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the-gravestone-saga · 2 years

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Chapter 2: Of Course You Wouldn't

Angel Fallen: The Chronicles of the Legion has been canned and will no longer be updated

Night had fallen by the time the huddled angels found the hidden sanctuary. Following the flood-torn land, the angels had arrived at a dreary shoreline, where the sea had turned black under the moonless sky. A storm thundered above them, hovering over the ocean and blocking out the stars. Within the heart of that storm was the sanctuary, hidden behind a veil of lightning and wind that protected it from prying eyes.

“Well…at least we made it,” Rudra sighed, watching as the thunderclouds spun wildly. “Now it’s just a matter of getting over there.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to fly through that storm, Rood. There’s gotta be a way inside that doesn’t involve us frying ourselves,” Larimar said, staring pointedly at the lightning bolts that occasionally lit up the sky.

“There is.” Rudra raised a hand and pointed towards a nearby outcropping of black rocks that jutted out from the shoreline and into the sea, rising high above the water. “There’s a specific path we have to take to get in without getting hurt. By following those rocks and flying in a straight line from there, we should be able to clear the storm. The winds are weak there, and the lightning never passes through that path.”

Guiding the angels to the outcropping, Rudra shuffled to the very edge of the rocks and looked down at the waves below as they slammed against the precipice. She took a shaky breath and spread her mud-stained wings, taking in the sea air as it washed over her. With one strong push, Rudra leapt off the outcropping and rose into the air, letting the winds carry her upwards towards the storm. The angels all followed suit, riding the storm winds after her.

As the angels made their way from the shoreline to the swirling storm, a sense of unease settled over the crowd. There was no fear towards the winds that carried them, or fright at the lightning that occasionally struck too close for comfort. The unease was coming from something else entirely. It felt as though they were being watched by the turbulent storm itself.

Crossing the tumultuous sea, the angels entered the dark clouds surrounding the sanctuary and were met with a violent downpour of rain and hail which soaked the angels to the bone. Thunder enveloped them, rolling over them like a wave. But beneath the thunder, the angels could hear something else that was just barely audible over the raging typhoon. It sounded like distant crying. The storm itself seemed to weep, pouring its torrential tears over the ocean below.

The angels did not linger for long in the clouds and swiftly crossed the tempest, as if fearing what would happen if they stayed too long in its heart.

Reaching the end of the storm, the tempest finally opened up and faded into wispy clouds, revealing a beautiful and idyllic sanctuary in the sky, dotted with soaring structures fashioned from quartz and gold. The thunder became distant and quiet, and not a drop of rain touched the wondrous landscape. Instead, the only sound in the sanctuary was a gentle melody as the soft ringing of harps filled the air.

The angels descended and landed in the sanctuary, huddling together once they were grounded. The sanctuary was gorgeous, but unfamiliar to many of the injured angels. Standing in the middle of the haven, they starkly stood out from the landscape, their torn and stained clothes juxtaposed against the clean and well-kept buildings and gardens.

Rudra scanned the area for a moment, familiarizing herself with her immediate surroundings. She’d been here before, a very long time ago, but the sanctuary still looked strange to her, and she felt like she wouldn’t be getting the warmest welcome.

“...Mom? Mom, are you there?” she called out, listening intently as her voice echoed through the refuge, waiting on a response.

“What are you doing here?!” snapped a voice, and a younger-looking angel landed in front of Rudra, adorned with glistening white armor. A shock of amber hair covered part of the angel's sharp face and flowed down her back, and glowing golden eyes stared furiously at Rudra.

Rudra grimaced in annoyance, immediately recognizing the angel in front of her. Joriel, the last person she wanted a response from. “Hi, Joriel. Long time, no see.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here after what you pulled!” Joriel hissed. “Mom barely left her palace for a decade after that!”

“Joriel, I really don’t have time for this,” Rudra retorted. “I have a group of recently fallen angels who need help, and Mom is the only one who can help them right now.”

“You think she’s gonna help you after that?! She-”

“She should help us!” A new voice abruptly cut in from the fallen angels. Spinning around to face the angels, Rudra watched as a young Virtue pushed her way to the front of the crowd, brimming with fatuous anger. “Rudra didn’t come all this way to look for help only for you to come over here and tell her to leave!”

Rudra stood back in shock, startled by the strong words of an angel so young. It came as a surprise to see someone still so fiery after being swept away by the flood, much less someone with enough fire to bite back against Joriel in her defense. But it certainly wasn’t out of character. Skyla, her name was. A Virtue almost as notorious for her passion as she was her attachment to Rudra.

“If Mom doesn’t want to help you, then she should do nothing! You guys burned the bridge!” Joriel shot back, grabbing the angel by the collar. “How dare you presume to make moral decisions for her?!”

“If she doesn’t help us, then you’ll have more to worry about than some old grudges!” Skyla hissed. “Do you not realize what’s at stake here!?”

“Judgment poses no threat to Mom! She could destroy his forces in, what, five minutes? At most?” Joriel glared. “You guys asked her to stay out of it!”

“And now we’re asking her to get back into it!” the Virtue bit back angrily. “Judgment doesn’t pose a threat to Mom, but he does pose a threat to everything else! That’s why we’re even here! Rudra’s gonna fight him and his forces, and she can’t do it without Mom’s help! Look at us! We just got back from nearly drowning in a flood! You heard what Rudra said, we need Mom’s help so we can recover! If she hadn’t spent millennia holed up in this sanctuary, maybe she’d-”

And then Joriel hit her.

And that’s when the fight started.

The two angels swiftly dropped their words and became physical, striking each other as they devolved into a frenzied and furious battle. Shock rippled through the fallen angels and the angels of the sanctuary, who could only watch in disbelief as a battle broke out in the heart of the idyllic haven.

“YOU BISCUIT EATER!” Joriel snapped, her words twisting mid-sentence thanks to the sanctuary censoring all vulgar language. “HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT MOM?!”

“IF MOM REALLY WANTED TO HELP, SHE WOULDN’T STAY IN THIS SANCTUARY ALL THE DIRT TIME!” Skyla roared, her entire body sparking with electricity as the two angels quickly took the fight to the air.

Before it could go much further, a still, small voice filled the sanctuary, and the entire place shook with the power in the one word it spoke.

“Peace.”

The two angels became surrounded in golden light and became suspended in midair, unable to move, as the owner of the voice opened the door to the extravagant palace and looked around. “You two make a mockery of my sanctuary by disturbing its peace. There is no need to continue it with violence.”

A towering woman dressed in a blue and gold gown stepped out of the palace, and the terrified angels behind Rudra froze at the sight of the figure. Her umber skin glistened in the holy light of the sanctuary, and small specks of golden light shimmered over her cheeks like a powdery blush, as though she had bathed in liquid starlight. She wore gold in her long braided hair and a gleaming halo was superimposed behind her head, shining like a miniature sun. Her long dress flowed over her body like a waterfall of fabric, with many hues of blue and white intertwined together like clouds scattered across a calm sky. Her eyes were a bright blue, and her pupils glowed an iridescent white. She was beautiful, yet intimidating. Her gaze alone was enough to make the gathered fallen angels shift uncomfortably, averting their eyes to avoid looking directly at the glowing woman, as though merely looking at her would harm them.

Rudra gulped, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the glowing figure. “Hi, Mom.”

“Rudra. It’s been centuries. Or was it millennia? Time doesn’t really matter here, so it’s hard to keep count,” the figure responded. There was a coldness to her words, but not a hateful coldness. It was the kind of tone a mother would take with her fighting children.

Larimar waved hesitantly to the woman. “Hi Mom. It’s been awhile.”

“Hello, Prince. You look... unwell, as do the rest of you,” the woman nodded. “There should be some painkilling fruit in all of your bags now. Pass them out as needed.”

Relieved sighs rippled through the crowd as the angels pulled brightly colored fruits from their bags and gleefully began eating.

“Thanks, Mom. Uh…” Rudra made a silent gesture upwards, jabbing her thumb towards the still-suspended angels.

“You aren’t even here for five minutes and already Skyla has started a fight with Joriel. I expected things to be rocky, but this is ridiculous.”

“No, Mom, I was going to ask if you could put them down now,” Rudra clarified stiffly.

“Oh! Goodness me! I almost forgot to. Are you two going to stop the fighting?”

Joriel grumbled petulantly, but reluctantly acquiesced to their mother’s demand. Skyla stared wide-eyed at the woman, pale as death and looking like she would rather be in Judgment’s court than where she currently was.

“I... I... yes, I will,’ she stammered.

“Wonderful! You may come down now.” With not even a wave of her hand, the golden light around the two angels dissipated and they were lowered safely to the ground, but they did not part without glaring a few daggers in each other’s directions before leaving for their respective crowds.

“We’re going to talk about this later, Jori,” their mother said, watching as Joriel fell back behind her.

“Yes, Mother.”

Rudra said nothing to Skyla as she passed, she simply watched as the young and passionate Virtue disappeared back into the mass of fallen angels, paler than snow.

“Well, I think you can guess what’s happened,” Rudra began, turning back to her mother once the tension of the battle had passed.

“You lost,” the woman answered bluntly.

“I did,” Rudra admitted sullenly, wincing at the sting of that acknowledgement. “I lost to Judgment and he threw all of us to Earth. But it’s more serious than that. Judgment is planning on starting the Rapture soon and we’re all pressed for time. Judgment can’t be allowed to reign much longer. I have to stop him before he achieves his goals.”

“Let me guess. Just like last time, you want something from me,” the woman said dryly, “And don’t try to kid me; you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something from me. Of course you wouldn’t, that’s too much to hope for. So out with it.”

Rudra’s body tensed up and she clenched her teeth, but managed to make her request. “I need you to look after the angels that can’t fight. And I need you to let us stay long enough to recover from the fall.”

Joriel winced at the request as the woman sighed. “One of my names wouldn’t be Mercy if I didn’t show it now. You may stay as long as you need, and I’ll watch my injured children. I’d probably have done that anyway. Assuming they’d asked, of course.”

Larimar awkwardly cleared his throat, averting his eyes, as did the rest of the angels.

Mercy straightened her dress. “Our next meal will be prepared soon. If you miss it, I’ll have something delivered to you. Rita, show them to their rooms.”

***

A few hours later, the angels had all been settled into their rooms. The braver angels were out feasting with Mercy, and the rest were deep in sleep, tucked away inside the palace. Rudra herself was sitting in a bedroom in the palace, watching the feast from her window. She had discarded her old and stained armor and replaced it with a suit of armor that had been set out for her, one made from an illustrious metal known as Cloud Steel. It fit her perfectly, and of course it did. Everything in the sanctuary was perfect. Better that way. It was best not to upset the one who ruled it.

Rudra lifted her gaze from the feast below and turned her eyes onto her sword. It was still sitting in its old sheath, propped up against the wall beside the bedside table where her meal sat. The scabbard was worn and dirty, with bits of metal rusting away and the very seams in the leather coming undone. Her sword needed a new sheath, Rudra thought. Preferably one that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart. Rising from her seat, Rudra picked up the blade and headed towards the door, but it abruptly swung open before she could even reach the doorknob.

Rudra, taken aback, stared wide-eyed at the open doorway, surprised by the two figures standing in front of her. That surprise quickly turned into joy, however, and she smiled brightly at the familiar figures.

The one on the right was a short woman adorned in green armor and wielding a long, golden spear. Three pairs of wings sprouted from her back, and a ring-shaped insignia was marked into her chestplate. Her face was hidden by a helmet that encapsulated her entire head, save for her mouth, and a shower of red hair spilled out from beneath the helm. The one on the left was a tall, imposing woman whose entire body was made out of metal. Her features were sharp and intimidating, and her eyes were an inky black. Wings made from sharp, serrated steel rested behind her, letting out a metallic screech everytime she moved.

“Ofia! Madame Talon! You’re here!” Rudra gasped, nearly dropping her sword.

“Surprise!” Madame Talon exclaimed, pulling Rudra into a hug.

“Aye! The spikes, watch the spikes!” Rudra yelped, swiftly pulling back from the metallic angel as several of Talon’s dagger-like spines poked into her skin.

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so happy you’re here!” Talon exhaled exuberantly, releasing Rudra.

“Did it really happen? Did you really fall?” The excitable Ofia blurted out. “Please tell me you at least got a good shot on him before you fell!”

“Ofia, now’s not a good time,” Madame Talon said tersely, smacking the green-clad angel on the shoulder.

“No, no, it’s…it’s fine.” Rudra cleared her throat, averting her eyes. “It’s…anyways, what brings you guys here?”

“Mom told us to bring you a new sheath,” Madame Talon replied, revealing a newly crafted scabbard to Rudra. “And it looks like you need it. That old one doesn’t look like it’d last another day.” Talon pursed her lips, making a vague gesture towards the rusted sheath Rudra was carrying.

“I was actually just about to swap this one out,” Rudra admitted, pulling her sword from the old scabbard. The blade hissed and glowed with holy fire as it was removed, and a few sparks dripped from the sword.

“Dang…did you give that thing a makeover while we were gone?” Talon asked, marveling at the sword.

“Just a few changes,” Rudra replied, sliding the sword into the new scabbard.

“It looks good,” Talon nodded, her metallic arms creaking as she folded them over her chest. “We saved a spot for you at the feast. You want to come?”

“We have all-you-can eat chocolate!” Ofia exclaimed. “I see why humans are so addicted to their stuff. It’s great!”

“I appreciate the offer, but I already have my food up here. Thank you, though.” Rudra moved to close the door when Talon’s clawed hands stopped her.

“Hey, are you ok?” Talon asked, a twinge of worry in her voice. “You’ve been…well, distant ever since you got here.”

“I fell a few hours ago, Talon,” Rudra said emphatically. “I just need some rest, that’s all.”

“...Are you sure that’s the only thing on your mind?”

