#like black feathers falling forever in the sky.

[cr1ms0nesp3ra-ac3]

Not really not BG3 yet, but this song gave me Tav-core vibes, except my Tav is a corrupted prince fallen angel being forced to feel the suffering in the hands of an evil siren entity, who has now cursed him by the corruption power. He was also forced to fall into Heaven because the angels died by the sirens, He was really desperate enough to push everyone away because he didn't need help.. he didn't want to be saved, all he wants.. is to die.

To the fact that despite his suffering and trauma, he.. had to live for them, he must live for the companions he knew until he'll die by a curse. Determination strucks inside of him that he realized, that there is more than just suffering.

Because there is no cure... no healing, he will die in peace, and by the darkness. And there will be nothing.

The song:

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them. 

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air. 

You envied them. 

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before. 

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse. 

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation. 

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it. 

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last. 

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively. 

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word. 

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether. 

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward. 

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded. 

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing. 

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you. 

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver. 

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway. 

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud. 

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went. 

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done. 

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living. 

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door. 

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no.  A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them. 

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing. 

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you. 

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not. 

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close. 

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food. 

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction. 

There was nothing. 

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 3

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1426

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

JAKE POV - (One Year Ago)

He can’t stop watching you. Smiling, laughing, serving customers caffeinated beverages on their way to work. The sunlight streams through the front glass window of the cafe, the rays illuminating everything of you that they reach. Your hair, your eyes, your skin. You’re bright, happy, healthy, stunning, and it does unreasonable things to his heart.

He’s been sitting there for two hours now, not even pretending to occupy himself with a magazine or newspaper or anything that will make him less conspicuous. You’re the only thing that has his attention. The only thing that ever has his attention when he comes to this world. He spends this time, each second of it, observing your every move, memorizing every feature of your face, and when you leave for the day, he follows. Just so he can be a little bit closer to you.

You’ve never noticed him, and sometimes he chuckles at your lack of awareness and how well it works in his favor. You have no idea that he trails you from the cafe to your apartment. You have no idea that he stands outside your building as night cloaks the day. You have no idea that he leans against the same lamppost he always does when he comes to see you, his stare latched on to your window—third floor, second from the left—as you strip yourself of your uniform and into your pajamas. He’d watch forever if he could, but he, and those like him, do not have that luxury. 

The hand that lands on Jake’s shoulder is expected and he turns his head to his friend. 

“Time to go,” Javy says. “In a month you can come back and stalk her some more, but we’re cutting it close. We have to get back.”

Jake sighs, giving your bedroom window another glance. The light clicks off. “I know.”

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ve kept an eye on her in your absence and she’s had the same routine for the last six months,” Javy reminds him as he rolls his shoulders, preparing for the weight of his wings to return. 

Cartilage and bone materialize as his gray feathers, one by one, seek him out from the spot he had shed them. Each one returns to their place, layering themselves together until his wings are fully reformed. 

Javy gives them a testing flap, scattering the fallen leaves at their feet. When he sees Jake has yet to call for his own wings, he huffs. “Seriously, it’s eleven fifty-six. Do you really want to spend six months in The Tower because you chose to stare at your little girlfriend rather than be punctual…again? You literally just got out.”

Jake stands from his leaned position and a moment later his black feathers find him. He spreads his wings out in a stretch. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Javy says with pride. “So let’s go.” Then he’s shooting up into the night, a speck in the darkened sky. 

Jake takes one last look at your window, imagining himself in that apartment, holding you, kissing you, falling asleep beside you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. Leaving you behind is leaving a part of his heart behind. But he has to do it. For the night, you’re warm and safe tucked in your bed, and that will have to be enough for him until his return next month.

“Good night, Angel,” he mutters. “Sleep well.” Then he follows after his friend.

—

Food everywhere. Grapes smashed in between the stones of the walls; plums dotting the floor, one having rolled under the bed; juice from apple slices staining the rumpled bedsheets; the silver tray, now dented in the middle, thrown across the room. All as if some bratty tornado tore through the place. Except now the brat is missing. 

He’d guessed you would struggle to stay put once you regained enough of your energy, which is exactly why he'd planned to sit by your bed while you slept. But—albeit very reluctantly—he had listened to Javy’s advice about giving you some space for the night. A mistake, clearly, because now he has to hunt his little escapee down.

Shaking his head, Jake rubs the back of his neck and gives the room one last scan in case you got the bright idea to hide until he got close enough for you to whack him in the skull with something hard. When the assault doesn’t come, he jogs to the window and peers through it the way you were when he found you standing there the other day, your pearly wings in all their grandness cascading gracefully from your back. 

Glancing to the nearby field many stories below, he spots you seated in the grass with your knees tucked to your chest. His pounding heart stutters in relief.

How the fuck did you get out, Angel? he thinks as he hurries from the room, down the multiple twisting staircases, and through the maze of halls. You’re the last person who should have the ability to leave this place. New residents of The Tower have been known to roam the halls for months at a time, trying to find a way out until they surrender to exhaustion and return to their rooms, and yet you walked right out the front door?

When he reaches the main floor, he stops short at the silhouetted figure leaning against the doorframe. He knows that figure well, and realizing that someone he trusts has been keeping an eye on you from a reasonable distance permits Jake to take a calming breath before he steps closer. 

“She’s…content, I think,” Javy says, tucking back his large gray wings to provide enough space for Jake to comfortably stand beside him. “Doesn’t seem to want to run off.”

“Only because she doesn’t know where to go,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. And thank fuck for that. “How long has she been out here?”

“At least since four. That's when I found her,” Javy informs him. He looks at Jake, playfully grinning. “We watched the sunrise together.”

“Has she seen you?”

“No. She hasn’t so much as turned her head in hours,” he answers, then after a pause of consideration, says, “How do you think she managed to make it out on her first try?”

Jake shakes his head. He has that very same question. Anyone would. “I don’t know, but had I known she could, I would have locked the damn door.”

“Maybe The Tower felt bad for her,” Javy suggests. “You know she always made it easy for the unfairly imprisoned.”

Unfairly imprisoned. Yes, Jake supposes that is what you are. But it’s not for forever, and it’s simply to protect you while you adjust to your new life by his side. Surely, you can understand that. And then you can start accepting the happiness and love you’re denying yourself. 

“She fucking scared me,” Jake says, and Javy snickers.

“Then I imagine you're even.”

“She's not scared of me, she just has to get used to me.” Jake watches the gust of air flutter your feathers. You still haven’t moved, save for one hand's fingers which continuously weave through the blades of grass. “She's taking her damn time though.”

“Don't be unfair. She's known you for a couple of weeks—a couple of very difficult weeks—which is nothing compared to the head start you had.” Also true, to Jake’s dislike. But he’s shown you how much he cares, and that should be plenty to help you catch up. Then Javy says, “You should take her back. Just for a few hours.”

Jake’s head snaps to the right, eyes just short of bugging from his head. “Are you insane?”

Javy shrugs. “The day is coming up. It might be easier for her to be here with you if she knows she has the option to visit her world.”   

“That’s not her world anymore.” 

“True,” Javy agrees. “But don't you miss seeing her smile?”

Jake swallows. He’d give anything to see you smile again; smile at him again. Though he was gifted one when he was deep inside of you, praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, offering the same compliment since he brought you here has not elicited the same reaction. If anything, you frown more intensely, with more effort. 

“It's too soon,” Jake says. “She's still attached, and I can't trust her.”

“It's more important that she trusts you,” Javy counters. “And this could be your olive branch, my friend.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me

[ramayantika]

Bade farewell to the Hero

It’s the onset of dawn. The dark night sky transforms into a beautiful shade of cotton white, colored with various hues of purple, blue, and pink. The sun, as usual, is slowly rising on the banks of the dark Yamuna, but today, her ethereal black waters carry a silent grief of her own as well as of the town of Vrindavan.

As beautiful as the dark night sky, lotus eyes as deep as the Yamuna waters, there sleeps the young beloved lad of Vrindavan, Krishna on the lap of the moon-like beauty of the town of Vrinda, Shri Radha.

“Have you taken your flute, Kanha?” Her soft voice, no more than a whisper, causes the young boy’s eyes to open in sudden remembrance.

Radha sighs with a small smile on her lips. Her nimble fingers bring out the familiar bamboo flute decorated with a peacock feather and pearls from her waistband. Her fingers reverently touch the flute for one last time. Radha’s kohl-rimmed eyes flutter close, as her fingers close upon each of the seven holes of the flute. There is no music playing anywhere nearby, but only her heart hears the heart-wrenching tunes of separation.

Krishna’s fingers tremble while holding the flute as realization sets in. The moment the chariot wheels cross the boundaries of Vrindavan, his flute would eternally go to sleep. The city of Mathura has no loving gopikas, adorable cows, and young boys with him to play the flute all day.

“Being a simple cowherd is not your destiny, Krishna.” Radha tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As she looks at the tear-laden eyes of her beloved, she steels her breaking heart, her sorrowful eyes now staring at him like a powerful queen going on a battle.

“Your existence is meant for great things. You are to live your life like a king.” She points at the crowd assembled at Chief Nanda’s house, a grand cottage that looks tiny from the heart of the forest where they are in. “You have saved us and this town countless times. The world needs you. You are to be a savior for the whole world. For the whole Yuga.”

Krishna gulps his tears down his throat, which now burns like the fire of separation burning his heart. As a lone tear skids down his cheek, Radha’s voice grows bolder, and for a moment he wonders, how much strength does she silently possess in her being.

“Choose the path that leads you to your destiny, towards your dharma.”

Radha stands up. The golden rays of the morning sun fall on her gentle face coating her fair skin with a powerful glow. Krishna stands in awe of the splendor that adorns her face. Goddess. That’s what she is. That’s what she has been.

“You are the rising sun of Dwapar.” She holds Krishna’s hand and entwines her fingers with his. Walking towards the narrow forest path, Krishna observes Radha’s gait. She always walked with a swan-like grace combined with a little shyness on her face each time she entered the forest to meet him. Today, she walks with her chin raised, her eyes fixated on the path ahead that shall lead them both away from their love-filled carefree times forever.

Within moments, they reach Akrura’s chariot. Radha knows that Krishna hasn’t spoken a single word to her. She knows that he won't be able to do so, nor does she have the capacity to hear his enchanting voice when he is on the verge of departure.

The whole crowd looks at their hero. Krishna looks at the tear-stricken face of his parents. He hears the loud sobs of his lovely gopikas who pampered him with butter and milk sweets. His eyes gaze over the grim faces of his childhood friends. The cows of Vrindavan stare at him, sadness clouding their eyes, but those poor creatures can’t speak a word.

Gulping the last of his tears that clog his burning throat, he steps onto the carriage. Radha smiles. Krishna’s eyes meet her once again and she keeps on smiling.

It will get easier to leave, Kanhaiya. Baby steps.

Radha takes four steps towards the chariot. Handing over Krishna’s flute to him, she slowly moves back, her eyes fixed to the ground. The crowd goes silent. The sobbing gopikas cease crying and keep looking at the scene ahead.

Radha folds her hands and bows her head to Krishna. His heart cracks open at the gesture. He bows down to her all humbled.

“You may leave now. We wish you well on the journey ahead. Make us all proud!”

Radha then takes her position beside Yashoda who is on the verge of losing her consciousness. Nanda holds her shoulders, in case she falls to the ground in grief, but only Radha sees how his fingers shakily rest on his wife’s shoulders.

All this while, not a word had escaped Krishna’s lips. The hero must always promise a return to his loved ones.

“My beloved Vrindavan people, fret not. This separation is only momentary. I shall come back soon to tell you all about Mathura. There’s no escape from my pranks. Go, rest for a while before your loved prankster comes back.”

Radha’s vision goes blurry. Her dark beloved appears to go far from her.

“Such a mischievous liar you are O Shyam…”

The sun is soon to rise for Dwapar, but for Vrindavan, the sun has gone to sleep forever.

***

I am sorry :(

This was a dance idea but I decided to write a fic on this and then choreograph the abhinaya. I have cried while practicing this out too. Let's share tears??

Oh, yes I do love showing Krishna in mortal shades with grief, confusion and dilemma clouding him sometimes too. :)

Tagging: @kaaga-re @ma-douce-souffrance (I AM SORRY SAANJH) @swayamev @krishna-priyatama @krishna-sangini @krishnaaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @arachneofthoughts @eugenephosgene @jessbeinme15 @stardustkrishnaverse @krsnaradhika @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @pulihora @nyxie23 @houseofbreadpakoda @yourfavanxioussunshine @aesthetic-aryavartik @starlitskies0 @navaratna @flowerheadkiller @celestesinsight @kaal-naagin

Oh, and I have written for krishna after a loooong time

[violettduchess]

A/N: Vincent won the poll and with it, this kiss fic!

"This sadness will last forever" were supposedly Vincent Van Gogh's final words.

WC: 470

Trying to describe how it feels when Vincent kisses you makes you wish you were as talented with words as Dazai or Arthur. How can you possibly describe the feeling that floods you when he tenderly cups your face in his hands, eyes as blue as eternity, and leans down, softly pressing his lips against yours? 

You are one of his beloved sunflowers, cacophonous and bright, baring your soul to the radiant blue sky, joy beaming from every corner of your heart. You are the strong branches of the almond tree in spring, riotous with pink and white blossoms, each petal a happy sigh that escapes you. You are the black spire stretching itself up up up into the expansive starry night, reaching with your whole soul for the stars.

Vincent parts your lips, delving deeper even as he tenderly pulls you closer, wanting to feel your solidness against him. Sometimes you wonder if he is afraid you are nothing but a phantom that will disappear if he opens his eyes, a creature of mist and dreams that will dissolve under the bright rays of sunlight. Your arms wind around his neck, your body presses closer, reassuring him that yes, you are real. You are solid. And you are unconditionally his. He is warmth and gentleness, golden as wheat fields in summer but he is also fiercely protective, a strength easily overseen and underestimated due to the tenderness of his nature, the boyishness of his mien. You know the truth. You know there is no shoulder you would rather lean on, no hands you would trust to hold your heart more than his.

