#v;; the forest deity

[antexmortem]

Dacian sighs a bit as he sets up the circle in the forest. He needed a space that was quiet, and connected to the elements.  He lights each candle and sits in the center, bringing himself to a relaxed state as he began meditating, listening to the sounds of nature around him.

@brokenwretchedanddivine​

          There was an all too family feeling of someone being in his forest, Jake wasn’t necessarily surprised. More often than not it was either teenagers sneaking off to drink and party, or poachers or thieves, the latter two always met his claws when he came to defend his home. The teens were easy to spook off if they got too rowdy, the beast wasn’t one to spoil their fun.

This presence however...there was something strange about it, one the beast had not felt in a while.

He sought to hide himself up and out of sight, which would have been impossible had he been in his other form, being as large and clumsy as it was, climbing and staying in a tree was a damn sight impossible. He hadn’t been able to do it for a while. He watched for several moments before deciding to reveal his presence. “What are you doing here, witch?” There’s a level of wariness in his tone, but he’s not hostile, not yet. This man would not have heard him coming if he thought he was a threat.

#brokenwretchedanddivine #inter;; dacian #v;; the forest deity

[kamaluhkhan]

GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)

read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)

summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.

warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡

author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)

♪: "get him back" by olivia rodrigo

(i. he had a savior complex) 

if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you. 

no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.  

you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not. 

you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.

everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp. 

and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.

you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld. 

you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do. 

i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it. 

you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost — 

the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing. 

your eyelids fluttered open.

it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.

standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan. 

he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.

"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.

lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury. 

"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”

you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him. 

lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room. 

“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.” 

“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.” 

he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.

“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”

luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.

“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?” 

clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“what are you doing here?” he practically growled. 

“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”

at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with. 

it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess. 

needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend. 

but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you. 

“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia. 

even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more. 

“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”

“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.” 

clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.

“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned. 

“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.

“are you feeling okay?”

“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.

a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.

“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”

you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence. 

when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.

it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay. 

manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal. 

despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.

“luke.”

for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.

he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”

“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him. 

you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin. 

“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”

you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh. 

“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”

there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:

“it’s…you. you’re….okay?” 

luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too. 

you gripped his wrist to steady him. 

“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours. 

“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”

“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”

 he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close. 

“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you. 

you refused to lose hope. 

no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.

“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.

“but —” 

“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?” 

as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action. 

chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.

luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.

you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.

after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.

you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.

you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.

“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth. 

you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.

“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier. 

no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it. 

you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him. 

when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering. 

“thanks, karma.”

you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin. 

“what happened? did clarisse —”

“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied. 

you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.

“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile. 

it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher. 

fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family. 

the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family. 

you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you. 

the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin. 

(ii. he had an ego)

according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.

she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.

“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.” 

annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast. 

"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive." 

"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate. 

"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight." 

you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.

“nice work, rodriguez.” 

"we're going out tonight?"

you pressed your knee to luke's under the table. 

"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate." 

so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed. 

there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol. 

"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!" 

everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks. 

the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.

for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.

there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends —  the people you loved — had beat the odds. 

so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental? 

beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out. 

under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones. 

whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire. 

“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.  

his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips. 

to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since. 

not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric. 

you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.

so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music. 

after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.

“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”

“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.

it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core. 

“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”

“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”

your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon. 

the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.

and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.

you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right? 

luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something. 

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it. 

before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?

luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more. 

you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at. 

“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.

silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink. 

“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”

“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”

“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.

“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10  denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”

“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.” 

you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry. 

“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip. 

“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”

you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen. 

“well, we aren’t.” 

that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner. 

“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”

“cowards?” you suggested.

silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”

neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.

suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier. 

“i am not a coward.” 

without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you. 

part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat. 

“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea. 

“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?” 

someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger. 

“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.

“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.” 

you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.

the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”

“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.

the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.

“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.

"i don't owe you anything." 

"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.

you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.

“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”

“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”

his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —

you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.

“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady. 

it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender. 

“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”

you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix. 

“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”

your fingers tightened into a fist.

“that is not —”

“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”

“luke, what are you —”

“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.” 

“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted. 

you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process. 

you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you. 

he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends. 

“see what i mean?”

“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”

oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….

“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”

rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded. 

“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.” 

luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.

"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."

rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.

you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire. 

“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk. 

that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.

“what?” 

“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”

you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”

“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”

he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night. 

“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”

“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.” 

luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe. 

“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.” 

you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.

"what about the redhead?"

luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."

"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too." 

"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?" 

luke turned towards the exit.

"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?" 

luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."

his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker. 

it made you want to kiss him all over again.

(iii. he lied without flinching)

you couldn’t find luke anywhere. 

he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.

when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura. 

ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin. 

you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother. 

“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”

“actually, we were just —”

“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning. 

“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”

luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance. 

“i already said no. end of discussion.”

“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.

the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.

“okay, seriously. what’s —”

“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed. 

once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly. 

“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.

“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”

you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.

“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained. 

“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”

you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend. 

sitting down next to him, you sighed.

“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?” 

clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style. 

you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:

luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”

“what?”

he leaned in close, voice low.

“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”

“no. no. she wouldn’t —”

“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”

“we all are,” you pointed out.

“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”

you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it. 

“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”

luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile. 

“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?” 

you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.

at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.

he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?

you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.

(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)

 it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.

it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend. 

luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic. 

you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through. 

no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same. 

that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous. 

“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”

you felt him chuckle against your skin.

“since when do you care about that?” 

“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin." 

"that’s only if we get caught." 

luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.

it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much. 

zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.

"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.

you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.

it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming.  the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.

luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.

he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your come.

"yes, sweetheart?"

“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned. 

once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.

“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you. 