A silence briefly fell over the three angels, and the air became tense. Rudra lifted her head to look Talon in the eyes, the warm light from the palace seeping into her dark room and lighting up her sullen face. Rudra was hesitant to speak as she struggled to find her words and Talon could see the cogs in Rudra’s mind turning, and the two of them understood that something else was rolling around in her head like a boulder. A quiet sigh escaped her throat and she pushed the door open, motioning for Ofia and Talon to enter the room.

“There is something you should know.” Rudra’s words came out unsteady and hushed, matching the stifled way she pulled up chairs for Talon and Ofia. “It’s about the war and my role in it. These angels…they’re all looking to me to guide them,” she said, gazing out her bedroom window, watching as the fallen angels happily feasted with Mercy. “They’re all looking to me to lead them. To protect them. I have to lead them in this war, and I have to be their voice. Everything is gonna come down to me and I want to do everything in my power for them…”

“But?” Talon said, knowing there was something more.

“But what if I can’t? What if I don’t have what it takes to be their leader?” Rudra’s voice faltered in that moment, and she gripped the windowsill so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “This is what I have to do, but what if I don’t have what it takes to do this?”

“Rudra,” Talon started, laying a comforting hand on Rudra’s shoulder. “Think about why you’re here. You’re here because you directly challenged Judgment. You’re here because you couldn’t sit by anymore and watch him destroy everything. You’re here because you cared. You cared enough to put yourself on the line to fight him with the knowledge that you probably weren’t coming out of that battle alive.” Talon gently took Rudra’s hands, holding them flush against her cold metal claws. “You suffered so much under Judgement’s thumb and you endured so much agony while he had control of you, and when you fell to Earth, you looked at all the angels that had fallen with you and you answered their cries without hesitation because you understood what they had gone through, too. You answered their cries because they were your cries. Your cries had gone unanswered for so long, and you knew you couldn’t let them be met with silence like you had. They will follow you to the ends of the Earth for that. I’d say you’re a pretty damn good candidate to be their leader.”

Rudra looked hopefully into Talon’s eyes and smiled softly as a few silver tears rolled down her cheeks. “Thanks…”

“That’s what I was trying to tell her,” A fourth voice joined them, and a quick glance towards the doorway revealed it to belong to Larimar. “It’s like I said before, Rood. You’re exactly what these angels need. Don’t doubt yourself so soon! You’re the strongest angel I know and you’re gonna lead these angels to victory, I just know it. Now wipe those tears and hold your head up. You’re our leader now, and I know you’ll do everything you can to protect us.”

“Heh, thanks Larimar,” Rudra chuckled, wiping away a few errant tears.

“How long have you been standing there?” inquired Ofia, who lifted her helmet slightly to look at Larimar.

“The whole time, I heard everything,” he grinned. He gave Rudra a reassuring pat on the back and helped her to her feet. “I also brought someone with me, and she heard everything too,” he added, motioning towards the door. A fifth angel stood silhouetted against the warm light from the hall, and Rudra immediately recognized her as the fiery Virtue from earlier that day.

She wore a set of smooth and close-fitting armor made from gold and damascus steel. A flowing red dress spilled out from beneath her chestplate and reached down to her mid-thigh, splitting down the middle for free movement of her legs. Her hair was so dark it almost looked blue and it flowed down her back in a long and tight braid, held together with decorative pearls. Her skin was pale and her eyes glowed an intense scarlet.

“Skyla?”

“Hey, Rudra,” Skyla greeted, a sheepish lilt in her young voice. She let out a sigh, awkwardly bouncing the side of her fist against her leg. “I…sorry for what happened earlier. In hindsight, I could’ve handled that a lot better. I got carried away and really I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about Mom. I just…when Jori was saying all that shirt, it really struck a nerve with me. I mean, you’re our leader now. Just in the past few hours you’ve done the unthinkable. You actually fought Judgement to a standstill! And like Talon said, you didn’t hesitate to lead us when we all fell with you! You did that! You! And I knew from the moment you began that battle with Judgement that you were…different, somehow. I watched you lift that sword to the sky and tell us that you would lead us to victory and I thought ‘yeah…now there’s someone I can follow. There’s someone I can call my leader.’”

Skyla let out a shuddering breath, her gaze wandering aimlessly around the room as if she couldn’t look Rudra in the eye. “I know I can trust you to guide us to victory and I’ll gladly follow you to the ends of the Earth. And I’m sure I’m not the only one here who thinks that. And when Jori started attacking you, I felt like it was such an insult to what you had done for us up until then and I felt like I had to defend you. You’re our voice, and we’re your sword and shield.”

Rudra stared at Skyla, unsure of how to respond to her startling words. It was a shock to Rudra, to know that the fallen angels were already so willing to leap to her defense. Realistically, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to her, but it was. It was a genuine surprise. She had never considered that anyone would be willing to defend her so earnestly, even if a bit childishly. She had never imagined herself being viewed in a reverent light. She was always the soldier, the canon-fodder, the disposable troop. She was always the one looking to others for commands, and to see Skyla standing before her, looking at her in solemn and adoring respect - it was moving, and it brought a tentative smile to Rudra’s face.

“...Thank you, Skyla. That means a lot,” Rudra smiled.

Larimar gave Rudra a lighthearted shove. “See? I told you. You’ve got all of these angels counting on you and I know you’ll do good by them. Now, enough doubting yourself. We’ve got things to do! Like coming up with an actual name for us.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rudra, arching a brow at Larimar.

“Well, we can’t just keep calling ourselves ‘the angels.’ We need an actual name for ourselves.”

“Oh, how about the Alliance?” Ofia suggested.

“Nah, sounds like something Judgment would call his own forces,” Larimar said dismissively.

“The Squadron, maybe?” Talon proposed, although it sounded like she had just thrown something out without much thought.

“Come on, that sounds like a human rock band,” Larimar sighed, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What about the Fallen Angels?” Skyla suggested off the cuff.

“Eh, too easy.”

Rudra was only barely listening to the four angels bickering. Her attention was instead focused back on the feast below. So many angels were gathered together, sharing in a communal joy that was rare to come by under Judgment’s harsh rule.

“...how about the Legion?” Rudra said suddenly, turning her attention back to the bickering angels behind her.

“The Legion…I like it, it’s got a nice ring to it,” Larimar agreed.

“I think it’s perfect,” Talon added.

“It sounds awesome!” Ofia grinned excitedly.

“Yes! Perfect!” Skyla exclaimed.

“Then that’s who we are. We are the Legion!” Rudra boldly declared, a swell of pride filling her chest.

“Yeah! Count me in!” Ofia shouted, leaping up from her seat. “I want to be a part of the Legion! I can fight, just let me!”

“You can count me in, too!” Talon declared, standing with Ofia. “We’ll show Judgment what we can really do!”

“We’ll need a plan to fight him,” Rudra remarked sternly, swiftly leaving her room with the four angels in tow. “Larimar, you were with Judgment when he began his plan to start the Rapture. What do you remember from that?”

“Well,” Larimar stammered, trying to keep up with Rudra’s brisk stride. “I don’t recall much, but I do know about three angels that Judgment has appointed as commanders. Head Angels, he calls them. You remember Shadiel, Tyliel, and Raivel? Yeah, those three are now leading his forces here on Earth. Shadiel was assigned to a city in the American midwest. It’s a place called Evo City. I don’t remember what he was assigned there to do, but it’s a good place to start. Maybe we can get more clues if we go there.”

“It’s a start, but we can’t go there just yet. If Judgment’s forces are on Earth, we need a way to combat them. With our current numbers, we can’t outnumber them. But we can overpower them.”

“Uh…how exactly are we going to do that? Mom can’t leave the sanctuary in this condition. She got all the raw power when she and Judgment split and she can’t exactly interact with the outside world. Her powers would destroy everything around her if she used them. How do you think the crater she built this sanctuary on was made?” Talon asked pointedly, making a wide motion towards the courtyard where the feast was being held.

“I’m not talking about Mom. I know a different way to overpower Judgment’s forces,” Rudra replied, a heavy coldness to her voice.

“...Uh, I don’t follow,” replied a confused Ofia.

“Judgment’s forces will be digging into all the divine power they have, correct?” Rudra inquired, heading towards the palace entrance.

“Yes - Where are you going with this, Rood?” Larimar huffed, sprinting after the Seraphim as she left the palace and strided into the castle gardens.

“Look…you’re gonna think I’m out of my mind for saying this, but hear me out.” Rudra spun around on her heel and stopped the three angels, firmly planting her hands on Larimar's shoulders. Rudra herself couldn’t believe what she was about to say, but being outmatched and outmanned, she needed to resort to extreme measures to ensure the Legion’s victory over Judgment’s forces. “We need to find a Hell conduit and siphon demon energy from it and into ourselves.”

Skyla blurted out an appalled cry and Ofia’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor in complete shock. Larimar’s wings flared up in astonishment and several pieces of metal popped off Talon’s wings, staring at Rudra like she’d grown a second head.

“WHAT!?” Larimar shrieked so loudly that several of his feathers popped off, and Rudra abruptly slapped her hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Did you hit your head on the way down!?” Talon exclaimed incredulously, the spikes on her wings standing on end. “Rudra, do you have any idea how serious of a plan that is!? Absorbing demonic energy into our bodies!? There’s no telling what would happen to us if we did that!”

“Do you have any other ideas? Judgment’s angels won’t be able to fight back if we have access to demonic energy. With Hellfire at our disposal, we can overpower his forces with our small numbers. Look, this isn’t some paltry squabble between factions here. This is Judgement we’re talking about. He doesn’t care about how dirty he fights. He will take everything and everyone and he will not stop until the Rapture comes to an end. The only way to fight an enemy like him is to exploit his weakness for all it’s worth. It just so happens that his forces all have the same weakness, and I plan to hit that weakness harder and harder until his forces completely fall apart. By using demonic energy, we can do just that.”

The four angels fell silent, contemplating what Rudra had said and rolling the idea around in their heads. There was plenty of hesitation and uncomfortable shifting, but none of them could think of a more surefire way to claim victory in the war against Judgment.

“I’m all for it. If it can tear down Judgment, I’m in,” Skyla said firmly.

“Alright, I’m in,” Ofia declared, gripping her spear tightly.

“I am, too,” Talon added.

“Well…I did say you were the boss,” Larimar sighed. “I’m in. Now you just gotta hope that the rest of the Legion will agree to it.”

“Yeah…honestly I didn’t think I’d get this far,” Rudra chuckled awkwardly.

Leaving the gardens, the five angels shortly arrived at the courtyard to gather up the Legion when Mercy abruptly stopped Rudra at the table.

“Rudra. Come, sit. I had a request to make of you.”

“Wh - Uh, ok?” Rudra stammered before sitting down, at a loss for why she was stopped. Larimar, Ofia, Skyla, and Talon all shrugged at her when they sat down as well.

“Listen. I’ve been thinking about what happened and how badly you had to have gotten your wings handed to you to come ask me for shelter, and I’ve decided that you may need some extra help. Plus, the interaction prior to this makes it clear that there’s still unresolved tension. So I was wondering if you’d like to take Jori and a squad of my angels with you. I’d go myself, but the level of power I have without the precision Judgment has would take far too many lives to be worth the risk of using,” Mercy explained, briefly looking right into Skyla’s eyes, to which Skyla quickly averted her gaze.

“WHAT!?” Joriel, sitting only a few chairs down from Mercy and Rudra, abruptly stopped eating and gaped in bewildered astonishment at her mother’s request.

“You greeted your sister with hostility that I’d expect you to direct towards demons, and then you started a fight with another angel. You need this as much as she does,” Mercy answered sternly, her sharp tone making it clear that her decision was final. She opened her mouth to continue, but something further down the table caught her attention. “Ofia, please, leave enough chocolate for everyone else.” Looking down a few chairs, Rudra saw that Ofia was stealing a few more chocolates from one of the many plates along the table. “I can make more, but I shouldn’t have to.”

“Uh…sorry Mom,” Ofia said sheepishly, retracting her hands from the dinner plate.

“...Ok, Mom, with all due respect, I don’t think me and Jori will be able to work together on this,” Rudra said stiffly, casting a sidelong glance at Joriel. “You know we don’t get along.”

Mercy pulled Rudra closer. “Jori has always been a bit... overly devoted to me. If I told her to put her differences with you aside long enough to win the war, she would. Besides, you know what she can do. Remember who stopped you back in that Spiral Sea incident a few decades ago?”

Rudra bristled at the mention of the Spiral Sea and her entire body tensed up. “...fine, I’ll bring her with me,” she said reluctantly.

“Excellent! Jori, assemble your squad. I want you to go with Rudra long enough to win the war.”

Joriel sighed, but acquiesced to Mercy’s request. “I’ll have my squadron assembled and waiting near the entrance. We’ll be ready to go within the hour,” she answered, rising from her seat.

Mercy nodded, then looked at Talon and Ofia. “I trust you two want to go, too?”

“Yeah. We want to help Rudra win this fight,” Talon replied.

A chuckle, and Mercy got up. “I thought so. I got some things for your journey. Ofia, look at your feet. There’s a bag.”

“Huh?” Ofia ducked under the table and found a purple bag sitting under the table. Upon picking it up, a grin spread across her face. “Woah! Please tell me this is one of those never-ending containers,” Ofia said, pulling a few pieces of chocolate out of the bag.

“Yep,” Mercy smiled. “And they heal disease, injuries, or effects of poison. Just in case.”

“That’s awesome!” Ofia grinned. “This’ll definitely come in handy. Thanks, Mom!”

“Of course. Talon, look on your weapons belt. There’s a new crossbow there.”

Talon glanced down at her belt and unhooked a newly made crossbow that now hung off her hip. “Oh, this is perfect? You have no idea how difficult it is trying to use a normal bow and arrow with claws like these!”

“Of course I do. I actually find it hilarious, but it’s no time for amusement. That crossbow’s arrows will obey your mental commands, and their properties can be affected by a special liquid below the grip”

“...You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. Do me proud out there, will you?”