Oh, those hands. Those beautiful, talented hands move over your skin like a paintbrush on canvas. With every caress he decorates you in his desire, his love, his dedication, his admiration and you? You feel beautiful. You are a work of art, a masterpiece, glowing with each stroke of blazing adoration along your body. There is nothing that lifts his heart more than the content sighs you whisper against his mouth, the ardent press of your fingers into his shoulder when your body lights up with yearning. 

And if he pulls back for a moment, just a heartbeat in time, he can look into your eyes where he sees something unbelievable. He sees himself reflected there, in a way he never could imagine, despite the numerous self-portraits he has done. In the depths of your gaze, those windows to the naked essense of your heart, he sees himself as someone beautiful. Someone whole. Someone worthy of love.

Your name falls from his lips and just before he is utterly lost in the winding, sunlit path of your want, the hills and valleys of your body, he has a singular, sublime thought: 

This love will last forever.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties @justpeachyteastea

[greaterspawnislands]

When Forever doesn't respond to his messages, Phil starts to get nervous. He's far out at the phantom farm, sitting on the sandstone with his photos spread out all over the ground while he reorganizes his albums, and Forever isn't responding to his messages asking if he wants to chat about his time in the Nether. If he's changed his mind, that's fine, Phil doesn't need to know, per say—but the lack of response is worrying, to say the least. He looks up at his crows, who have congregated around his photographs and in the stone archways of the colosseum. "Should I go after him?" he asks out loud, not really seeking their response, but keeping an eye on how some of the older crows shush the younger ones, as if they know something he doesn't. "Right," Phil says, putting some pieces together. "So, he's in trouble." The crows who know better just look back at him with black black eyes. Their rustling feathers fall still, leaving the air around Phil deathly quiet. That's all the silent encouragement needs for Phil to pull up his map and start scouring for names. "Where are you, mate..." He's not near spawn, and he's not near his base. Phil starts to think that Forever might have his location turned off, which would be a whole new issue, when he suddenly spots it. By the train tracks that border the Favela, there's Forever's name, flickering into view. Phil wastes no time scooping up his photos and tossing them into his backpack, not bothered in the least by how it ruins the organizing he had just been trying to complete. The instant he stands, he turns on his heel and touches the waystone, warping over to Tallulah's Botanical Garden so he could take off from there. The ground under his feet shifted from sandstone to grass, and Phil was off in a dead sprint, puffing air through his cheeks as he vaulted hedges and ran through rivers. He kept a close eye on Forever's name all the while, watching for any red marks that would signal mobs approaching his location. It hasn't escaped Phil's attention that it's stayed night the entire time he's been awake today. He's not sure what to make of it, and doesn't pay much attention to it beyond recognizing the increased chance of mob spawning. There's more important things to deal with right now, anyways. Sure enough, right by the train tracks, Phil spotted him. Blond hair, torn clothes, crumpled in the grass. His brown eyes were open and glassy like lacquered oak, staring at the sky with an empty expression, and Phil could only just make out the rise and fall of his chest. "Forever!" Phil yelps, crashing to his knees beside the fallen man. At the sound, Forever groans, curling in on himself briefly before his eyes find Phil's and a smile starts to blossom from his chapped lips.

hi um. just know that i thought about the end of forever's stream crashing and the post about someone needed to take care of forever after this nether trap and i kind of blacked out and wrote this in one sitting. not proofread. enjoy!

reblogs appreciated <3 !

[malsmemes]

  ☁️  𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬  ☁️

from the band ghost !!

❛ Tonight we're summoned for a divine cause ❜

❛ Smells of dead human sacrifices ❜

❛ Our father who art in hell, unhallowed be thy name ❜

❛ Now celebrate the end ❜

❛ She was an evil woman with an evil old soul, her piercing eyes emotionless a heart so black and cold ❜

❛ 'Tis the night of the witch tonight ❜

❛ Evoke the king of hell ❜

❛ Strike the death knell ❜

❛ Say, can you hear the chimes? ❜

❛ Hear our desperate call ❜

❛ I offer everything they seek ❜

❛ This grave hill stinks of death ❜

❛ We Focus On Your Death ❜

❛ I'm waiting for the night to fall I know that it will save us all ❜

❛ I'm waiting for the night to fall when everything is bearable ❜

❛ In the night I am real ❜

❛ You have the power ❜

❛ You wear the crown ❜

❛ You are cast out from the heavens to the ground, blackened feathers falling down ❜

❛ You will wear your independence like a crown ❜

❛ Two star-crossed lovers reaching out to the beast with many names ❜

❛ He is the shining and the light without whom I cannot see ❜

❛ You're the possessée of avarice ❜

❛ This oasis is a poison well ❜

❛ This oasis is a poison well of rotting carcasses that clog the deep ❜

❛ Ever since you were born you've been dying ❜

❛ All those things that you desire you will find here in the fire ❜

❛ Put your hands up and reach for the sky, cry for absolution ❜

❛ Cry for absolution ❜

❛ The world is on fire. And you are here to stay and burn with me, our funeral pyre ❜

❛ You're so God damn frail ❜

❛ Devoured by shadows we cling to the light ❜

❛ ‘neath heavens torn asunder, you call on me ❜

❛ Are you on the square? ❜

❛ Are you on the level? ❜

❛ Are you ready to swear right here right now ❜

❛ Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil ❜

❛ Now all your loved ones, and all your kin, will suffer punishments beneath the wrath of God ❜

❛ They're still coming after you and there's nothing you can do ❜

❛ Every day that you feed me with hate I grow stronger ❜

❛ If I could turn back the time I'd make all right ❜

❛ How can it end like this? ❜

❛ There's a sting in the way you kiss me ❜

❛ I don't wanna end like this ❜

❛ Don't you forget about your friend death ❜

❛ Don't you forget that you will die ❜

❛ Someone's flesh is rotting tonight ❜

❛ What you've done you cannot undo ❜

❛ Still, your soul will suffer this plight like your father in hell ❜

❛ Can you see me longing for you forever? ❜

❛ Within your heart, a story to be told ❜

❛ This is the moment of just letting go ❜

❛ Through benediction you tried to rid your mind of malediction ❜

❛ I know you need it now to make you feel alive ❜

❛ It ain't over now, and I ain't talking about forgiveness ❜

❛  It's the cruel beast that you feed ❜

❛ It's your burning yearning need to bleed ❜

❛ You keep a casket buried deep within ❜

❛ You try to mask it but fall back in sin ❜

❛ You wanna shake it off but you're stuck inside ❜

❛ Call out in the middle of the night, for when else would I hear you? ❜

❛ Fall out in the cold starlight, I can save you if you do ❜

❛ You will never walk alone. You can always reach me ❜

❛ Call me when you feel all alone ❜

❛ It's been a long time coming ❜

❛ Though my memories are faded they come back to haunt me once again ❜

❛ Now it's time for me to strike again ❜

❛ I'm dying to see you, my friend ❜

❛ I'm with you always ❜

❛ Remember always that love is all you need ❜

❛ Tell me who you wanna be and I will set you free ❜

❛ There's a darkness at the heart of my love that runs cold, runs deep ❜

❛ Will you spill the wine to summon the divine? ❜

❛ Suffering for the lord is not an easy thing ❜

❛ You shine like the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky ❜

❛ The past is spun like a yarn and mangled with flesh and blood and bones ❜

❛ You've been playing around with magic that is black, but all the powerful magical mysteries never gave a single thing back ❜

❛  It ain't always what it seems when you cling onto a dream, it ain't always there to please you ❜

❛ That glitter wasn't gold as opposed to what they told you ❜

❛ But he's the guy you wanna do and you know that it takes two. Luckily he wants to do you too ❜

❛ Through all the sorrow we've been riding high ❜

❛ Not just another bloody Mary ❜

❛ It was just for fools ❜

❛ You go down just like Holy Mary ❜

❛ Your beauty never, ever scared me ❜

[ninapi]

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Premise: The last option to overcome the illness that holds you was very much uncertain. A place only known to be a myth became your last chance to survive. Welcome to the fox village, a place full of mystical beings, a place to finally call home, a place where love knocks in more than one door at the same time and choosing which to open might as well change your life forever.

Word Count: 4129

Note: Welcome to the second half of my fantasy story, to understand what’s going on you would need to at least read the chapter 0 of the first part (link here). ✨

Chapter 0: The lost girl

Not the owls nor the bakenekos were able to find a cure to the bird disease that held you captive, your friends from the Tengu clan were succumbing to despair as your condition worsened every day that went by.

After discarding the other possible options, the only one left was to embark in an ill fated quest with not much of a success rate on your own, your decision aggravating your beloved friends and earning you a one way ticket to the land of the unknown.

The way from the east side of the forest down south was a treacherous path, you were told this by many, but you didn’t expect it to be this bad. It’s been raining heavily during the past few days, the path flooded and almost impossible to walk through it, but you had to keep going.

You made a promise, a promise to your friends, the closest thing to a family you’ve ever had. You would survive, you would beat this disease and live the life you were supposed to have, to find happiness. Nothing some muddy water would stop you from achieving.

The days were long, the food your friends gave you was now gone.

You didn’t know where you were or how long you still needed to walk to find this village. They didn’t even know if it was actually real or just a myth. Everyone still alive that knew about it refused to give you word of its whereabouts hoping you would die trying, anything was better than getting the foxes attention.

The sky was finally blue, not a single cloud in the sky. Not being able to eat or drink for three days straight and tired of walking miles without a rest, your consciousness was starting to fail, black dots suddenly in every surface, until black was all you could see.

The fall was hard, you could feel a sharp pain on the side of your head before finally disconnecting yourself from reality, you thought this was probably your end, the village was nowhere near and you haven’t seen any creature of the forest for days now, nobody would find you here. But you had a decent life, at least you were able to spend some more time with your dear feathered friends before passing.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“Tsumu, what’s that?” the youngest of one of the most prominent families in the village spotted something big fall on the main path while he was picking up some fresh mushrooms close by. “What was what?” his twin was concentrated in his task, making sure he wouldn’t confuse the edible mushrooms with the poisonous ones, the beating he took for making that awful mistake once still lives in his skin. “Something fell hard on the road, sounded like something big though, like a person.” he was peeking through the foliage, their village is very well hidden, no human had step on it in over a millennium, could it be hunters? “You’re delusional, Samu. Focus.” but he was certain of what he saw, it also hadn’t move since it fell, should be harmless. So he dropped his basket full of mushrooms and ran over to the road.

You were bleeding, clearly dehydrated. Your feet were full of heavily infected blisters and seemed like you lost a shoe somewhere.

“Tsumu, it’s a girl... I found a girl.” he grabbed a stick, poking your side gently with it, cautiously. You looked anything but dangerous, but you looked human after all and humans were dangerous.

“You found a what? You mean like a human girl? Or from a different clan? Get your ass back here if you don’t want to be kicked out of our village like Aran did.” he was still mourning the loss of his friend who had run away with a girl from the bakeneko clan, he just left like if his clan meant nothing to him. Hundreds of years of friendship thrown in the trash. “I think she's human. Don't be an ass, Just take my basket.” he was carefully lifting you up, trying to get you on his back. “Oh no, you are NOT bringing that thing with us. Put it down, NOW!” his fangs were out, growling at his twin in disgust, “Shut up, I do what I want with my life. You can tell Ma you picked up all the mushrooms. I saw your basket you had like three.” Atsumu scoffed, peeking into his brother’s basket which was full to the brim with high quality picks. “Fine! If she bites you don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” he went back to his mushroom hunt while Samu headed towards the village, drops of blood falling on his shoulder and alarming the young fox.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Once he arrived at the entrance of the village, the gatekeeper and his senior, Omimi was giving him a hard time. “Osamu, we can’t allow strangers in, you know this.” he was shouting all the way up from his post at the watch tower. Your breath was getting shallower, and his anxiety levels were rising quickly, “Can’t you see she’s hurt?? I feel her dying on me, please just let me in, I will take in the consequences.” with a heavy sigh, he let the gate open up just a tiny bit trying to draw as less attention as possible, “Hurry.” Samu nodded to his friend, smiling briefly at him before dashing towards the healer’s house.

“Kurosu-sama, please help me!” he was banging on the elder’s door, hoping he was there. A groan coming from the inside, “Come in, Miya. What is it, that can’t wait for my nap time to be over?” Samu opened his door, kicking his sandals off and rushing inside. “Please help her. I think she’s dying.” he lowered you down on the tatami floor, gently holding your head with one of his hands to accommodate the lack of pillows in his proximity. “Miya, this is a human girl. What have you done…” he was terrified, he hadn’t seen a human in centuries, “I know, but she needs help. Can you do something? I found her not far from here already looking like this.” the older man handed him a pillow to put under your head, hoping to get some space to take a good look at your injuries, “Move, kid. I won’t eat her, if you want me to help her, I need to see what’s wrong.” hesitantly, he moved to the side, providing some space but without going too far in case he had to act if he tried some dirty trick on you, “Fetch me some water, we need to clean her wounds first.”

Lightning fast would not be enough to describe how fast Osamu came back with a bucket full of water and some clean rags, even the elder was surprised, he’s usually pretty slow and lazy, very unexpected of him, “Clean her feet, I’ll take her head.” Samu was doing his best not to hurt you, but your feet were looking pretty bad, you flinched when he touched a deep cut on the side of your ankle, “You’re fine, it’s ok, it’s just water. Kurosu-sama will help you very soon.” his voice soothed the frown on your face, lulling you back to sleep right away. The elder was worried, he’s never seen the kid act this way, Aran’s story coming back to him just as it did to Atsumu. But at least Aran wasn’t stupid enough to bring the girl to the village, this was almost unprecedented, it happened once, and that’s why they were not pure foxes anymore but half breeds, this won’t be seen well by the rest of the village. “Osamu, once I heal her, we are taking her back to the forest before anyone else can see her, you hear me boy?” he was shaking his head, carefully applying a clean bandage on your left foot. “Kurosu-sama, her head. How is it?”

“She took a heavy blow against what I think was a rock, but it’s just a flesh wound, not what made her collapse. She is very malnourished and dehydrated, though. I’m going to make a tonic for her, stay here.” nodding, he looked around for a blanket, it was a chilly afternoon, seemed like it would rain again soon.

Once he was back, he saw you covered with one of his favorite blankets, Osamu had already cleaned your face and there was no sign of blood on you anymore. With a heavy sigh he handed him the tonic so he could give it to you, somehow, he felt like it would trigger the kid if he went any closer to you.