“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away. 

you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”

“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.

you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. it might have been strange, but you had a favorite — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.

if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it. 

“eyes up here, beautiful.” 

when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.

“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”

you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.

“yes,” you finally answered.  "please."

luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin. 

after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard,  to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.

luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too. 

there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.

you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit. 

“do you see my shirt there?”

luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:

“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”

you placed your hands on his cheeks. 

“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.

“luke, baby, look at me.”

when he finally did, your heart ached. 

it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.

but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you. 

“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”

luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine. 

 “if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”

luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you. 

“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke. 

thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second. 

you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.

“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”

“sparring?” 

“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”

“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”

“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”

you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted. 

“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.

“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”

as if either of you could forget marathoning the entire twilight saga with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.

you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.

zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.

luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.

luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.

“easy there, edward,” you joked, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck. 

you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.

“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.

“this is the skin of a killer, bella!” he mimicked.

you laughed at the reference, but when luke seemed to realize what he said, you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips, though you didn't know why.

“i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.

“you won’t.” 

at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing. 

for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.

you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.

the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?

in the words of bella swan: he was the one you were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with. 

except your life wasn't some cliché yet endearing love story about fictional vampires and werewolves. 

it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late. 

(v. he made you look so naive)  

there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous. 

luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die. 

you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.

dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.

“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, as usual. 

you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left. 

“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.

you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly. 

a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath. 

“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”  

“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”

your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.

you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.

because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?

luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.

you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.

vi. he was a vice you could never shake

calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)

the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums. 

it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.

you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp. 

but, you’d been away for a few years, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you were in school and working as a bartender to pay for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup. 

sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life. 

you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with. 

you missed —

no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore. 

you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds. 

before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse. 

and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”

ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday. 

i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.

think of the devil, and he shall appear.

it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.  

you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken. 

i can’t stand to hear your name

you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you. 

it was just that — a bad feeling, right?

 you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up. 

oh baby, you really blew it.

the song ended, and your blood ran cold.

it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed. 

as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.

those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded. 

so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light. 

“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”

you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends. 

as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor. 

“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”

“because i’m alone.”

“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”  

after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about. 

luke tried again. 

“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.” 

you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him. 

“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.

“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”

your eyes grazed luke carefully.

he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip. 

“no. you don’t get to just —”

the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.

“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?” 

“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”

his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness. 

she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.

“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded. 

“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”

stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing. 

 “great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”

you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise. 

“i know….i fucked up, karma.”

you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.

“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”

“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”

“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”

luke stared at you. you glared back at him. 

“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension. 

you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away. 

“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”

“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”

kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”

baby. you could have laughed. 

“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.

kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed. 

“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”

“that’s not my home.”

out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time. 

you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes. 

luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.

you stepped in front of luke. 

“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”

kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws. 

“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards. 

you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again. 

again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break. 

it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of. 

you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife. 

you were definitely out of practice. 

“kelli!” 

you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.

“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”

luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”

luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.

you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other. 

luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.

“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.

“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.” 

to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”

“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.

the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled. 

“okay, we need to get you —”

“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced. 

the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.

“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”

you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.

“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”

“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”

“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”

looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped. 

bad habits were always the hardest to break.

“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”

luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”

you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home. 

(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)

your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.

“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”

you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid  kit.

luke knelt down in front of you. 

“can i take your shirt off?” 

you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar. 

there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.

at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too. 

what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.

and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

“wait. what happened?”

“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.

“luke.”

“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”

kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember. 

wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him. 

“can i take this off?”

luke nodded. 

the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.

like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.

“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.

our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that. 

“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”

you couldn’t help but add that last part. 

“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle. 

you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.

it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream. 

luke just had to make everything so complicated.

“they’re fine, all things considered.”

you didn’t offer anything more, anything less. 

he was quiet for a moment.

“you seem to be doing alright, though?”

you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head. 

"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."

"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking. 

"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze." 

"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat." 

you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.

the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee. 

you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.

luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.

"yeah?"

"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.

"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."

"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here." 

you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything. 

you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions. 

once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.

"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.

"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”

you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”

luke caught your wrist before you could leave. 

“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….” 

his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.

“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”

“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”

something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:

“i’ll do it.” 

before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.

neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him. 

the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.

once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.

“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.

you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.

the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.

you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.

you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed. 

neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet…. 

part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end. 

luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.

what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?

leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?

now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —

you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.

luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.

“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.” 

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along. 

“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”

“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”

it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest. 

how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on. 

just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.

another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —

luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“no kissing,” he warned. 

“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”

luke swallowed thickly.

you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.

it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice. 

“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”

“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”

luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate. 

he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.

luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him. 

“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.

you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.

“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone. 

luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:

“you’re such a —”

you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress. 

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.

you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.   

in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. 

“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed. 

slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too. 

sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.  

you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some. 

“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out. 

what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out. 

there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your back encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.

when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines. 

“fuck it. please — kiss me.”

you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.

luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. 

“please,” luke pleaded once more.

his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached. 

you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.

yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.

you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.

“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again.  “i missed you so fucking much.” 

luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same. 

it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.

you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:

“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”

you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”

“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest. 

you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.

“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.

you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.

“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”

maybe that was true.

in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice. 

deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?

“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago. 

"i guess not."

you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.

"how's your shoulder?" 

"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you." 

those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.

you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle. 

matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other. 

"i love you too.”

at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.

maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.

luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.

you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.