“I won’t let you down, Mom!” Talon exclaimed, leaping from the table.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me, I need to gather up the Legion,” Rudra said briskly, excusing herself from the table. Waving a hand, Rudra motioned for the recently fallen angels to follow her back to the gardens, and once everyone was gathered Rudra laid out her plans for victory.

“Before anyone freaks out, yes, we are aware of how this sounds,” Larimar assured, watching as a chorus of stifled gasps rippled through the angels.

“But as I said, it’s our best shot to win,” Rudra explained firmly. “If we want to win this war and overthrow Judgment, this is how we’ll do it.”

“Wh- you expect us to go down to Hell?! LITERAL HELL?!” Jori snapped. “They’re our enemies! We don’t ask the ones who want to see the world in ruins and suffering for help!”

“That’s why we’re not going to ask. We’ll be stealing the power from them.”

"THAT'S WORSE! We'd be breaking her Commandment! You know, do not steal?!"

“Jori, this is a war. Sometimes, we have to make difficult choices in order to ensure victory. If you don’t want to absorb the energy, you don’t have to. But I certainly will if it means that we can overpower Judgment’s forces.”

Joriel and her squad gathered and discussed the situation in hushed tones, and then she sighed. "We're not going to be absorbing that shirt, but we'll guard whatever portal you take there."

“Thank you. And I assure you, we won’t be holding onto this energy forever. As soon as the war is done, we’ll rid ourselves of the energy and return it to Hell.”

"Or you could destroy it," another of Joriel's squad suggested. "That mustard Nightmare Medic has been active again, and if we can hurt his source of power, we should."

Rudra paused momentarily before nodding in agreement. “Myeh, that works just as well.”

Joriel grinned. "Asor, you're a genius."

“Now, are we all ready?”

“Ready and raring to go,” Ofia confirmed.

“We’re right behind you. Lead on, Rood!” Larimar smiled. “We’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth if we have to.”

“I second that!” Skyla declared.

Joriel shrugged. "What Mom says goes. Just let Styna say goodbye to her. This is her first mission that isn't search and rescue." Joriel motioned to the young Power standing beside her, who was dressed in a frilly white, purple, and blue dress and adorned with golden jewelry. Long pink hair flowed down her back, and a small pair of blue wings were barely visible through her locs.

“Of course.” Rudra waved for the Power to leave, and Styna quickly ran back to the courtyard.

"As much as I don't like you, I'll admit you're reasonable," Joriel admitted, watching Styna go.

“Who do you take me for, Judgment?”

All the gathered angels laughed.

“But I will say this: are you sure we shouldn’t tell Mom about this?” Joriel inquired, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“No, the last thing I need is Mom knowing what we’re about to do.”

“I think you’ll regret not telling her.”

“Why?”

Not a moment after those words had left her lips, a furious scream suddenly filled the air.

“RUDRA!”

The clear sky above began to change to a dark storm, and Jori winced as lightning cracked across the sky.

“Jori, what did you do!?” Rudra roared, snapping her head towards the courtyard just in time to see Styna sprinting away from the table and towards the sanctuary’s exit.

“Look, Mom deserved to know who you were going to for firepower!” Jori snapped.

“And you sent a snitch to do it!?”

“I’d have done it myself, but you would have suspected. Styna will still carry her weight, I assure you!”

Rudra threw up her hands and let out a frustrated groan. “Ugh, we don’t have time for this, Jori! Come on, we need to leave! If Mom starts lecturing us, we’ll be here for days!” Rudra raised a hand to the Legion and waved for the angels to follow her to the sanctuary’s entrance. “Everyone, follow me! We’re getting out of here!” Rudra shouted firmly. Spreading her pearly wings, Rudra took to the air and followed the path that she had taken to enter the sanctuary, and the Legion swiftly followed suit.

During the path through the storm, the rain focused on Rudra, drenching her in as heavy a downpour as possible as she led the Legion away.

“Seriously, Mom!?” Rudra cried out incredulously, trying to shake the rain off of her wings as the Legion left the storm behind.

“Where to now?” Larimar shouted from behind, trying to keep up with Rudra.

“Find the closest Hell portal we can!” the Seraph shouted back. “Then we’ll follow Shadiel’s path to Evo City! Our fight starts there!”

#Team Fortress 2 #Freak Fortress #Angel Fallen: The Chronicles of the Legion #Rudra Seraph #Madame Talon #Ofia #Mercy #Skyla #Styna #Joriel #Larimar Prince

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kitxkatrp · 1 year

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Tag Dump 57

#{ Jamie: The Serious Honey Maker Main Verse }#{ Sadie: Head Fairy Main Verse }#{ Andrew: The Forsaken Angel Main Verse }#{ Hope: The Ignorant Angel Main Verse }#{ Seraph: The Lonely Fallen Angel Main Verse }#{ Mimi: The Sheep Girl Main Verse }#{ Blossom: The Mute Tree Spirit Main Verse }#{ Mercy: The Secretive Maid Main Verse }#{ Oliver James: The Forsaken Poet Main Verse }#{ Emily Williams: The Ghostly Girl Main Verse }

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bones4thecats · 4 months

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Hello! Could I request Hades and Poseidon (separatly) fell in love with dummy nymph!reader, who just doesn't notice their feelings, please? (◕‿◕)♡

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Hades and Poseidon Name: {Character} with a Oblivious Nymph! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: My first Record of Ragnarok piece in quite a while, and thankfully, this was quite funny to write. This is so full of fluff and crack that it makes broken attics look nice😂

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 Oh sweet mercy, this guy loves yet hates your obliviousness

💀 When he first met you, he would joke around about how you were so oblivious to things, but, when he tried to confess his feelings towards you for the first time and you just replied with something so platonic-sounding, he froze

💀 Your obliviousness was going to be a hint of a problem now

" My dear, have you ever thought about having a relationship with someone? " " I guess so, yeah. Why? " " How would you feel about courting with me by your side? " " Aw! You would help me with courting! You're so sweet, Hades! "

💀 Grabbing your hand when you were scared didn't get you to realize his feelings, even when he gave you the biggest hint while still hiding the straight-forward admission, you didn't get it

💀 Hades does understand that, because your a nymph, you haven't gotten that much experience when it comes to anything romantic, as many believe you only are attracted to things relationships non-romantically

💀 Zeus and Aphrodite have tried getting you guys to get together for centuries, from trying to have you guys go on a blind-date to having you literally go on a real-date with him, you always stayed blind to the real emotions hidden behind his gestures

💀 So, unsurprisingly, Hades eventually does have to straight-up admit his feelings, leaving you flustered and a hint embarrassed

" Y/N, I must admit that I am quite fond of you. So fond that I must ask, would you like to be in a courting relationship? " " You fond someone that wants to court me? Aw, Hades, how swe- " " Not someone else. Me, my dear. " " Oh... how long have you liked me like this?! " " About the past four centuries. " " Oh sweet seraphs... "

🔱 Poseidon is not amused at all.

🔱 He is not fond of people not understanding what he said, and it doesn't help with the fact that he's very blunt and honest when it comes to his words

🔱 When he first met you, you were speaking to your boss, Aphrodite, and when he arrived to speak with her about the waves causing damages to the nearby forests

🔱 That was when he noticed how oblivious you were to pretty much everything

🔱 Aphrodite eventually noticed how Poseidon seemed to soften with his actions whenever you were around, and she was the one who prompted him to finally begin trying to tell you about his feelings, unaware that you had no clue how to take a hint

" Y/N, would you like to accompany me to Zeus' reunion next week? As my date, of course. " " Oh, yeah! It'd be fun to spend some time with my best friend! "

🔱 Okay, ouch.

🔱 It took him only two tries before he began to lose his already strained patience, and he burst that bubble the third time you pushed his advances off as a friendly confrontation

" Would you like to accompany me to Hades' meeting tomorrow afternoon, Y/N? " " Of course! Spending time with my favorite friend is amazing- " " Not as a friend. As a future spouse. " " Huh? "

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jessamine-rose · 2 months

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⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessional until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? …Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Capitano ๑ Arlecchino

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

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

#il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: dubcon #spicy warning #mdni #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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leseraph · 2 months

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WHB EVENT SPOILERS

lucifer truly loved his brothers. the lives of thousands of angels were discarded by him like they were nothing, but with michael, he showed one final act of mercy

michael could never understand his brother's actions

gonna ramble a little here

during the event, it's revealed that god had already disappeared by the time luci descended into hell, which means that luci's statement of god merely being an "observer" of their actions applies to how god was even after spending time with solomon

thus, michael, who idolizes god, never saw his batshit crazy actions as wrong in any way, shape, or form. they were never reprimanded, so they naturally got accustomed into thinking that their actions were right and just

luci did little to nothing to share his views on the morality of their actions, which gave the seraphs all the affirmation they needed to keep on going

and after eons of doing the same thing, how can they be expected to just stop bc their brother did? to completely change the way they think just like that? to accept the fact that they, the highest beings they themselves acknowledge, had been wrong all this time?

it took luci years to figure it out on his own too. my guy did a lot of thinking. maybe even too much thinking. and at some point, he made the decision to act out on what he felt was right

judging from how michael and gabriel are now, i don't think they'll be seeing eye to eye with their brother anytime soon

raphael might be a bit different though. unlike his brothers' comics which were a bit on the lighter side, raphael's was this internal monologue that talked more abt his views of the world. we even got a quick look at his first meeting with solomon

he showed interest in mc as well in the chats after the christmas event. this makes me think that he might be more open to change compared to his other brothers (despite being just as messed up)

he might be the first to join luci in repenting too

michael's too blinded by his love for a god who may not have reciprocated the same love towards him, seeing as he takes the absolute nothingness that luci's serving and takes it as a full-blown compliment

it's hard to imagine he'll start reconsidering things

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in 'hell' is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb lucifer #whb michael #whb raphael #i got lost in the ramble honestly #just wanted to spew out what thoughts left were in my mind

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storiesoflilies · 5 months

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Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairing - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaaaand here we go!! I’m posting this earlier than I was supposed to in honor of Toji’s birthday. Fun fact - Toji and I share the same birthday :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 2

-•-

Chapter 1

The sky was falling ever so softly.

She’d spent so long staring upwards at it, utterly astounded, because it never occurred that way when she imagined it in her head. There was supposed to be an all-consuming deafening rumbling, chunks of blue tumbling down from above, and fiery meteors the size of moons hurling themselves into the chaos of a dying Earth.

But no, it was more like a hundred million and one glowing embers fluttering down like beautiful dying butterflies.

Is this what it’s like when Angels fall?

Y/N thought it was a more peaceful way to go; instead of a violent plummet into the dirt to trade their lives for another one as a Curse. It was a nice thought, naive even, because seraphim were not kind nor merciful to those who they deemed had turned against them. Stupid, wishful thinking, a selfish desire for the world to be anything but exactly what it is; sin was as inevitable as the sun, rising and falling with time in a terrible terrible cycle. She’d seen the streets run crimson like glimmering rubies as Angel’s wings were torn from their bones and flesh, heard their screams from afar as they begged and pleaded not to be cast out. It was always the same; Heaven is, and always would remain, divinely perfect, and it would forever be ruthless in its pursuit of maintaining it. Free will is a beautiful thing, certainly, so long as one made only the right choices.

She shook her head, cool ash flaking off her hair, and picked up her katana from where it lay beside a Curse’s corpse. Satoru Gojo had trusted her with hunting down this particularly erratic Second Layer Curse that had been capturing and torturing wounded Angels. Indeed, she could see the remnants of its latest mangled victim underneath its grotesque blubbery body; a once living soul now just an unrecognizable face beaten into a bloody feathery mess. Maybe they had once sinned, perhaps not, but what did it matter? They were just another tally to be scratched on a plaque, a life reduced to a single scratch on a stone already marred by millions of markings.

Y/N briefly considered attempting to retrieve the body for a proper burial, but it was already far too late in the day. The last rays of the sun threw a brilliant shade of red across the sky, a low hum of anticipation in the air that whispered of all the fury and violence of thunder and lightening; night would soon fall to unleash the lethal Curses that dwelled in the deepest layers of Hell. If she didn’t hurry and ascend to Heaven, then she would bear witness to the unholiest of rituals, as the Earth would crack open beneath her and the molten fire of Sukuna’s wrath would burst forth and consume her body and soul.

She kneeled in front of the Curse; its forked tongue rolling out of a toothless mouth, lidless eyes tipped backwards into its head, and blackened blood dripping from the fatal wound right through its brain. Y/N’s thumb squelched uncomfortably as she pressed it firmly into the rubbery skin of its forehead, and murmured a quick prayer for the deceased seraph, and a blaze of golden light engulfed both corpses. Gojo had taught her how to use her divine energy to smite dead Curses, just to make sure they won’t try again in his own words, and this power could also be extended to cremate their own.

The ground groaned and rumbled, as if protesting against its part to play in the cycle of violence, serving as a sinister warning for her to hurry. A wave of panic washed over her, and Y/N closed her eyes; grasping to control her lackluster wisps of divine energy, and cried out into the seemingly empty plane of the Unlimited Void.

But empty it was not, for Satoru Gojo sees and hears all within his domain.

Within an instant, she felt herself floating into and across the Void as Gojo’s essence consumed and caressed her soul; still as exhilarating and frightening as the first time she had tepidly stepped through this plane of existence. And Y/N could feel all of him, but could do nothing but helplessly travel through the cosmos of his own making. Gojo was like a turbulent ocean, ever-changing and impatient, but perplexingly beautiful; a ticking clock waiting to chime a tune of misery to signal his arrival against his enemies. Not many Angels were privy to ascending into Heaven this way, because Gojo simply didn’t want to do it for just anybody. He was like a fussy child picking only the best things to play with; his trust the ultimate game to win, and many had tried. Y/N didn’t think it was so complex, because she understood fear in a way Gojo could never, and ordinary Angels couldn’t face the fact that their souls would be bared so openly and judged by the Six Eyes himself.

Y/N blinked, and found herself in front of him.

