with stars.

She was bewitching.

Anos voldigoad followed her swaying figure from where he was perched, besides an old blossom tree that blemished into a true representative of mother nature, his crimson eyes never straying from the women that danced to her hearts content before him.

The unconscious bodies of the humans that swarmed them previously forgotten, not dead, never dead, but a lot more quieter than when they stood before. The war between the human race and the demons was unyielding; no matter what constitutions he proposed, nor how honestly he bestowed his ideology of bringing peace to all beings, the humans failed to recognize the path of fate they were swarming down.

This war would possibly last centuries to come…

For what he wanted— a generation that did not have to suffer the consequences of a battle forgotten deep into the past— not even a miracle bestowed by the gods could compensate the desperation of his request.

He did not wish to demand peace because he was a demon nor because he was a king, Anos voldigoad simply wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that demons were the true enemy in this magic filling world.

To achieve the goal that all races wanted to forge into reality, he, along with his beloved wife, would have to lay down their very own lives in order for that to happen.

“Kanon, let me ask you this; just how many demons have you killed?” Anos spoke with sincerity as he gazed down from his throne and into the eye for the human hero— the only person that had the potential to come even close to defeating him.

Kanon hesitated on an answer. They had time but they had to hurry if peace was to be obtained within this era of time. After all, time waits for nobody…

Except for the demon king himself.

Their end had been tragic yet Anos couldn’t have asked for anything more. While it had been selfish to strip his beloved wife of her life, all in the name of peace, it was a necessary precaution he had taken; if he had been reincarnated alone, he’d have to see his wife take on the burden he once carried and that would drive him utterly insane.

He can only hope that, when they meet again in their new life, she’ll forgive him for being so selfish.

If not then he’ll have to make it up to her by taking her hand in marriage once again.

“Who would’ve though...” he wondered out loud. Anos voldigoad gazed longingly towards the night sky that was splattered with pinpricked shining stars from where he lay on his bed. “2000 years and there’s still signs of destruction.”

The demon king had been reincarnated into a new era 2000 years after his announced death as a teenage boy and had been admitted into a demon king academy— a school that purposely trained descendants of demon royalty.

Ironic isn’t it?

the peace he had obtained was formidable, well for now at least. His death had resulted in the magic residing within him to create a barrier that’s purpose was to separate the humans, demons and even the gods from each other.

His true power was truly remarkable.

The only thing that he had left to do was fulfill his last promise: find his wife and have her hand in marriage once more. If she were here right beside him, he’d bet that she’d say something along the lines of—

“The moon is rather bright tonight, don’t you think?”

The mattress dipped slightly as the weight Anos voldigoad knew all too well settled over his relaxed stature. A smile made its way to his lips as one of his hands enclosed around the one that lay against his broad chest.

It seemed that his wife was closer than he’d realized. Lucky him, he hadn’t even lifted a finger and his beloved had already sought him out from the thousands of people within the village; he was quite lucky to have an extraordinary women as his betrothed.

His lips found her own within seconds, their fingers intertwining and their bodies being pressed together. He had waited 2000 years for his wife to finally come to him and the time had come, he wasn’t going to waste another moment without her.

As cheesy as that sounded, he had missed her dearly.

Parting with a small pant, the reincarnated demon king racked over the appearance of the women lay beneath him. She hadn’t changed at all from the looks of it; her [h/c] locks cascaded down her figure just as graciously as before and her eyes were still gazing into the abyss they both ruled over.

“[Y/n].”

She was just as devoted to him as he were to her. She had remained loyal to him for all these years and had believed in his return to her— she was the embodiment of the love he longed for.

“Anos—“ the door creaked open and in popped his mother who, upon peaking in for no more than a mere second, squealed joyously and skipped away with a poor departure excuse.

Anos voldigoad sighed while the [h/c] female giggled.

“I guess your introduction will come just as early as expected.” He complained, sliding off of the female and stretching to a stand. “There’s no doubt about it that mom will spill her little fantasies to dad so there’s no point in trying to hide this little secret, is there?”

“Come, I’ll introduce you to them.”

Her hand enveloped his and on they went. The evening was then spent with Anos voldigoad’s mother crying tears of joy, clinging to the women he called his forever wife, while his father drank in honor of their announcement.

Before his reincarnation, Anos voldigoad didn’t have the fortune of his parents being alive, meaning that not only did he miss out on their shared love for him, he also didn’t get the chance to introduce them to his wife.

However, if they still resided here on earth, there’s no doubt that his mother would love [Y/n] just as much as he did.

His love remained eternal and so did hers. Only now can they experience true peace without having to draw their blades and dance in a mach destined to end in death.

#anos voldigoad #anos voldigoad x reader #Misfit in demon king academy

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nocturnesmoon · 6 months

Text

Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

Wordcount: 6.8k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious trauma, PTSD, Hallucinations, Paranoia, Anxiety, Disturbing Themes, let me know if i missed anything

Description: You ran from it all for a reason, it's easier to disappear when everyone thinks you're dead, but what happens when someone wants to bring you dangerously close to your past, the one you've been trying to run from for so long?

A/N: Trying to not panic over the fact i'm finally releasing this- Hope you enjoy it!!

[Next Chapter]

Through all your problems in life, your most prominent ones always seem to have a connection between the weather, and unnecessary questions. Since the dawn of time people have had this annoying notion of being very nosy.

There aren’t many places in the world you've been to where it's different. They can deny it all they want, it's all the same no matter where you go. Simultaneously the weather has never quite agreed with you. It makes your nonstop travel tedious, a draining task that often takes more time than you'd like it to.

Even here, with the amount of time it took you to get here in the first place because of the weather. It's an ironic turn when only a few days after your arrival, the sun turns the concrete into a fire from hell. A stark contrast to the storms and rain, that kept your flight delayed, again and again.

The heat makes you want to never leave that little flower shop, with the big fan in the corner. If it wasn't for the sharp floral smell, and the continuous buzzing of the thing, you could even have considered working here. It's not prone to traffic of many people, and those who are here are usually in a hurry, so they don't engage you in too much meaningless chatter, while you would work.

Unfortunately, you rarely have that luxury, every turn and twist in your day-to-day life, threatening you with the underlying feeling of being caught, of being known.

A loud sound erupts from the back, when the old man drops a pair of scissors. Children squeal outside the shop, as soon as the ball goes into the hoop placed above the window. It's a disaster waiting to happen. However, it kept the children happy and busy, in the early hours of the morning, when there was nothing to do yet, and the heat wasn't high enough to spoil their activity.

The quiet sound of snips continues soon after, the man continuously giving you odd looks from your request. You don't pay it any mind. Your hands nervously clutch at your wallet, the ache in your knuckles barely noticeable anymore.

One of the kids outside pick up the ball again, launching it at the hoop but missing by an inch. The ball bounces back, and you realize it before you see it. The silence between the kids is almost comical, the squealing and happy yelling gone within an instant.

A little streak of crimson runs down from the kid's cheek, the bruise already forming with unnatural colors. The other kids flock around them, fuzzing about with caring tones and careful touches. One of the older ones finds a rag to gently dab away the blood.

You wonder if it would still be warm to the touch, metallic in taste, an awful sign of life.

The kid's eyes keep staring ahead, through the window. You could pretend that they're looking at the pretty flowers, but you hold their eye contact with purpose. They look defeated in their shock, too big of a reaction for a little accident in your flawed opinion.

You could've stopped them, prevented it before it happened, they wouldn't have gotten hurt.

They continue to stare you down, a frown settled on their lips. Do they really think that you could've stopped them. The kids would've laughed at you at best. The eyes multiply tenfold when the other kids notice the injured one's staring. You keep it up, not backing down despite the uncomfortable feeling of too much attention on you. You've been too exposed today.

You've had eyes in the back of your neck ever since you left your room this morning. Not the usual way either, this time it's been from an unknown source.

You don't miss the man leaned up against the wall to a clothing boutique. His hood raised up, his lips moving to speak every now and then. He's doing a good job at pretending to watch the kids have fun and play.

The old man clears his throat. He's already arranged the flowers beautifully, they now rest on the counter, waiting for you to pay up.

You put down your payment in coins, ignore his grumbling in favor of grabbing the flowers and getting out of there in a hurry.

The café has been your only place of respite. A quaint little space you found when you first came to this place. It sits open to the streets, while still managing to feel packed away. Behind those old curtains, and dainty accessories adorning yellowish walls, is the best coffee you've had in years.

Ding

A pleasant little sound fills your ears every time you open the door, and step down in the lowlight place. As much as you liked it, every time you were here, you'd be fighting your instincts to make the sound again and again and again. Your own mental oblivion urging you forward.

Coffee is already placed on your table. Steam rising from the little blue cup, the one with a chipped side, unofficially assigned to you. The little corner is always free when you come in. There was always the question of whether the little spot was unpopular, or if there were other external factors for its lack of use.

It was hard to tell, by the already general lack of customers and patrons, but the little seat was always there for you.

Confined in your own little corner, you would spend the mornings of the past month sipping coffee, and looking like you belonged in a prison cell. With the amount of paranoia your posture exuded, it's impossible to not think you had something going on.

Luck has a tendency not to follow you in places like these, so you refrain from interacting too much with anything. It leaves you looking a bit like a social reject, but you comfort yourself in the knowledge that in a month, none of these people will see your face again.

At least people don't ask questions here.