#i haven't seen the finale but from the gifs my heart is already broken #and here i am breaking it more <3 #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #saf writes #Spotify #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo show #pjo fanfic #pjo series

[naeverse]

Divine Touch

Requested by: Anon! Request: That would be so good if there would be kink series(some aren't tho)! Good thing someone asked for it l'm shy I have a list on mind Imao: Roleplay, breeding kink, Exhibitionism, scene play, age play or ddig, praise kink?, cockwarm?, threesome with peter b parker prob, lactation kink, phone sex?, mirror sex?, dacryphilia, oh maybe like an au where the reader is pregnant n Miguel just get turned on by that LMAO

A/N: I completely adore this request, it's literally the inspiration for the kink series so thank you so much anon! I hope you enjoy the your first one! ❤🧡

🧡staring: Deity!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Maiden Reader

      🏺preview:  

“I must keep the balance in Nueva Yorkhaven or chaos would go rampant upon our lands.” He said, keeping his crimson eyes on you. “So if I take a life…

 I must replace it…”

⚔️summary: After being coerced by your mother into a marriage with a man you didn't love, who treated you poorly, you believed your life was over. It wasn't until you remembered one last divine solution that could possibly help alleviate your wretched situation.

🥟tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Breeding Kink, Clit Stimulation, Doggystyle, Grinding, Historical Era, Mythology-Based, Orgasms, P in V, Power Difference, Praising, Unprotected Sex, etc…

🍵Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Pequeñita (Little one), Querida (Dear)

     ⛩️Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🧡 Word Count: 12.3k

(I do not own any of the photos used! All credit goes to the original artist!)

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

(This oneshot contains Breeding do not read, if you are not comfortable)

Breeding kink - The sexual desire to be impregnated or to impregnant another.

**YOU'VE BEEN WARNED**

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the beautiful village of Nueva Yorkhaven and bringing upon the covering of night, you, a fair maiden of the town, traversed during the dark hours down the cobblestone pathways. The gentle glow of lanterns that adorned every trail served as a guide towards your desired destination.

You clenched your black cloak tightly to your body, attempting to hide all traces of your being and the basket that you carried. With frantic, cautious eyes, you swiftly flicked them around, trying to detect any lingering presence in your path; but upon finding none, you quickened your pace.

On your covert journey, you passed cottages with ivy-covered walls and huge trees with dew-kissed leaves that danced in the moonlight, welcoming the night.

Your feet, adorned in black Astrids, carried you through the winding routes of the village, leading out into the quiet meadow that surrounded it. You left behind the dreamscape facade of your village to tread warily into the forest.

Following a dirt path that looked to be used before by countless others, it led you deeper into the meadow. Fireflies wove trails of light along the dark road, while the distant hooting of an owl echoed through the woods, making you jump. Your hand landed on your chest, feeling how harshly your heart was pounding.

You knew the consequences if you were caught, but it didn’t matter.

Things had gone too far, and you needed assistance.-

Divine assistance.

The forest was painstakingly quiet. Every rustling of leaves, cracking of wood, along with your timid footsteps, seemed to reverberate through the trees. A gentle breeze brushed past you, filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, yet a subtle unease clung to the air like sticky sap on tree bark.

With every step, a voice in your mind told you to turn back, to stop.

You soon realized it to be your mother’s.

Her pestering and nagging words clouded your head the deeper you entered the woods.

‘You know traversing the forest in the dead of night isn’t fit for a young lady. Turn back now!’

‘What would Sir Hawthorne think of you?’

‘Turn back now or you would be seen as a disgrace to your father!!’

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, a shaky exhale passing your lips. Even though it was your own head, your mother’s pestering sounded almost too real; it shook you to your very core and even had you contemplating returning back the way you came when the silhouette of an ancient structure emerged in the distance, causing your worried thoughts to halt.

With a soft gasp, the idea of leaving left you as you hurried along, a sense of relief washing over you. You left behind the unsettling forest and looked upon the worn, yet sturdy stones that held up the quiet sanctuary of your town’s guardian. The large entrance was framed by weathered gray columns, adorned with two flickering torches that casted a soft glow of red-orange into the dark space. The air carried a new sense of otherworldly, different from the feeling of unease you felt before.

You gazed up at the olden engraving of letters, etched into the stone above the massive doors, reading under your breath:

Sanctuary Of Miguel O’Hara Guardian of Nueva Yorkhaven

Just uttering the deity’s name felt ancient and heavy upon your tongue. A huge grin spread across your lips, reading the name of the divine structure once more.

You did it. You actually did it.

You were here…

The harsh grip you had on your basket loosened; anxiety and fear that clung to your being like leeches faded away. You felt an overwhelming sensation of safety and security as you approached the ancient doors.

Despite the feeling of disbelief at your success, you set down your basket and placed both hands onto the ringed doorknobs. The doors were heavy, and it took all of your strength to hear the satisfying creak and soon feel the stone doors move out of their rooted place. You were only able to open them a little, but it was big enough for you to slip through, entering into the sanctuary of your village's infamous guardian.

Instantly a rush of cool air brushed along your body, making you hug your black cloak closer to you. The room was dimly lit with torches and candles as your feet walked along cool ancient stone, guiding you to the heart of the shrine. Respectfully, you drew down the hood of your black cloak, your eyes unable to take in the magnificent sights before you due to astonishment.

You had always heard stories and legends about the great Miguel O’Hara. How he saved your village from many horrific storms, dreadful winters, and blazing droughts. How, with his divine might, he crumbled armies and men who dared to harm his people.

Miguel protected your town and watched over every villager. He was there to pick you and your people up when you fell, whether that was with love, wealth, or glory.

The villagers of Nueva Yorkhaven looked to Miguel for needed support, and he was known to answer your calls of need every time…

Standing and gazing upon your protector's sanctuary, it resembled the great deity perfectly.

The room was styled lavishly in warm reds and muted yellows and oranges, granting a sense of protection to those who entered. Tall pillars rose at each corner, stabilizing the grand building, and the walls were decorated with sacred symbols—images of laurel leaves and celestial patterns that showed Miguel’s guardianship and lasting connection between the divine and mortal realm.