“Cutting it a little close, eh?”

Satoru Gojo stood with his corded forearms crossed over each other, tall and broad form leaning back against an iridescent golden pole of the Gates of Heaven; a marble statue carved directly from God’s hands that demanded complete attention, a perfect vision of beauty that Y/N could never tire of looking at it. He wore a bemused smirk on his face, clearly relishing in her reliance of his power to save her from certain doom, but Y/N liked to think he didn’t completely look down on her. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt; he had been waiting for her outside the city, and maybe expected her to ascend to Heaven normally, which required an Angel to fly upwards from the Earth and pass through each of the seven layers of Heaven. Each of these layers were well defended by legions of seraphim ready to lay their lives against imminent attacks, bolstered by colossal golden gates similar to the one guarding the main city.

“But you’ve done it, right?” He continued, his eyes completely focused on her as she approached.

Gojo often asked questions he already knew the answers to, something he did with her and his other favorites; a way of settling nerves and putting them at ease around him, as if he hadn’t rooted through every crack and crevice of their minds, pretending he didn’t know them more intimately than they probably did themselves.

“It’s done.”

He hummed appreciatively, the hundreds of eyes decorating his wings blinking intermittently to give an illusion of twinkling cerulean lights, and extended his hand for her to take. Y/N accepted, refusal simply not an option, her fingers intertwining with his as he dropped the infinite barrier coating his body, and let him lead her through the Golden Gates and into the city; their kingdom far above the Earth – where no Curse had ever managed to breach.

Heaven was a seemingly never-ending city; a labyrinth of buildings and twisting pathways built from white marble, with pearlescent towers of varying heights dotted throughout. – a perfect pristine canvas of glittering white diamonds. Many Angels would live together in each of these towers, forming extended families to be born and raised together for generations. Cool air washed through every twist and turn of the city, flowing between trees with silver leaves bearing the sweetest figs; which grew intermittently between any sliver of space between the rock, and some were even as tall as the towers themselves.

“Gojo, couldn’t you see the sky below?”

“Hmm?”

“The sky was burning before I left, it was falling.”

“Ah yes, well… that’s no surprise. Geto has become a Curse, and he is past my sight now. It makes sense the first thing he did was kill the Sky Sentries, so I suppose it’s a good thing you called for me through the Void.”

She froze, and he stopped with her.

Geto is, was, Gojo’s second in command; his most trusted confidant and closest ally. If he had fallen, then there would be many other Angels who would have willingly fallen with him. The Sky Sentries guarded the sky of the Earth, the first layer of Heaven; they stood at the frontline of the war, warriors that couldn’t afford to rest, for come nightfall it was a bloodbath of Curses attempting to breach the first barrier.

So many of us are dead. More lines on the wall.

“Gojo, I-,” Y/N paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

At this, he released her hand and turned to face her. “Why? He made his choice.”

Gojo turned away again, staring down at the ground beneath his feet like he was seeing right through it to the Earth and scorched skies, and scoffed loudly. It was a seething sound of a betrayal that had cut him deeply, and it was a promise of violence and vengeance. Nobody escaped punishment, especially not from the Six Eyes, and Geto was certainly not above consequences.

“You know, we were all given free will. It shouldn’t surprise you, when an Angel - any Angel - falls into darkness and becomes a Curse,” he stated with finality, a sharp edge of a steel knife in his voice.

“But, Geto was our family,” Y/N breathed out shakily, her sadness starting to bubble out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know he was changing, I never noticed anything was wrong.”

“Neither did I,” Gojo whispered defeatedly, a complete change in his tone, letting slip just a sliver of his hurt for someone else to see.

Geto and Gojo were born three centuries before Y/N, and became nigh inseparable; a perfect example of how strong the bond of comradery should be between Angels. She had first met Geto when he had started training her to fight, he’d still hadn’t risen to power back then, and they quickly became close. Of course, naturally Gojo took an interest in her as Geto’s pupil, and over the next two hundred years, Y/N had witnessed them rise through the ranks of the Angels; until they reached the pinnacle of power, their combined strength looming over them all like the omnipresent presence of God in Heaven – and yet, they still kept her within their circle. But Geto was different to Gojo, because he understood that strength wasn’t a gift distributed to everyone, and Y/N had seen him fight a fraction harder just to stand on par beside Gojo on the podium of divinity. He had become her brother; a pillar of strength in her life in a way that the Six Eyes could never be, someone who she could truly say would fight to the death for her if he thought her time had come too early.

Gojo was silent for a moment before continuing, “But the sky will heal, Shoku and her followers can do it. There’s always more of us ready to take each other’s place, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek smeared with dried Curse blood, watching as a stray tear escaped and ran down her face like a petulant child, and let out a great sigh as if it was the greatest inconvenience for him to witness her sadness. Y/N felt sheepish; how could she be so upset over a betrayer, a snake that had bitten the hand of someone who had thought it graceful and beautiful. Gojo’s great wings unfurled around them, his feathers tickling her exposed neck softly like a lover would, and his arms pulled her into an embrace.

“Im alright Satoru,” she sniffled after some time. “I just need to be alone, to clean myself and pray for him.”

“His soul is gone, you know that Y/N,” Gojo said softly, like she was a precious crystal he held in his palms, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“I don’t care, I need to put him to rest in some way, for my own peace.”

“Let me come with you then, when I return in the morning. You’re too exhausted to go and pray now.”

“Gojo, please. I need this.”

At this he let her go, his wings snapping back in place like they had been stung, and placed his hand on her head in a blessing. A soothing cool sensation spread all the way down from his palms, healing her weary bones and muscles; bathing her in the rarely tranquil ocean of his divine power, and she shuddered in both fear and relief. Some of his followers had gathered around them, eagerly awaiting their commander to follow into the ensuing battle at the First Gate; curiously glancing at the sight of the two of them, like they were forbidden art that nobody could look at for too long. She knew that he had to go; Gojo always went to battle when the last light left the Earth, even if he had already been fighting during the day. But such was the duty of the Six Eyes — always in the heat of battle, never tiring and never resting.

“Go and sleep,” he said, an order; daring her to refuse again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can pray together then.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, and then vanished instantaneously, leaving Y/N alone surrounded by the watchful eyes of the other seraphim.

-•-

From light we are born, and to ashes we return.

The beginning of a prayer uttered for those who had passed.

Who once was mighty and now fallen.

Y/N had recited these words many times over, but never once had she done so for a Curse.

Heavenly Father, may you guide our souls to peace in Paradise.

She bathed in starlight and galaxies, and sank backwards into the bathing pool; sending her further into space, to a time and place where her brother hadn’t left her. Caked Curse blood swirled away in the holy water as she sank deeper, her eyes never closing as she stared up at the stars in the night sky.

Where we may all meet again.

Y/N whimpered pitifully as she thought again of Geto in the depths of Hell, wondering if he was suffering as his once holy power was warped into something wicked and corrupt. Would he even look the same, would she recognize him if he materialized in front of her at this very moment; a snarling animalistic Curse like the one she had killed today. Or would he remain as he was like a blip in time, a frozen facade of happiness, but with only malice and sin left underneath it all?

To remain in your eternal light forever.

She emerged, water running down her face as her heart constricted painfully, and clasped her hands together and whispered, “Forgive him, oh please forgive him.”

What was else she supposed to do? Oh how she wished she could go back; maybe then she might have noticed if his eyes had tears of darkness in them, if he had laid there alone as the night full of terrors ushered and coaxed his soul to their side. Then she could have told herself what she was meant to do, instead of grieving for Geto like he was already dead like a ghost she would forever clutch on to; stuck reliving a trail of memories she once thought she knew most of, and now none at all. But if she looked into Gojo’s blue eyes, would she find a glimpse of the brother who lifted her on to his shoulders and raised her with dignity and kindness?

Enough, enough .

Y/N climbed up the steps of the pool as droplets of stars cascaded down her hair, down between her thighs, and down to her feet. She wondered what sort of horrors were unfolding hundreds of thousands of leagues beneath her; if Gojo was striking down Curses with all the fury and might of a scorned lightning storm. She murmured silent prayers for the creatures who stood in his way, and for the seraphim whose lives would be lost as a consequence of Geto’s betrayal. Her feet tapped against the cool marble pathway leading from the pool to the back entrance of Gojo’s tower, and Y/N shook her wings free of any remaining water droplets that flung to her feathers. Her body was bare for all to see as she passed through the empty hallways, but she wasn’t concerned; all those who followed the Six Eyes had followed him into the night, into war. Gojo hadn’t deemed Y/N strong enough to fight during the night, and he never would; for his own selfish reasons, he was keeping her safe.

Her thoughts strayed to when he had openly embraced her in public, and knew that it would have added some truth to the rumor that they were more than just comrades. It was common for Angels that hadn’t found their soulmates to marry each other, as it unfortunately wasn’t always a guaranteed event during one’s lifetime; and of course new seraphim must be born to fight in the war. Since neither of them had found theirs as of yet, so many believed that they would eventually marry. Gojo had made numerous advances to court her over the past few decades, namely allowing her to stay within his tower, as well as hints during various conversations that he expected her to marry him when he finally did ask. Y/N knew that he was aware of her hope for her own soulmate, and that was the only reason he had graced her with his patience, but hope was dangerous in war – it was only a matter of time before he saved her from her own misery.

It would be the most practical thing to do, and Y/N truly did care for him, but was that really enough?

Satoru Gojo was an enigma. On the one hand, he was adored for his effortless displays of power as he could single-handedly decimate armies. On the other, what made him loved was also what made him feared; all he had to do was drag a seraph charged of sin into his Unlimited Void, and they would be helpless as he brutally tore through their minds in search of the truth. If found guilty, he would rip their wings from their backs himself, and then hurtle them towards Hell. Satoru Gojo was as revered as he was terrifying; like he had attained a status close to godliness. Why he had chosen her to be his, Y/N would never know; she could only accept him when he finally came calling for her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts from her head, and slipped into her bed as her wet hair soaked through the pillow.

What if Geto shows himself tonight?

Perhaps she was right to mourn him, Gojo would strike him down for what he had done. Would Geto give reasons as to why he had sinned if he could speak properly? Y/N hoped so; whatever his answer, it could steel her resolve for the hard fight ahead. But for now, she attempted to empty her head of dark thoughts in an effort to sleep. She would have to be well rested to deal with the fallout of Geto’s betrayal; many new Curses would have been born from all the anguish he had caused.

Can I really hunt those who were my allies just this morning?

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears, and prayed the negativity and heartache away from her dreams.

-•-

A purple aura permeated Y/N’s room when she awakened, spilling in feverishly from outside the window, and an eerie silence from the previous night lingered and settled like dust. The battle for the sky must still be ongoing if no one was home yet, which meant it was as brutal as she dreaded it to be; for Gojo must have used his Hollow Purple for forcing the sky to change color. She felt fresh fear being thrown over her like a bucket of ice, as the possibility of more of her family dying hit her instantaneously. Y/N quickly donned a fresh set of armor; it was morning now, Gojo couldnt forbid her from descending to Earth since the moon and stars had vanished from sight – she was permitted to go and fight.

Wait.

Y/N froze.

It was Gojo’s voice in her head, his authority reverberating within her mind like a great ringing bell. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach; he never communicated telepathically with her. Was he trying to keep her from harm? Why wasn’t he allowing her to descend?

I’m coming to you.

Butterflies furiously erupted in her chest, and Y/N hurried outside the tower; the purple glow of the sky growing stronger the closer she got to the entrance of the tower, like a warning nobody could possibly ignore.

The streets outside were in chaos.

Wounded seraphim were being carried by other Angels from a large swirling blue portal at the farthest end of the street from her, and were immediately being tended to by Shoko’s followers. There was an acrid smell in the air; of anguish and death, the scent of suffering from Hell itself. Y/N spied Nanami Kento holding his blunted sword close to his chest, eyes closed as if he was deep in pain but keeping it hidden, as Shoko wrapped his bloodied arms with fresh bandages.

Before Y/N could push her way towards them, the crowd imploded with feverish excitement and shouting as the portal zapped shut, and she jumped back in fright. An unmistakable white head of hair was moving through the crowd, and the seraphim were singing with glee as they parted for their champion; a god splitting the sea, and holding back the oncoming tsunami of adoration. And then, Gojo finally came into view from where she stood, an indecipherable look upon his face as his eyes roamed over every seraphim in the crowd. His gaze inevitably locked onto her, and Y/N noted a crazed spark in his eyes that made her feel uneasy. But she was frozen in place, like prey helplessly watching a predator rushing towards it, as Gojo strode towards her; broad build dripping with Curse blood as he climbed the stairs, stopping just a step below her.

And then he kneeled in front of her, and the universe went quiet.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Gojo, what are-”

He reached behind his back, procuring two katanas in his palms to her like they were an offering, but she knew exactly where they had come from. The blades were made of pure holy silver, diamonds and pearls encrusted on the hilt — unmistakably Geto’s weapons.

“Geto lost the right to these holy weapons when he betrayed us,” Gojo said as he turned the blades over in his hands, examining them with that same indecipherable look.

“He’s dead then?” Y/N breathed out shakily.

Gojo shook his head, “No, he escaped, but all his followers have been punished.”

She sucked in a breath.

So many more dead.

“These are yours now,” he continued. “If you’ll have them.”

The Six Eyes had never once kneeled for anyone. Y/N knew what was coming, what he was about to ask of her; but how and why had he decided so suddenly that now was the time? He stared up at her with those all knowing eyes, like he was privy to her thoughts whirling in her head, and maybe he was.

Let him go.

How could she? Her heart ached for a part of her soul she had never even met — and might never. Even if she did meet her soulmate, marrying Gojo would forever bind her to him, lest she would be cast out of Heaven for the sin of forsaking her marriage vows. Would he ever be able to make her move on and forget? Did he really know just how much he was asking her for? Her heart hammered in her chest; she wasn’t ready for this, not now, and maybe not ever.