You walk over to the counter and place the bouquet of spider lilies down next to the registry. Being careful not to disturb the beautiful order the nice old man had put them in. Your eyes linger for but a moment.

A meek old woman owns the place. Elena. She took a quick liking to you the first you arrived here a few weeks ago. She seemed to understand you in an underlying way, she never asked you the hard questions, she accepted your secrecy in a way only a mother who's seen the worst can do. It freaks you out.

You still feel bad about lying to her.

Had she been someone else, you might've been more inclined. To let the woman know who -what- you really are, would only put her in more harm’s way than necessary. That would even be before she could get a chance to hate you, for the things you've done to stay alive.

The wood protests when you settle into the chair. You pull back on the urge to wiggle in it. The old woman was nowhere to be seen, but the little rustle of pots and pans in the back gave you clear indication of where she is. There's always the fresh smell of newly baked pastries in the mornings, just before everyone wakes up for their daily hustles.

Not many people would come this early, making it a regular occurrence for you to spend that time here. Little hole in the wall only really served the continuing patrons, most others took to the more populated places.

A flash of light shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the dust swirling around in the air, as well as the colorful pillows carefully placed in each chair. They felt out of place to everything else in here. Newer. You quickly learnt a lot of things about the mentality of the people living here, you had to if you intended to blend in inconspicuously. Something you found out the hard way, was that the old woman tended to take things personally.

It didn't matter how much you meant it positively, negatively, no meaning at all. One little comment a faint evening, and the next day the pillows were all replaced.

You squint your eyes from the raging orange and put your focus back on the coffee. It's no longer steaming as much as before. You hadn't originally picked this place because it would provide you cover. In all fairness, if the place wasn't as cozy on the inside, it would likely be shady enough to be conspicuous, from the odd looking outside alone.

Yet still, it serves as your little paradise.

You find your brain goes quiet when you're in here. You can sip your coffee in peace, unaware of the shadows creeping in the corners of your eyes. It's numbing. Your little respite away from the danger outside, the danger within, and with Elena's nurturing soul, it makes you not want to leave.

Ding

Unfortunately, fate has a funny little tendency to give you the middle finger. It has never been on your side, and you doubt it is ever going to be.

Your little paradise is about to be invaded. With lingering smells of gunpowder, and blood so thick it will stain your soul. Patches of blonde and black hair, one making its way to your corner, and the other stationary at the door.

You take a sip of your coffee. It tastes wrong.

The blonde woman pulls out the chair opposite of you. She takes a moment to get comfortable before leaning in, her arms neatly folded on the table. She's playing on your domesticity, your familiarity, you know her too well to expect anything else. You don't doubt if you were look up, you'll see those blue eyes full of desperation, ready to ask you to move heaven and hell for her.

She's a few years too late.

Much to your surprise she keeps quiet when you take another sip. How kind of her. It doesn't last long. As soon as you put the chipped cup down, and acknowledge her, she opens her mouth to speak.

"No" you intercept her.

She closes her mouth, opens it, closes it. "You haven't even heard what I have to say," a small smile plays on her lips. It seems innocent enough. You know her better. She has blood on her hands, the same way you have blood on your teeth.

"The answer is no."

"I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't serious," her folded hands tighten, "You know that." She's honorable, as far as you know, but you're not ready to get back into your harness, so she can pull on your collar.

The next sip burns your tongue. You bite down on it, choke the yelp deep down in your throat. "Laswell..." you speak her name with urgency. The quicker you can shut her up and get her to leave, the quicker you can get back to making your plan to move.

"I need you to just hear me out alright?" she pauses, "it's in your best interest."

She's not letting you leave this place unless you agree.

Your eyes dart over to the man standing at the entrance. There's more than one way to get out of here, the one he is blocking is the least convenient. But you suppose you do owe it to Laswell to hear her out.

If you narrow it all down to the dirt and bones, she is the only reason why you're sitting in this café alive, while remaining dead to the world.

Your would-be grave is far from here. Dug and scraped with your own charred hands and broken nails.

Crack crack, bury the sin beneath blood and bone.

You can still hear it when you unfocus your brain, they won't let you forget.

"It's him, he's back" the words soil your throat, and they didn't even come from your own lips. "He's brought his group back along with him, and they're causing a bigger disturbance," It's sickening that she's even bringing this up.

She continues despite your grimace, "I would have pulled out every other resource I could before coming here, but you're the only person I can rely on to see this through."

She wants you to go back.

Go back, Go back, Go back.

"You're the only one I know that has both skill and cause."

Your eyebrow twitches, and you bite down on your tongue to not retaliate. You can taste the metal before you relent. The last thing you want to do is cause a scene in here.

The old woman doesn't deserve this.

"I understand your apprehension to this, but you know how important it is that we put a stop to him, you should want this more than anyone else."

The chair screeches as you push yourself to your feet. Your palms connect with the table, and it in turn rattles. The man who was standing stationary at the door breaks form. He reaches behind him, and let's his hand settle on something.

Not that you thought she would come here unarmed.

Laswell calls your name, bringing your attention back to her. She's a lot calmer than her jumpy backup. "It's just a talk, nothing more for now," it's all lies is what is.

"Bring attack dogs to all your family meetings?" you don't settle back into the chair. You were done with this place the moment Laswell and her soldier set foot in it.

She spares a single glance back at her friend, something reassuring in her face, it makes him ease back up to form. "Fine, there's no going around it with you," she wants it to all be lighthearted, to ease you in, you won't fall for it again.

"I am cashing in the favor, you'll be properly paid of course, and you can settle a score, does it really sound that bad?"

"Yes."

You stare into her blue eyes. She smells faintly of smoke. Her eyes won't leave you, but you see the contemplation in them, the searching of your figure. She's looking for the right bait, looking for the best way to sink her hooks into your ribs and drag you along.

"I don't want to have to do this to you..." her voice is quieter. It almost surprises you, but you know what she's talking about. She's in a bind herself.

She's not going to wait forever for you to say yes, and she needs you. On paper you are the perfect candidate for whatever she has planned. Though you doubt your mental profile lives up to the required standards. Certain things can be overlooked in desperation, you suppose.

"I'll hear you out," you start "somewhere else." The determination in her eyes border hope. It's pitiful that she thinks you'll have so much influence on her mission. You're really not all that.

You have the basic training, but also enough history to disqualify you, from any position within the military ever again. Laswell let's out a sigh of relief. Was she really that worried?

"Everything alright petal?" your eyes snap to Elena, a pot of something steaming in her hands that she places on the counter.

Laswell's backup twitches, seemingly surprised that the place wasn't as empty as he thought it was. You give the old woman a curt nod. It's enough to make her go about her day as normal, and you silently thank God that she isn't one to question.

"Always pick the jumpy attack dogs?"

Laswell stands up, breathing in harshly. If she doesn't like your resistance, she can pick someone else. "The squad is still weary from the last op." She explains.

You nod quietly in response. At least that's one thing you can sympathize with.

"Come, I'm not going to wait around for you to change your mind."

You hope Elena likes the flowers.

You feel like an idiot. Not even an hour out of the town you resided in, is an off the map military base. You are disgusted, appalled, shocked, disappointed. Every word in the book they could find.

You had prided yourself in being able to outrun anything. When Laswell helped you fake your own death, it was even easier. The amount of preparation you had to do when moving from place to place, was to put it mildly, extensive.

Somehow you completely missed this place.

It has your head reeling. Not even the rumbling of the car, or the passing outside, is enough to distract you. You catch Laswell eyes in the rearview mirror. She was first to get behind the wheel, which is a...choice.

Allowing out a soft sigh, you let your head rest against the window. The base is out past the middle of nowhere. You'd go crazy if you had to count all the corn fields you've passed by now.

Oh look...a cow.

"Nervous?"

The man next to you startles you out of your thoughts. You spare him a glance, not allowing yourself to linger too long at a time. He's casually dressed, his weapons hidden cleverly beneath layers of clothing.

If you remember right, Laswell called him Gaz. Odd nickname but not like you can judge, you've been called way worse.

He's got a good build, even with the blue hoodie you can see how his muscles fill it out. You don't doubt he could deck you fast if he wanted to. There'd be very little you could do about it, so out of form as you are. Occupied with everything else and staying out of sight, you haven't much time to keep yourself excessively fit.

Laswell picks her attack dogs well.

How sweet the sound of his bones breaking beneath your boot would sound.

You shake your head, grimacing at the thought. The little cracks that fill your ears are deafening.

"Don' worry, Cap's nice enough"

You don't doubt it, you just can't find it in yourself to care. Promises can so easily be broken; at the end of the day everyone wants something. That something has a tendency of putting you in danger, so you're not particularly excited.

"Gaz..." Laswell looks through the rearview mirror, making brief eye contact with the sergeant. Does she really think you that unhinged to not handle a simple conversation. A bit insulting.

"What...jus' making conversation," Gaz mumbles and turns his head to the side, subsequently joining you in looking out at the passing cows.

How much would she even tell Gaz about you. He couldn't know much, over half the things you're included in would be classified, and he's but a sergeant. His standoffish stance in the café was likely just to assess the danger, but the switch up is kind of freaking you out.

He seems nice enough overall, but you can't decide whether or not you actually want him to be. In a way it would be easier if he wasn't. You're not here to cultivate new friendships, you're here because you don't have another choice.

Whatever conversation he tries to make, dies out for the rest of the ride.