He took the small bowl with one hand and lifted your head carefully with the other, bringing the bowl to your lips. It started spilling all over the place, your lips just not opening wide enough for the liquid to go inside properly. “Kurosu-sama, is the tonic dangerous for me?” he was looking desperate at this point, half of the tonic already spilled, “No, why would it be dangerous for you-“ without letting him finish his sentence, Osamu took the remaining tonic in his mouth and pressed his lips against yours, making sure you would drink all the content as you should.

The healer was more flustered than Osamu himself at his actions, it wasn’t like he was trying to steal a kiss from you, he was just frustrated with the stupid bowl. “C’mon boy, let her rest. Let’s wait for her to wake up outside.” reluctantly, he obeyed.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

It took three full days for you to wake up, Samu never left your side, this causing the entire village to realize something was off.

He was not one to miss his shift at his parent’s owned restaurant, it was the only one in the village, so more than one villager realized he was missing. Atsumu was spotted a few times close to the healer’s house and Omimi was even more quiet than usual, this picked the leader’s interest.

The village used to be run by an elder woman, she was the eldest among all the current population of that side of the forest and had finally passed after a bountiful 5366 years of age. Her grandson was appointed as the new leader, despite his young age, he earned the respect of every single one of them, no one would go against his grandma’s wishes anyways.

You woke up to the feeling of something fuzzy poking your nostrils, making you sneeze. The sudden loud noise waking Samu up, one of his fuzzy ears was just a bit too close to your face. “Finally, you are awake.” he was rubbing his eyes tiredly, looking down at you like if sharing a futon with you was the most normal thing to do, forgetting this was the first time you’ve actually seen him. “Where am I?” all you could remember was the sharp pain on your head which was still present but way less intense. “We are at the healer’s house, I found you almost dead on the road, so I brought you to my village. Miya Osamu, by the way. My name.” you looked at him bashfully, he was handsome, but what had your attention were the fuzzy ears on the top of his head, a fox. “Is this the fox village? Did I find it?” your smile caught him off guard, giving you a short nod, “You were looking for my village? Why?” you were now sitting up beside him, taking in the building you were in, “Oh and I’m (Y/N) sorry, I got sidetracked. Thank you for saving my life, Miya-san. I will be forever in your debt. I was looking for your village because I have a rare bird produced disease. I actually came all the way here from the east side of the forest, my friends from the Tengu clan were trying to help me get rid of it, but not them nor the owl clan, not even the Bakeneko clan could find a way to fix it. I don’t mind dying. But I made a promise that I would try my best to survive. So, they sent me here as the last resort.”

The healer who was hearing everything from the other side of the wall, walked in unannounced, “We can’t help you girl. We might have overly long lives, but we aren’t gods. Our ways wouldn’t help you, we are different species.” your eyes wavered, a sad smile painted your features. Another dead end.

“Unless….” Samu stood up, looking at the healer. “Unless nothing, kid. She won’t receive Inari’s blessing.” you tugged on Osamu’s yukata, silently pleading for an explanation. He sat back down, looking into your eyes, “There’s an ancient legend that says if a human receives Inari’s blessing, they will become one of us. Since we aren’t mortal beings, your disease wouldn’t kill you.”

The leader of the village made his way inside the room where all of you were, having heard the last part of Osamu’s story, “Though, only one human had ever received such blessing, my grandfather, and he is dead, we aren’t completely immortal after all, we all die eventually. So, no one knows how he did it.” you bowed, imitating your new friend, he seemed like someone important. “But leader, the rest of the legend says that-“ Kita interrupted Osamu’s disrespectful outburst, “That true love from a fox and a human can bring Inari’s blessing. Yeah, I know. But my grandfather wasn’t sick, he lived here for ten years with my grandma, very much in love, before he received the blessing. So, we don’t know the whole story.” Osamu deflated next to you; would you even have ten years to figure it out? How long did love even take to flourish? What did true love even feel like?

More people kept coming in the healer’s house, now becoming an audience of some sort.

“I told him he should of just leave her to die on the road.” Atsumu scoffed, his harsh words making you coil behind Osamu.

“I’m not going to side with your brother, Osamu. You did a very noble thing; you have my respect for that. But you know it breaks the village rules, you can’t bring a human here. Not after what happened with my grandfather breaking the rules.” your head poked from the side of Osamu’s arm, looking at two toned haired fox. “What happened?” your voice was nothing but a whisper, but they all could hear you, “We are not a pure breed anymore.” your shaky hand held onto Samu’s strong arm for moral support, “Is…Is that a bad thing?” you were seriously curious, you’ve heard of the Bakeneko clan, they couldn’t care less for the origin of their partner, you actually found that endearing, even inspiring.

“Well, I don’t particularly think that way. But that’s how it’s always been, we don’t mess with rules around here.” the leader looked down at you, frowning, no wonder Osamu took a liking to you, you were just as disrespectful as he was.

“Almighty leader, may I say something?” the sarcastic son of the most prominent house of the village, the Suna family, spoke, coming out of nowhere. “You may.” he made some space for the new face to go into the room and revel on the presence of the newcomer. “All the elders expect our generation to bring pups and to not let our village die. But how are we supposed to do that when there’s only one girl around our age and that happens to be my sister, who’s very much sold to your family already? Wouldn’t it be convenient to have at least one more female around? Or do you expect me to make babies with the twin’s mother? Because I am very opposed to that, not even sure if she can even have more.” Osamu’s fist was clenching hard, placing a protective arm in front of you. “Don’t know what you are even talking about, Suna. Looks pretty claimed to me. What would you get out of this?” the man was now crawling his way over to you to peek behind the massive man guarding your form, a sly smirk on his face. “They just met, that’s not how we do things around here, the Miyas know this well.” he was a bit scary, didn’t give you the sense of safety Osamu did.

“He is right. It’s not first come first served. We would all have the same right to claim her, even you, leader.” Atsumu was now on your other side, making you shrink even more, holding onto Osamu for dear life, “Back off you low lives. You are scaring her.” his canines ready to bite an arm or two off any second now.

Heaving a deep disappointed sigh out, the leader straightened his back, a power display causing the younger foxes to retrieve. “While the claims of the Suna family might be accurate, this must be discussed with the eldest of the clans. We are indeed already a half breed, if we mix it with the same other half, it wouldn’t make the offspring any less pure than we are.” Samu released the breath he was holding at his words, relaxing his clenched fists, “This, however, will not guarantee you keeping the girl, Miya Osamu. And it will also not guarantee she will ever get Inari’s blessing. True love requires two hearts, feeling the same, weighing the same. We don’t need a woman who cannot provide offspring for the clan, so this isn’t up to me. All I can do is grant permission for the time being for her to be here. But you know the rules, she can’t go back to her world, she would have to stay here for good, or we would have to kill her.” he gave you one last look before leaving the house.

Osamu turned to look at you, he thought you would be crying at hearing such harsh words, but you were already destined to die, this wouldn’t shake your resolution. It was a complicated process though, is not like you can force a blessing from a god.

“Shall we go to my house? I’m sure we have enough room for you, at least until the leader dims you worthy of getting your own house.” you got up with his help, getting ready to walk to this new destination.

“Nah-uh. What did the leader say? The girl isn’t yours. Why would she stay in your house?” that blank stare and sly smirk were seriously giving you trust issues, he didn’t seem dangerous, it felt more like if he was desperate, but that was equally scary.

“Back off, Suna. She’s injured, scared and needs time to rest. It’s not time for romantic drama, besides, who do you think she would prefer being with? Someone who actually cares for her and is wiling to get kicked out of the village just to bring her to safety, or someone who’s just after her womb?” he was getting kicked out for you? Why? Why would he go to such lengths for a stranger…?

”So you are telling me that’s not what you’re after? What is it you wanna do with her, bake together? Do you think we are all stupid? I’m not letting the Miya family take the only girl available so easily, not without a fight, besides, we own the only inn in the village. Wouldn’t it be more suitable for a young unmarried woman to have her own room in a public inn rather than compromising her to not only one but two of her courtship options? That’s playing dirty.” he was going to take you away, wasn’t he? Samu could feel your heart rate pressed to his ribs, you were clearly scared and didn’t want to go with the sly fox.

“Hey, hey. Don’t be scared, you don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to.” he was cradling your face with one of his large hands, melting you to your bones. “Hands off, Samu. You’ve been awfully touchy with her, disgusting. I think she should go with Suna too. Even if that means I won’t have my share of time with her right now, at least it would keep you at a distance. Who would have thought you’d be such an intense rival.” you held his hand down from your face and padded your way over to the sly fox. “I…I don’t want to cause you any more troubles, you’ve already done so much for me. I’ll be ok.” the adoring look on your face, causing Samu’s lungs to stop working.

Suna guided you out of the house and towards his inn, a defeated looking Samu left alone to sulk in the now empty room.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you in any way. I’m actually pretty harmless.” his comment startled you but you could see he was just trying to break the ice, “My mother will make sure to give you a proper room and we’ll take care of your meals. Just make sure to rest and recover quickly. I’m usually at the counter on the first floor, you can always come to me if you need anything. I won’t lock you away or anything like that. That’s not how you get someone to love you, I guess.” you gave him and appreciative smile and limped on your own towards his house. It annoyed him to his core to see how you were desperately clinging onto Osamu, almost cuddling him, but you refuse to ask for his help even if you are in obvious intense pain. This wouldn’t be an easy win for any of them.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The Suna family was unexpectedly very warm and kind. They gave you a nice big room with a lovely view of the mountains. The sly fox told you to call him by his first name as in the village many people had the same last name it would just be confusing to all. He brought you a fluffy comfortable futon and dozens of kimonos for you to wear at your own convenience. He was doing the best he could, and you were grateful, you didn’t hate this side of him, he was in all truth very kind and funny even.

The leader of the village managed to convince the elders to give you time, give their protective god a chance. Reminded them of the legend once told by many, the one now hanging from the wall decorating the walls of his office. A prophecy of some sort.

The legend didn’t end there, there was more to it, though this bit wasn’t shared with the common folk, “Time will come when the true heir of Inari is born to humans and will bring happiness and prosperity to the village in decline...”

Kita believed in true love, that’s how his grandparents were able to be together for thousands of years helping to build the well balanced and prosper society they live in right now.

But will there be enough time for that?

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Masterlist

[sentinelpri]

A Cold Winter’s Night Spent In Your Arms

Wind howls outside the four walls of your apartment as you curl up in your king-sized bed, waiting for your husband to get home.

It’s freezing cold. Through the glass window in the bedroom, your (e/c) eyes put together the sight of snow piling up on the roads of New Jersey. The frozen water droplets are colored like cotton and fall like feathers. The snow contrasts the pitch black sky in a way that makes you feel nostalgic for last winter; James took off to spend the holidays with you for once in his life, and the two of you went to his family’s cabin to stay for a week. You remember it being romantic and relieving from the chaos from your normal lives working at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the front door unlocks. You know it’s James based on the sound of the light, gentle footsteps that come increasingly closer to the bedroom. Within the next minute, James walks into your shared bedroom and lays in bed next to you. The bed frame creaks with his added weight before he settles and wraps his arms around you from behind, his strong body like another warm blanket. You let out a sigh of relief. Having him close to you on nights like this feels like relief.

“Sorry I’m late, honey,” He apologizes with a kiss pressed into the back of your (h/l) (h/c) hair. “I ended up driving House back to his apartment, and by the time I finished dropping him off, the storm had gotten pretty bad…”

“It’s alright,” You calmly reassure the oncologist and wriggle around in his arms so you can face him. His chocolate brown eyes are tired and decorated with bags underneath them that are the most prominent they’ve been since you’ve known him. “Are you going to come to bed?”

“Sure, just give me a few. I’ve gotta go do a couple things in the kitchen,” Then, as fast as he came to the bedroom, he leaves. You sit up with the blankets wrapped around your shoulders and stare down at the bedsheets. Normally, the two of you would’ve gotten ff at the same time and gone home together, but he had a patient going downihill that he wanted to stay with in case anything happened. Low and behold, there just so happened to be a dire case that the diagnostics team had to handle as well, which stressed him out even more. Right now, it’s past midnight, nearly seven hours after his shift is supposed to end. When he comes back to the bedroom, he’s dressed in nothing but boxers and has a large mug in his hands. “Here.”

Wilson hands you the mug, which you hold with both hands. It’s perfectly warm hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. 

“Oh, thanks,” You murmur.

“It’s the least I can do for keeping you waiting up on me like this.”

“How was the rest of your shift?”

“Honestly? It sucked,” James sighs and takes a seat right next to you. You offer him your blankets, so he scoots so close that your shoulders are touching and readjusts them so they’re wrapped over both of your shoulders. Then, he pulls his knees to his chest and begins to talk. “House ran out of Vicodin and I was too busy with the patient on my floor dying to write him a script, so he was pretty pissed off at me- Cuddy was out sick, Chase and Cameron are doing their usual on and off again thing, so they were bickering all day, and Foreman is the only sane one there but you can just tell he’s seconds from falling apart and it is incredibly concerning.”

“You said all of that without pausing to breathe,” You chuckle and shoot him a worried glance as you sip on the hot chocolate. “You good?”

“The only thing that got me through it was the thought that I’d get to come home to you after it was all done with,” He admits.

“I’m sorry you had a rough shift,” You finish half of the chocolate, then hand the rest to James, who accepts it with a smile and a nod.

“No, no, it’s my fault for staying,” He insists, downs what’s left in the mug in his hands, then sets said mug on the nightstand.  “I was supposed to get off early for our dinner date today and-”

“Health and death don’t work on a schedule- they just can’t, and with your line of work, things are incredibly time sensitive. Your patient was knocking on death’s door and you were worried, and it seems like House’s team was going through a lot too- and that’s on top of the snowstorm,” You reassure James again, which makes his chocolate brown eyes widen. A look of surprise takes over them, which doesn’t shock you- the common debilitator of most of his marriage was how often he was gone with Greg or gone because of work, but you’ve both learned to compromise and make time for each other while still prioritizing both of your jobs. “You had no way of knowing today was going to be like that when you made the dinner reservations last week, and I was able to call and cancel them when you asked if I wouldn’t mind you staying late tonight, so we didn’t inconvenience any of the staff there either. It’s okay.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wilson says with a sigh of relief and wraps an arm over your shoulder to pull you close. “You’re the best.”