He is Satoru Gojo. If he isn’t enough for you, then who else is?

“I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you,” Gojo vowed, his voice low for words only meant for her. “I will uphold your virtue and strength, and I promise to stand by your side no matter what happens. I promise to end the Curse of Sukuna, and create a paradise for us and our children, even if it kills me.”

Never once had Satoru Gojo ever mentioned the possibility of his death; it was unnerving, unspeakable, unnatural. His usual saccharine tone was nowhere to be found, and it was deathly quiet all around them – every soul hanging on every word they spoke with bated breath.

“I promise to love you, but please… all I ask is for you to love me and accept me for all that I am, for who I’m going to become,” Gojo whispered, and for the first time in their centuries of friendship, Y/N could see desperation deep within his irises.

She breathed out, steeling herself from the heartache and loss settling deep inside her; her defeat was imminent, but she would rise again to take her seat on the throne beside him as his equal. The world jittered in anticipation as Y/N took both of Geto’s katanas in each of her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped their hilts. Gojo stared at her, pupils blown wide; from adoration for her or the heat of battle, she didn’t know.

“I accept you, Satoru Gojo.”

Nothing would ever be the same again.

-•-

#toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #female reader #gojo satoru #soulmate au #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #toji smut #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #smut

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vamptizm · 4 months

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useless ⋆𐙚 — rafe cameron

SUMMARY — you finally confront rafe about your relationship and the future of it.

PAIRING — rafe cameron x reader

WORD COUNT — 773

THEME — angst. break up. slight classism i believe?

WARNINGS — one swear word.

‘cuz i’m useless,

when you’re stuck in my mind

‎ ‎

.ೃ࿐ 🪐 it wasn’t hard to read rafael cameron, that is something you were undoubtedly certain about. his tortured eyes and bruised knuckles could tell a million stories — perhaps an elegy even — for one might believe his soul to be dead, leaving behind a mortal body that remains on earth. to everyone the boy was cruel and choleric, quick to fight and easy to anger, but not to you. you saw him in more than just black and white, more than just his wealth… more than just trouble. they say that love is blind and truth be told, you never wanted to see again if it meant that your perfect picture relationship would be at the risk of coming to an end… but the universe has it’s own plans.

“say it” you spoke in a monotone voice, preserving the poker face that you wore being the only goal at that very moment. an explanation was not needed, for rafe knew exactly what you expected of him.

he was painfully aware of the situation. the differences in your ways of life, the disagreements in morals and especially the contrast in reputations. nothing about you and rafe was similar and you both knew it. yet, people love to live in ignorant bliss, it’s in their nature. they desperately attempt to change their fate and rewrite destiny, but indeed, the universe has it’s own plans as always. rafe found it hard to be seen with you, so he hid you. from the world, from his family and from his friends.

it wasn’t that he didn’t deem you worthy — you were a beautiful and seraphic being — everyone eventually learned to love you and he was no exception. you were everything he dreamed of and more, an utter blessing in his life and he never failed to tell you so. kindness, humor and elegance were in your nature, no matter the appearance or status. but unfortunately, you happened to be a pogue and no matter how perfect and charming you tried to be, at the end of the day his people would always unavoidably look down on you. and so rafe cameron had unconsciously decided that you indeed, were not worthy of it all. not the effort, not the stress, not the time and definitely not worth his last name.

“say what?” he questioned stoically as he feigned to be clueless. he was too scared to scared to let you go… too scared to break your heart.

you let out a humorless chuckle, the patience you had was running thin and all you wanted was closure. despite knowing the answer, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave first and never look back, it might have been the best thing that you could do for yourself… but you simply couldn’t just yet. “please… just say it, rafe. tell me what you’ve been dying to admit”.

the boy simply glanced at you, his muscles frozen in place and his heart beating rapidly in his chest. he had to. he couldn’t do this to you any longer. not when you looked at him like that and pleaded for his mercy. “we can’t be together”. the bomb had finally dropped and it was silent. so silent, that you could hear a needle hit the hard floor.

reality had finally began to set in, knocking the air out of your lungs and stealing your words. with pursed lips, you stood in front of him while the bridge of your nose began to painfully hurt and the hot tears started to glaze your eyes. you held your breath in hopes of disappearing at that very moment, in hopes of waking up and finding yourself in his arms. this time, you wouldn’t make the mistake of asking questions that could lead to your soul being crushed, but you remained in the same spot.

taking in a deep breath, your gaze rose from the floor and settled on his face. an ingenuine smile painted your lips as you looked into his eyes. rafe cameron wasn’t a hard person to read and in that moment, you knew that this had hurt him almost as much as it had broken you. you had built up the strength to grasp his hand in yours, holding onto it for just a little while as your thumb traced circles on his skin. “god, you’re such an asshole”, you stated in a brittle voice — yet another ingenuine chuckle escaping your lungs — and with that his hand was suddenly back to the position it had been and the only thing that remained was the sweet scent of vanilla and honey that you had left behind.

#⋆𐙚 ₊ ♡ 🌷 yuko #⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron #outer banks one shot #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks

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devildomwriter · 1 year

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More About Angels

All information is taken from the Bible and Christian/Jewish /Abrahamic religion studies

Seraphim

Seraphim are said to be the caretakers of God’s throne and continuously sing his praises

“The name seraphim clearly indicates their ceaseless and eternal revolution about Divine Principles, their heat and keenness, the exuberance of their intense, perpetual, tireless activity, and their elevative and energetic assimilation of those below, kindling them and firing them to their own heat, and wholly purifying them by a burning and all-consuming flame; and by the unhidden, unquenchable, changeless, radiant and enlightening power, dispelling and destroying the shadows of darkness.” — Dionysius the Areopagite

Seraphim are often associated with a burning love for God and thought to be born inflexibly toward God

Seraphim are said to have God’s knowledge revealed to them which engages their role to divine levels though they cannot comprehend it all

In Islam they are associated with “Bearers of the Throne”

In some texts Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Leviathan held the rank of Seraph

In the game

• Lucifer (formerly), Michael, Raphael, and Simeon(formerly) are seraphim

• Mammon believe Luke can become a Seraph

• Asmodeus describes them as bossy

Cherubim

Cherubim are the most frequently appearing heavenly beings mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. They are described with many different roles but it’s generally mentioned they transport God’s throne, pull chariots of God, or carry him upon their backs.

Cherubim are often associated with Knowledge

In Islam Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Azrael are said to be Cherubim

In the game

• Beelzebub reached at least the position of Cherub

Thrones

Thrones are also referred to as Ophanim and Galgallin

The Dead Sea Scrolls confirmed these beings to be angels

In the Bible Thrones are described as functioning like chariots and are characterized by peace and submission. They mete out divine justice and maintain cosmic harmony

Some texts site Asmodeus as having been a Throne

In the game

• Mammon was a Throne and acted as Lucifer’s assistant

Dominions or Lordships

Dominions are said to deliver justice in God’s place, show mercy to humans, and lead lower-ranking angels and help them do their work

In the Bible it was Dominions that completely obliterated the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah after warning the only faithful people there to leave

Their main role is to act as governors and maintain order of the cosmos

In the Game

• Simeon mentions they watch over the human world

Virtues

Virtues are described as having control over the elements and protecting nature.

They also encourage humans to strengthen their faith in God and assist with miracles

Powers or Authorities

These angels are given their name because they have authority over evil and are able to restrain evil to stop more harm from being done

Principalities or Rulers

These angels are tasked with guiding and protecting nations and groups of people.

Some texts site Belphegor as having been a Principality

In the Game

• Luke hopes to one day be a principality

• When Luke reveals he and Simeon were sent to earth, the brothers think it’s weird as this is usually the job of Principalities

Archangels

The specific role appears to vary from one archangel to the next. Something they have in common are being protectors and dealing directly with humanity in one way or another.

Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael are mentioned as archangels in most branches of faith, Uriel is mentioned as well but not always.

Many branches depict seven to eight archangels but there are said to be thousands though very few are named.

In the Game

• Michael, Raphael, and Simeon (formerly) are said to be archangels

• Luke describes archangels as being powerful warriors

• Mammon was an archangel before being promoted to Throne via Lucifer’s recommendation

Angels

The lowest rank of angel is not well described as most angels, despite their rank, are simply referred to as angels however some Christian denominations believe this rank act as guardian angels—angels assigned to specific people

Angels are said to be able to disguise themselves as human and walk among humans testing them and aiding them

In the Game

• Angels are the main inhabitants of the celestial realm

• They have halos, appear bright and shiny to demons, and can fly

• Luke is currently the lowest rank, Angel. Angels have not yet been assigned higher ranks based on their powers at birth and what they are best at.

#obey me shall we date #obey me celestial realm #obey me angels #obey me michael #obey me raphael #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me simeon #obey me luke

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hyunbunlix · 4 months

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Belonging [seraph soldier!Hyunjin]

Characters: Hyunjin, fem!OC Rating: A/O for Adults Only Content Warnings/Tags: mentions/depictions of war/battle, winged characters, explicit sexual content, inexperienced Hyunjin, switch Hyunjin, blowjob/facefucking (+swallowing), fingerbanging, multiple orgasms, back-to-back orgasms (f), cunnilingus, unprotected penetration, dirty talk/banter, hickey (m. receiving), raw male orgasms Word Count: 10,575 Summary: As a member of the Misbegotten—an army made up of the angel Emperor’s bastard children—Hyunjin has long since accepted his status as cannon fodder. As casualties in the war with chimaera worsen, commanders from the Dominion army are sent to bolster the Misbegotten ranks. The last thing he expected was one of the Dominion to inspire him to dream of a different life. Note: Based on the world of Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor.

Once upon a time, a soldier forgot what he was made for, and chose to love instead.

Seraph soldiers came in three varieties.

The first: The Dominion, the best of the best, soldiers that served under the Emperor’s brother and carried out the will of the royal family most directly.

The second: Aptly named the Second Legion, this force was what most people would call the standard military. For the most part, any angel who wanted to join the cause but was not truly exceptional was in the Second Legion.

The third, and final: The Misbegotten, a military force made up entirely of the Emperor’s bastards. It was drilled into their heads from a young age that they were not people, but weapons; they had no rights, only a purpose. Angels lived for hundreds of years, and the Emperor had sired thousands of bastards. It was said he had a harem full of women, and that he called a different one to him every night.

Hyun Jin could confirm that to be true, because he’d been born in the harem, and had witnessed the nightly ritual, the way women would be escorted out, and when they came back, they were exhausted at best and broken at worst. It was cruel, how Hyun Jin could remember the aura of fear in that place better than he could remember his own mother’s face.

Was his mother still in the harem, he wondered? Did he have other full-blooded siblings in the Misbegotten army that he didn’t even know about? Naturally, every Misbegotten was at least his half-sibling, but were any of them more than that?

Hyun Jin hoped none of them were. He hoped, at best, that his mother had been able to escape. He hoped, at worst, that she’d finally been allowed the mercy of death. He knew which was more likely.

Since new Misbegotten were conceived nearly every single night, this was the military branch that always got sent in first, and therefore the one that withstood the most casualties. Recently, they’d taken heavy losses against their chimaera foes. The war had started hundreds of years before Hyun Jin was born, and, being one of the Emperor’s many bastards, he was not allowed the luxury of an opinion on that matter. He would fight the chimaera until he died, or he would attempt to desert and be hunted for sport. His end would be the same no matter his choices.

Hyun Jin hadn’t been alive at the beginning of the war, and he likely wouldn’t be alive at the end of it, either. He’d been around long enough, though, to know that things were horribly wrong. The chimaera had always been a peculiar group of races, part or even mostly animal, but the chimaera they were fighting as of late . . . they were wrong. They had become hulking nightmare creatures that could not possibly occur in nature. Hyun Jin had seen and fought several; he wasn’t short by any means, but some of these monsters were nearly twice his height.

Suffice it to say, the Misbegotten were forced under the brunt of the assault, and had suffered heavy casualties.

When Hyun Jin found out that several ranking officers from the Dominion were being sent to bolster their ranks, he was shocked. Surely this couldn’t be the Emperor’s idea; he was just fine with using his bastard children as cannon fodder. No, someone must have talked enough strategy to convince him to do it out of necessity.

When the members of the Dominion arrived, the Misbegotten camp did their best to welcome them out of respect (or fear of insult). They didn’t have the resources for anything so fancy as a banquet, of course, so they determined to have a feast instead. They all had to eat, after all, so it allowed the Misbegotten to be respectful of their “betters” without being wasteful about it. Hyun Jin even volunteered to be on the hunting party. It was nice to do something that didn’t involve wading into an active warzone for once. Though he fought mostly with swords in combat, he wasn’t half-bad as an archer, and taking down game was much easier than taking down chimaera soldiers.

Hyun Jin mostly kept to himself during the feast, rarely venturing away from his team. He paid attention, of course, when the officers were introduced, and made his snap judgment of each. Most of them seemed as arrogant as he’d expected, and a few even seemed downright cruel. There were a few others, though, that didn’t leave much of an impression at all, and Hyun Jin prayed his team would be assigned to one of those relatively inoffensive individuals. For once in his life, the Godstars felt up to answering his prayers, because his team ended up with one of the milder-seeming officers, a female lieutenant named Da’el who, throughout the night, kept to herself and minded her business where many of her comrades contented themselves with antagonizing the Misbegotten at every opportunity. The latter treatment was to be expected; everyone who was in frequent direct contact with the Emperor was more or less a horrible person. Who was this seraph, that she’d managed to avoid the Emperor’s corruption?

He told himself he was reading way too far into it. Maybe she just had a lot of restraint or was a really good actress, and she’d prove herself to be just as horrible as the others when training started in the morning. After all, it was so much easier to be cruel with a blade in your hand.