As soon as the car is put in park, Gaz jumps out. Gone within a blink of an eye, which you came to expect. The rest of the way was spent in awkward silence, and as much as you'd rather have silence, it was bad even for your taste.

Laswell takes it upon herself to lead you through the base. It's hard to ignore the looks and glares you get. You're an unknown variable, and without Laswell, you likely seem like an outright danger. It's a bit uncanny, to think that you once stood on their side, shoulder to shoulder with a sibling made of war.

She doesn't talk to you as you walk through base. You rely on your prior knowledge of the layout of UK military bases, to know where your exits would be. She parts with you in front of the "captains" office, a small throwaway promise to come get you once she has talked to him.

You don't question it, but it does make you raise a brow. Has she even told the captain you'd be coming? He would be the one supervising you when Laswell wouldn't be there, it's a pretty big thing to leave him in the dark about.

As soon as she closes the door, you let out a frustrated gust of air. This was already turning more complicated than you wanted it to be. Why didn't you resist a bit more, protest a bit more, you didn't even negotiate better terms with her. The shock alone, of seeing her again so soon after everything, rendered you unable to think logically.

At least the hallway is relatively empty.

Shadows start to creep in the corner of your vision. Thousands of little things hide there, occupying the otherwise empty space around.

You read the inscription on the door; Captain John Price.

The captain wasn't completely unknown to you. Though it all stems from rumors you heard, when you were a recruit. A few of your teammates had spoken about him in quiet whispers. Back then he didn't have the rank of Captain yet, nor a whole taskforce to command. He's come a long way.

Could they be similar?

No.

No one else could be like that, not that far. Especially not an old Idol, that would just be cruel.

"Kate you can't be serious...have you seen their file."

You perk up when you hear the slightly raised voices from inside. They're talking about you. You tilt your head closer. A grumbled brass voice sounds out, it reminds you of that of a dragon, most likely one belonging to the captain. You try to put a face to the name, but you can't remember any of the old pictures you saw. Every vivid image in your mind is distortedly different.

"You asked me to find extra help, this is it."

You'd laugh in her face if she was out here. There are much more qualified people than you, even with dealing with a group such as this.

"You could read one line in this and know they should not be handling a gun; much less be sent out in possible high-pressure situations."

You nod along for no one to see. You've done this song and dance trying to get reenlisted, twice before. More for the protection aspects than anything else. It would’ve been a lot easier getting your hands on weapons that way, instead of the unconventional way you've resorted to in your time away.

You did give yourself a bit of credit. Despite everything you had fared quite well for yourself, without Laswell's extended help. It came with strings, so you had turned it down.

At least you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere, which to be quite fair, you wouldn't put it past you for it to happen.

"John..."

"Kate..."

You start to wonder if Price would look like a dragon in human form. He already has the voice to match. Maybe he has a fiery beard, a tone that commands the respect of thousands. Would he hoard his possessions, to a disturbing extent?

The door scrapes against the floor when its opened. The sound makes you want to tear your ears off.

"Come on in" Kate waves you inside, making sure to close the door behind you. His office is simplistic, no personal touches around, only the standard issued items rest on his desk. From what you remember, he's used to moving from place to place often, it's likely that this office won't be his anymore by the end of the week.

"This is Captain John Price" She introduces you, and you offer him a nod of hopefully mutual respect. It's not reciprocated.

At first glance you notice two things about the captain.

One.

He stands tall. You don't doubt no matter how many meters you have in you, the man has ways of making you feel small.

He has a beard, beautiful eyes too, when you find it in you to look past the serious expression. It tells you all you need to know about him. At least he's not incompetent, he knows you shouldn't be here. Anyone would know after a single glance at you, even if Kate seems to think otherwise.

And two.

Price doesn't look like a dragon.

You don't know why it disappoints you. You knew very well he would not, and still, you find your heart sinking just little at his dismissive look.

It's a fantasy.

You stopped dreaming years ago; you have no intention of starting the childish notion again. You see enough things that weren't real, why add to it.

Price let's out a long sigh. His frustration with you is clear, but Laswell is steadfast in her opinion, no matter the resistance she wants you in this. The look she's sending his way, does as much as a firm set of words would. He folds his arms over his chest, looking back at her with as much determination as she is.

The quiet is...intruding.

You feel like you're witnessing something that you shouldn't be. The type of conversations, that your boss would have about you in private, to decide what to do with your behavior. You feel a need to say something, to break the silence and remind the two in the middle of a staring contest, that you're still here.

"Fine" Price concedes reluctantly, "but if there is anything-"

"There won't be any problems," she assures him "right?"

You freeze up the moment she refers to you. What were you supposed to say to that. You didn't want to be here, it was only out of obligation to her, to pay the blood debt you owe her.

You shrug your shoulders, finding a spot in the floor to stare at. The stain morphs and changes, subtly getting bigger and smaller, wider, and thinner all at once. It bleeds into the tile. You try to place a shape to it, but it changes too fast for you to decide on anything.

"Right then," Price moves over to his desk and pulls out a folder of multiple files. "You're going to want to know who you're going to work with," he slams the folder down on the wooden table. It creeks. You fight back a flinch.

"Kate has promised me you're going to be able to help," he doesn't sound convinced, "we'll see what you can do."

Laswell gives Price another glare. It would be comforting -her protectiveness- if it wasn't shrouded in obligation. It's laughable how much she believes you can solve her problem.

"You'll be accompanying the 141 in this, they've been working on this for the past month." Laswell chimes in as Price gets out the files of each respective member.

"I thought you needed my help immediately."

"I told you I was going to pull out all other resources before bringing you back into this." There's something pitying in her eyes, it makes you feel sick.

You were always going to be in this. No matter how much you hated it. It has been a part of so much of your life, there's nothing you can do to peel it off your skin. Lord knows you've tried to.

"Yes...We've been gathering as much information as we can on the group," Price leans his hip against the table. "We haven't found much, like the last time they were around, their efforts are very secretive, but we know where they're grouping. We have received reports, threats, missing persons rapports, all the signs the same group gave a few years ago, it seems very possible they have the same leader as well."

"The Divine Principle" you dig your nails into your palms. Your eyes catch the captains, now suddenly more attentive of you.

"You-"

"That's what they call themselves. I've hunted them before; I thought Laswell said." You don't bother looking towards the woman on your left, this is between you and the captain. He didn't seem to be quite convinced of your knowledge or skills. You didn't blame the man. You couldn't prove your skills worthy just yet, so your knowledge had to suffice.

You don't know why you suddenly feel the need to prove it to him, but there's something about his presence that makes you want him to like you. It's a rare feeling, the last time you felt like this you-

"She did, but she did not explain much about you, other than what's available in your file."

"I know enough to know they aren't good people," you switch up your stance, mimicking the way he was standing when you first came in. Your attention catches on the files again. You wonder who they could be, what their skills would include, if they would collide with your own.

You weren't used to working in groups like this, it was going to be different.

"Then you also know how important this mission is, they've done irreparable damage in the past, we can't have it happen again."

Price pushes one file towards you, holding the other three files in his grasp. "Gaz, who you already met as I understand it." You nod, thinking back to the man. Part of you had expected to meet him again, you should've realized he likely already was in the taskforce if he was accompanying Laswell.

"There's Soap, he'll be enthusiastic having a new member on the team I'll assure you that." Price places his file for you to see, giving you a moment before moving on. John MacTavish, Scottish by the looks of it, and an interesting hair choice of a mohawk. You're almost surprised they let him keep it.

"Lastly Ghost, and myself" he puts down the last file. It has no attached picture, but that isn't what initially grabs your attention as out of place as it is. What settles deep in your bones, is his name.

Simon Riley

Simon.

That Simon.

Your brow furrows as you read his name over and over and over again, gradually wishing he had a picture so you could confirm it for yourself. You hadn't seen or heard the name in years, not since you left Manchester. Was there really a chance it could be him.

"There's no picture," you pick up his file, as if reading his name closer would bring clarity to your adding questions.

"Never is," Price observes your hesitance the way you give Ghost's file more attention than the rest, "Do you know each other?"

"Might, it was a long time ago though, I doubt he'd even remember me."

He observes you for what feels like forever, trying to look past your carefully crafted mask, to gouge out the state of the relationship. "Well, it'd be good to have some familiarity on the team," he shrugs "can make the transition easier for you."

Yeah, if he doesn't despise you still.

You don't feel the need to tell the captain of your possibly declined relationship with the man. There's still a chance it's not him. You don't know why you're trying to fool yourself that it's not. You knew even back then that he wanted to join the military, that it had been all he ever wanted.

He's a lieutenant now. Despite everything you can't help but feel a little proud of him for making it this far, even if it's tinged with sadness.

"Will it be a problem?" Laswell brings your attention to her. Her voice layered with a sense of supposed knowledge that she is not supposed to have. It's hard to not get a little irritated, at this point you have no idea how much information the woman has in her skull. Information that you'd love nothing more than to erase from her memory.

"No, it will not" she isn't expecting any other answer. It's not like she's suddenly going to let you go if you do. Worst case scenario she restricts your workspace to avoid a conflict, and if she so desperately wants you to do this job, then you need your space.

"Make it quick, yeah?"

Gaz comes to a stop in front of the door to your little motel room. He makes a quick glance down each side of the hall. Deeming it clear, he leans back against the yellow tinted walls. Too bad he can't see the shadows breathing down his neck.

Though you'd never experienced anything shady or violent, you knew there was a rising criminal activity in the motel. You just never really spent enough time here to witness any of it.