“I try,” You chuckle and lean against his large, warm frame. 

“Didn’t you say you were cold?” Wilson questions and wraps his arms around your body so he can pull you into his lap. He rests his chin on your shoulder and circles his arms back around your frame from behind. “I could probably warm you up a bit if you’d like.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you intend on doing that?”

“I can show you,” He whispers with a kiss to the side of your neck.

“Go ahead,” You whisper back, and with that, he’s dragging you down to lay on the mattress with him and pushing his lips against yours.

[flowerwrites06]

golden lotus I — kth

Plot: Refusing and underestimating a warning from Time can have its prices. One God pays the worst of it.  Pairing(s): God!Taehyung x Goddess!OC (Name: Angel)  Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 6.9k  Genre: Romance Fantasy | Gods & Goddesses  Tags & Warnings: sexual content, violence, jealousy, obsession (not from main couple), character death (temporary)  Authors Note: I was reading through some old headcanons I answered on this account and it made me really happy how much people enjoyed this series. I know I tried to make it such a point to have this as an original story but reading this back, I love the characters made from the original and reading those headcanon just...really warmed my heart I don’t know how to explain it. Hope you like this surprise if you enjoyed the series and I appreciate you all so much, thank you for the support! 

A great tragedy will befall your kingdom were not the words a ruler wanted to hear on a beautiful, calm morning in the throne room. Unfortunately that was the fate Taehyung had to deal with when he claimed rule over the Gods and world below them. Every week the God of Time, Tempus walked into the halls of the sky palace to tell him how the future looked and what he could do about it.

What could he do about it?

Nothing.

The trick was Tempus spewed all these predictions to the high status of Gods but never really told them exactly what to do when the time came. His knowledge simply was to be noted and they would wait for the inevitable.

However Taehyung personally liked one prediction he was given when his father was still on the throne. Flowers and the beauty of life will be granted in your arms one day. With her gentle companionship, you both will rule the kingdoms above, at the center and in the depths forever.

The Nature Mother sprouted a young goddess soon after the prediction occurred. When her naked body landed on the soils, there grew a beautiful field of golden bride blossoms. A sign of life, love and prosperity. Goddess of Creation.

Taehyung looked down at the gold band around his ring finger with a small smile gracing his lips.

The God of Time was accurate at times but this recent prediction seemed too far-fetched to be believable.

“What kind of great tragedy?” Taehyung humored Tempus for a few moments.

However the God was not pleased with the lack of seriousness in Taehyung’s expression. “If you trust those close to you far too blindly…darkness will fall upon your life and the fate of our kingdom.” Tempus announced, letting it echo in the deep brown walls of the palace back into the Great Protectors’ eardrums.

Taehyung flickered his eyes over to Jimin standing on the side of the throne room with a concerned expression on his face. “See, now you’ve worried my Inger.” He gestured towards the male. “Can you at least be specific? If the situation is truly dire then I can’t run on riddles.”

Tempus sighed, features hardening in exasperation. “I can only give you so much. Time is unpredictable even for a God.”

“Well then tell Time that I need a better explanation than that before I start interrogating the people I trust most.” Taehyung leaned forward on his throne. “It’s a very bold claim, Tempus. You must understand I can’t just act on it.” He tried to speak in a more reasonable tone for the God even though it didn’t look like he was convinced.

“Then tread carefully.” Tempus tightened his jaw. “That’s all I can say.” He turned on his heel, black feathered cloak trailing on the floor behind him as the Inger guards escorted him out of the throne room.

When the double doors thud close, Taehyung relaxed back against his throne with an exhausted sigh, rubbing his face to calm himself down.

“Don’t worry too much about him.” Jimin’s voice fluttered through the room, lightly breaking the tension as he walked up to the stairs closer to his throne. Wavy blue hair hovering over his left eye when he reached out to touch his shoulder. “He likes being dramatic sometimes.”

Taehyung sighed. “He’s always dramatic. But he’s also always right.”

“Not always.” He shook his head.

“How do you mean?”

“His predictions can be inaccurate. He predicted that you would rule the kingdoms above, at the center and in the depths. But Namjoon rules the depths.” Jimin smiled, squeezing his shoulder gently to provide more comfort. He hated it when people stressed his King out far too much, the way his lips curled downwards and his features hardened. “He said your father was going to die from your hand but he ended up jumping into the Underworld’s fire out of his own madness.”

“He really was fucking mad, wasn’t he?” Taehyung scoffed. Memories flooded of how he had to hide Angel from his fathers’ wandering ambitions for a year until he gained the satisfaction to see him burning in the Underworld. Even Gods cannot escape Death. He still remembered Namjoon’s eerie words haunting him a little to this day.

Jimin smiled in response, glancing around the throne room before looking back at him again. “I think we’re done with the meetings. Go rest, I’ll tidy everything up here for you.”

Taehyung couldn’t help but feel his body loosening into relaxation hearing his words. It felt nice to be able to relinquish himself for a moment and let someone else take care of things. There were moments at the back of his mind where he wished that moment could last longer to the point where he never had to enter this throne room again. But he knew his replacements were not exactly good for the world. Enslavement, blind devotion and some even suggested mass destruction to rebuild a more ‘perfect’ world. It was too risky. The second he flails his power away to someone else, he signs a death wish for all of humanity.

“Thank you, Jimin.” He sat up from the throne patting Jimin’s shoulder gently before making his way out of the throne room. His mind set on only one location.

-

“Tonitrua wept as he held his love, Niji in his arms. Stilled by the call of the Underworld Nymphs. He watched them carry her soul away…saw the tears rolling down her cheeks as she smiled. Then she vanished. Leaving the God holding a lifeless shell that used to be the woman he promised to marry.” Angel left a small silence with that solemn note watching the Ingar children with her bright eyes widened and jaw dropped. Eventually a smile tugged at her lips as she reached to brush one of the Ingars’ fringe so it wouldn’t tickle their eyes.

“The heavens cries rained down on the earth.” She waved her hand and a grey cloud formed over the children, lightning striking with rain rushing down. However the water only lightly sprinkled on them earning tiny, adorable laughter to spread through the group. “Tonitrua beat on his drum as loud as he could muster and it rippled across the skies.” At Angels’ words, a distant thud echoed in the makeshift storm she created, trying not to make it too loud for their sensitive ears. “He beat the drum all night long praying his love could hear him. The world could hear his grief and pray for his mercy not to shatter the skies.”

“Ton-tua is thunder!” One of the female Ingars squeaked causing Angel giggled.

“Tonitrua…and yes, he became the brewer of thunder.” The storm over the Ingar’s head now faded back into the beautiful day light of the palace gardens. “As the Titans ceased their grieving, the Nature Mother blessed the earth by kissing the Sun God Solis’ forehead. Together they formed colours…the very colours that manifest all the hues of our world.” With another wave of her hand, a burst of bright colours reflected around them, rainbow shining on their young skin.

Angel giggled seeing one of the infant Ingar’s screeching in excitement at the rainbow reflection on the mat they were sitting on.

“What happened to Tonitrua’s love?” Another older Ingar inquired.

“She would always follow him wherever he went.” Angel grinned. “Niji means rainbow.”

A series of light gasps and smiles spread across the group causing a warmth in her heart.

“Alright, children, let the Queen rest now.” One of the Ingar caretakers announced to the whole group guiding all the little children back to their homes while the infants were gently carried out.

Angel waved at the toddlers saying bye to her before removing the rainbow reflections. She rested back against the peach blossom tree bark with a sigh, letting the subtle sweet scent grace her nostrils and calm her body.

“Do I get a story too?”

The familiar deep, chocolate voice coaxed a smile to stretch across her pink tinted lips. Angel felt his soft fingers brush against her cheek when she looked up to find Taehyung looking down at her. She held onto his hand and placed a gentle kiss on his skin before he moved to sit down in front of her.

Taehyung sighed in relaxation being able to admire his wife’s face rather than any more complaining Gods who had far too much time on their hands.

“Maybe later. My throat aches.” Angel murmured. “You look tired.”

“Happens when you need to listen to every whiny complaint from people with powers beyond humans.” He shifted so his head could rest on her lap. Warmth seeped through his veins capturing her scent and filling his lungs with the ultimate comfort. It almost felt selfish how good he felt with her presence. Almost as if he didn’t deserve being so close to her.

Angel raked her fingers through his raven locks, caressing small circles on his forehead to soothe his exhaustion. “It’s lovely that you listen to them though.” She brought her other hand to trail down his nose to his lips.

Taehyung placed her fingers in between his twin flesh smirking at how she giggled. “I only listen because someone convinced me to be more attentive.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” She tapped his lips three times. “You’re the most loved Ruler of the Gods we know.”

“It was only possible with the most beautiful Goddess by my side.” Taehyung held her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. He lifted up again, placing his arm on each side of her body while she was pinned to the tree and took her lips against his own. A low hum emitted in his throat as one of his hands began sneaking up her long light pink dress.

“Ah, don’t.” Angel giggled into the kiss, lightly pushing his hand away despite the tingles that shot through her body when his warm fingers touched her skin.

“Come on, just a quick one.” Taehyung breathed out, sneaking his tongue between her teeth.

“Tae—” She chuckled pressing a hand against his chest. “There’s people here.”

The God managed to whine a little as he moved to nudge his nose on her jawline, taking in more of her scent so he could never forget. “Our bedroom then…” Taehyung cupped her cheek, gaze darkening as he forced himself not to pounce on her right there and then. “No one needs us right now.”

Angel bit down her bottom lip feeling a light tingle pooling between her legs. “We should be quick.” She whispered. “Before someone sees us.”

-

The absolute best parts of his day and night. Taehyung would give up all his nights’ sleep just to be perched between Angel’s legs, her warm sodden walls hugging his stiff length as he moved in and out of her. Palms pressed against the back of her thighs, so deliciously thick that his whole hand couldn’t reach the width.

Long auburn hair matted to her temples, the flowers in her hair still stuck to her strands as they splayed out on the pillow. Smudged pink lips parting to spew the most beautiful moans as Taehyung stretched her out, thrusting in so deep his tip hit the soft walls of her cervix. Glazed eyes fixated on his as a smile graced her features.

Taehyung hooked her thighs over his arm, increasing his pace with a grunt in his throat. Her walls fluttered at the constant impact, the sound of skin slapping echoing across the grand chambers mixing in with Angel’s shaky moans.

“I-I love you..” She whispered, watching him through hooded lids.

His body loosened and tingled at her words. Taehyung let go of her thighs, leaning in closer as his elbows rested on each side of her body, hips grinding against her. He gripped at her soft hair, sweat glazed forehead against hers. “I love you too…” He breathed out.

The coil tightening in her lower belly reached uncontrollable heights giving him a tender kiss. Heat burst through her body erupting a choked cry of pleasure from her as she wrapped her legs around his waist tightly. Arms hooked under his shoulders as the shots of pleasure overwhelmed her trembling body.

“That’s it.” Taehyung whispered in her ear, feeling a tightness in his own belly as her walls clenched and pulsed around his member. “My sweetheart.” He pulled out of Angel almost completely before thrusting back into her until every inch disappeared inside her heat. “My precious.” The tightness sprung as he spilled inside his love, hips stilling and a light moan under his breath.

Angel hummed in delight feeling his warm release spilling deep inside her. She lazily smiled down as her heat swallowed him in further as her hand moved to caress her fullness. “Feel better?”

Taehyung chuckled breathlessly, kissing her hungrily. “So much better.” Pulling out of her carefully, he dropped next to her with his chest still rising and falling.

Once the couple calmed their relentless heaving, Angel turned to Taehyung with a question playing on her mind. “I noticed Tempus was on the list of your advising. What did he want to talk about?” She brought the wet cloth from the night stand cleaned off the excess between her legs gently, tiny flowers falling down from her curls.

The God replied with a scoff mindlessly playing with her hair. “What he always wants to talk about. Today he said something about a great darkness befalling our kingdom.”

Angel blinked slowly looking over her shoulder. She moved to face him now cleaning him off carefully before placing it back on the night stand. “He’s never said that before.”

“He’s said a lot of things.”

“Did he specify anything?” Angel propped herself on her elbow while her fingers traced his left breast.

Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly avoiding her gaze knowing he would find concern in them anyway. “Something about not trusting people too blindly.”

“It’s not a far fetched prophecy.”

“It’s incredibly vague, I can’t act on it.”

“But—” She stammered. “I don’t think you should ignore it either.”

“Worse comes to worse, Jungkook probably wants to overthrow me.” Taehyung gave a mocking scoff to the thought. God of Indulgence always loved spewing the idea of claiming the throne and ruling the worlds better than he or his father ever could. “There’s always going to be enemies and darkness trying to taunt our kingdom. I can’t get paranoid.”

“You also can’t be far too loose either.”

“I am not loose. I just think it’s silly to act on vague prophecies.”

“Tempus’ prophecies have always come true, Taehyung.”

“And what good has happened when I listened to those prophecies, hm?” It was an impulsive choice of words. Taehyung knew there was one prediction that brought so much good in this world, in his world. Though his words had already reached her ears and seeped into her mind before he could catch them back.

“I suppose not.” Angel rested back against the pillow ignoring the light squeeze in her chest. “But they do come true.” She sighed.

“It’s my decision to make whether I will demonize the ones I trust most.” Taehyung gulped down. “My decision alone.”

Angel smiled faintly before nodding. “Of course.”

Taehyung tried to take a breath to say something else. To reassure her that Tempus was right about one thing. But somehow it felt the moment passed and his tongue clipped hoping it wouldn’t cause a bigger problem between them. So he turned on his side, back facing the woman as he felt a tightness in the middle of his ribcages.

Biting down her bottom lip watching him face away from her, she leaned in and kissed his glistening shoulder causing Taehyung’s heart to drop. Angel turned on her side leaving the room in a slightly tense silence mixing in with their previous act of intimacy.

-

A gloomy, grey afternoon set upon the center world as Taehyung walked to the throne room for his usual routine of listening to troubles that were far too miniscule for him to take seriously. Except one still lingered on his mind. Eyes wandered across the halls of the palace just in front of the throne room and he stopped at one figure.