As you move further into the sanctuary, your eyes instantly are drawn to what lies in the center. On an elevated platform adorned with laurel wreaths and symbols of protection was your Guardian’s majestic stone throne, and in front of the throne was an intricately designed altar. The sacred surface was covered with offerings of fruits, flowers, prepared dishes, and tokens of gratitude that were carefully arranged. Candles flickered softly around the tributes as your feet led you towards it.

Nervously, you bit your lip.

You couldn't remember the last time you’d done this.

Before, your family would visit your great deity’s sanctuary once a month, dress his altar with beautiful gifts, and pray for protection until the next month when you’d return once more.

After your arranged marriage to Alden Hawthorne, a man who traveled to your village in search of a wife to betroth, your family stopped visiting.

Sir Hawthorne lacked all youthfulness in his appearance. His facial features showed his age, and he wasn’t a suitor who set hearts aflutter either; instead of his looks doing the speaking for him, his wealth did.

His stature and wealth led many fair maidens of your village to toss themselves at the older male in his late 40s in an attempt to get a grab at his riches.

Of course, without seeking consent, your mother had already given your hand to the salt and pepper-haired male, who, with one glance at you, agreed almost immediately.

You were the most beautiful in your village. A rose that bloomed gloriously amongst ordinary flowers. Due to the poor conditions of your household, your mother sought for more. After your father’s death, she became adamant on finding a living, so she used you to do so.

With the betrothal to Sir Hawthorne in place, from then on, only pesters and nags left the lips of your mother, demanding perfection and a great image. “You will be the wife of Sir Hawthorne, after all. You’ll have to act like it as well, dear," she'll tell you countless times until that dreadful day.

Vows that weren’t written by your hand and said by your heart were read aloud, expensive, lavish rings were exchanged, and the most atrocious kiss was shared.

You didn’t think your life could get any worse until after your wedding when your mother pulled you to the side. With a huge grin and beaming face, she told you what was to occur during your honeymoon.

Something so very abysmal it almost made you retch.

“During that time, the breeding of children will be had. You remember the drawings I’ve done for you—that is to occur.” She said with a smile. “All you must worry about is laying back, spreading your legs, and not being a little pest to him. Got it!?” She spat harshly, proceeding to speak of being a grandmother and having grandchildren to take care of and fill her day, not at all concerned for her daughter who was real and right before her.

And as you anticipated, that night was horrific and excruciating…

It was laden with weeps of sorrow and agony. The booming voice of your mother, that told you repeatedly to not be a pest and to not protest, filled your head while a pain that struck you like a hammer upon a nail hit you over and over again…

It’s a memory you try to efface from your mind.

After the dreadful honeymoon, you, sadly, had to live with him. Sir Hawthorne had a house built in your village, Nueva Yorkhaven, one so grand and modernized that it contrasted greatly with the usual dreamscape cottages.

You hated your life there as every day in the lavish halls of your new home, you were worried about only one thing.

Did Alden’s advances work? 

Would you bear him a child?

You would weep every time the idea crossed your mind. After two months had passed, Sir Hawthorne hired doctors to come to your home. You weren't showing any signs of pregnancy and that worried your ‘husband’ to death.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in your marriage when the doctors told the two of you about the failure of Sir Hawthorne's advances. It appeared to have been a failed impregnation, but one on Sir Hawthorne’s part.

Your ‘husband's’ inability to produce an heir angered him immensely.

After the doctor visit, the facade of your marriage crumbled, and Sir Hawthorne revealed a side of himself that you had feared—he turned abusive—mentally and emotionally.

Every word that left your mouth was seen as an irritation. He demeaned and belittled you and constantly criticized your appearance.

Sir Hawthorne isolated you from villagers, housekeepers, your mother, and forbade you from having friends. He even halted your use and access to his riches—although it wasn't like you used it anyway.

As a sign of punishment, he forced you to assist in keeping up the house. He had housekeepers that worked alongside you, but he purposely gave you higher expectations than the normal help.

Despite the stress of your new job, you found solace in it.

It reminded you of the peaceful times back in your home cottage when things were right.

A time when your father and mother were together, your mother wasn't so cruel, and where you were loved.

It was a memory that always came when hanging clothes to dry or harvesting produce.

It wasn't until Sir Hawthorne discovered your contentment with your punishment that he made things even worse for you. He gave you harsher tasks, such as washing every window of his grand house to sparkle in the sun, redecorating rooms over and over again to his liking, and being made to work even in the dead of night.

The physical labor had become too much as he even denied you access to necessities like food and proper clothing.

You felt trapped.

Stuck in this cycle of degrading and forced labor that felt endless.

Many times you thought of running away, but to where? You didn’t have anywhere to go.

You didn’t have friends; he forbade it.

Your neighbors in Nueva Yorkhaven adored Alden. They’ll think you were the crazy one if you came to them with your troubles.

And you definitely couldn't go back to your mother; she’ll send you back.

It felt hopeless…

Like a blossomed well-kept garden, suddenly, an idea came to mind. One that after all these years, you've completely forgotten was the solution to any villager of Nueva Yorkhaven's debacles.

Miguel O’Hara.

The protector of your village, the guardian of every mortal being born and raised in Nueva Yorkhaven.

He was your refuge, your solution to this mess.

But standing before his altar, inside of his sanctuary, you’ve never felt so disconnected from him.

With shaky hands, you set your basket down upon the stone tiles and untied the black cloak from around your body, laying it down gently onto the stone floor to create a small cushion. You descended upon your knees, a neutral-colored bodice with short sleeves adorning your figure. Aimlessly, your eyes wandered the altar, trying to remember how your family did it before.

When you were all together… 

Father, Mother, and you…

It felt so long ago.

You pushed back the urge to cry as your gaze landed on the throne, a feeling of strength overwhelming you. You lowered your head, closed your eyes, and began to speak and recollect the words your father uttered all those years ago.

“‘O’ Mighty deity of protector and strength. I…I call upon you on this night to ask for your presence.”