"Yeah yeah," you grimace fumbling with your keys. You really should get rid of some of them, most of them didn't have a purpose anymore. Though like with most things, you had a hard time letting go.

The inside of your the little room you rented is exactly as you left it. Dresser door broken and splintered, curtains half closed, shadows looming in every corner and crevice.

Home sweet home, or something to that effect.

It's not a lot, but you don't complain, you've certainly lived with worse. Not staying in one spot for more than a month at a time didn't leave many options for work, so you had made do.

As much as you trusted Laswell's skills, and her promises, you had your own wariness to battle against. This way was the only one that actually made you feel like you had an advantage, against those that meant you harm.

The duffel bag with most of your belongings, had been hastily shoved into the dresser the morning prior. You find it uninterrupted in the same place, as expected. You glance towards the window and mark your possible exit. Should the man outside turn for whatever reason, the window would be loose, and you could break through the rusted glass frames.

For now, though, you had to trust that this taskforce you were to temporarily join, didn't actually want you dead. Yet.

Your variables are changing, and fast. There isn't a bigger part of you that enjoys this, and meeting up with Simon again could only prove trouble. He probably still held some resentment towards you, there's only the small hope that he keeps things professional.

You look down into your bag, rummaging around in the sealed pocket to locate your pile of papers. Years old and stained letters, some answered, some not. It was your only means of communication for a time, until it all stopped. You don't think he ever found out why, he would've contacted you if he did right? Or maybe he had decided then and there you weren't worth his energy.

Pushing the thoughts aside proved a much harder task than normal. You had gotten used to putting all into a tightly sealed box in your brain, but now that you knew for certain it would all come flooding out, it proved it harder to contain overall.

There isn't much to collect from the room itself, most of your things were already packed and ready for an easy go. You pick up an extra set of shoes and stuff them in before venturing to the bathroom.

You had to give it to this place, they had some of the most uncomfortable bathrooms you'd had the pleasure of occupying. The mirror is stained and dirty, the tile an ugly brown color, and not even to talk about the toilet itself, or the odd smell. Though the latter could be explained by you and your own ministrations.

Your eyes land on the cross tossed into the tub. Little thing on a chain, the same one you had worn for years at a time. Dried blood still gives it that discoloration.

Your knees click when you reach down and place it in the cup of your hand. To think that this little thing carries so much of you. It has seen it all, witnessed your greatest heights making you feel light as a feather, and watched all your sins unfold, burning like hellfire against your chest.

You've never hated a thing more.

Slipping it around your neck is a thoughtless process. The muscle memory in your fingers do the work for you, securing the chain on the back of your neck, like reattaching a leash.

You stand up straight and walk to the sink. Your toothbrush has fallen, it's green hue so faded it's turning white in some areas. You really should just get a new one.

Your reflection catches in the mirror, and you make the mistake of not looking away. Your face turns to a blob of colors and bleeding effects. There's nothing to tell and nothing to see. Your eyes cave in, your nose splitting apart, your ears fuse with your hair and your fingers are too long dragging off your skin.

You barely recognize yourself anymore. You know it's in there, begging to come out, but it'll only come worse than before if you let it.

It all morphs together. A thousand different shadows standing behind you, their long digits running over your arms and shoulders, beckoning you forward. They lean into your ears, fester in your brain, in your eyesight. The shadows in the corners are always the worst in front of mirrors.

It's your fault. You know what you did. You know that they would've still been alive if you hadn't done it. Why are you still here. Why do you think you can hide? You always go back, it's your place, it's ingrained on your skin.

There's never been an out for people like you.

You grab your toothbrush and exit the bathroom.

"You really been livin' in here?"

You clasp a hand over your mouth, masking the shriek you would've let out. You thought he was going to stay outside.

Gaz looks into mirror hanging next to the dresser with the broken door. He inspects his reflection, rubbing a thumb over a smudge of dirt on his neck.

"It was a temporary solution," you tell him as soon as you get your spiraling mind under control. You walk over to the duffel bag on the bed, throwing in the rest of your dwindling belongings.

You can feel his eyes on you, likely judging you. At least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut. You couldn't afford nicer in your current situation, and moving as frequently as you were, this was the least costly option.

"For how long?"

He walks over to the bed, glancing into your bag once before continuing his move around your room. You didn't truly know the answer to that question yourself.

Very long, too long, as long as you can hide like a coward.

"As long as necessary," you answer him while zipping up your duffel bag. It slings around your shoulder, fits neatly against your back. It's a familiar lightweight. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad, you were planning your move anyway.

He gives you a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate. You don't. His shoulders sag a bit when he seems to realize. "Hurry it up," he says and walks to the door, "don't got all day, we have a plane to catch."

He leaves you alone in the hollowing room. It turns a shade darker when the sun shifts outside the window. The shadows consume more of the room. Millions of little eyes watching you in secret.

You walk over to the wall and kneel. It feels wrong to do. There's so many little dents and scrapes hammered into it, the pattern of the wall hiding the little room perfectly. You bang on it once and quietly. Moving the cutout piece out of place, you reach inside to find the gun.

You check it, still fully loaded, and put it down amongst what little clothes you have. It's only for necessity of course, nothing vicious yet.

Come come come.

Your head tilts towards the window, the curtains managing to flow ever so slightly. They bleed into the background, the murky watery color splitting with the patterns on the walls, and the greenery outside.

All of it dark and gloomy. Threatening.

Your legs carry you there. The sun has disappeared behind a set of clouds, leaving dark promises of rain and thunder. The whispers are always the loudest when you're alone. They're not always saying anything. Sometimes they're shaming you, reminding you, other times it's incessant noise.

Occasionally they take shape. Shadow figures with creepy smiles, wide bloodshot eyes. It hides down in the forest behind the motel, to watch you through the window to your room. It's crooked grin bleeds and oozes. You forcefully blink a few times, trying to will it away, but you know it won't disappear until you get distracted, or it wants to go.

You don't hear it; it merely mouths it to you.

He'll find you.

And the scariest part is, you know it's right.

There's never been anywhere you could hide.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

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notverybrightraven · 6 months

Text

(An Attempted) Granblue Fantasy Timeline

Yeah.

(Spoilers btw)

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~??? years ago: the universe is created

~3,000,000,000 years ago: The Phoenix is born from the sun.

~2,900,000,000 years ago: The Phoenix becomes Laplace’s demon.

~??? years ago: The world is formed, and mortal civilization begins.

~70,000 years ago: A prosperous ancient civilization runs a deficit on soul matter. Abominations created by Wardant attack the world. Megumi becomes Robomi and gets stuck in a hole. Kenji develops mommy issues and becomes a computer.

~???? years ago: Otherworldly miasmas/beasts ruin the world, with a select few mortals able to escape to the moon.

~20,000 years ago: The dawn of lunarian civilization. First lunarian artifacts and ruins appear on the world. It is unconfirmed if these are from before the moon escape, or if they are from lunarian colonists returning to the surface.

~7,000 years ago: The Omnipotent comes to the world from another dimension (via lunarian interference?). The Omnipotent takes the remaining uncorrupted land and lifts it into the sky, and seals the surface under a barrier, forming the Crimson Horizon and the Skyrealm. The laws of physics change, with Wardant excluded from the Skyrealm. Shalem and Shahar are created. The ancient people officially become Otherworlders. The moon begins its war against an unspecified threat (the Crimson Horizon?). True dragons probably start existing.

~6,000 years ago: The Phoenix and the Omnipotent fight. Shalem gets put into a box, and Sahar goes into a coma for a few centuries. Farhara dies, to be reincarnated in 6000 years. Fenie goes zoom. After thirty years, Abramelin splits the omnipotent in two, creating the sky god and the Astral god. Islands split up, creating a fractured world. The Astral realm, along with all Astrals, is created.

~2,000 years ago: The War begins, with Astrals invading the Skyrealm. The first primal beasts are created, including Lucifer, the angels, and the origin beasts. Primals are assigned to islands to control/experiment on the mortal races. Cosmos was created in the Astral realm. Lucilius incites the fallen angel war, causing Sandalphon and the fallen angels to be put into a box, and causing Lucifer to kill Lucilius. Astaroth attempts a coup, gets killed by Lucifier, and Magus gets put into a box. Cagliostro invents alchemy, and gets put into a different box. Noa introduces airships to the world.

~??? years ago: The Astral god creates the girl in blue and the sky god creates the red dragon as a snackbox swap service.

~??? years ago: The Jorha are founded, and proceed to commit unethical science. The Revenant weapons are forged.

~??? years ago: Mikaboshi builds a big rock. Her and her daughter get put into a box.

~1,000 years ago: Ninetails is created, eats a bunch of foxes, and gets put into a box. The Cardinal Saints begin their mission to pacify the cardinal beasts.

~500 years ago: The last primal beasts are created. The Astrals decide to make high-power, high-independence angel-like primal beasts to fight in The War. Said primal beasts, including Enyo, predictably rebel against the Astrals. The War ends with almost every astral leaving the sky. Abramelin and the Diviners first meet. Baldr talks to Satyr and takes a nap. Erste regrets politically allying with the Astrals. The knights of Lumiel start to form.

~??? years ago: The Inchoate World begins to form the Arcanum.

~??? years ago: Cosmos and Lucifer start having coffee brunches. Cosmos creates Geo and Zooey.

~300 years ago: The Diviners put Abramelin into a hole. Feendrache puts Malegant and the Valiant in a cold hole.