The couple had not properly spoken about yesterday but it seemed the tension had passed by morning. He saw Angel look over her shoulder and catch his gaze. His heart fluttered seeing a smile directed his way which he returned. Perhaps a silent way to reassure one another that all was well even though he could feel Tonitrua’s drum beating under his feet.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jungkook’s enamored voice broke through his thoughts.

“Watch it.” He seethed.

“Fuck you.” The younger male walked past him to enter the throne room first.

Taehyung sighed sadly seeing Angel walk away with the Goddess of Souls, Belle following her into the palace gardens. He moved into the dark throne room then as the guards closed it behind him. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

Jungkook had raven hair just like him, shorter just under his brow and parted. His eyes shone a shade of amber and hazel mixed together that Taehyung could never decipher nor bother to ask. He always had a permanent smirk on his face like he was ready to kill or have sex with anyone in sight. “Thought I might accompany you with the advising. Jimin said he was sick so he asked me.”

“The man who wants to enslave humankind does a favor for an Ingar.” Taehyung scoffed making his way to his throne. “Is Namjoon playing illusions on me?”

“Jimin is nice. Who knows if I keep doing favors he might just swear loyalty to me one day?” There was that smirk again. The one Jungkook showed whenever he could tell he stroke a nerve with Taehyung.

“I should’ve let Seokjin drown you.”

“Your brother couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Not a fly, no.” Taehyung shook his head, relaxing on the throne with a light sigh. “You? Probably.”

Jungkook chuckled walking up the stairs to stand by his side. “Your brothers love me. Possibly more than they love you.”

“Namjoon dotes on you but the minute I tell him you were flirting with Minnie, you’re done for.”

“Aw, look at you keeping secrets for me.”

“It’s not for you, dumbass. Angel told me to keep it a secret so Namjoon won’t kill you.”

“Thank Mother for Angel then.”

Taehyung felt anger seep through his veins hearing how he spewed those words. Of course Jungkook couldn’t help it. It was in his nature to sound like he was constantly satisfied or satisfying someone. That didn’t mean Taehyung could control his annoyance whenever he spoke her name. “Let’s get this over with.”

As usual an eternity passed hearing all the troubles. Except the God of Envy was going to be punished for trying to threaten a Water Nymph for rejecting him which Taehyung found immense pleasure in. The one good thing about having Jungkook here was his harsh jabs at anyone who were whining far too much for their own credibility. Something Taehyung couldn’t do without someone trying to claim his throne.

Tonitrua’s kept beating his drum harder and harder almost making the ground shake underneath them. Rain beating down the earth, winds screaming for dear life as even the heavens felt a chill through its core.

“Didn’t know a storm was happening.” Jungkook murmured.

He tapped the arm of the chair, the slight tinge of confusion at the back of his mind. They would always warn us of a storm. “Maybe the Titans are in a mood.”

Before they could think on it further, the double doors on the side opened with a deafening thud causing both Gods to jump a little.

Taehyung tried to face the intrusion with an angry expression before his face quickly softened seeing Belle. Her cheeks stained in tears and usually bright features contorted into one of immense pain. His stomach dropped seeing the patches of red on her white dress. “What—”

“A-Angel—” Belle sobbed, gesturing with her trembling finger to the side.

Something cracked inside his chest hearing the name utter from her lips. All the thoughts in his mind emptied to a blank slate except for that one face. The one face that always made him happy when he looked at her. Taehyung pushed off his throne almost making it stumble back while Jungkook was already sprinting towards Belle as they rushed to the palace gardens. Dread filling his gut as he questioned where the blood was from.

The garden was empty for the first time. Not its usual bright state. No rainbows or children laughing, even the trees branches didn’t face upwards while the leaves kept falling like the rain in the center world. Taehyungs’ heart raced against his ribcages watching Belle run towards the tree. Her favourite peach blossom tree now almost emptied with its flowers. All of them withered on the ground.

Jungkook walked in front of him, pausing in his tracks as they reached the tree before meeting his gaze. Not a single smirk in sight. Hazel eyes turned deep and murky as he tried to hide the view from him while Belle quietly sobbed behind him. “Tae, don’t.”

Taehyung tightened his jaw. “I need to see.”

“No—” He lightly groaned as the God slammed his shoulder against his to push past him.

He wished. He wished so badly to have Jungkook blocking his view again. The cracking in his chest now completely shattered as he saw her beautiful baby blue dress ripped with deep cuts, blood staining the colour to a horrid dirty violet. Bruises on her down her arm, the golden band around her ring finger stained with a reddish tinge. And her face. If he could ignore the purpling marks on her cheek and the cut on her lip, it could almost look like she was sleeping soundly. Even the flowers in her hair lost all its’ colour and vibrance, withered and lifeless.

Knees losing all its power, Taehyung dropped on the ground next to her shrugging off his cloak and draping over her body. Tears burned at his eyes, his body losing all of its usual composure. All he could do was brush away the hair on her face with his trembling fingers and cup her cooling cheek. Gently he sniffled, lifting her up a little so he could rest on his lap. Just like he rested on hers only a day ago.

How could something end so quickly? In a flick of a finger, his whole world could come crashing down before it lays still on his weak arms.

A quick gust of wind passed through the group and dread filled him to the brim.

“Brother…” Namjoon’s deep voice echoed through the darkening garden. Footsteps crunched against the dried leaves and withered flowers until he stood next to Taehyung, gripping the love of his life with all he could.

The King of the Underworld never visited every single death but when he felt this one…he knew he had to be here. Though a part of him wasn’t prepared to see his younger brother in a state of complete and utter vulnerability, tears trailing down his pained face as he hugged his stilled wife in his arms.

He hesitated for a moment but eventually softened, reaching his hand out and brushing through Taehyung’s hair as a form of comfort. His own silver locks covering his eyes to hide how deeply he could feel her loss. “I’m sorry.”

“Do—” Taehyung let out a trembling sigh, fresh tears at the brim of his eyes. “Do you know who did it?”

Belle shook her head, wincing as another feeling pooled in her gut. Pure guilt. “I just l-left for a w-while…she—was h-hungry…” She wrapped her arms around herself tightly almost curling up into the ball as her shoulder shook with her sobs.

“We’ll find out.” Jungkook’s tone rung dark and furious as he padded closer to Belle, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Taehyung…God’s souls work differently from humans.” Namjoon attempted to explain in the most gentle way possible. “I can keep her safe for now but she will inevitably—”

“Disappear…I know.” Taehyung swallowed down the lump in his throat, stifling the sob that tried to pass through him again. “I know.”

Namjoon sighed in slight defeat, wishing there were some way to console his brother but no consolation could bring his love back. Death was a battle everyone lost. “I’ll make a garden for her.” It was the only thing he could think of. Perhaps knowing her soul would rest in her favourite place could bring some comfort.

Taehyung nodded even though his grasp didn’t falter as if some desperate part of him wanted to keep her here and hope hard enough that she would wake up. I didn’t even say anything to her today. He closed his eyes freely letting more tears roll down as Namjoon moved to hook his arms under Angels’ neck and knees, lifting her up from the ground.

Another cool gust of wind and the God found his arms empty save for a few red splotches on his arm. Taehyung curled them into fists, tight as his nails dug into his skin and the blood seeped through his fingers.

“Taehyung…” Jungkook called in a tender voice for the first time.

“Leave me. Both of you.” His head was lowered, raven fringe covering his reddened eyes as he stared at his hands. The blood of his love staining his skin reminding him that this was his doing. His stupidity. Someone came in here to hurt her. Darkness was going to befall your kingdom. Tempus was right and he ignored it. Your fault. This is all your fault.

Jungkook let out a defeated sigh, holding onto both of Belle’s shoulders and gently leading her out of the autumnal gardens. It was not right leaving Taehyung with his thoughts but arguing with him would be just as troubling. With a heavy heart they disappeared back into the palace while the Great Protector now sat under his wife’s favourite tree with her blood on his hands.

Your fault. All your fault. Taehyung wanted to say it out loud. He tried. When he did, the only thing that came out were screams. Shrieks of agony, breaking his throat and tightening his chest, palms pressed against the earth begging for the Nature Mother to bring her back. He imagined golden bride blossoms growing around him with his love being born again. Bring her back! Bring her back! I’ll do better!

Nothing happened. The garden still mourned in its autumn. Taehyung was all alone.

Centuries passed since his heart emptied. Mindlessly pacing around the throne room with no one entering with their complaints anymore. They were too frightened. Too frightened to see their fool of a King cut them down where they stood if their complaints were far too menial.

Heavens were still waiting for a new God of Time after the last one’s body was thrown into the Underworld fires. One should be reborn instantly but no one had ever destroyed the over-looker of Time itself so early in their life. Perhaps there was a new Tempus somewhere but they were too afraid of Taehyung to step forward.

He didn’t care though. He just kept pacing around the room ignoring Jimin’s gaze following him wherever his feet moved him. Calves ached terribly but Taehyung kept moving. Moving so his mind could be occupied. Moving so the thoughts don’t come rushing in. Moving so he doesn’t stop to remember her smile again.

Jimin tried to take a breath to say something that could soothe his beloved King but all his words died on his tongue. Everyone had to be so careful around Taehyung nowadays to ensure they didn’t strike a nerve. And his nerves were far too vulnerable even after all these years.

The double doors thud open and a tinge of anxiety rushed through his belly. Every time he heard that door, he saw Belle crying. Pointing him to his worst nightmare.

Gulping down, Taehyung flickered his gaze over to the visitors. Much to his concern, he found Belle with Jungkook following close behind almost like a bodyguard. “What do you want?”

“She’s just here to help.” Jungkook spoke in a hardened voice.

So he was a bodyguard.

“Why would I need her help?” Taehyung seethed, shooting a glare at the Goddess. He could notice the gloominess in her aura even though her features were as bright as ever.

The curse of never having the same adverse effects as humans. No one could ever tell where Gods were having a terrible time.

“Careful.” Jungkook warned, irises fading to an angry amber as he narrowed his gaze.

“Or what?” The King stepped forward almost bumping into Belle. “If she had just stayed at the garden a little longer instead of fleeting about her own stupid business—”

“Taehyung…” Jimin tried to get him back to his senses with a calm voice but it already tugged at Jungkook’s last nerve.

The younger god pounced at the Ruler with a grunt, grabbing onto his collars while Belle was pushed aside. God of Indulgence swung a fist across the Great Protectors’ face. “It’s not her fault! You fucking fool!” Jungkook’s growls boomed across the halls, reminding them that he was almost Ruler as well if Taehyung were not equally persistent.

Jimin noticed Belle immediately sobbing as she curled into herself, struggling to breathe deeply.

“I found her!” Belle cried out. Her heartbreaking voice echoing in the room and reverberating in Taehyung’s ears.

Both gods paused in their actions looking over at the saddened Goddess. Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook immediately loosening as he looked at Belle with widened eyes and parted lips. “You—w-where?”

Belle sniffled and joined her shaky hands together. When she spread them apart, an orb formed, floating in between her palms. Through the orb they could see luscious green mountains covered almost entirely with mist, blurring into a house, old design almost a little imperfect but full of healthy gardens. “She lives in the mountains and runs a farm.”

Jungkook finally let go of Taehyung giving him a soft glare before walking over next to Belle.

Taehyung watched the vision of present day in the small orb as it moved from the gardens to a pair of feet walking down some green patches. Behind the legs was a tawny puppy and a lamb bouncing as they followed. His heart raced so fast against his ribcage, he was almost surprised it was still there.

It jumped to his throat when Belle showed her face.

He let out a weak chuckle, tears glimmering in his eyes, watching Angel crouch down near the patch and grab some leaves from the patch with a small smile on her face. “I-It’s her.” Taehyung reached his hand out a little almost as if he could touch her but he quickly retracted a little, hovering his palms over the vision of her face.

“It is. Except her memories are not fully intact. Reincarnated Gods get extremely fuzzy memory and usually don’t know where they came from. They will generally say they’re an orphan who only remembers living alone all their life.” Belle explained even though her voice was a little meek and exhausted.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning she needs to get her memories back and bond to you. That’s the only she can reach her full form and return to the Heavens.” She shook her head slowly. “Otherwise she’ll have to stay like this forever.”

Taehyung finally took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, trying to understand Belle’s words before nodding. “Alright.” Soft eyes looked over at the young Goddess and his stomach dropped. “I’m sorry…she was your friend too.” He attempted a smile. “Thank you for finding her.”

“It’s okay.” Belle smiled so beautifully even though her eyes were still glazed with tears. “Just bring her home.” She gently closed her hands again to dissipate the orb.

He had the urge to reach out but he put his hands back to himself before anyone could notice. “You’ll take care of the Heavens for me?” Taehyung’s gaze flickered up to Jimin ignoring Jungkook’s light scoff.

“You really don’t trust me that much?” Jungkook seethed before Belle touched his arm.

“Jimin will take care of matters in the throne room while you keep an eye on the center world.” She spoke to the God softly although most of them knew it didn’t take much for Jungkook to be swayed by the Goddess.

Jungkook sighed in slight defeat. “Alright.”

“With all my heart, Master.” Jimin bowed until his head could reach his toes before moving up to give him a faint smile. “The Heavens will be in safe hands.”

“An Ingar running the Heavens…talk about darkness befalling your kingdom.” Jungkook mumbled in annoyance.

Belle pressed on the God’s chest to gently guide him out of the throne room. “I think it’s time to go.” She quickly looked over her shoulder. “Make sure to be gentle on her, don’t try to drop everything in one day. She’s asked for help on the farm in the nearby villages so start there.”

Taehyung let every word burrow into his mind before Jungkook and Belle disappeared out of the throne room. He wasn’t going to ruin this again. Never again. “You’re going to be okay?” He smiled at Jimin.

Jimin giggled nervously before nodding. “I’ll try my best, Master. Good luck.” His expression as he saw the Great Protector take a breath and vanish down to the center world.

Once the throne room was empty, his smile disappeared and a darkness fell over his usually glimmering eyes. Breathing heavy and a little rapid as he stomped over to the table filled with an array of ambrosia. A blood-curdling scream vibrating in his throat, arms swept across the surface. Glass shattered on the ground pricking at his skin but it didn’t hurt him nearly as much as seeing his beloved Master run back to the Goddess who never deserved him.