At dawn, the Misbegotten rose, ate, and reported to their new honorary commanders. Hyun Jin tried to put the trepidation out of his mind, but it was difficult. When he saw their new commanding officer standing on their practice pitch, her wings glowing in the new morning light, he tried to get a better read on her. She had the same nothing-expression on her face that she’d had the night before. When he and his team lined up, as they were supposed to, he realized she was nearly as tall as him. She looked over the lot of them with eyes similar to her wings, which was unusual. Most angels either had blue eyes, like the Emperor and those he surrounded himself with, or dark brown eyes like the common folk that, for the Misbegotten, made up a majority of their mothers. Even green eyes were more common than hers, which looked like they were on fire, and Hyun Jin couldn’t decide if it was a trick of the sunrise or not.

“Pair off,” she said. “You may use any weapon you like. I want to see what I’m working with.”

They did as she said, and Hyun Jin belatedly recalled that his team was an odd number after . . . recent losses. He felt bad for the man that got stuck with the commander, a soldier named Lorn who was a few years older than Hyun Jin. Lorn looked terrified of the lieutenant, but, to Hyun Jin’s surprise, she didn’t react to that at all. He’d expected her to be at least a little smug.

Two at a time, they sparred, leaving Da’el and her unfortunate partner for last. Da’el fought with twin swords, while her opponent chose a pike. Hyun Jin knew Lorn’s fighting style, and the pike was not his weapon of choice. He often fought with a claymore, but perhaps, upon seeing what the lieutenant would be using, had chosen something with a faster fighting style despite being personally unaccustomed. Hyun Jin wasn’t sure that was such a good strategy here.

He expected the fight to be over quickly; he expected a member of the Dominion to act the way they always did, by making short work of their opponents, humiliating them in the process. Hyun Jin was stunned when that didn’t play out.

Instead of disarming Lorn promptly and berating him for his sub-par skills, Da’el checked her own skill level to just above his; he wouldn’t win, but he would get a good fight out of it. It was obvious to Hyun Jin that she was holding back, but he attributed it to his own skill with swords rather than an obvious telegraphing of her movements. Really, she was doing quite a good job of not embarrassing the soldier; she could have easily used her restraint to mock him. Hyun Jin really only knew the difference because he saw the openings he himself would have taken to disarm Lorn, and watched her pass them up.

Eventually, after letting Lorn put up a good fight, she disarmed him, and put her sword tips, crossed right over left, on his shoulders. The message was obvious: had this been a real fight, it would have ended with the soldier losing his head.

“Good,” she said, withdrawing her blades and replacing them on the rack. Hyun Jin hadn’t registered at first that those weren’t even her swords; they were regular practice blades. How much better was she when using blades weighted for her swing? Were swords even her weapon of choice?

“I’m pleased to see that a good many of you are adaptable, but a lot of you still need work. It’s my understanding that the Misbegotten have taken heavy losses recently. Why do you think that is?”

She asked the question in such a way that expressed actual curiosity, like she actually valued their opinion and insights. There was nothing patronizing in her voice or expression; she wasn’t trying to denigrate them by blaming them for their defeats. It was extremely unlike one of the Dominion. Honestly, even the Second Legion, whom the Misbegotten served alongside more often, didn’t really care what the Misbegotten thought and tended to mock when they did dare to express themselves.

“You could start with the fact that the chimaera are ten feet tall now,” answered one of the soldiers. Da’el looked thoughtful.

“That shouldn’t affect your results this much. Being large tends to slow a body down, not to mention you all have wings. It’s not as though you can’t reach their heads. What else?”

“They all fly now,” Hyun Jin said, surprising himself. She turned those burning eyes on him, and he almost lost his nerve for a second. He’d forgotten entirely for an instant that she was Dominion, and his current commander. She’d spoken like this was just a conversation between comrades, and he’d responded in kind without thinking. It wasn’t like him to forget himself in such a way.

“Was every victory in the past predicated on aerial superiority?” she asked him, directly. She didn’t move her eyes to include the other seraphim in the question.

“No,” he answered. She didn’t remove her gaze, prompting him to continue. “Not every victory,” he elaborated. “There have always been races of chimaera that can fly. We’ve never been wholly unchallenged in the air. But we’ve also never been this challenged.”

She nodded, and moved her eyes to the other seraphim. Hyun Jin nearly sighed in relief, which confused him. No Dominion had ever had the ability to rattle him before, and all she’d done was ask a question.

“What else?” she asked of the group.

“There’s a difference in tactics,” said Lorn. For an instant, the edge of Da’el’s mouth lifted toward a smile. Hyun Jin felt a peculiar stab like jealousy. He hadn’t gotten a partial smile for his answer.

“Different, how?” she asked, addressing only Lorn now.

“It’s like they know us, what we’ll do,” he said. “We’ve been fighting this war for hundreds of years, always had a familiarity with one another’s tactics, but this . . . It feels as though they know us personally.”

She gave one deep nod in response. “Excellent observation. Anything else?”

The rest of Hyun Jin’s team started to pipe up their experiences, too, anything they thought might help form a clearer picture. Now that they all felt they could speak freely without repercussions, they offered up everything they knew. She took every piece, built on every answer, asked clarifying questions to draw out extra details.

“After observing your fights today,” she said at the end, “I can tell there are several of you already internalizing these concepts, which is probably why you’re still alive.” She gestured to Lorn, the soldier she’d sparred with. “Lorn knew that his usual strategy—his usual specialty—wouldn’t be effective against me. I saw several of you make similar choices in your fights, as well. Lorn lost today, but he showed the adaptability necessary to overcome and win in the future. I’m going to teach all of you how to do that. Your current skills alone won’t save you, but they’ll provide the proper foundation for the new ones you’ll accrue. Think about where you’re starting from and where you wish to go. If you’re uncertain, ask me and I’ll help you. Any questions?”

Hyun Jin knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help but take this like a personal reprimand. He’d chosen his usual swords for today’s spar, and in so doing, felt as though he’d failed a test. Did their commander think less of him now for his inability to consider creative solutions?

And, perhaps, more importantly, why the fuck did he care?

She dismissed them and told them to return after the midday meal with their new weapon of choice in mind. The team wandered off, and all of them seemed to be in various stages of bewilderment.

“She made it sound like she actually cares whether we live or die,” said one of the soldiers.

“I don’t buy it,” said another.

“What reason does she have to put up an act? I’ll bet the others aren’t.”

That, at least, seemed to be true. When they met up with a few of the other teams for lunch, they didn’t need to ask to know. Plenty of the other Misbegotten were sporting minor injuries, bruises and cuts that proved their new commanders hadn’t taken it easy on them.

But . . . that wasn’t the right language, was it? Hyun Jin didn’t feel as though he’d gotten off the hook easily. He’d still worked hard, and he was ravenous by the time he’d gotten his food. So, what, then? What was the difference?

At first, a few of the other Misbegotten teased them for their softer treatment. They asked who their new commander was, and upon hearing it was Da’el, several of them became confused.

“They were calling her the witch last night,” offered a woman from another team. “That doesn’t sound like the kind of nickname one gets by being merciful.”

“Perhaps they call her the witch because she’s the only person left in all of Astrae with a working brain in her head,” offered another. That drew laughter from most of the circle.

Hyun Jin kept his view of things to himself. Perhaps she was simply wise enough not to stress the things around her until they broke. The chimaera did plenty of breaking. What good was it to harm their allies when their enemy could do it just as well, or better?

That, however, looked a little too much like mercy, which was something seraphim, and those close to the Emperor especially, were not known to have in excess. So, how? So, why? How had she come to be one of the Dominion without succumbing to the ethos that thrummed from the very heart of the empire?

Hyun Jin was among the first to finish eating; he stood and turned to go. He still had no idea what to choose for his secondary weapon, and . . . he had the urge to speak with Da’el, alone.

When he made it back to the practice pitch, she was already there, sitting in the shade and eating her own meal. This struck him as immediately strange. He’d seen the pavilion where the other Dominion were eating together.

“Am I here too early?” he asked, testing the waters. She glanced up at him, but remained seated. Strange, incredibly so. With him standing and her sitting, he had the appearance of every advantage over her, and the Dominion valued their appearance very much. They wouldn’t be caught dead in the perception that they were beneath a Misbegotten.

“Not at all,” she said. “Did you need help choosing a weapon?”

“Yes, but . . .” But what? What else could he possibly be here for? He sat down across from her, and saw . . . something . . . flicker in her firelight eyes. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

She looked at him curiously. “They don’t suit my idea of companionship,” she said simply. He blinked at her, and she took another bite of her stew.

“Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but you’re not how I expected you to be,” he said before he could really think it through. She made a soft sound that might have been the beginning of a laugh, the edges of her mouth curving. Hyun Jin’s chest tightened, and he felt foolish for it.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. He nodded.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he clarified. “You’re just . . . not like the other Dominion I’ve known.”

“Thank you for noticing,” she said, smiling fully now. “They tried to beat it out of me, but that just made me more determined to endure.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant beat literally. Knowing the Dominion, she probably did.

“How is it you came to be where you are, then?” he asked, forgetting himself again. Talking to her felt like talking to a friend, or at the very least a comrade he’d known much longer than one day. “I thought the Dominion—the empire—valued homogeneity. How is it that you’ve risen to where you are if you refuse to act like them?”

“Because I’m good at what I do, and the Emperor has enough beasts to fight without creating new ones on this side,” she said. Hyun Jin felt like a bowstring released, her words triggering a vibrating resonance within him.

That . . . sounded almost like a threat. It sounded almost like dissent. The empire was the way it was, and one either fell in line or was disappeared. Da’el spoke as though daring it to try.

He must have been silent for too long, stared for too long, because she turned her attention away from him, back onto her food. If there was a double meaning there, his silence likely made it seem like he hadn’t caught it.

Hyun Jin could feel the crossroads of this moment, the fork his life could take. He could ignore what she’d just said, or he could say something just as crazy, just as risky, something to show that whatever she’d meant, he was on her side, that his heart could hold the same insane dream she’d implied to be in hers.

“Well, at any rate,” he said, willing his voice to sound light, normal, “what weapon would you recommend I learn to best dispatch opponents with wings?”

Her eyes seemed to burn brighter as she looked at him again, and he knew she’d caught the meaning, that he’d heard and echoed her correctly. Not chimaera. Not beasts. No, only opponents with wings. It could be anyone.

It could be his own father.

“I think,” she said softly, “you’d be best suited choosing a heavier weapon, like an axe or a claymore. That way, you might clip their wings for good with a single stroke.”

Da’el had not said the words explicitly, but it was all Hyun Jin could think about while he tried to sleep that night. All his life, his two choices had been laid in front of him with no deviation. Die fighting the beasts, or be killed deserting the fight. There was no option in which he might get to live or die for anything other than war.

Now here was a Dominion, silently proposing that he could turn his blade the other way, that he might choose to cut down those that foisted such an ugly, losing choice upon him. His crime was his bastard birth, and he’d never spent much time thinking about the unfairness of it, because what was there to be done about it, anyway? Nobody cared about the deaths of bastards.

But maybe . . . maybe others could be persuaded to care about their lives.

Hyun Jin had never had a secret before. He was one of a legion, a weapon with singular purpose, always training or fighting or on the move. There was no life for him to live, no attachments for him to form, and no chances for him to accrue secrets. But as the days wore on, he found himself in possession of not one, but two.

The first was his unspoken agreement to attempt a coup against the Emperor. Part of that involved feeling out his comrades, an attempt to determine who might be sympathetic to such a cause. Another part was Hyun Jin’s training with axes. He started out with a regular battleaxe, eventually expanding his horizons to the pole axe. Hyun Jin’s sword style had always relied more on speed than brute strength, and while his body had been honed muscle before, the frequent use of heavier weapons made his upper body a bit bulkier in a way he hadn’t thought to expect.

In order to further his training as well as keep himself on track with his new cause, he spent as much extra time as he could reasonably steal with Da’el. He would show up early to training, or linger late after. Occasionally, he would even find excuses to step away and eat with her. He learned more than just weapons skills from her, and from therein came his second secret.

Being one of the Misbegotten was a lonely lot. They had each other, of course, but since they had all been sired to be weapons and nothing more, they were not allowed to have homes or families of their own. Not to mention that, since every Misbegotten had the same father, it was impossible for any of them to form anything more than the bond of comrades who might die the next day.

Simply put, Hyun Jin had never developed feelings for another person like what he’d developed for Da’el. They consumed nearly every waking moment and even some sleeping ones. All this was compounded by the fact that they truly got along, that the more time they spent together the more at ease they were. She spoke freely of things she’d seen and experienced in the heart of the empire, and he answered her with the grueling alternation of training and battle that had been his life up until now.

Up until now. As though there was a neat demarcation to denote the time before Da’el had come into his life and the time after.

It took him a sizeable chunk of time for him to realize that what he felt for her was not just camaraderie or companionship. It took him so long because he didn’t have anything to compare it to. Ever since he’d been taken from his mother and placed into military training as a boy, fighting alongside his half-siblings was all he’d known.

Now here she was, someone who didn’t share his plight, and, much more importantly, didn’t share his blood. No, what he felt for her was beyond simple friendship. It was a stirring in his stomach when he saw her, and a tightening in his chest when he thought of her. It was the way she stuck in his unconscious mind, visiting him in his dreams.

It was the feeling of finally having something to look forward to.

This was so much more than an alliance, a plot, a burgeoning rebellion. This was everything Hyun Jin had never even thought to dream of.

The more time Da’el spent getting to know Hyun Jin, the more he started to seem like two people sharing one skin. Most of the time, he was the soldier she’d met on her first day amongst the Misbegotten, stoic and mostly silent, graceful and terrible to behold in battle. In training, he was a marvel, and in combat, he was a nightmare, especially with his newly acquired heavy weapons skills. She’d once witnessed him take a chimaera’s head off with the creature’s own battleaxe.

But in the times between, when it was just the two of them? In the quiet moments when he lingered after a dismissal, or during the meals they sneaked away to eat together? That Hyun Jin was a completely different person.