~100 years ago: Estarriola and Temperance explode a kingdom.

Between 100 and 0 years ago: The majority of mortal characters are born, and experience variably tragic backstories.

24 years ago: Farhara reincarnates as Sabrina.

~30ish years ago: Rein's sister is born, and gets kidnapped by the True King. Granjeet’s dad goes on an adventure with Rein, Rosetta, Walfrid, and Vyrn. Lyria is found by them, and hidden in Phantagrande.

~15 years ago: Granjeet is born, their mom Rein "vanishes", and their dad ditches them for Estalucia. Xing gets adopted by Granjeet’s dad after mass manslaughter.

~10 years ago: Granjeet gets a letter from dad.

~??? years ago: Lyria is found by Erste, and used as a test subject.

0 years ago: Katalina busts Lyria out of her box. All the events of gbf, gbf:versus, gbf: versus rising, and gbf:relink occur.

+400 years in the future: Yatima joins Omega-3.

+600 years in the future: Omega-3 becomes combat-ready.

+20,000 years in the future: Lunarian society rebuilds Diaspora and invades the Skyrealm.

+25,000 years in the future: Abramelin and Farhana reunite.

Unknown Placement (between 20,000 and 0 years ago): Yatima and Raybury meet, Yatmia founds the Society.

Anyway:

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Incomplete & Disorganized Refs. Black background logs are read bottom to top.

#granblue fantasy #gbf #granblue #long post #long #granblue spoilers #i completely forgot enyo was instrumental to the freedom of mortalkind lmao #Anyway let me know if there are any missing dates I guess #edit: forgot the aunt's timeline a little

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 years

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𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬.

¡! ❞ You can never love him, not in the way he loves you. You say that over and over but Dazai Osamu has other things in store for you.

"So... Is that how it is?" said the brunette with a tone colder than ice and a face devoid of any and all emotion. He sat in a wooden chair with his arms placed in front of him as he stared downwards at your shaking form. Deafening silence filled the room as neither one of you was willing to speak up, not after the horrible mistake you had just committed.

"You will never be my first love, no matter how hard you try Dazai! Someone else already took that place, someone that isn't you!"

Those words echoed loudly inside Dazai's mind and he tried to hard to prevent himself from scoffing. Even now a dead man was more important to you, a rotting hunk of flesh that couldn't say nor do anything but you didn't budge, you never budged. What you said, it... it hurt. It hurt him and it still hurts. It felt as though he got stabbed in the chest and the knife was being twisted over and over and over and all over again and the sheer force of the pain would bring Dazai back down to Earth, back to the Hell he calls a home, back to you.

Is this karma? Is this divine retribution for all his past actions?

His dear old Odasaku always wanted for Dazai to become good, to be good but his past had caught up with him and old habits die hard. He was torn and conflicted - was he nothing more but a waste of space or a human being that deserved to live if not a happy then a so called normal life?

It dawned on him and after what felt like an eternity, Dazai grinned, a wicked, devilish grin that grew and grew until it almost made you throw up. His face was inches away from yours, chapped lips just barely threatening to steal yet another precious kiss from your own as Dazai finally decided to break the horrible tension.

"You were right dear, I will never be your first love..."

Was he coming to his senses? What was he saying, is it foolish to get your hopes up yet?

"But..."

You could feel his cold and long fingers on your face, toying with the bruised and bloody flesh as his chocolate brown eyes glared horribly at you, as if they were sharp daggers ready to kill anyone who dared to get in their way.

"...I have become something much, much more important, something that you just won't be able to live without."

You could feel one of his arms swiftly creeping up towards your head and you felt a sharp thug upwards, causing you to yell in agony as his other hand painfully squished your cheeks, his fingernails ripping into the softness of your cheeks. Dazai carefully watched the tiny trickles of crimson red blood fall onto the white bandages on his hands, as if he was admiring the view so to speak. Well he was, actually. Your pretty blood had now stained his bandages and it could be considered a work of art, to him at least but, that wasn't too important at the moment, not when you had oh so carelessly broken his heart into a million little pieces.

"I may not be your first love but I sure as Hell am going to be your last one. And that darling is much more important."

If you weren't going to let him heal you he was left with no choice other than to break you.

🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misskisses, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @itssara-chan

This man is so hard to write for I swear, but I really tried with this, m'kay?

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xyeh2o · 1 month

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(Pyrrhia) - Prologue: Odd One Out, Page 1

Written and Drawn by XyeH2O

Full read:

Wattpad

Ao3

Original Character I don't own:

Parakeet by u/Unicat-

Hoop pine by u/Xxhuskypancakex

WARNING: this fanfic is full of spoilers from the original Wings of Fire series, and may be subject to change when arc 4 comes out

Page 1

Pyrrhia sat silently beneath the night sky, only illuminated by three moons. Within the heart of the Skywing Kingdom, Queen Crimson's palace was shrouded in the shadows of the surrounding mountains.

Due to the abundant moonlight, many SkyWing soldiers chose to patrol throughout the mountainous terrain, observing even the slightest movements from the ground below

The Brightest Night, a rare event seen only once a century, featured the three full moons aligned in the starry sky. The horizon glowed as if dawn were about to break, casting a warm light over the scene. Yet, despite the added warmth from the moons, the cool breeze and restless waves kept the night refreshing.

While the majority of SkyWings prepared for the coming days of celebration, a few dragonets gazed up at the sky in wonder at the rare sight. While some slept peacefully, comforted by the divine moons that brightened the night.

The kingdom, now vastly populated and developed, thrived in the year five thousand nine hundred twenty-one after the Scorching,

nine hundred nine years into the future.

Inside the royal hatchery, the air was filled with the crackle of torches and the low murmur of dragons awaiting the hatching. Cacti, the SandWing advisor to Queen Nebula, turned to the IceWing and SkyWing guards. “Call the Hybrid Queen. The clutch is about to hatch,” she commanded, gesturing elegantly with her talons to emphasize her words.

The guards glanced at each other, then back at her, and nodded. Clutching their spears, they left the hatchery as instructed. Cacti felt a surge of relief and surprise at their compliance; she hadn't been sure if they would follow orders to a sandwing like her, especially with most of the Sandwings in the room being too occupied in their duty or conversation.

She scanned the nearby dragons, searching for any skeptical looks. The Seawing and Rainwing continued their conversation ignoring their surroundings as they drank their drink, while the Nightwing and Icewing guard were too busy gossiping to notice her.

#art #dragons #wingsoffire #wof #dragon #wings of fire #webcomic #pyrrhia #comics #fanfiction #skywing

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mina-scribbles · 2 years

Text

of gods & monsters

Summary:

Since the dawn of Olympus, Titans have become nothing more than footnotes in divine history, leaving them to roam the earth with no purpose for eternity.

You are the primordial goddess of love, and in present-day Greece, in the golden time of the Olympians, no one utters your name anymore. But occasionally, someone remembers, or the Fates suddenly decide that you have some purpose left in the threads of your immortal life.

It is one of those occasions where you find yourself called to a cave where a monster lies with his fresh kill.

Forgotten as you are, you are still the goddess of love, and to love is what duty tells you to do.

Notes:

I got the idea from references that say Eros is the primordial god of love, but then replaced him with Aphrodite. Just--y'know, creative liberties, and whatnot.

Hurt/comfort & angst & feels ahead. This is purely self-indulgent faffing as I loved the thought of having someone comfort Seraphim in a non-sexual way, you know? So, nothing spicy at all. Just--softness.

Unbeta'd btw, so yuh. Hope you enjoy !!

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

The sharp tang of blood greeted you the moment you stepped into the cave.

You’d seen this before - scattered intestines, cracked and jagged parts of a skull, a femur here, an ulna there, a spine torn in two strewn across the cavern floor - yet you still couldn’t hold in a gasp.

This of course drew seraphim’s attention, who knelt by the mangled remains of his uncle, a puddle of blood under his knees.

Quicker than any human, he rose to his feet and whirled around, teeth bared and eyes ablaze. In one bloody hand, he clutched his bident, both tips still gleaming crimson.

This should’ve insulted you, made you bristle. Any god, titan or olympian, would have struck him where he stood for even daring to defy powers greater than himself, a puny human desperately trying his hand at godhood. it was pathetic, really.

But at your core, you were what creation intended; you were the personification of love and all its nuances - the warmth and chaos of it all, the unconditional acceptance of the insanity that came with loving and the loved. this was your essence since you dawned alongside the universe, birthed long before the concept of humanity was even imagined; the primordial goddess of love, a titan of no equal. Even when you’ve been made obscure and obsolete, this was still your duty as divinity.

And so, standing before seraphim now, soaked in gore with his humanity barely visible anymore, you saw.

Somehow, he did, too. his features grew less sharp, transforming his snarl into a grimace as he leered at you. “Another god.” He spat the words like a curse.

“Titan,” you corrected. “And I mean no harm.”

Recognition dawned on his face. But you’d seen this before - recognition for the sword but not its wielder. This time, however, you refused to let disappointment settle in your stomach. It wasn’t his fault.

Neither of you moved. Your gaze darted to his crimson-tipped bident, and he to your form. The questions were easily recognizable in his eyes - who were you? why were you here?

With a breath, you decided and stepped forward. Seraphim watched you approach. Your dress trailed behind you, red blooming along the white, silken hem.

When you were a foot away from him, you extended a hand between you. “Come,” you said. “You need rest.”