You declared with a shaky voice. After a moment, only silence followed and filled the quiet sanctuary.

Fear and worry filled your being. After your father said those words, you remembered feeling a warmth, a rush, a feeling, something!

The only thing you felt was the heat from the candles and the excruciating silence that seemed to span on forever. Your lips trembled, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks.

Did your deity turn his back on you?

Was that why he wasn’t listening?

The thought only made you sob even harder. You lowered your head to the ground, placing your forehead against your cloak.

P-Please…Miguel. I-I need you.”

You cried, the sound of your weeping being the only thing heard after your desperate words.

It felt hopeless… 

It felt like you could feel his presence, but he just wasn’t answering.

Like he was just…

There…

Watching…

In the midst of your sobs, a strong hand cupped your chin, lifting it up.

In alarm, your eyes snapped open coming face-to-face with what you deemed utterly impossible.

“Lift your head mortal. You have shed enough tears.”

The booming voice of your deity said, his crimson eyes holding its divine blend of stoicness and softness as he gazed down at you.

You were unable to speak, only capable of staring back in shock.

Your mighty protector smirked, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb before pulling away. The mere action sent a wave of heat throughout your body, the urge to cry and the sensation of sadness melted from your being.

Unable to keep your eyes off his mighty figure, you watched him walk away from you, his majestic scarlet robe trailing behind him whilst he walked up the steps of the stone platform to take a seat in his throne.

You still couldn’t believe he was here, blinking once, twice, thrice to make sure you weren't mistaking the sight.

Miguel O’Hara, your town’s powerful and divine guardian was, indeed, before you. Your eyes traveled to his seated being, taking in every part of him.

In the dimly lit sanctuary, the great deity sat on his throne. His tanned muscular frame exuded strength, a declaration of his divine might. His dark hair cascaded in waves, framed a chiseled face of stoicness. Crimson eyes stared down at you, the dancing fire of candles and torches reflecting off his red orbs.

Draped in celestial attire, Miguel wore a flowing robe of deep scarlet, adorned with intricate golden patterns. Atop his head, a circlet of gold laurel leaves styled his thick brow and around his neck hung a pendant, both signifying guardianship. To complete the divine being's attire, golden sandals that were crafted with celestial elegance dressed his feet.

Despite the times you came here with your family, Miguel’s appearance was a first.

There were legends and rumors that drifted through the village of his presence gracing the eyes of mortals, but many believed it untrue—but here he was, before you, sitting in his throne with a posture so perfectly regal and straight it was astonishing.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say; his previous touch seemed to be burned into your cheek. With a stunned expression, you stared up at the mighty deity who returned your shocked look with a stern gaze that shook you to your very core.

He then raised a thick eyebrow, his eyes still locked on you. “You appear surprised, yet you summoned me, mortal.” His deep voice seemed to echo inside the small space. You exhaled, breathing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Y-Yes, mighty deity. I-I did call upon you.” You stammered, not knowing what to do and hastily lowering your head in a bow while remaining in your kneeled position.

You thought you were dreaming. That this was all just a moment occurring in your time of slumber, but the thunderous voice heard before you said otherwise.

“Lift your head and state your reasoning for summoning me, mortal.” He said in a gravelly tone, one that contrasted greatly with his previous touch and soft gaze.

Like the mighty being ordered, you lifted your head, meeting eyes with the deity once more, and instantly you lost the ability to speak. All thoughts escaped your mind as you gazed up at him.

He was majestic just like he was described, painted, and sculpted by mortals; yet, standing before him in the flesh surpassed every interpretation drawn by man.

His tanned skin seemed so radiant and flawless, and his body looked taut and perfect. It didn’t help your stunned state that he was very attractive, despite his face being completely hardened and cold.

“Human. State your reason.”

He repeated, knocking you from your trance. Your lips quivered, trying to find the words, and when you did, you held onto them tightly, not letting them go.

“M-My name is Y/N. I’ve resided in Nueva Yorkhaven since my birth and I-I need your divine assistance, great deity.” You muttered with a voice of little confidence. Deep down, you were still shaken up at the fact that he was here before you, in all of his greatness.

Although the belief of him making an appearance to villagers was thought to be untrue in Nueva Yorkhaven, it was said if he did appear, you were special.

So were you…

Special?

You didn’t feel like it.

The celestial being grunted in disapproval at your words. “Y/N…it’s been ages since I’ve seen you here at my sanctuary, yet you ask for my assistance.” He stated in a rumbling voice that unsettled you like an earthquake.

Your lips trembled, shame visible upon your facial features. “Y-Yes. I-It’s, indeed, been a while since I’ve come to g-glorify you, mighty protector.” You said, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes due to worry about how this interaction would go.

“I see…” He uttered, his piercing crimson eyes still trained on your small being before his altar and throne. “I hope you have brought a tribute along with your presence, Pequeñita.”

Hastily you nodded, opening the case of your basket and taking out the many offerings you had brought for your divine protector— apples picked from Sir Hawthorne’s garden, a woven beaded necklace made by your mother from your youth, cooked empanadas that you knew were the deity’s favorite, and something that you cherished deeply— the last letter written by your deceased father.

You placed each item in a neat arrangement upon the surface of the altar. “I hope you accept my offerings, ‘O’ great one.” You whispered, your voice carrying a blend of hope and reverence.

Miguel’s eyes lingered upon the sacred surface, taking in your tributes from his throne to settle his gaze upon the cooked meal. “Hmm, empanadas.” He uttered, his voice holding satisfaction at the sight of the delicacies. “You know your deity.” He chuckled, giving you a brief glimpse of his sharp fangs that gave a formidable aura before he turned his gaze back onto you.

“Wonderful choice of offerings, Cariño. I'm deeply pleased.” The great being said, filling you with relief. “As well, I am happy that you have come back to me after all this time.” He said, a comforting smile spreading across his tanned lips that brought a sense of warmth inside.