He heard the doors open again, heart pounding against his ribcages expecting Jungkook but thankfully Hoseok’s head peeked through. Jimin sighed deeply leaning against the edge of the table. “He’s gone to get her back.”

Hoseok, another Ingar, carefully padded into the throne room eyeing the glass splinters on Jimin’s forearm and rushing over to him. “Shouldn’t that be good news? Why—why are you so angry?” He tried to reach out for the injuries but Jimin walked away from him towards the throne.

“That wasn’t the plan, Hoseok!” Jimin growled, wincing as tears burned in his eyes. “He—he was supposed to forget about her…I waited…I waited so fucking long for him to forget.” Shaky fingers curled up into tight fists as he allowed the pain from his splinters to sting from remnants of alcohol. “I worked so hard to be the best for him. To do what was best for him and he just—” He waved his hand harshly. “—runs away without even thinking about me.”

“She’s his wife.” Hoseok tilted his head in confusion. “Of course, he’ll go get her if he knew his love was alive and waiting for him.” A ghost of a smile graced his lips, admiring how dedicated Taehyung had been all these centuries when he could have taken any Goddess or God under his arm.

“She’s not his love!” Jimin cried beyond his throat’s capability, making it ache and crackle. “He’s supposed to be here…with me.” He whispered. “I worked so hard.”

Hoseok examined the Ingar with a hesitant expression, worried what he was finding in the way Jimin held himself and the words spewing from his mouth. “Jimin…what do you mean when say you worked so hard?” He took a step forward when he really wanted to exit the room completely. “You mean you just helped him, right? Nothing else?”

“I loved him. I still love him.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jimin’s reddened, teary eyes flickered to meet the older Ingars’ gaze. Pain may have spread across his look but there was something behind it that Hoseok wished he didn’t find. “I did what was best for him.” He muttered, nodding to himself. Convincing his conscious that his actions were for the good of his Master. “Taehyung doesn’t know what’s good for him yet.” He smiled softly except there was no brightness in his eyes. “He’ll know soon.”

-

Village of Sericum adorned the finest collection of silk and the most luscious crops known across the country side. Most of them were supplied by a mysterious farmer hiding out in the mountains. For some odd reason, her harvests were always the most full and fresh. Her fruits were the juiciest, flowers were the most vibrant and her vegetables were absolutely delicious. At least that was all Taehyung got from asking the villagers.

Angel had created somewhat of a reputation but apparently for the most part, she stayed right up in her simple home in the mountains by her lonesome. A few farmers were surprised to see such a young farmer have so much knowledge and experience on nature. Taehyung couldn’t help but smile. Even centuries later in a new form, Angel stuck to the place she loved most, surrounded by nature and animals while blossoms scented the air.

One of the farmers was kind enough to let Taehyung ride on his cart up to the mountains after he stated his business. The mystery farmer needed someone to give her a hand around the farm for a few weeks while harvests were getting really busy.

Up the mountains they rode until they reached the beautiful light wooden gates that led into Angel’s home. His heart hammered so hard in his chest, Taehyung was worried he might faint out of his nervousness. What if her human form didn’t like him? When she was born as a Goddess, they were fated to be together. Even though their love was genuine, it was already written to be in the future. Now it was different. There was no Tempus to tell him that this was the right thing or the wrong to do. It was just him deep diving into a chapter of his life where he was weakened of his powers and blind with love.

Giving his thanks to the farmer, Taehyung padded towards the wooden gates few higher than him and almost impossible to climb over it which made sense considering she was alone here with no security. The air brushed sharp and cold around him as mist slowly thickened on the mountain range creating a calm, eerie atmosphere.

Finally he knocked on the wooden gate as loud as he could to ensure the sound echoed.

Pitter patter of footsteps sounded on the other side causing a jolt in Taehyung’s belly. A smile spread across his face when he heard her voice.

“Back, Solar.” Angel murmured which earned a whine for something much smaller.

Then the door opened with a light creak revealing her. Auburn hair braided back, purple coat over her with she held two sticks with broken sharp ends.

“Oh—I-I come in peace.” Taehyung raised his hands up in defense.

Angel looked at him in confusion before looking down at the sticks and gasping lightly. “Sorry.” She chuckled, dropping them to the side. “Can I help you?”

“I—uh—” A light smile stretched on his lips as he tried to swallowed the lump in his throat. It was so tempting to just embrace her after so long, hold her and apologize. Tell her to come back home so they could be together again. Fate wanted to play cruel games though. To pay for his own mistakes. “Sorry, I was here for the—the help you wanted.”

“Help—oh!” Angel chuckled. “Of course, come in.” She opened the door a little further keeping a leg in front of the tiny, tawny puppy so it didn’t escape. “Don’t mind Solar, he gets a little excited.”

Taehyung wondered why she had to warn him before the tiny animal sprinted between his legs, circling around one of them and barking as loud as he could muster. Even though it merely sounded like a squeak. He couldn’t help but laugh at how excited the creature looked as they were led through another wooden gate possibly made for extra security.

Once inside the yard, his eyes were graced with vibrance and the fresh scent of flowers. Roses amongst others bordering the yard with trees adorning mangos, lemons and apples. Pineapple and pumpkin patches as they led up to the beautifully imperfect house.

“I’ll get you some snacks and some water.” Angel chirped joyfully, prancing so she could stand in front of him. “And uh—” She scratched her head lightly. “Could you…grab the mangoes for me?” A shy chuckle emitted under her breath pointing at the incredibly ripe mangoes hanging from the very top of the tree. “I broke the stick trying to get it.”

“Of course.” Anything you want. Taehyung cleared his throat gently before looking up at the ripe mangoes again.

Angel turned on her heel remembering to get some of the fresh picked cherries for him as well before the realization hit her. “Oh!” She quickly tuned around again. “What’s your name?”

There was light twinge in his chest hearing that extremely familiar voice ask him the question. But he pushed it aside smiling faintly at the beauty. “Taehyung.”

“Taehyung.” She repeated in a soft tone and a gorgeously bright smile. “I’m Angel.” For a few moments, the girl played with her fingers shyly as if wanting to say more before turning back on her heel again and walking to the house.

Centuries passed since his heart was emptied. Centuries. But it only took a few seconds of seeing her smile and hearing her voice for him to fall deeply in love with her again.

| next >>

[whumpitisthen]

The Prelude

Lightning crackles blue across the dark sky, rapidly frolicking between black clouds. The rain beats the ground, determined to flood the world and drown everything under holy water. Burnt charcoal trees struggle to stay upright in the wind bending them to be parallel against the ground and tearing them in half as the singed bark on them breaks apart. People, animals, even plants cry out in terror.

A brutal storm has formed on this scorched Earth. There hasn't been one like this in decades, apparent as every living thing — mortal or not — scrambles to seek shelter under anything that bears the weather. The ground shakes constantly with thunder; one would think an earthquake is taking place at once.

Out in the middle of noman's land, in the epicentre of the tempest, a clearing surrounded by trees of a forest waves its grey blades of grass under an opening in the clouds; — no, an opening in the sky itself. The space rips open like molten glass, casting a golden light onto the land, which instantly evaporates the rain befallen on it. A loud tremble rings in the air, coming from the tear as the storm reaches its peak, and out the opening comes one spear of lightning hitting the earth with such power the grass disintegrates to ashes and flows away with the wind.

Under the light — a huddled figure. He claws at the dirt in pain, his screaming drowned out by the fury of the heavens. He shakes on his knees and hides his head behind his arms as he cries into the now burnt patch of grass in sorrow and terror, overwhelmed by his surroundings to such an extreme that he cannot bear to think a single thought loud enough to overcome the raging squall. His pain is immense, and not merely physical.

An angel. He was cast out of his Heaven, and now, with blackened wings glowing at the edges of its feathers with fiery embers, he suffers the consequences of the sin he had committed that had landed him here. Namely, he has to bear the agony of Falling. The burning of his most precious wings that will never heal, that he will never fly with again. The suddenness of hunger and cold and fatigue; the loss of his life as an immortal being, and the process of becoming accustomed to what will be his new life from now on: the life of a mortal. Barely anything more than a simple human. Defenceless. Weak. Vulnerable. Prey.

In this world, thunder elicits horror inside the souls of Angel and Demon alike; only bringing destruction and fury to everyone who dares brave it. It is a byproduct of the divine fury of the most powerful beings the Heavens house, their anger traversing worlds to manifest itself in horrendous storms that tear apart the earth itself, uncaring of who or what lives on it. Intimidating as they are, disasters like this do not happen often, and when they do, rarely does a Fallen find themself on the ground with their powers ripped away, their wings burnt to a crisp, scars of lightning leaving markings that will never disappear, forever reminding them of their terrible fate and their mortality. This fate is irreversible without the eternally holy and gracious Archangels themselves changing their mind, — something that a lowly little angel like Auden could never achieve.

One choice remains to be made.

Will he accept his fate, this punishment that his Heaven deemed fit for him with dignity, clamouring for survival for as long as he can on this cursed, awful, hellish Earth?

Or will he give up the last of his grace, bending to the most unbecoming, damned creatures and becoming one of them, a demon himself, to avoid an untimely, horrific death?

<3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @whumpsday @whump-me-all-night-long

[love4heejayke]

SYNOPSIS: Born from the full moon's light, Y/N is sent by her witch aunt on a secret mission to Decilis Academy, the purpose of which is to investigate the source of the obscure energy that hovers under the Silver Millennium. However, when she saves her roomate Sooha from the attack of dark creatures with the power to fortify themselves from the energy of nightmares and discovers her secret identity, she promises not to tell her friends, but everything changes once she falls for Lee Heli, one of Decelis' star students and posibily, her past life's lover.

TAGLIST #1: (closed) @enhacolor @amarillyis @ckline35 @fairycheol @jeanbobean @heejakegf @axartia @ineedcoffeeandtherapy @rosie-is-everywhere @prdxinvade @heedeungieluvbot @jungwonnnnnnnnnnnn @bambisgirl @yebin14 @m4r1eluvs (can't tag you bae, sorry)

TAGLIST #2: (open) [comment or send ask] @bluemanifesto @ineedaherosavemeenow @ahnneyong @jiawji @aki1e @yjjungwon @vatterie @captivq @enhastolemyheart @jaxavance @dimplewonie @talia02 @cherriegyu @l1lac-dreamer @beechmoons @niki7flwoie (can't tag you all, sorry)

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7 - The New Moon Malachites

On the border between the warm Eldorado Empire ruled by the sun and the mystical Silver Millennium veiled by the moon, stands Obsidian, the realm of dark magic and torment, emerges from the shadows with an eerie and foreboding presence. The very air is saturated with the essence of the New Moon, casting a perpetual gloom over the land. The sky above is a tapestry of twisted, swirling clouds, tinged with a sickly green hue that reflects the malevolence that permeates this realm.

The architecture of Obsidian is a fusion of haunting beauty and unsettling decay. Towers and spires, constructed of obsidian stone, reach towards the heavens like skeletal fingers, their sharp edges glinting with an unnatural sheen. The city streets are labyrinthine, lined with dilapidated buildings, their walls adorned with faded murals depicting grotesque scenes of despair and suffering.

Its flora reflects the macabre nature of the realm. Thorny vines snake along the ground, their blossoms exuding a sickly sweet scent that lures unsuspecting victims deeper into the clutches of darkness. Trees with gnarled branches reach skyward, their leaves a lifeless shade of black, rustling ominously with the whisperings of ancient curses.

The atmosphere itself feels heavy and suffocating, as if the very fabric of reality is tainted by the maleficence that thrives within this realm. Shadows dance and writhe, seemingly alive with sinister intent, their elongated forms stretching and contorting in eerie patterns across the desolate landscape.

As one ventures deeper into its heart, the true horrors of the New Moon's corruption come to light. Specters of tormented souls, twisted and contorted, wander the streets with vacant eyes and mournful cries that pierce the silence. These lost souls are the remnants of those consumed by the dark magic of the New Moon, forever trapped in a state of anguish and torment.

In this land, where the moon's corruption reigns supreme, every step forward is accompanied by a sense of impending doom. It is a realm of twisted desires, shattered hopes, and eternal suffering—a place where the boundaries between life and death, light and darkness, are blurred and distorted, leaving all who venture here forever marked by its macabre aura.

Inside the Placídium of the New Moon, where darkness weaves its web and despair reigns, a transmogrified dream parasite takes flight, now transformed into a raven of shadows. Its ebony feathers possess an ethereal iridescence, shimmering with hints of violet and midnight blue, as if infused with the essence of the night itself.

With each beat of its wings, the raven glides through the vast halls of the palace, navigating a labyrinth of gothic furnishings and hauntingly beautiful tapestries. The air is heavy with a sense of foreboding, and the walls are adorned with mirrors that reflect twisted images, distorting reality and playing tricks on the mind.

The creature's movements are graceful and calculated, as it weaves effortlessly through the treacherous maze of mirrors. Its wings, elongated and silhouetted against the dim light, possess an ethereal beauty that belies the darkness within.

With every swoop and turn, it seems to absorb the very essence of the New Moon's corruption, drawing strength from the malevolence that permeates the palace. Its presence is both mesmerizing and unsettling, a reminder of the enigmatic power that Nyx wields within her prison of mirrors.

As the raven's caw echoes through the hallowed halls, the air seems to grow colder, the shadows deepen, and an aura of mystique envelops the Placídium. It is a sight that evokes a sense of both fascination and trepidation—a symbol of the twisted magic and dark secrets that dwell within the heart of the New Moon Witch's domain.

Nyx, the Psychic Moon, is imprisoned in the dark and enigmatic mirror walls of the Placidium of the New Moon. Its ethereal and immaterial being seems to merge with the very darkness that surrounds it, giving it a presence that is both enigmatic and captivating.

Her body is surrounded by a myriad of malachite chains, tied around her waist, tangible symbols of her imprisonment and the limitation of her powers. Each chain is adorned with intricate runes, exuding a mysterious and ancient aura. The malachite, a deep and intense green, gleams in the dim light that penetrates through the gaps in the mirrors.

Nyx's hair is an ebony cascade, like the darkest shadows in the night, flowing around her pale, serene face. Her eyes, deep wells of mystery, glow with a greenish luminosity, as if they contain an infinite sea of ​​dark secrets and knowledge.