He eyed it like it was a snake about to strike.

So you tried again. “Take your rest before Hera finds you again.”

At the mention of the goddess’s name, Seraphim growled, and you gasped when the cold tip of his bident pressed under your chin. This forced you to look up into his red gaze, your stomach churning at the miasma of bitterness and revenge swirling within them.

“Gods, titans, you’re all the same,” he spat. “We’re nothing more than playthings to you. like pawns on a board that you move and summon to your liking. when have any of you answered our prayers? where are any of you when we beg for your aid, your mercy?”

With a snarl that rivaled his, you answered, “Am I not an answered prayer? Have I not come at a moment of need?”

“You all come when you please.”

“I come when I can,” you hissed, unable to quell your outrage. What do you do when you were nothing but mythos? When the best you got was a passing thought because you were merely a footnote?

When they came, the prayers came few, until eventually there were none.

People had more faith in rocks and earth. You? Your existence was too irrelevant to even question.

Your tongue was a weight of all the spite and bitterness festering within you, the antithesis of your essence. You could’ve said more, could’ve made him see all that you had seen. But that would shatter him irreparably, and you couldn’t do that. that wouldn’t be very lovely, not when you were love itself. Not when you were supposed to love.

And you wanted to love in spite of it.

You were the chaos of it all, and so you understood. And with you, he would, too. In time.

So for now, quietly, you added, “Trust me, boy, you are not the only one the fates have abandoned.”

This—this broke him. His eyes dimmed and his form slumped, as if the weight of his bident suddenly became too heavy. Then, as if just seeing for the first time, his gaze darted all over himself, at the blood smattered across his chest and over his arms.

“I—“ he began, features rapidly shifting between grief and anger, and when he couldn’t decide, he finally, finally looked at you. “Hera will come looking for me.”

“She will.”

You read emotions as one would read letters on a page. And with his realization came the brief flash of fear -- bitter and sharp -- before emptiness took its place once more. Beneath it all, however, was the undercurrent of anger, a steady thrum while everything else ebbed and flowed.

A pause, and then, in a whisper, “He’s dead. He’s really dead.”

When you touched his cheek, images played in your mind — a mother and a boy against a world of greedy men, of gods and prayers, of swords and blood, of a yawning hopelessness and a desperation like teeth chewing through flesh.

All these just past a void, a wall of nothingness acting as a barrier between the memories and the red haze of anger facing the world. monsters hiding monsters.

“I know,” you answered just as softly, pressing closer. seraphim leaned into your touch—not out of want but out of necessity, and oh how your skin tingled. To be wanted. To be needed. And when he stepped further into your space, a soldier laying his burdens as seraphim rested his forehead against your shoulder, your very soul thrummed. Your arms wrapped around him, one hand carding through the hairs in his nape while the other trailed down his arm, to the hand circled loosely around his bident. "you need rest."

Hot breath fanned against your collarbone. "And in exchange for rest?"

Seraphim's muscles grew taught under your touch. A man awaiting judgment.

Skin to skin, the images became clearer, the sensations stronger--of your muscles straining to keep you standing, of hard rock digging into your knees as a force pushed you down.

You grit your teeth. You wanted, yes. But not that. Once, maybe. But not today. Not for a long while.

Cupping his cheek so he gazed up at you, you said, "Nothing you would not wish to give. And I have nothing I wish to take."

With your thumb, you swiped at the blood on his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch. Maybe, maybe, he was human still.

His gaze darted over your features, your eyes, your lips, and you barely stayed the shiver creeping up your spine as you pulled your hand back, allowing him privacy to his thoughts, for here was a man frozen in awe at the face of kindness.

"I will be a better god," you swore to yourself as a fist clenched around your heart.

Seraphim seemed to gather himself as he rose to his full height. His free hand twitched at his side before slowly taking yours.

"Where do we go?" He asked.

"Wherever you wish."

Together, you walked in contemplative silence toward the mouth of the cave. High above, the sun's glare was brilliant. It warmed your skin, and glimpses of a chariot burning across the heavens flashed in your mind. Most knew the sun god by another name. You knew him as a titan. And for him, for them, you would remember.

Seraphim pulled you from your thoughts when he said, "I do not have a place to come home to."

His skin shone like obsidian in the light, the smattered blood gleaming hotly as the red marks along his skin. "There is a wooden hut not far from here. It's not much, but it can be home." If you would like.

It remained unspoken, but when he squeezed your hand, you knew he understood.

#blood of zeus #seraphim x reader #seraphim x you #blood of zeus - seraphim

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sorryseraphim · 8 months

Text

“What in the hells happened here?”

Confusion was the first to rush through his body. And then, anger and frustration as Enver saw his scattered books and torn bedsheets across the room. The night before with Helene had been splendid, sensual, and intense even, and now it went downhill as he watched her clean the dagger, an heirloom gifted by her divine father. She was sitting comfortably by the edge of his bed, legs crossed as she focused on her blade, as if trying to clean the rough edges by wiping it with cloth.

His mood soured increasingly as the silence lingered between them, her not answering his question.

“Helene.” His voice a combination of anger and annoyance.

She stopped moving for a while, her gaze now focusing on her fingers as she flexed them wide, her dagger strapped to her side. “You tell me.” was her only response. He stared at her momentarily, trying to gather his thoughts, inspecting the damage around the room: a broken vase, flowers scattered and ruined across the floor. Most of the sheets they shared the night before were slashed to pieces, and his books, a few of them torn to their spine; it was a total mess. With a hiss, Enver spoke again, his tone sharper and angrier.

“You can’t just have a tantrum like this and expect me not to have questions. You are not a toddler I need to coddle. Start talking.”

“Why don’t you ask your dear Franc about what you did?” Finally looking at him, Enver noticed how her crimson orbs were darker than usual, almost black, as if they would seep out of her sockets and drown him. She was clearly enraged; her hands continued flexing on her side, fidgeting, a habit Helene always did when itching to spill blood. He sighed; it was certainly an unexpected question and annoyed him even more.

“Franc Peartree is a genius in his lane. He is an important ally to our cause, smuggling materials to be forged as weapons under the lords’ noses.”

“And? Does this partnership include him sending you items, signing as ‘affectionately yours,’ Gortash?”

He became infuriated by the fact that she refused to call him his name. Frustrated, he started walking towards her, maintaining composure as he tried to soften his voice, only to come out entirely wrong and more irritated than he already was. “I’m well aware of what he wants. And I have tried to maintain it where I can call him a colleague.”

Helene scoffed, staring back at him with the same anger he had shown her. “Colleague? Are there colleagues in this city–no, in this realm– that treat the other as their lover? Shamelessly writing of whisking them around, telling them sweet words?”

His eyes widened as his heart had also skipped a beat. She knows, but how did she know? He thought, slowly dawning upon him, furious at the thought of her doing.

“You’ve been spying on me?” His voice was now full of indignation, almost grumbling and low. He clutched hard on his tunic, his knuckles turning white from gripping the fabric. Helene didn’t budge; she was also furious that he lied; what had he done behind her back? Her mind racing, ridden by madness. “I came here earlier to wait for you. And what did I see? A letter delivered, scented, written, and sealed beautifully. ‘Affectionately yours’? You are a fool if I think I’d let it pass me by!”

She walked away, her steps heavy as she grabbed the hilt of her dagger. With a sudden jerk, she looked back at him, spurting words like poison in her mouth. “I went to his house, Gortash. It was easy. He was so careless, letting that stupid letter of yours lying around.”

“You’ve read everything then? And you didn’t notice anything other than my flowery words?”

“Was there something I need to read? Some smutty lines that you two have exchanged with one another? Fuck him, and leave me alone!”

With a few strides, Enver held her wrist, pulling her towards him until they were face to face, the other hand holding her by the waist. She was breathing hard from anger, her nostrils flaring as she gazed up towards him. “Why do you think I did it? Could it be because it was a necessary part of tactical machinations? Do you even understand the game I am playing?”

She noticed how his voice grew sharper, his eyes darkening as her interrogation dragged on. “You’re conveniently telling me that just now, thinking I’d believe you?” Tugging her wrist from his grasp, he held it even tighter, her grip on her waist harsh as he tried to keep her in place. She held her free hand up, balling it to a fist and letting it fly to his face, which he had dodged easily. As he had anticipated, she would resort to violence when held up. He let go of her waist to contain both hands, pulling her closer to him.

“I have nothing to gain by lying to you. It was a calculated move. Politics is a game filled with secrets and deception. And if I were to play the long game, rising to power, I must seize everything to meet my ends. I have been playing this longer than you could hope to comprehend.”

“Thank you for reminding me that you know much better than this game, Gortash. You never even intended to tell me, too, aren’t you?” She said with a hiss, baring her teeth. His grip loosened, putting her hands down. He’s struggling hard to make her see reason, but it proved difficult as he thought he might also be at fault for hiding it from her. He won’t accept defeat, no matter who she is to him. This was an opportunity to further his name, if not by the patriarchs at this very moment.

“It involves a constant dance of power, Helene. I have carefully considered my actions to serve my ends, making sure there would be no bearing on our relationship. Why would it matter if I tell you or not?”

With a quick push, Helene shoved him away from her. Her hands immediately found her blade’s hilt, letting it out in the air. She was breathing hard, her body ready to strike as Enver held his hands up as if in surrender.