You placed a hand on your heart, giving your deity a deep bow once more. “I am grateful for your comforting words, mighty deity.” You said, a satisfied grunt leaving your protector’s lips at your appreciation.

“Now, tell me, mortal. How can I assist you?” He asked, his crimson eyes seeming to draw you in as well as his fanged smirk. You gulped, apprehension filling your being at his anticipated question.

You were aware of the reason you sought the great deity, but you didn’t know what other way for your life to be fixed if not for the dreadful request you were about to utter.

“Great deity, I…I need you to…

Get rid of my husband.”

You said in a trembling voice. A deafening silence filled the sanctuary after your shocking request, one that even seemed to surprise the great being.

His thick eyebrows rose on his face, his regal posture faltering upon his seat. “You want me to…get rid of your husband?” He inquired, his powerful voice demanding clarification and certainty, bringing you to nod.

You’ve heard of the great being ridding your village of bad people, of individuals like murderers, thieves, and outlawed criminals who came to seek refuge, but he’d done it of his own free will.

There wasn’t a story where a villager asked for the assistance of the protector to eradicate anyone, so it felt odd and a little scary to be the first.

Miguel hummed, his crimson eyes roaming over your being before returning to your face. “Pequeñita, I cannot lie - your request surprises me.” He said, studying you as he spoke. “Your husband is Alden Hawthorne, is that correct?”

Your eyes widened at your mighty protector’s knowledge of your husband, but you should have known - he watched over the villagers of Nueva Yorkhaven, after all.

“Y-Yes, protector. Alden Hawthorne is my…husband.” You replied, finding it hard to prevent yourself from speaking in disdain at the role the horrible male had in your life. While you spoke you kept your head lowered in a way that still showed respect but attentiveness to your great deity.

Miguel hummed at your agreement, shifting to rest his elbow on the armrest of his stone throne and placing his chin onto the knuckles of his divine hand that was covered with golden bands. The change caused his scarlet robe to ripple with his movement and the light to bounce off his circlet golden laurel leaves that sat upon his head.

“Alden Hawthorne.” He scoffed. “The foreigner who has entered my lands and who hasn’t even come to meet me?” He asked in disdain—it seemed Sir Hawthorne hasn’t made a good impression with your villager’s mighty guardian.

“Great deity, y-you are correct. Sir Hawthorne, i-isn’t from Nueva Yorkhaven. He comes from New England.” You said. “Sir Hawthorne also doesn't know of your divine presence upon our lands.” You explained to him in a shaky voice. A surprising fanged smirk spread across his tanned lips at your explanation. “You do not have to be formal when it comes to him, Pequeñita.

It’s just you and me.”

His words made your heart flutter. At your guardian’s request, you realized what you’ve been saying. Alden and your mother had taught you to always speak of your ‘husband’ in such a way—to always address him formally. It had become such a normal thing for you that despite despising your husband, you still did it.

Even now before your great deity, you were speaking such a foul name.

You bowed your head once more in appreciation. “O-Of course. I-I will not be formal when addressing him, ‘O’ great one.” You said, a little too delighted at the thought of deserting such a name that gave you a sense of freedom from your dreadful husband.

“As well as me.”

The divine being added with a small smile. Your eyebrows furrowed, not believing what your great deity just said. You looked up at him to see his crimson eyes gazing back at you, still holding their sternness but now a hint of tenderness was found.

It felt odd for him to ask you, a mere mortal, to abandon the formal names that were meant to be used to glorify and show his divinity. It was hard to abide by such a surprising request, but for your great protector, you would attempt to.

“I-I will try my best, M-Miguel.” You whispered, his name still holding the same weight when you read it upon the sanctuary entrance.

Miguel smirked proudly, leaning back in his seat and resting both of his hands on the armrests, using his thick finger to trace patterns into the stone of his throne as his scarlet eyes never left you. “Good mortal. Now, this…Alden.” The divine being said, returning back to your request at hand.

“I knew of him to be a problem when he first stepped into the village of Nueva Yorkhaven.” He said with a disapproving head shake. “No good comes from mortals who think of themselves as gods.” He growled, his lips turning up into a scowl. He looked at you once more, his crimson eyes settling on your kneeled being before him. “Tell me, what problems has this mortal caused in my lands?” Miguel inquired, his face hardening.

You wetted your lips, preparing the words that you were to tell to your mighty guardian. “Alden Hawthorne shows little interest in knowing your divine greatness upon our lands.” You began. “He…built a home by taking down the sacred trees of the village, and he uses others to serve him… l-like a deity.” At your words, Miguel’s thick eyebrows narrowed, his crimson eyes seeming to darken. “This mortal is living off the backs of people - My people?”

“Y-Yes, Miguel.” You confirmed causing him to snarl, his eyes wandering the room in rage before settling on you.

He looked to be sensing something, his crimson orbs glowing for a second, while his finger tapped the armrest of his throne in steady, thunderous beats, all the while keeping his intense gaze on you.

It was rather unnerving…

“But that isn’t why you want him gone…Is that right, Y/N?”

His surprising question struck you right in the heart. Every cutthroat word, demand, and task that Alden had given to you came rushing back in an instant.

“Y-You are right. T-The words I previously spoke i-isn’t the reason I want Alden gone.” You sniffled, trying to hold back tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. Miguel’s eyes softened, his attention drawn to your trembling being. “Speak to me, pequeñita. What has this…foreigner done to you?”

His question only made the harsh memories flood back to you like a tidal wave. You shakingly exhaled, blinking back tears. “Frankly, if I were to recollect every wrongdoing that Alden has ever done to me, I’m afraid, you’ll be here forever, Miguel.” You confessed sadly, just remembering everything Alden had done to you was like an endless web of thorns, each holding a prickling reminder of the pain he has caused; some greater than others.

“Then forever, I shall be.”