That Hyun Jin had eyes wide with wonderment, listening closely when she told him stories about the capital, or of the way she’d risen through ranks in the Dominion. That Hyun Jin bent his head close to hers, and had a bright smile and a warm laugh, and spoke with her like they were old friends. That Hyun Jin had a gentle voice and a gentler spirit, speaking animatedly about the bright spots in his life, his half-siblings in the Misbegotten whom he considered his closest friends and who made his life bearable.

That Hyun Jin, whose eyes would glaze over when he recalled that not all of those half-siblings were still alive.

That Hyun Jin, whom she wanted desperately to reach out and touch but wouldn’t dare to.

Sometimes, when she left her thoughts unguarded, she looked at him and all she felt was pure, unfiltered want. All seraphim were born beautiful, but Hyun Jin was a cut above. Whether he chose to wear his features with warmth or severity, he was breathtaking.

And that was just his face.

Long-limbed and nimble, he was a flawless blending of grace and power that commanded her attention, especially now that he had taken on heavy weapons. His swords had kept him trim, yes, but thanks to the hefty battleaxe and the unwieldy pole axe, his arms, shoulders, and back showed his effort in their new solidity. There was not a feature of his that didn’t stand out, that didn’t feel perfectly tailored to attract her.

She tried to put it out of her mind, and often failed.

So when they found themselves talking long after the sun had fallen, the soft glow of their fiery wings illuminating their faces, their heads bent near so they could keep their voices down, she did her best not to notice the softness in his eyes, the endearment in his smile. If she listened to his tender voice for too long or gazed into his unguarded face too often, she might swear she saw the same ardor in him as lived in her, and that . . . that simply could not be.

At least, it shouldn’t be. Of all the things that could complicate a budding rebellion.

But then, a lull in conversation, and his expression changed, turning serious. She let her eyes wander away from him, paranoid that she might stare at him for too long, or even that she may have already.

When he spoke again, though, her attention snapped back.

“Why do the other Dominion call you ‘the witch’?” he asked, his voice somber but firm, as though the thought of the Dominion insulting her stirred something in him. His expression, the way his gaze seemed to look into her, implied the same.

“It’s the eyes,” she said. He was already looking at her eyes, and his own narrowed a bit, trying to puzzle out the connection. “They look a lot like the eyes of the seraphim who live on the other side of the world. The Stelians. They say that every last one of them is able to do magic, the kind of magic that hasn’t been seen in the Empire for a thousand years.”

“Can you?” he asked. She tossed him a questioning look, and he clarified, “Do magic, I mean.”

This was a crossroads. She’d trusted Hyun Jin enough to recruit him to her cause, but this . . . Her deepest secret? Did she trust him that much?

She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to.

“Not as far as the Dominion know,” she said softly. His eyes widened slightly, immediately taking her meaning.

“Then, you’re Stelian?” he asked next, his voice softer now, which had the side effect of making him lean closer to her. He was too close. He wasn’t close enough.

“Officially? No. But I must have their blood in my ancestry somewhere . . . Though I couldn’t tell you how far back, or how it got there. I don’t really know anything. Only that I am what I am, and what I am is different.”

His eyes flitted away for a moment, his lips briefly pressing together. She paid far too much attention to the motion, and was glad for his averted focus. He looked like he wanted very badly to say something, but was putting much of his self-control into holding it back. She knew the feeling. And she wanted to save him from it.

“Can I burden you with one more secret?” she asked, her voice little more than a breath. In an instant, his eyes were back on hers, letting her take up the whole of his focus, his mental turmoil forgotten. It was that simple. Why did he let it be that simple?

“No,” he answered, his voice as low as hers, a volume that made her cant her head just a little bit closer to his, “but you can gift me with one.”

Hearing him like that, and hovering so close to him that they almost breathed the same air, the secret she meant to tell felt suddenly and utterly unimportant. She discarded it, at the very least to be told another day, and instead closed the space between them, and kissed him.

Whatever thoughts had remained in Hyun Jin’s head fell away when Da’el’s lips touched his. His hands rose of their own accord, wrapping around her upper arms and drawing her closer, needing her to know that this was all right, that he wanted this. He’d wanted it so badly, and felt delirious to get it, as though this were one of his dreams.

She parted her lips just slightly and he mimicked her, letting her mesh their mouths more closely, giving him the slightest taste. He made a soft sound—of want, of gratitude—and her hand alighted against his neck while she tipped her head, claiming him more ardently.

When she pulled away a few moments later, Hyun Jin’s breath was short in a way it shouldn’t have been given the brevity. He panted softly against her lips; her eyes watched him closely. They darted, distracted, when he swallowed, and he felt the beginnings of a flush in his entire body.

“Can I add one more secret to the collection?” he murmured. She nodded. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Did you like it?” she asked, barely a whisper, a question he wouldn’t have heard if he’d been any further away from her.

“Yes,” he answered, perhaps too quickly. She’d hardly completed the question before he’d already answered it. That little smile of hers pulled at her lips, and he couldn’t take it; he put his mouth back on hers, shifting them closer, heat to heat, body to body. She was practically in his lap now, and she did nothing to get away from him. In fact, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her forearms brushing the upward curve of his wings, and he shivered.

This was all uncharted territory for him. He wasn’t stupid, of course—he knew what it was that amorous adults did when they disappeared together—but he’d never had the opportunity to experience it himself. It wasn’t conscious thought that made him grip her hips and grind her down where he needed her most, but rather instinct, and the resulting shock of sensation made him break their kiss with a moan.

For better or worse, that seemed to jolt Da’el to her senses. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that one of them still had their wits, and it certainly wasn’t Hyun Jin.

She swallowed hard, and seemed to be putting very much thought and effort into holding herself back from him. He didn’t try to pursue another kiss—he knew then with certainty that he could never bring himself to do something she didn’t want, in any context—and instead simply stared at her. She was so fucking beautiful, and even when she gently removed his hands from her hips, he didn’t feel rejected. Her gaze swept around them, and he gradually became aware again that they were outside, that anyone could happen upon them at any time.

“We’ll figure something out,” she said as she shakily got to her feet, offering her hands to him to help him stand. “But we can’t do it here.”

He nodded, hope blooming in his chest. It wasn’t a rejection. He wasn’t losing her. But it would look horrible should they be caught, and according to the Empire, she was worth a lot more than him. In being so careful, in planning ahead, she was effectively protecting him.

He cast a quick glance around them to make sure the coast was still clear, then leaned in to kiss her one more time. She kissed him back without hesitation, but made sure to break it before they could get carried away again.

“Goodnight, Hyun Jin,” she said softly, and they parted ways.

Over the next few weeks, they were almost found out multiple times, and every single time was Hyun Jin’s fault. Why? Because he couldn’t keep himself from kissing Da’el every time he thought the coast was clear.

Being affectionate with someone was brand new to him, and awakened a host of emotions he’d never been meant to feel. Butterflies of nervous excitement whenever he knew he would see her, shocks of anticipation whenever he leaned in to kiss her, and finally, the warmth and tightening in his body whenever she kissed him back.

She usually kissed him back, and any time she pushed him away, he knew it was for his protection. After all, of the two of them, he was the only one breaking any codes of conduct and therefore would be the only one punished. Whether she returned his kisses or shied away to shield him, the end result was the same: Hyun Jin could feel how deeply she cared for him, and he only wanted to be with her more.

Things got a little easier when they were called into reserve and allowed to go back to the capital. This meant the Misbegotten barracks for Hyun Jin and Dominion officer’s quarters for Da’el. It wasn’t much more private than being in an encampment during active duty, but there were, at the very least, better places to hide.

Tonight, for example, they’d stolen away amongst the racks of weaponry. Few people would be training at the midnight hour, and even fewer would be milling about the armaments. Da’el had glamoured both their sets of wings invisible, ensuring their glowing light wouldn’t give them away. Hyun Jin’s hands were tight on her waist, holding her against his body while his mouth worked with hers, their tongues teasing. Her arms were around his neck, and when he moaned into her mouth, she made a soft sound in return.

His cock strained against his pants like it always seemed to when he was allowed to kiss her for more than a minute straight. She had to be aware of that, but she never seemed to acknowledge it directly.

Until today.

She slipped one of her hands between their bodies, rubbing at the imprint of his cock. He broke the kiss with a long groan, his eyes lidding halfway at the friction. He’d taken care of himself in the past, of course, but those jaunts were few and far between, given the way Misbegotten always bunked in groups. There were some people who were just fine relieving themselves where others could clearly see or hear, but Hyun Jin wasn’t the type.

To put it simply, opportunities for masturbation were few for him, and that was accounting only for his own two hands. He’d never been touched by someone else before, and it was like lightning through his whole body.

Da’el tucked her face into his neck, kissing the sensitive skin while she continued to palm his erection, drawing soft sounds of desperation from him.

“Hyun Jin?” she breathed against his neck.

“Yes?” he scraped out, prepared to do whatever she asked of him.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” she asked, gently squeezing the shape of his cock. He trapped another broken sound behind his teeth.

“Yes,” he said instantly, then thought to add, “please.”

She took his hand then, and they both turned fully invisible. He told himself to remember to ask later how she did it, how her magic worked, but right then, his thoughts were preoccupied.

He followed her to her lodging, unseen. Only once they were safely shut inside her quarters did she drop the glamour completely, their wings visible again, too. As a highly ranked officer, she didn’t have to share living space with others at all times the way Hyun Jin did, unless they were in the middle of a campaign.

She turned to look at him again, her expression gentle and open despite the heat in her gaze. She looked almost as starved as he felt.

“Have you ever been intimate with another person, Hyun Jin?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I haven’t.”

She smiled then and squeezed his hand, motions meant to put him at ease. He appreciated it, but it wasn’t necessary; he already trusted her implicitly. After all, he’d never felt this way about anyone else; he only wanted her.

“Then, would it be all right with you if we took things a little slowly?” she asked.

“How slowly?” he asked almost suspiciously, and she chuckled. Clearly, his need was apparent.

“Not that slowly,” she assured. Then she opened her mouth and lolled out her tongue. The implication was unmistakable. Hyun Jin’s eyes widened a little, his cock twitching insistently in his pants.

“Yes,” he said. She put her tongue away, grinning now with mirth and mischief.

“In that case, why don’t you take those off and have a seat on the bed?”

He nodded, undoing first his boots, then his pants. She kicked off her boots, too, and let her hair free of its braid, shaking it out. He sat on her bed, as instructed, and she knelt between his thighs.

A needy throb went down the length of his exposed cock, and her eyes watched it with singular attention. Finally, she dragged her gaze up to meet his again.

“You’re sure?” she asked him, and her care struck him in the softest part of his heart. He brushed a stray wisp of hair back from her face and nodded.

“I want it to be with you,” he said, convicted, like he’d laid his beating heart out in front of her. She smiled at him one more time, and he knew his heart could not have found safer hands to hold it.

Then she touched him, and rational thoughts were pushed away to make room for the carnal. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base of his shaft, then put her tongue to his underside. Just the slight motion, warm and damp, was enough to make him tense. She drew her tongue all the way up his shaft, and he shuddered.

“Good?” she asked.

“Good,” he breathed.

She went on licking him, coating him in saliva a little at a time, making him easier to work with. He couldn’t help fidgeting, but he did his best to hold still; he didn’t want her to think he was greedy, even if it was the truth.

But when she took his cockhead into her mouth, he couldn’t help the shuddering groan that escaped him along with a shallow thrust to get more of himself in her mouth. Thanks to her prior work, it was a smooth glide with little resistance. She hummed around him, and the vibration was extra sensation. He made a throaty sound of pure want.

She seemed to understand that, and started bobbing up and down his slick shaft, taking him a little more deeply with each repetition. He pushed her hair back from her face, coiling it in his fist to keep it out of the way. That only seemed to make her motions more rigorous until finally she was taking all of him into her mouth with every stroke, acquainting his tip with the back of her throat.

Along with the glide of her lips and the suction of her mouth, her tongue was hard at work, most times dragging along the underside of his cock with each motion, but occasionally drawing along the sides of his shaft or even stroking over his tip. He did his best to keep his volume down, but it was just so much sensation that he had no prior frame of reference for.

Then, as though that wasn’t enough, she pulled off his cock with a wet pop, seamlessly moving into jerking him off instead while she ducked her head to lick his balls. The bolt of pleasure was immediate, making him drop his head back and moan.

“Still good?” she asked between motions, her voice huskier now, likely thanks to the abuse of her throat.

“Still good,” he groaned, leaning his head to the side instead so he could continue looking at her. He could barely process it all. He realized she’d switched tactics so she could get her breath back, and once she had, she put his cock right back into her mouth, frazzling his brain yet again.

He found himself unable to keep still, the coiling of pleasure so tight in his body that he couldn’t focus on anything besides his cock in her mouth and how badly he wanted to come, to come for her, to show her exactly how incredible she made him feel. He bucked his hips along with the motions of her head, forcing his cock as far into her mouth as it could possibly go. She gagged quietly but didn’t stop moving, her hands tight on his thighs.

“I’m so close,” he whined, and she hummed in answer. One of her hands moved to cup his balls, massaging gently, and he was done for.

With a loud, desperate groan and several shallow bucks of his hips, he came into her mouth. He made himself keep his eyes focused on her, watching her take it, feeling her tongue working along his length to ensure she got every drop out of him. When he’d finally emptied, panting little moans the entire time, she pulled off of him, taking the entirety of his mess with her, and held his eyes while she swallowed it down. Hyun Jin groaned again, letting his head fall back. His cock twitched despite being spent for the time being.

“How do you feel?” she asked, getting up from her knees and joining him on the bed. He looked at her, dazed.

“Like the luckiest man in the world,” he answered, a little bashful in his honesty. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, and he faintly tasted himself on her mouth.

When she pulled away, he met her eyes again, earnest and determined. “Now it’s your turn,” he said softly. She looked surprised, and Hyun Jin tried not to feel insulted. Did she really think he was so selfish as to leave her unsatisfied?

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

“I’d be happier if you let me do this,” he insisted. “Teach me how you like to be touched.”