Dressed in a dark cloak that blends in with the shadows themselves, every fold and every movement seems choreographed by the melancholy that permeates her existence.

As she walks through the infinite passages of the Mirror Dimension, her presence exudes an aura of power and mystery. Each step is calculated and wrapped in a stillness that reveals the depth of her thoughts and the strength of her will.

She notices the raven of darkness traversing her passages and smirks. Stretching her arm in the air, she forcefully crushes the parasite with her hand, the creature grunts and flaps its wings restlessly, but Nyx grins and laughs slyly as she watches the creature writhe in pain from the dream mana it it stole flowing from her fingers as she drove her long black nails into his heart and straight into his blood.

Though euphoric from fortifying herself from the life energy of mortal desires, she is still unsatisfied. The sound of the chains that became adornments on her cloak constantly reminded her of the painful betrayal she had suffered in her life, so with what little New Moon mana she could use, she turned her index finger in circles, invoking with a whisper, an illusion spell.

Praesentia in speculo, sorores lux et tenebrae.

(Presence in the mirror, sisters of light and darkness.)

There, she saw her sisters, Selene and Hecate, the radiant figures of the Silver Millennium, manifesting themselves in the illusion created by Nyx within her mirror prison. Selene, her eldest sister and the majestic queen of the Lunar Realm, radiates a silvery luminosity and transcendental serenity. Her long silver hair cascades over her shoulders, reflecting the light of the full moon that shines in her presence. Her eyes, bright as stars, emanate age-old wisdom and deep compassion. She's been training with Eugene and other Corona Plateada soldiers, teaching them stealth strikes and immobilizing techniques to use against fast-moving enemies.

Then she saw Hecate, the middle sister and mysterious priestess and guardian of the mysteries of magic. Her countenance is enigmatic and her piercing gaze seems to probe the darkest secrets of existence. Dressed in a dark robe, she is the embodiment of power and connection to the hidden realms. Her night-black hair falls in wavy strands over her shoulders, while her eyes shine with a haunting intensity. She is in the Prayer Chamber with Taho, teaching her to channel her magic through meditation.

Selene and Hecate represent opposing forces, but inextricably linked, personifying light and darkness, order and chaos, knowledge and mystery.

As Nyx gazes at the images of her sisters, fury rises in her heart, fueled by the bitterness of separation and confinement. She touched her pale hand to the mirror in an unsuccessful attempt to escape her prison, but her chains delivered a painful shock, temporarily immobilizing her. She longs for freedom and revenge, vowing to break the shackles that bind her and make darkness and chaos reign in Elysium once more, but to do so, she must, bit by bit, recruit lost allies to reclaim her ancient clan: The New Moon Malachites. The first were 6 witches who corrupted the souls of 6 humans, from this day forward, Nyx welcomed them into her clan as her daughters, summoning them to steal mana and spread her darkness far and wide, until now.

"Daughters!"

From the shadows emerged 4 witches: Melanis, The Evil Singer, Katarktia, the Kiss of Ruin, Hypateia, The Herald of Illusions and Kallosia, The Parasite of Beauty. They bow to their knees before the imposing beauty and power of their leader.

"Mother, we have arrived," said Kallosia.

"For 1500 years, thy mother hath denied thee the right to live, deeming us 'impure' and 'unworthy' of mercy, yet they!" she reflected, the images of Selene and Hecate in her mirror, "They revel in thy hypocritical light and enjoy an undeserved freedom after decimating our people!"

"Traitorous fairies!" exclaimed Katarktia. "Because of them, we are doomed to share our spirits with these insignificant mortals!"

"How long shall we bear this curse, Mother?" asked Mellanis, stamping her feet. "I can scarcely wait to vanquish this body and leave this pitiful world at my feet!"

"Patience, my daughter. All things have their time; it avails not to attack with brutality ere we first devise a plan."

"Furthermore, our sister is returning from her mission. Pray that she bringeth good tidings to us," exclaimed Hypateia.

But unfortunately for the witches, Melinoe had returned in a deplorable state: her cloak was torn and dusty with sand, her hair, once silky and shiny, was dull, messy and brittle, and the malachite in her ring was cracked, causing that she staggered with each step she took in the corridor, revealing her appearance half mortal, half shadow, yet she had the strength to bow before the wide and gigantic silver mirror in which her "mother" was imprisoned.

"Mother, sisters, I have returned."

"Melinoe, I see thou hast returned unharmed, yet without victory, as always. Art thou here to recount yet another humiliating defeat?" mocked Mellanis.

"Spare me thy sarcasm! Aye, I faced Selene, the elf Soule, and the paladin Eugene, the so-called 'Boys of Destiny,' and I was defeated! But what of thee? What have thee achieved, victorious for thy mother?"

"Once again, these wretches adopted by the Full Moon, sister?" Kallosia frowned. "How did they prevail against thy power?"

"Soule proved skillful with his mystical arrows, foreseeing all my moves, whilst Eugene fiercely defended the others. Moreover, he wields the sacred sword of Artemis, the Warrior Moon. And Selene, in turn, turned my Full Moon magic against me, nullifying my spells."

"Then these 'Boys of Destiny' are not to be underestimated. Especially now that they are blessed by this fraudulent 'Mother Moon'," Katarktia exclaimed. "What shall we do, Mother?"

The Psychic Moon was about to answer her daughter, however she was stunned by 7 beams of light suddenly summoned from her glass. Although she suffered a strong impact, that didn't stop her from getting up with her chains and casting yet another spell.

Imagines lux in speculum surgant

(Let the images of light arise in the mirror)

Ut sciant veritatem et memoriam teneant

(So they may know the truth and hold the memory)

Imago vestra splendebit ante oculos eorum.

(Your image shall shine before their eyes.)

Thus, the images of 7 vampires, dressed in princely clothes in blue gold and white tones, emerged from those lights, faces which the young witches did not fail to recognize.

"There they are! Our cowardly siblings," Hypateia exclaimed with an acidic disdain in her voice.

"I do not understand, mother. What do they have to do with me?"

"Thou shalt soon find out, my dear. Draw near and bring forth thy jewel."

In slow steps, Melinoe approached the captivity of her firstborn, guided by curiosity and insecurity about her fate. She placed her open palm, containing the broken ring, and Nyx placed her hand under the broken malachite. With her magic of darkness, she reversed all damage to the gemstone, putting all the pieces together and firming it up, making it more resistant. But when the queen used her hemomancy to implant the most darkness in her blood, she moaned in pain and squeezed her eyes, feeling her body and mind increasingly dominated by her, but in the end, she sighed in relief, showing off to her sisters how imposing and beautiful she was, but with that, the sorceress warned:

"Melinoe, although thy defeat is disappointing, I shall grant thee a chance of redemption. My magic sensed that the keys to the rebirth of thy clan lie within the Decelis Academy, in Riverfield. Take my darkness to this school, awaken thy darkest nightmares, and bring them to thy side."

"And if the Boys of Destiny attack again, mother?" Katarktia questioned.

"They shall not, if thou wouldst see what thy middle sister has prepared for the mission."

When the dark fairy dismissed her "daughters", she took one last look at her sisters' likeness. Her irises glowed in shades of green, reflecting contempt and dislike for them. She gently ran her hand over the reflection and murmured:

"Ye may revel in thy petty little lives, traitors, but thy time is running out. Once free from this pathetic prison, nothing shall stop me from claiming what is rightfully mine."

With one last strike, she summoned a thick green smoke of darkness from her mirror, traversing the entire dimension of her prison. From large to small mirrors, straight to curved, the mist moved through all existing mirrors in ELYSIUM, until it split into 3, passing through 3 mirrors in the rooms of the Decelis Academy. The first was round and golden, the second, a wide silver one and the other, embedded in the door of a noble wooden wardrobe. 3 students were sleeping peacefully, but as they inhaled the evil mists, they penetrated into their bloods and ran through their subconscious and in this way, they saw their worst nightmares.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷☽⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

In the recesses of Placídium of the New Moon, lies the meditation chamber of Oneria, The Nightmare Weaver. Enveloped in an air of mystery and charm, its walls, painted in a deep purple and green tone, seem to emanate a soft luminescence, creating an ethereal atmosphere in the environment. Intricate designs, depicting intertwined dreams and nightmares, adorn the walls, as if taking on a life of their own in the dim light.

A shag, dark rug covers the floor, absorbing the footsteps in a conspiratorial silence. In the center of the room stands a small ebony altar, where black scented candles flicker in a seductive dance, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Ancient runes are inscribed on the candles, an invitation to the deepest secrets of the subconscious.

Around the space, black velvet cushions invite rest and introspection. Heavy black velvet curtains are pulled back like an enigmatic veil, blocking outside light from entering the room, maintaining Oneria's mystery and privacy.

In the center of the vaulted ceiling, a subtly sparkling chandelier in silver tones, with pendant malachite, bathes the room in a mystical and soft light, casting mysterious reflections on the walls. The aroma of sandalwood and lavender incense permeates the air, providing a sense of calm and tranquility, inviting a deep immersion in the recesses of the mind.

In their quiet enclosure, the Mellanis sisters, Melinoe, Katarktia, Kallosia and Hypateia cautiously approach. The atmosphere is dense, charged with the energy of darkness and mystery that envelops Oneria in her moment of weaving dark threads.

Mellanis steps forward, breaking Oneria's concentration. With a serious tone, she begins to speak:

"Onéria, we bear tidings of import to share with thee. Thy mother..."

"Hast thou been given the mission to assail the Academy Decelis, I presume?"

"How didst thou find out...?" Kallosia asked in shock.

"Thou shouldst trust more in my offspring," she said, weaving yet another small dream parasite with her threads of darkness. "When tamed by the right hands, they skulk in shadows and move everywhere, acting as mine eyes and ears betwixt us and mortals. So, if thou canst, sister, beseech thy mother to cease her assaults upon them, on my behalf."

"Of course," Katarkatia exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "So, what sayest thou to me?"

"I shall go," the young witch nodded. "I am famished for new dreams to parasitize. By the way, sisters, feast thine eyes on this."

With 5 strands of dark purple mana embodied from the nightmares of a shadowborn vampire, the weaver wove 5 sturdy apples of darkness. As they sank their teeth into this forbidden yet powerful fruit, they tasted the dream mana absorbed and woven by the middle sister.

"A dream from a Child of the Night! Thank thee, sister," Kallosia thanked.

"I thought tormenting thy siblings to be amusing, but savoring their dreams is truly a banquet."

"This, my sisters, is but the beginning of Eclipsium Circle's vengeance. Little by little, thou shalt strike together at their weak spots, and when they least expect it, they shall pay for their slights against our clan."

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷☽⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Night was falling over Estival, and a Blood Moon hung overhead, casting an eerie red glow over the dense forest. Solon, in his full werewolf form, ran desperately through the trees, his heart racing and his senses heightened.

As he leapt from branches and bushes, his blue fur ruffled in the wind, as if he were floating. Due to the power the Blood Moon gave him under him and the adrenaline rushing through his blood, he dodged and jumped faster and more agile.

The hunters, skilled and ruthless, pursued him relentlessly, firing their silver bullet guns, determined to capture him or worse, kill him. Solon fought his own nature, trying to contain his wild instincts, but the magnitude of that macabre night distorted his conscience and drove the ferocity within him.

Fear and rage swirl together as he runs through the woods, dodging bullets that slice through the air.

With each step back, darkness consumed him, and savagery took over his being. Its body curves into an attack position, its sharp claws ready to defend its life. He tries to scream, to alert the hunters that he is one of their own, but his growls and howls ring out only as threats.

Upon entering a dense forest, Solon found himself cornered, surrounded by his enemies. The adrenaline in his blood boiled, and he could no longer control his inner beast. In a moment of uncontrolled fury, he lunged at the hunters, his claws sharp as blades.

The werewolf's sharp claws lashed out, and the hunters fell one by one, lost in the shadows of the forest. The bloody sight, though involuntary, was macabre and distressing. As the Blood Moon lost its grip on him, the metamorphosis gradually ceased, and he thus reverted to his human form. However, a feeling of horror hit him as he looked down at his bloodied hands and saw the evidence of his rage.

When it ceased completely, he looked at his feet, now human again, and felt the shock invade his chest when he saw a familiar face unconscious, with a scratched and bloody throat and his clothes dirty with dirt and blood. He had short platinum hair, a thin face and a defined athletic build. With his eyes wide open in full terror and panic, he soon recognized that this was Jaan, his best friend, murdered by his fatal brutality. A choked cry escaped his lips, and he fell to his knees, overcome with pain and guilt.

"No... it can't be..." Solon stammered, falling to his knees next to the bodies. Silver tears ran down her cheeks, her claws trembling with remorse and regret. "I... I didn't want to... I never wanted to..."

Guilt and despair hit him like an overwhelming wave. He wasn't the same anymore. The Blood Moon's influence had turned him into something dark and ruthless, something he feared and didn't understand.

With a heavy heart and a restless mind, Solon awoke from the nightmare, but the impact of what he saw continued to echo in his soul, like the whispers of a woman in the wind. As he lifted his arm, he noticed that blue fur covered his pale vampire skin, then he knew something was wrong. In the entire past year that Solon had been alongside Sooha and her siblings to fight Dardan and his army of New Moon vampires, he had never had trouble controlling his werewolf half, however this was a different reality, something was awakening his werewolf form against his will and it threatened to take over his consciousness with an extraordinary rage, so he knew that he needed to face this internal battle and find a way to reconcile the beast within him with his humanity, before the darkness swallowed him completely. .

A/N: For starters:

Sowon as Mellinoe, The Shadow Caller

Yerin as Katarktia, the Kiss of Ruin

Eunha as Onería, The Nightmare Weaver

Yuju as Melanis, The Evil Singer

SinB as Kallosia, The Parasite of Beauty

and Umji as Hypateia, The Herald of Illusions

Together they are the Coven of Eclipsium Circle, Nyx's young "daughters" and the NEW elite witches of The New Moon Malachites cause their old brothers, The Childs of the Night…

It's now up to comment on your best theories about what happened to them! 

[violettduchess]

Hello Violet! For the Beach Event, may I request watching a meteor shower on the beach with Gilbert? Thank you!