Miguel’s deep voice filled your ears, brimming with comfort and warmth that instantly soothed your broken heart. Meeting his eyes, you found his enchanting red orbs holding love. “Tell me, Cariño,” he urged. “I might already know what you will say, but I want to hear it from your beautiful lips—if you may, my dear.” Your heart fluttered at your deity’s compliments and endearing names.

You knew speaking of this would only make you more emotional, but you knew you must.

For your deity you’ll do anything…

Before you spoke, Miguel gave you a small smile. “And if you may, will you come closer? I want to see you before me.” He asked, his request leaving you stunned once again. No one was ever to transverse further than the altar, but at your divine protector’s wishes, you rose to your feet.

Your bodice trailed behind you as you walked up the stone steps of his platform to step directly in front of him. His divinity seemed to radiate from him. One could instantly feel Miguel’s superiority and it made you want to kneel and glorify him.

You kept your eyes on your feet as even when he was sitting, Miguel still towered over you. A small chuckle passed his lips when you felt his divine fingers take hold of your chin, lifting it up to meet his gaze.

“Are you ready to begin, pequeñita?” He inquired, his intense gaze causing your legs to tremble slightly. You wet your lips, nodding slowly. “Y-Yes, Miguel.” You whispered. He gave you a fanged smile and released you to settle his hands on his armrest, giving you a nod to begin. You took a deep breath before starting from the beginning.

“M-My mother married me off t-to Alden two years ago.” You said, trying to hold back the agonizing desire to burst into tears. “I never liked Alden, ever since I casted my eyes upon him for the first time - he was prideful, egotistical, and a womanizer.” You explained.

“O-Our marriage wasn’t consensual from the start and as time passed I felt like I was losing control of everything. M-My mother led my life like it was her own, driving me to seal my dreadful fate with Alden in the spring.” You said in a trembling voice, a tear beginning to stream down your cheek at the recollection.

You couldn’t meet your great deity’s eyes, certain you’ll break down into a fit of tears; so you pressed on without casting him a glance. “A-After the wedding, t-the honeymoon occurred…” You trailed off, that horrific night coming back to you. A shaky exhale passed your lips, the trembling of your body only intensifying.

A large, rough hand was placed on your waist, the tremors instantly coming to a halt. “You do not have to dwell on details if it pains you so.” Miguel voiced calmly, stroking your waist with his mighty thumb.

With a small sniffle, you nodded slowly, deciding to continue, bypassing that painful night. “I-I was forced to live with him afterward, a-and he was hoping that I would bear a child for him.” Your voice quivering as you spoke. Miguel’s face remained unshaken, but the subtle tightening of his fingers against your waist revealed his inner turmoil.

Once you caught your bearings you continued. “I-I couldn’t help but be a little relieved when I discovered that I-I wouldn’t. T-The doctors were trying to be modest when they spoke to us, but we discovered that Alden couldn’t bear himself a child even if tried.” You said.

“H-His body couldn’t will it.”

To your surprise, a small smirk spread across Miguel’s lips at your words. “Ah, you see everything must be balanced, Cariño.” Miguel uttered. “Alden constantly took from the world, in turn, his ability to reproduce was taken from him.” He said so wisely with a voice of might. A greater burst of relief and satisfaction filled your being at your deity’s words.

“I-I’m grateful for that occurrence, Miguel. Very much.” You said very appreciative, recalling the many days and nights you spent stressing and worrying. Miguel caressed your skin through your beige and black bodice, the mere touch making your body burn up. “You are welcome, pequeñita, and you may continue.”

With a nod, you proceeded. “Because of his inability to create, Alden became angry at everyone and everything, but especially me.” You sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “He began to treat me unwell, such as demeaning and speaking vulgarly to me in such a ridiculing manner.” You tried to explain in a stable voice, but failed miserably. Miguel listened intently, his mythical eyes never leaving your being as you spoke.

“Alden Hawthorne made me into his personal servant, and when he saw that wasn’t a harsh enough punishment; h-he made things worse by giving me impossible tasks to complete and dehumanizing me.” Your lips trembling horribly as you recalled the terrible memories. “A-And for two years, I've lived this horrific cycle of degradation a-and harsh labor and…

 I just wish to be free…” 

You said sadly, allowing your final words to fill the air. When you looked up at your great protector, he was fuming. Miguel’s eyes were darkened and anger could clearly be seen in his facial features despite his attempt to keep a hardened face. 

You’ve never seen your deity so furious, even the flames upon the candles and torches inside of the sanctuary seemed to intensify with his growing rage. “He’s really done these things to you, pequeñita?” He inquired through gritted teeth and sadly, you nodded. 

He growled, baring his fangs in fury. “So this useless leech believes he can come to my lands, live upon it and use and hurt my people?” Miguel hissed, his hand continuing to caress your waist in a soothing manner despite his palpable rage. 

You didn’t know if to be scared or appreciative of his shared disdain for Alden. Your divine protector’s anger was causing the entire room to heat up, the flames of the lights to burn larger with his rising fury. His narrowed crimson eyes moved in thought, his large hand lifting from your waist to settle on the armrest of his stone chair. 

Miguel's stern gaze landed on you, a deep exhale passing his tanned lips, causing the raging fire of the torches to settle.

“Allow me to consider your request…” 

He said as you hastily lowered to your knees before him, casting your eyes to the ground. 

During judgment, the great being would go into a state of complete thought. Like you've read in your youth, during this time, he'll become knowledgeable of the outcomes of his choices and if the human before him is worthy to be graced with their request…

And depending on their request, they could be struck down by Miguel himself in the place they stand…

You chewed your shaky lip, anxiety overwhelming you like an overflowing well. Being the first villager with the request of eradicating a human, it could be seen as murder, a disruption in the land of Nueva Yorkhaven. 

Your mind raced of what would occur. 

Would Miguel deny you your request, send you back to your life of torment and anguish by Alden, or strike you dead where you stand?

But there could be a possibility he does neither…

That he'll grant your request and you could finally be graced with the peace and freedom that you've yearned for…

However, you didn't want to get your hopes up…

If living by your mother's cruel words and residing with Alden Hawthrone has taught you anything is that hope strikes the heart deeper than any weapon when used carelessly.