He saw on her face then what she must have seen on his a minute ago, which was her brain momentarily refusing to work. She stared at him, then heaved a ragged sigh.

“How am I supposed to say no to that?” she murmured, standing up and slowly stripping her clothes off, letting him get a good look while she did. Not to be outdone, Hyun Jin pulled his shirt off, too, leaving both of them naked.

She climbed back onto the bed with him and reclined against the pillows, spreading herself open for him. Hyun Jin sighed deeply, almost unable to believe she was this wet because of him.

“Give me your hand,” she said, and he obeyed.

If she’d thought Hyun Jin was beautiful while clothed, then he was a vision naked. His dark hair and dark eyes were perfect complements to his golden skin and firelight wings. He was the perfect combination of lean lines and hard-earned muscle, and his cock had almost been too much for her to comfortably fit in her mouth.

Simply put, he was perfect.

He gave her his hand, and she guided him to gently drag his fingers through her wetness, coating his fingers and her heat in the process. He had big, gorgeous hands; she’d imagined his fingers filling her on more than one occasion, and she could hardly believe she would actually get it.

“Start easy on me,” she said softly, and he slipped one finger inside her, making her sigh. She kept her hand loosely on his wrist in case she needed to make adjustments, but so far he was doing fine. There was a difference between being inexperienced and being clueless, and Hyun Jin definitely wasn’t the latter. He pumped his finger in and out of her at a leisurely pace, splitting his attention between her face and her cunt.

“Now curl it forward while you’re nice and deep,” she said, and when he complied, she shivered, an approving moan passing her lips. Of course he’d be able to easily reach her tenderest spot with fingers like his.

He didn’t speed up, but kept targeting that same spot, causing a slow build inside her. Perhaps too slow.

“I need to be fuller,” she said, and with a faint smile on his lips, he added a second finger. She groaned, letting her eyes fall shut for a moment. It was during that moment that she heard him shift, and then his mouth was on her breast. She gasped, eyes springing open to look down at him. His eyes were half shut while he sucked on her, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. All the while, his fingers kept moving, stroking her inner walls and probing that sensitive spot over and over.

Once she was able to move through the haze of pleasure, she realized Hyun Jin was starting to get hard again. She bit her cheek, choosing not to say anything about it right away. No matter how tantalized she was by the prospect of his cock filling her up, she didn’t want to pressure him or ask for too much too soon.

Besides, his fingers and mouth were plenty.

“Hyun Jin,” she gasped, writhing when he moved away from her breast only to take the other in his mouth. “Faster.”

He complied, ramping up the pace gradually until he was fucking her hard with his fingers, hammering that one spot repeatedly while she moaned her pleasure, unable to keep quiet. He refused to pull his mouth away from her breast, his tongue running over her nipple again and again. One of her hands viced tight around the bicep of his working arm, dizzied even by this minor display of his strength, while her other splayed across his broad back between his wings, fighting not to dig her nails into him too hard.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, the build so intense she could feel her nearing end. It hit her hard, accompanied by a sharp cry and the arching of her body under his, open-mouthed gasps and moans following after. He did exactly as she said and refused to relent in his pace, though he did pull away from her breast just to watch her while she fell apart. Through bleary eyes she watched his face, his expression a perfect cross between blissful eagerness and darkened need. He was proud of what he’d done, but it wasn’t enough.

Thanks to the brutal pace she’d made him set, she came twice in a row on his hand, the second accompanied by an extra gush from her cunt, making a worse mess of both the bed and his hand. He made a sound that was part appreciative hum and part needy moan. Then, despite her lack of command, he removed his fingers from inside her and brought them immediately to his mouth.

She whined while she watched his tongue work, and much like she had, he held her eyes the whole time.

“I hope I tasted that good,” he murmured once his hand was mostly clean. She groaned, closing her eyes and nodding. She was still working on catching her breath when she heard him moving again, felt the bed shift with his weight. Her body jolted violently when she felt the long lap of his tongue up her dripping center.

“Fuck, Hyun Jin,” she hissed, looking down at him to find him already looking up at her. He went right on licking her, his eyes lidding with pleasure.

“It tastes good,” he murmured, as though his actions left any question as to his thoughts on the matter.

“I’m happy you like it,” she said breathlessly.

After a couple of minutes, he pulled away, wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his forearm. She bit her lip as he sat up and she realized he was fully hard again.

“It was my intention to clean you up,” he mused, “but I think I made it worse.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people are going to stay wet if the man they’re infatuated with insists on putting his tongue to their cunt,” she teased. At least, she meant for it to be teasing, but the effect was wholly lost on him thanks to her word choice.

“I don’t want you infatuated with me,” he said, frowning slightly. “That implies the feelings are going to end.”

His words struck her directly in the heart, and she sat up, rising onto her knees in front of him so she could take his face in her hands. He looked at her pensively, like he feared she might break his heart.

“That was the wrong word to use, you’re right,” she said, feeling it prudent to start there and alleviate the worry she’d caused him as quickly as possible. “I feel much more than infatuation for you. I feel wholly connected to you in a way I’ve not felt with companions in my past. You’re the man I want at my side as we remake the world, the man I want to spend my life with.”

His eyes were widened now, taking her in as though determining whether she could be lying to him.

“I want you with me, Hyun Jin, whether we escort peace into the world or die trying. You make me feel more alive than anything else has in years,” she said, drawing her hands gently down his neck to rest on his sturdy shoulders.

A smile pulled at his lips, and he asked, “More alive than magic makes you feel?”

“I think love is its own kind of magic,” she answered honestly, watching the way his eyes widened again when she used the word love. “I think we are our own kind of magic.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing close and kissing her, deeply, eagerly, over and over. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She was wholly prepared to lose herself in kissing him, but as he tugged her body close, flush with his, she had to contend with his erection sliding between her thighs, rubbing against her already hypersensitive folds.

She whimpered against his mouth, and something in him snapped.

It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear, every feeling he’d ever wanted reciprocated. To know that he’d finally found his person, that she wanted to be by his side as badly as he wanted to be by hers. He couldn’t help himself after that; overwhelmed with emotion, he’d needed to kiss her again, to attempt to express it to her.

Then she made that sound, and he went half-feral as he remembered what they’d been doing before they’d paused to talk, that his cock was still aching with the need to be inside her. Her mouth had been its own kind of ecstasy, but he needed more.

Swiftly, easily, he pushed her down onto the bed. She didn’t fight him; Hyun Jin knew she could have if she’d wanted to, and the small rational part of his brain still operating understood this as permission. He went down with her, his body stretched over hers, the head of his cock dragging along her lower abdomen, the contact making him hiss.

She stared up at him, chest heaving. His right hand was clamped around her left arm, pinning it down, his left planted in the bed to keep his full weight off her. He lowered himself closer, grinding his cock between her abdomen and his. Moaning desperately, he let go of her arm, dropping his forehead to her shoulder while he rutted against her stomach. The friction felt good, but it wasn’t what he needed.

“Tell me what you want, Hyun Jin,” she said, her voice so soft and close to his ear that he shuddered.

“I want to be inside you,” he groaned.

He expected her to say yes, to give him verbal permission. Instead, she used her impeccable command of her body and knowledge of his to shift under him just enough that when he moved again, it was to enter her.

He made a choked sound, his mind going utterly blank for an instant. She felt so good, hot and snug and so fucking wet. He straightened up, gripping her hips as he desperately thrust in and out of her, watching his cock pounding into her repeatedly. She was making those little sounds again, whimpers and whines, her nails digging into his thighs as though she was afraid of him backing away, of him refusing to fuck her.

He couldn’t fathom the idea of either, not until they were both completely spent.

When he’d gotten his fill of watching himself sink into her, he became possessed by the need to go deeper. He’d seen her fight both in practice and for real, and knew there were few positions her body, strong and flexible, couldn’t withstand. He clamped his hand to her thigh, just under her knee, and pushed her leg back until her knee touched the bed. Then he leaned over her, hips snapping down into her with a nearly primal frenzy, the change in angle giving him exactly what he wanted, letting him embed himself deep inside her, splitting her open with every stroke.

He knew he was doing a good job because her sounds changed, going from soft whimpers to louder whines, breathless in their frequency.

Then she licked his neck, and his whole body seized, throwing off his pace. She gripped the back of his neck, keeping his body down and close to hers while she kissed the column of his throat, then nipped at his tender skin. He shuddered, his body threatening to arch, failing only due to her grip on his neck.

“I can’t focus when you do that,” he whined, his rhythm gone entirely.

“Then let me,” she purred, and he shivered from her voice alone. His cock twitched inside her, and her walls clenched around him in response, making him groan. He nodded, and she let go of his neck, allowing him to straighten up and pull out. Before he could complain about the lost sensation, she put him on his back and, without even using her hands, slipped his cock back inside her. He made a strangled sound as he bottomed out inside her, his eyes rolling back for a moment.

“How the fuck do you do that?” he gasped. She laughed, riding him hard, driving the thoughts out of his head to the point where he barely remembered he’d asked a question, rhetorical or otherwise.

“Fuck, Hyun Jin,” she moaned. “I had no idea you’d fill me so well.”

“Yeah? You like it too much?” he said, goading. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept fucking back on him like that, and he wanted nothing more than her voice talking him through his orgasm.

“I should have guessed when my jaw got sore earlier,” she said, pretending like she was complaining. “You’re lucky it all fits.”

“Not lucky,” he shot back. “I think you were meant to take it.”

She moaned, her face flushed from her efforts. “You’re right,” she whined. “I was meant to take your cock, and take it all.”

“Fuck,” Hyun Jin hissed, gripping her hips hard and bucking up into her. She made a sound that was almost a shriek, her nails digging into his chest. He’d felt her come on his fingers earlier, and he was suddenly desperate to feel it on his cock before he fell apart.

“Please, love,” he moaned, keeping up the brutal pace himself now, “I need to feel it.”

In the end, he didn’t give her a choice. He’d paid astute attention when she’d directed him earlier, and he knew the best angle to get her to come. With a broken cry, she nearly collapsed on top of him, shuddering while her cunt fluttered around his cock. He let up a little then, giving her a chance to ride out her newest high and get her bearings back.

He didn’t want to break her. After all, they weren’t finished yet.

She pushed her hair back out of her face, her bare chest heaving. Hyun Jin swept his gaze over the whole of her, body battered from multiple orgasms, his cock still sunk deep inside her. A pulse went down his length and she shivered, whimpered.

“Think you can take more?” he asked, needing to be sure.

She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I said I could take all of you. That means your size, your stamina, and your semen.”

He groaned aloud, his cock pulsing again at her vulgar word choice. “How do you want it?” he ground out.

Gingerly, she lifted off him, leaving his cock soaked in her wake. Then she laid down again, her touch ghosting against his hip, coaxing him.

“I want to see you,” she said as he climbed over her again. “I want to be under you, surrounded by you. I want your body, hot and slick, all over mine. One last push, until you finally fill me the way you’re supposed to.”

He moaned, lining himself up and pressing into her slowly this time, watching her squirm as she took every inch.

“Think you can do that for me?” she breathed. He nodded, sweat dripping off his chin and onto her chest. She chuckled. “Off to a good start.”

She smoothed her hands up his back, and it was all the urging he needed to move. He fell into his rhythm quickly, understanding better now the way their bodies fit together. She held her thighs wide open for him, and he leaned over her, chest to chest while he snapped his hips into her, chasing his high. Her moans were right next to his ear, spurring his need. She drew her nails down his back and he moaned, too.

“I need it, Hyun Jin,” she whimpered. “I need you to fill me. I need you to do this for me.”

“I want to,” he whined, every muscle in his body wound tight from his efforts. Her hands ran along his thighs, his sides, his shoulders, and her touch was like fire. Every contact point between their bodies was slick with sweat, and despite how many times she’d already come for him, there was no shortage of slickness between her thighs, still just as aroused now as she had been at the start.

Her mouth was on his neck again, kissing and nipping while he moved. He groaned.

“Mark me,” he said, impulsive with need.

“Someone could see,” she protested, and he shook his head, his damp bangs falling into his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I need you to mark me, please.”

He didn’t care what excuses he’d have to make up, what he’d have to do to cover it. He needed lingering physical evidence that he was hers, needed something to remind him this hadn’t been a dream. He had no idea when they’d get to do this again, and that scared him most of all.

Her lips closed against his neck, sucking the sensitive skin, making him groan, a shudder going down his spine.

“Oh— Fuck—”

It was as she marked him that he came apart, moaning incessantly, over and over, spurring needy little bucks of his hips before he finally pressed as close as he could and stopped moving, letting each pump of his cum empty itself deep inside her. Despite using her mouth earlier, his orgasm wasn’t any less intense this time; he didn’t come any less hard. Her lips left his neck, tingles still shooting through his body while he panted, his high tapering.

He propped himself onto his elbows just enough so he could see her face, but he refused to remove himself from her, refused to pull out. Her hands rubbed his lower back, apparently in no hurry for him to move, either.

“You’re sure that was your first time?” she teased. He laughed, leaning down to kiss her.

“I’m a quick study when it counts,” he said. But then he sobered a little, watching her face, her eyes, the care and concern in her open face.

“What is it?” she asked softly, brushing his sweaty bangs back from his face.

“This won’t be the only time, will it . . . ?” he asked. They’d gotten lucky this time, that no one had caught them at the practice pitch or in the halls. Hell, they hadn’t exactly been quiet. He was praying at this point that nobody quartered near her knew him well enough to recognize his voice.

“Of course not,” she said immediately. “Even if I have to glamour us both and fly far away from here, we will do this again.” She paused, smiling, and gently touched his neck. “You’re mine now, remember? You’re not getting away that easily.”

His chest tightened at the word mine. Godstars, he’d always wanted to belong. He burrowed close to her, burying his face in her neck.

“I’m yours,” he confirmed, truly content as her arms folded around him. “It’s the only thing I want to be.”

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin x oc

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