“To serve your ends. Yes, aiming to become the noble Lord Gortash? No! After everything you told me, the genuine care you’re so proud of dangling in front of my face, this is not it!” Backing away, she continued to stare him down, studying his stance and how his jaws clenched. She knows him too well to know this is him trying to read her back, thinking of ways to bring her down. After another step, she continued to speak.

“I want to carve your heart out and use it to kindle my altar’s fire, but I won’t. I will walk away from you and your life. I am done with whatever nonsense we’re doing!”

His eyes widened as he looked at Helene speaking those words. She was ready to end it all. In a blink, the months they’d spent together were thrown away. His body tensed, and another wave of frustration took over. He had enough. “You are done? Do you really believe that I will allow you to walk away after we've been through? You are mine.”

“I’m not anybody’s property. I didn’t betray my father for me to become another man’s plaything.”

Taking a step forward, her words were the final act of defiance he was willing to accept. His anger had flared to its highest level as Helene continued to be blinded and unwilling to listen to reason. As she watched him step forward again, she held her dagger firm up, the blade aimed at him, ready to thrust it deep into his chest.

“If you think you can touch me with that dagger, then I must say you are truly a fool. Your emotions are getting the best of you, making you completely irrational.”

“I’m irrational? I’m not the one who lied!”

“He was a tool! I need him to think there is a mutual benefit between us, if not by power by—”

“Promising to fuck him? Marry him instead, then!”

Reaching his breaking point, he didn’t anticipate how possessive Helene could be. The temple praised her; after all, she’s used to getting what she wants when she wants it. At this very moment, she was clearly showing how there was no limit to her entitlement. With another stride, he was now standing by the end of her blade; if she pushed it forward, she would succeed in driving it through his chest.

“You’re leaving then? You’re going to walk away from me like it’s that easy?”

He lunged at her dagger suddenly, grabbing it out of her hand as he tried to anticipate her defense. Trashing away from him, Helene tried to yank it from his grip, failing miserably as the hilt slipped from her grasp. Gaining the upper hand, Enver tackled her to bed, holding her by the waist as he carried her, dropping and pinning her down on the mattress.

Helene tried to kick him back, writhing underneath him as he put half of his weight to lock her down. He was determined to let her stay, even if she couldn’t see reason right now; he wouldn’t let her walk away, their relationship ending like this.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” She shouted at him, not caring if there were guards stationed outside that he forgot to dismiss.

And as if to silence her, he had one hand gripping her by the throat, pushing her down the bed further. She held her gaze to him as his grip tightened enough to put her in place and shut her up. Enver didn’t flinch, his eyes darkening as he held her by the neck; even though he could have done much worse than this, he knew that if he went too far, Helene would actually retaliate and kill him despite the oath.

As she waited for him to speak, she noticed how he lowered his head, his breath hot as he paused for a while before he kissed her hard and aggressively. She let his tongue invade her mouth, and as he did, she bit him softly as he tried to push it deep. He didn’t move away and let his other hand travel to her chest, tugging the knots of her blouse. Helene’s hands were free, yet she let it rest on her sides, thinking if she did use them, Enver would tighten his grip. Her head moved with him as the kiss became deep and powerful; frustrated by the ties, he let go briefly from choking her and ripped her blouse down to the thin lace of her undergarments.

He had to have her now as his body began to heat up, aroused by her defiance. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking it to the side hard as he kissed her neck, sucking areas until he was satisfied with how red it was, visible on her pale skin. She moaned violently as the other hand squeezed areas around her body, consumed by his lust.

And as if on cue, Helene let her hands rest on his chest, letting him drive both their desire further as his hand moved to undo her pants, hastily pulling them down. As she pulled him closer, Enver bit her lip gently, tugging it before driving his tongue down her mouth again. It boils her up further, her carnal needs matching his as she tugged his shirt up, baring his torso.

Enver grinned at her, feeling his cock hardened as she helped him take off her pants completely. Throwing it down the floor, he moved swiftly to undo his own, letting his manhood free, stroking it quickly to reach its full length. Gasping hard as she eagerly watched him jerk himself, she sat up and crawled towards him, standing on the edge of the bed, her hands now caressing him, mimicking his movements as she looked up at him.

He held her by the hair again, dragging it to the side as he pushed his waist towards her face, the tip of his cock brushing her lips. And as if to tease him, she let her tongue out, letting his length’s head rest on top of it. Enver sighed deeply at the sensation, prompting him to push it further down, making her wrap it whole with the softness of her mouth. Helene can’t help but moan, eyes not leaving his as she sucked his cock.

She bobbed her head back and forth, holding him by the waist for support. Jerking her head from his length with a quick tug of her hair, he looked at her for a while, their gaze warring and waiting for the other to move again. With another tug, she forced her down the bed, flipping her body and making her lay on her stomach.

“No, I don't want to be in thi—”

“Kneel. You can't say no to this, this time.”

Pulling her waist up with one hand, he spat on his fingers before driving them down her cunt, making them work sloppy circles before driving his cock inside, both of them groaning as they felt the other's body. Steadying himself to the position, he drove his length in and out of her harshly, his body covering hers.

She can't help but grit her teeth, trying to stop herself from moaning. They both felt on fire as Enver became rough and bold with his movements. His hands found their way back to her hair as he pulled her, bending her back towards him. In shaky breaths, Helene could only make out the words "mine," "forever," and "I will never let you leave" as he drove his length deeper than the last.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” She said, moaning afterward as he squeezed her hips hard. She was doing an excellent job of driving him mad with her attempts to resist. Kissing her nape down her back as he went, he pushed deeper. She could feel her body tremble slightly after each pound, making her gasp hard and close her eyes shut. “Enver!”

Pulling her hair harder, he growled in her ears, his tone mirroring his movements as he grabbed her waist aggressively. “You are mine. Mine, do you hear me?”

“Fuck you!”

He has ignited once again after hearing her curse, exciting him greatly, as if he couldn't get enough of it. In response, he whispered smoothly in her ear, a tinge of cruelty made known as he let it linger. “Oh, I know you're enjoying this.”

Biting her lip hard made it difficult to resist his doing. She can't admit that the way he held her down, forcing her to submit, aroused her, too. Her desires were already raging hard the moment he had let his smugness out and let the cruelty in. She craved it as much as he was, and now that he was fucking her as if prey under a predator's mercy, she let out another moan to let him know he could have this night as a win.

At the sound of her pleasure, his speed grew faster. Growing more confident in his words that he knows what she likes and how rough she can take it, the sounds become undeniably true. Helene couldn't hide how good this felt, how her body shook, his movements rippling to her core.

He sighed, not wanting this moment to end just yet. Taking his chance, he halted for a moment and flipped her back around to see her face contorted, reacting in pleasure as he continued to drive his cock deeper.

“Enver! Fuck, I'm going to come!”

“Be a good girl, then. Show me.”

Digging her claws into his shoulders, she let out a short cry, reaching her climax: wetting the bed as she did, making his movements sloppy and slippery as he didn't stop. She was a sight to watch as she panted hard, catching her breath. Still, he kept going, grinning down at her as he watched her lips tremble, chest heaving from her release.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like this, Helene.”

“Enver, please…”

Just before he released, he held her again by the throat, leaning forward and kissing her neck. He breathed her in, panting heavily as he dragged himself further to last. Lifting his head a few inches from hers, he stared into her eyes, drowning in them as she stared back at him, her mouth partly open, her body continued to shake from the sensation of each aggressive thrust. His body started to tense, finally reaching his limit.

And as he filled her with this cum, he buried his face in her neck, growling and panting. Collapsing on top of her, they lay there, sweating and breathing hard as the sensation washed over them. Trying to nudge him away from her body, Helene grumbled, pursing her lips as she noticed her efforts were futile. He grunted a bit as she tried again.

“I hate you.”

He chuckled softly, lifting his head a little to see her face. “I don’t think so. You could have killed me, too. But you didn’t.” Moving lower down her body, he rested his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat as her breathing went back to normal. Resting a hand on his back, Helene sighed, exasperated, rolling her eyes. “Go to Franc, then. You’ll never see me again.”

He smirked at her remark, propping his arms for support as he lifted his torso up, hovering above her. “Your jealousy brings a bright light to my heart, I must admit. I’m glad he bothers you so much.”

“You want me angry? Is that it?”

“Of course I do. This side of you never really showed up before. Knowing you want me for yourself as much as I want you is quite endearing.”

Looking at him, her brows furrowed, Helene bit her lip, trying to figure out if this was one of his schemes. She had known him to trick people left and right, furthering his ambition using deception, all of them made known to her, except this. She could feel her throat tightened, a lump on her throat that made her question the entire affair. Noticing how her eyes grew wild, looking for trickery, Enver leaned forward, smiling at her before letting his lips touch her neck, trailing kisses down her collarbone.

“I don’t want a simple, boring woman after all. You’re the one I truly want; I am yours to command.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “It wouldn’t hurt to promise me, then?” Her words demanding, challenging him.

With a quick kiss, he answered immediately. “I promise, I want you, even the annoying parts. It would not be you if these aspects of you were missing.” Helene smiled again, pulling him closer and letting their lips touch, succumbing to his words. As she let him take it further once again, she held onto his word, promising herself that if things went sour, her dagger would finally meet his end.

She was satisfied for now.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #enver gortash #gortash x durge #bg3 tav #lord enver gortash #lord gortash #gortash #bg3 gortash #dark urge x gortash #dark urge #gortash smut #BG3FebFic #bg3 durge #bg3

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bonesofapoet · 2 years

Text

touched by fire

[ adrian tepes x you ]

author’s note : another silly little warmup i didn’t wanna hide from the world

word count : 293

It’s beautiful, how a single color can mean many things.