A/N: an entry for @solomons-poison 's Summer Fun event. Here you go @atelier-the-atelier 💜

Gilbert x f reader

Mildly spicy content

WC: 1239

The sky above is an endless canvas of midnight blue, bespeckled with thousands of glowing silver stars. Before you, the sea stretches out to meet the sky, arms wide in welcome, ocean waves singing a soft song of reunion. The water kisses the shore, over and over again, white foam kisses that tickle your bare feet as you stand there, staring out into eternity. The night wind whips your clothing against the soft curves of your body and gently pulls your hair from its pins, as if doing Gilbert’s bidding, as if it knows how he likes you best: nothing restrained, nothing held back from him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, to where he is propped up on his elbows beneath the sand dunes. Even from here, you see the intensity of his crimson eye as it takes you in, frames you within the beauty of the night, engraving the moment into his mind so it may forever be called forth when he wants it.

You gather your skirts in one hand and run back to him, your feet sinking into the soft, fine sand. He opens his arms and you fall into them, laughing at the thrill of being in his embrace, away from the responsibility of ruling, away from the austere walls of the palace, the tall forests and bare hills of Obsidian. You have both worked so hard, building up the country, building up a group of nobles you can trust, building relations to other countries, including your own Rhodolite. It was, in fact, after you both had stumbled into bed on the wrong side of midnight that Gilbert took one look at your tired face and announced he had an idea.

A small, private island off the coast of Tanzanite had turned out to be a brilliant idea. No one else on the island, no one needing anything from the imperial couple. No distractions, demands or concerns. Just you, Gilbert and the beauty of the beach, the blessing of solitude.

You turn within the circle of his arms, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. God, you love him. A love so expansive that it sometimes feels like it might just break you into pieces, grind you into dust and carry you away into the ether. Gilbert smiles slowly, pulling you closer.

“Yes, Häschen? Is there something you want to say?”

You shake your head, instead leaning up to kiss him. By now you’ve kissed him a thousand times. You’ve run your fingers over every inch of his skin, tasted him in a hundred ways, fallen asleep next to him countless nights. And yet each time you press your lips to his, it feels new, another blossom sprouting in the arboreal shelter of your love for him. He shifts you both, laying you down onto the blanket, already pressing his body against yours. His cool fingers kiss your bare skin as he skims the scooped neckline of your dress, laughing huskily against your mouth as you try to arch up into his touch.

“Ah ah…..Geduld, meine Liebe.” Patience, my love.

You sigh your frustration as his hands run along the shape of your body, over your clothing, where layers of fabric suddenly feel torturous against your warm skin. You ache for the soothing coolness of his touch. And he knows it. He drops his head, white teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. One hand pins your shoulder down, the other stretches, expertly catching the damp hemline of your skirt and slowly drags it upwards, the backs of his fingers purposefully feathering over the bare skin of your calf, your knee, your outer thigh.

“Gil….” His name is seized by the wind as it leaves your trembling lips, carried away towards the black ocean and glittering sky. He bites the soft skin of your shoulder as his hand slides across the top of your thigh, fingers curling possessively inwards. Your eyes close, shutting out the world, as your body winds itself tighter, a mechanism in the hands of an expert engineer. One who knows exactly which minute adjustments of hips and fingers, teeth and tongue, will have the greatest effect.

You gasp as he traces filigree on the inside of your thigh, his touch teasing, cloyingly close to where you need him. Your body twists, trying to right the course of his fingers but they remain where they are, the maddeningly sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, no matter how you move. 

Your laugh is fluttering ribbons of frustration and admiration, your eyes opening with the intention of catching his gaze and telling him to stop being so cruel. 

You gasp again but not because of your husband.

“Look…..” You grab his shoulder, pulling him away from your half open blouse and the rose-red kisses he’s been painting across your skin. Had he managed to undo the buttons with his mouth? Or his other hand? Or had he simply torn it? You have no idea. And right now it doesn’t matter. He looks up at you, his beautiful face flushed with desire, questions in the crimson depth of his eye. You point up at the sky. 

Velvet black is alive with light as several silver-white orbs streak across the sky, trailing long, glittering tails behind them. They burn white-hot as they fall like celestial beings falling from the heavens, aflame with holy light. Gilbert reaches up, removing his eyepatch, his gaze fixed on the sky.

His lips part in awe at the sight but he is quiet, drinking in the sight as the cosmic flames continue along their shimmering arc. He reaches out a hand without looking, knowing you'll take it and you do, threading your fingers through his as you watch alongside him in perfect quiet. Only the waves provide a soft accompaniment to the orchestral beauty of the meteor shower.

The only thing more moving than the living artwork of the sky is the feeling of experiencing it together. You glance away to watch him, his face another window to the divine, its beauty as heart-stopping as the meteors. He has gilded your life in silver, wrapped you within the tangles of his gossamer heartstrings and raised you into the light of a love brighter than any star.

The last shimmer fades from the sky, leaving only the memory of its radiance behind. You squeeze Gilbert's hand gently. He turns and he smiles, his eyes glowing like stained glass, backlit by the light of deepest affection. He tugs you towards him, clasping you against his chest as you fall back together onto the sand.

"I love you," you murmur in a voice smooth as sea glass, soft as the night wind.

Gilbert brushes your hair away from your face, his hand lingering behind your ear.

"Ich liebe dich auch," he answers in the language of his heart. 

Love, like the eternal movement of the sea, passes between you, carried by your words, tangible in your touching.

And then he shifts, rolling until he is above you, blocking your view of the night sky and filling it with something even more beloved.

His lips touch yours, his fingers wind through your hair, and you close your eyes once again, your heart radiant with a desire as bright and beautiful as any cosmic wonder.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

[tears0fsatan]

▸ ❝ the fall. ❞

★! tw. mentions of blood&burning. just one of my many thoughts about the war and how i think lucifer really feels about it all.

the air was still, yet while cutting through it felt like shards of ice piercing his skin. the silence would've been deafening if it weren't for the howling wind and crackling fire. angels and rebels alike mourning the loss of their loved ones, blood from both sides tainting the holy land of the celestial realm.

samael一 no, lucifer's vision was blurry, he could hardly make out anything amongst the chaos of flames, deceased angels and rebels, flurry of charred feathers flying all over the place in the wind一 flurry of charred feathers? with the last ounce of strength left in his body, he turned his head to observe his surroundings.

his once magnificent plumage of pure white feathers was now tattered, many of his groomed feathers were gone- torched by the fire or ripped out by the enemy, leaving behind naked bloody patches of skin. the feathers that remained were stained with blood, the worst part was that he wasn't sure if the blood belonged to him or some other poor soul.

before his vision went black, he caught a glimpse of his brothers falling after him. they were severely injured, but they were alive, that was all that really mattered.

he felt tears pricking his eyes, and they were not from the cold.

it would've been a disgrace to say a side had won, nothing but death and loss had come about from the war.

it took millennia's for lucifer's wings to restore to their grandeur, though they were nowhere near their former glory. they were an onyx colour now, not to mention they were now half the size of what they once were. the two lower wings were unsalvageable, too scorched to be saved.

in the quiet of his new room, lucifer had burst into tears the first time he laid his eyes on the scars, they were an ugly reminder of his burdens, his burdens that nearly cost him his family's lives.

while lucifer didn't regret becoming a (traitor) demon, he often regretted bringing his beloved family down with him. while he was aware that they had fought in the war of their own accord, he wonders would they have done the same if he wasn't their oldest brother.

centuries had passed since the war, things were different now. angels, demons and humans were coexisting together, integrating into each others societies, lord diavolo's plan had worked. he was glad, really he was. it means he didn't go to war for nothing.

he was grateful in many ways for the war, his brothers were together once more, and most importantly, they were happy. his youngest brothers had seem to forgotten the war for the most part, only remembering the fall and the pain. of course, over the centuries the pain eased, becoming nothing more than a dull ache when the memories resurfaced.

but sometimes lucfier couldn't help but feel angry. on nights where he stared up at devildom's forever night sky, the sound of demons, angels and humans bustling about their daily lives, he's reminded of everything he's sacrificed to be where he was. on those nights, his skin feels like it's been set on fire, the scars especially, much like how they did when he fell.

he doubles over from the pain, teeth gritted in order to silence the sounds of agony from escaping his throat.

he can't bear the sight of them, the memories too painful to visit. during molting season, he ignores the ache of his wings begging for him to pay attention to them. it's his way of punishing himself, for all the misery his recklessness has caused. it's a reminder of how he must keep up his image as the responsible older brother, so he doesn't make another fatal mistake.

he doesn't think he'd be able to survive if history were to repeat itself, he's already lost enough.

© 2022 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t repost, modify or translate my works anywhere!

[fissions-chips]

Angsty Shit: Pt 4

WINGS. Just… an assortment of wing-related angst.

Wings are so lovely to have. They’re warm, give the gift of flight, and make cuddling with your loved ones oh-so-wonderful. They are also deliciously fragile.

Tim’s wings, broad and black-feathered, permanently left in a state of disrepair after the Arctic. Not only did he break them when the ship went down, stripping him of flight forever, but the smoke, fire and saltwater left his feathers in tatters. When he is eventually rescued, they resemble torn rags more than the beautiful wings he had once had. It takes months upon months for them to even start to heal again.

During his captivity, perhaps his feathers were clipped, or ripped out by cruel hands, grounding him in horrible, humiliating fashion. Perhaps even taken, plucked from him and stashed away in an act of obsession…

Little Foxy constantly shielding Tim under his wings like a hen with a chick, hiding him from cruel words and crueler blows. Always a shaken, startled child, his wings kept tight to his back lest they get grabbed to get his attention or make a painful point. Even in adulthood, he rarely spreads them, instinctively trying to make himself smaller.

In kind, Butler having actually spent many a night with aching, battered wings of his own as a consequence of his training- though he had no brother to comfort him. It was ‘to be expected’, such things. How else would one make the perfect bodyguard?

Tim or Butler in battle, throwing their enemies out of the sky, meeting in a clash of feathers and beating wings. Left afterwards with missing feathers and blood-splattered wings, the ‘arms’ of them slashed and torn by their opponents’ talons. When the adrenaline fades, they seem so, so heavy, and it is all they can do to drag them behind them as they retreat to their safehouse.

Tim, in times of great stress (such as post-TAI, after Artemis’s ‘deaths’, post-the Fowl Jet crashing, etc.) tearing out his own feathers, plucking them free one by one in his anxiety.

Jon having a habit of something similar, trying furiously to groom his wings into something approaching ‘decent condition’, to the point that his feathers break and fall out. His illness and poor nutrition leave them brittle, poorly-suited for flight, and an eyesore in his eyes. He has no one to help preen them, tidy them and reassure him that they are still lovely and useful- he combs through them in violent fashion, frown deepening as more feathers fall to the ground. He hates them. He hates them like he hates the rest of his body.

Jon, as peregrines do, diving at such incredible speeds- perhaps to target an enemy, or perhaps to avoid one- only to miss his mark and hit the ground. Hard.

Britva having Tim’s wings ripped from his back to pin up on his office wall.

Jon, during the worst bouts of his illness, struggling to keep his wings from dragging on the ground behind him as he stands in front of staff, crowds, other businessmen, unable to let his guard down, even as his shoulders shake with the strain of keeping them upright when he feels so sick. Post-TEC, him constantly digging his talons into them out of stress and anger, pulling out fistfuls of feathers at his worst, with nowhere to redirect it. Who cares? They were ugly anyways.

Tim, Angeline and Butler, all awakened by nightmares, tiredly preening each other’s wings late at night until they are calmed enough to try to sleep again.

Tim, Butler (and maybe even Jon) all left stranded after some disaster or another- with no way home at the moment and no safehouse nearby, they find themselves huddling under Butler’s wings to keep warm and out of the weather, Tim wishing he could shield his bodyguard too.

One of the three captured by an enemy and tied up, haphazardly wrapped in their own wings as if they were sheets, to keep them from getting loose. The ropes/chains cut into their feathers, all twisted up horribly, and there’s a chance they wouldn’t be able to fly even if they could somehow get free.

One of them, winged, coming across some other magical creature not quite so friendly. A siren dragging them under, their wings weighing them down as they try to fight their way back to the surface, or a gorgon snatching them up, smirking at the way they flutter desperately as they struggle to break loose.

In a winged twist on the Post-TEC AU, Tim quietly preening them for Jon one night, because in his spiraling state he finds that he has neglected them so badly that the feathers are matting, so dulled one can hardly see the stripes barring them anymore. Others at the gathering had laughed, wickedly (led by one Phonetix CEO) at their state, and Tim was worried to find that Jon hadn’t even attempted to defend himself.

[never-surrender]

@astra-stellaris asked: ❰❰ DYING ❱❱ receiver finds the sender near death (for kiyo) \\ self indulgent meme - accepting

Kiyo knew what was going to happen the instant she knew Astra had been locked away by the slayers... and it had sent Kiyo into a spiral. Unfortunately enough for the slayer corp, it wasn't one that was born of tears and grief ... but of unbridled rage so intense it had the very pores of her being leaking with her demonic energy. From her eyes bled a myriad of color, black dripping from her fingertips as she paced and waited ... planned. Plotted.

All with the help of her father.

The slayers would not survive this mistake...

They would have to move quickly ... there would be no mistake that the fact that all the hashira would be there to witness the execution of one of their own for being with a demon romantically. Kiyo didn't care, however ...

And it was proven as true the moment the sun lowered in the sky enough for her to emerge. Bolting through the cover of the trees with her father and Kokushibo, Kiyo kept her eyes pinned straight ahead... and once they got close? Kiyo leaped into the air, the moonlight catching on the vibrant colors of her wings, casting eerie shapes along the ground...

All moments before a massive rain of her feathered daggers shattered down on them all. The surprise scattered the slayers like mice, effectively clearing a path to Astra that Kiyo took immediately ...

And what she found? Was nothing short of out of a horror story.

Falling to her knees, Kiyo shrieked Astra's name as she cradled the woman into her arms, holding her close. "Astra! Astra, baby, please, don't leave me! Don't leave me! DON'T LEAVE ME GOD DAMN IT! OPEN YOUR EYES!" the words were bellowed, her hand trying to hold pressure on the gaping wound that poured Astra's blood. And once Astra's eyes opened, Kiyo found her throat tightening, terror icing her veins over...

"Let me turn you... please... baby please, let me save you. Live with me forever..."