Gold, for instance, can equate to dawn, and dusk.

Divine, and infernal.

Truth, and deception.

Halos, sins, or hearts.

The trees in autumn, and the sunbeams that make them shine, make them glitter and wink when you pass under them slowly with a light smile and an even lighter heart. Golden wisps sweep before you, catching on your shoulder, a few hugging your neck. It’s a wonder, really, how Adrian has grown to leave his hair wild - flowing as it likes, how it likes.

Attentive, always, he tugs you closer by your hand as the next gust arises - sparing you, once again - from an onslaught of golden threads strangling and blinding you wholly. It pulls a laugh from you - soundless, grateful, that it’s the warmth of the sun that falls across your skin instead of the alternative.

“You’re welcome,” he says, guiding you, now, along the path.

The leaves overhead began to whisper as you glided under them, the canopy growing closer, thicker, a beautiful cover of latticework and stippled golden beams painting all that dwell beneath. Crimson reds, burnt oranges, golden yellows bright, stark, glowing against the light exposed all the while.

He presses a kiss to your temple, as your eyes tip up, up, up, to admire the natural artwork thriving right before your eyes.

When the chill begins to bite, it's you, who pulls him closer - all spare space that was once between you, lives no more.

The laugh that tumbles through his lips is soft enough, it’s hard to hear over the chorus of the land around you. It’s warm, though, full of adoration. His heart stitches itself to the sleeve of his voice, to the very heart of your own, brimming with life and golden hearted grace. It makes you lean into him, just a little bit more.

#alucard x reader #alucard imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes imagine #alucard x you #adrian tepes x you #castelvania imagine #alucard #adrian tepes #kas writes

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ideceivedthem · 2 years

Text

sánguinis

type: smut

includes: afab reader, periods, period sex, blood kink, oral sex, religious symbolism, body worship, breeding kink

requested by: no one

ao3 link

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It's nearly too hot in the room. Between your personal circle of hell making you feel like you're constantly overheating and the scalding sensation of his lips, it's almost too much.

But in its own right, it's heaven on earth too. It's worth it. It's divine.

Gabriel kisses slowly between your thighs. His flat white teeth pause to nibble at your soft flesh and you make a hushed sound that goes straight to the fleshy organ that sits between his own. Your fingers thread into his locks of soft spun golden silk and give an urging tug.

"Patience." He whispers the word sweet and low. From anyone else it would be a command or a warning, but from him it's a promise with reverence buried in his tone.

Cold breath ghosts over your burning core and your clit gives throbs of need that resonate with your heartbeat. Gabriel is merciful however, even as he mouths at the junction where your inner thigh connects to your pelvis.

His tongue feels like anointed velvet when it slides across your folds. He licks a broad stripe over your pussy that ends in a teasing flick at that special bundle up top.

'Teasing' perhaps isn't the right word. Teasing would imply that he's trying to irritate you, to poke at already sensitive nerves with the intent to inflame them further. No, he isn't teasing you with such actions, he's worshipping you.

Whatever he's doing, you're reveling in it. You keen, digits tightening in his hair, mouth agape with words lost on you. Your wordless praise spurs him on though, and he circles your delicate button with the tip of his warm muscle.

He's then eating into you, lips and tongue and edges of teeth devouring you like the lion to the lamb. Your eyes clench shut so hard that you see stars in the blackness.

The name of your archangel echoes from your throat as a mantra; the pitch increases with two long, thin fingers pushing easily into your heat. His lips close around your clit and he sups on it it, ravenous, while his fingers pump in and out of you.

Your hot walls squeeze around him in response. Your nerves light up like a funeral pyre, blazing and intense with your sensitivity. He crooks his digits just-so and he hits where you need the attention the most.

Your voice is damn-near angelic as you pant and mewl your eulogies with all the veneration of prayer. Your hips rock into the rhythm he creates as you chase the oncoming high like it'll bring true salvation.

Gabriel must sense that your climax is dawning on you so quickly (too quickly for his liking) because he slides from your body and he leaves a parting kiss on your bloody, hot lower lips.

You crack your eyes open as you gaze down on him. Your chest rises and falls in shaking breaths. The sight of him betwixt your parted legs with a smear of deep crimson staining his beautiful mouth makes your concupiscence rear up its head like some great, dark, insatiably starved beast.

Gabriel's features pull into a gentle smirk that makes your cunt ache and he wears it gorgeously as he licks your wine off of his fingers.

"Tell me little lamb, how much do you desire?" He purrs the question. In the dim light, his normally crystalline blue eyes are like wells that you'd give the world to drown in. His arousal has his pupils blown so wide that they nearly consume his irises.

You swallow thickly as you collect your thoughts. Your mind reels with the whiplash of having been so close to your breaking point and then suddenly back to total lack of stimulation.

"I'd rather die, I'd rather spend an eternity in hell, than go another second without your cock in me." The words tumble from you as you watch him push up to sit on his knees.

He towers over you with zero effort, all slender and sinewy and spectral, already devoid of his satiny robe. The wings attached to his back add to his imposing figure as they sit at half mast, the color of clouds with underlining glints of gold that turn bronzy silver in the sliver of grey moonlight that carves through the bedroom.

Evidence of his carnality lays heavy and hard against his leg, as shockingly and breathtakingly human as the rest of him appears, the slit leaking slightly on his pallid flesh.

You nearly drool at the view presented before you, realize you haven't spoken in some time, and continue on. "I want you to fuck me like Adam did Eve. I want you to ravage me gently. I want you to lay with me like this is our wedding bed."

You see his cock throb at your words and he leans in closer, pushing your knees farther apart.

"Was that your covert method of proposing to me, my dove?" Now he's teasing, and he takes enjoyment in the way your already blushing face turns a shade of scarlet.

(Oh how lovely that would be, spending eternity on his arm at his side as his bride. How choice. How rare.)

"Gabriel, please." But your need has other ideas. You can fantasize about marriage later, for now your mind skips straight to the honeymoon. "Please, honey, I need you."

Hearing you beseech so softly sends a pang of want through his corporeal visage. Gabriel presses an incendiary kiss to your lips to put an end to your begging. After all, if you were to be his, wholly and completely and entirely his, you would never have to want without something to show for it.

You gasp brokenly against his mouth as the head pushes into you. Its girth splits you cleanly (well as cleanly as could possibly be extrapolated) and the overload of sensation has you clutching onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your hands into his hair.

"Shh-shh my pet, shh-shh..." He hushes you, his whispers coming out with a tremor as he hilts fully inside you. Being this close, you can smell the metallic sweetness of your own fluids on his chilled breath. His hips roll gently to bottom out.

The both of you sit panting there for a moment before he begins to push back and forth in rhythm. His pace is slow and easy, and he drinks in the sounds you make under him.

Your fingers creep to the base of a wing and follow the downy trail of feathers up to where it crests slightly. The sensation of it has him cooing and murmuring in your ear and the sensitive limb gives a pleasured twitch.

"My lamb, ah, my lamb, your touch..." Gabriel croons, and his tone gives away just how much he aches for you the way you ache for him.

The swing of his hips brings breathless sounds and trembly sighs from you and you can tell he's feasting on the chorus you're giving up so generously.

His thoughts start wandering as he steadily increases his pace. He wonders, despite the way your blood flows around him, of the likelihood of you baring his child. His mind fills with the image of you with your belly swollen with his babe, a divine picture of fertility, his perfect Mary.

He's so thrilled with these ideas that his wings give a few uncontrolled flaps, the stimulation from your fingers adding to the current of euphoria.

"You will be mine forever." He murmurs, lips against your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse under the soft skin. "You know that, yes? Who you belong to and whose you are?"

"I'm yours-" Your reply is a rushed tumble and you cant your hips upwards to catch his thrusts at a better angle. Heavenly light bursts behind your eyes and you sing delightfully with it. "I'm yours!"

Gabriel's wings flutter as he drives his sin into your soft willing body. His mouth is almost like hellfire against your flesh, branding you so that only he can have you. No doubt he's leaving sticky red oxidizing marks along your throat as well. The whole time he's whispering and chanting in your mind that you belong to him and him alone.

Heat flashes hot and white through your whole being as you're suddenly wracked with your orgasm. It's like dying, like flying, like being tossed end over end as he slams into you through your climax.

He's gripping you close like he's scared you'll vanish suddenly, rutting into you like an animal as he chases the delicious pulsing warmth of your walls. He can feel you clutching him as well, blunt nails digging into his back and hand tangled in his hair, and it has his wings beating against the air nearly in time to your heart.

Your name is like poetry on his tongue, twisted into art by ecstasy and prayer, as he finally spills his seed deep in your core, so searing that you could believe instead that it's actually freezing. His hips rock to a stop.

He stays above you, panting with you in the heady aftershocks that leave sparks in the corners of your visions. His wings twitch, a few pure feathers fall onto the soiled bedspread.

He shifts to kiss you, in which you can taste yourself on him in a way that leaves you whining into his mouth, and leans up all the way. Gabriel is so wickedly, obscenely beautiful in the moonlight, disheveled and misted and wings hanging limp from his back.

"I love you dearly, my little lamb." He breathes the words, voice gravelly and low.

You manage a tired smile as he slides from you. "I love you too, my dearest angel."

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