And right now, you couldn't be careless to believe you'll reach the light at the end of the dark path. 

It'll only wound you even more if you do…

So, with a pounding heart, you awaited your great deity's next words, chewing your bottom lip raw and clenching your bodice so tightly that your knuckles turned white as you waited…

…

..

.

“I've come to a decision, mortal.”  

Your heart dropped, harshly gulping. Shakingly, you looked up to meet your deity's piercing crimson eyes, his face completely devoid of emotion. Giving him a curt nod to show your attentiveness, you prepared yourself for the worse—that he would reject your request and even worse, punish you for asking him such a thing. 

You were shaking in fear, full of anxiousness of what he decided that your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“With the request that you've traveled to ask me Y/N, I've come to the decision to…

Complete it…” 

Your eyes widened, everything seeming to have come to a stop. You were certain you had stopped breathing. “W-what?” You stammered breathlessly, looking up at Miguel’s stoic face in surprise. “I’ll rid the world of your husband, like you asked.” He said, your heart skipping a beat at his clarification. 

But before you can utter your astonished appreciation, his next words made you freeze.

“But, you must do something for me in return.” 

With furrowed eyebrows, your shock face turned into full of worry as you gazed up at your deity. You wanted Alden gone, but you were a little concerned at what the price you’ll have to pay to do so; 

However, your desire outweighed your fear. 

Hastily, you bowed your head once more, pressing your forehead onto the stone tile before his mighty feet. “W-whatever you need, Miguel. I-I’ll satisfy it.” You declared in a voice full of desperation. 

A hum left Miguel’s lips, before he ran his fingers through your hair, the action causing you to look at him. His piercing crimson eyes instantly meeting your poignant ones. 

“Don’t agree until you know my terms, Cariño.” 

He uttered mysteriously causing a knot of anxiety to build inside of your belly. You nodded slowly, chewing your bottom lip. Miguel leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on your kneeled being before him. “I spoke previously about a balance. You do remember that, right pequeñita?” He inquired, causing you to nod. “Y-Yes, I remember.” You told him, a little worried about how the balance of life was important when it came to your request; it didn’t help that Miguel’s face gave no hints on what he could possibly mean, making you even more nervous.

“I’ve never had one of my people request to take the life of the living. Due to this wish being from a mortal, I must demand something in return.” He explained, tapping his finger against his stone armrest. You wet your lips, looking from his large hands that were decorated with gold rings to up at his mighty tanned face. “And…w-what do you require, Miguel?” You asked, feeling your heart quicken. Your great deity’s eyes narrowed, his face turning completely stern. 

“I must keep the balance in Nueva Yorkhaven or chaos would go rampant upon our lands.” He said, keeping his crimson eyes on you. “So if I take a life…

 I must replace it…”

Miguel trailed off, his words repeating themselves over and over in your mind, yet you were still puzzled about what he needed in return. “Miguel…I-I do not understand.” You honestly said to your great deity, and Miguel didn’t hesitate to tell you. 

“If I am to kill Alden Hawthorne, you must bear me a child to replace the life taken, Y/N.” 

His voice seemed to echo and bounce off the walls of your mind, repeating itself for eternity, but you still couldn't believe what your great deity needed from you.

“Y-you want me to bear a child for you? In return for Alden being…gone?” You asked in astonishment. Miguel grunted in agreement, only making you even more baffled.

“But…a-a deity mating with a human is forbidden.” You reminded the great being even though you already knew his knowledge of the ancient laws. Miguel nodded at your words. “Indeed, but when it comes to…circumstances such as this, the laws are allowed to be bent.” He stated, his words causing a wave of heat to fill your being.

“So, Y/N…will you accept my terms in exchange for Alden Hawthorne to be eradicated or leave my sanctuary without my divine assistance?” The great deity inquired, his crimson eyes trained on your kneeled being before him. You could feel his gaze traveling along your body as you pondered your decision.

‘If I agree, Alden will be gone, things can go back to the way they were before his appearance into my life…but I'll have to bear the child of my great protector — and not just any child, a demigod!’ You thought in disbelief, chewing your bottom lip.

‘But if I do not, I'll return back to my dreadful life of sorrow being a mere servant to a man who I'm to call my ‘husband.’’ You pondered, trying to discover which choice would be better.

The thought of returning back to Alden was a nightmare, but you couldn't help the uncertainty that was bubbling inside your stomach like a potion being brewed by the village doctor at the thought of bearing such a mighty being. It felt like a huge responsibility, one that you weren't confident you would be able to handle.

You lowered your head in respect, gripping the fabric of your neutral-colored bodice in your fists. “M-Miguel, I…do not believe I-I’m the right person for this task.” Sincerely you told him in a trembling voice. “I-I want A-Alden gone, but I’m afraid of disappointing you.” Your words of ambiguity reverberating off the walls of the ancient sanctuary before fading into silence.

The feeling of Miguel’s piercing gaze upon you was intense as he grunted in understanding. “I comprehend your reluctance to agree to my terms, but without me, your fate will be jeopardized, my dear.” The divine being said, his deep voice causing you to lift your head and meet his perfectly chiseled facial features once more. His face still held its stoicness, but his eyes, like before, held a look of tenderness that made you warm inside.

Miguel leaned towards you, the scarlet robe shifting slightly to give you a glimpse of his toned pec underneath as he cupped your face in his mighty hand. “With my child, you would grow stronger.” He said, his eyes wandering your face whilst his fingers held your cheek with such gentleness. “This child shall heal all the wounds of your heart and return the joy you’ve lost back into your life, Cariño.” He explained, his expressions full of love and compassion, the most emotion you’ve seen since his appearance.

“This baby is your refuge— your solution if you wish to live in peace and happiness once more, Y/N.” He cajoled, the more he spoke, the more enticing his deal was…

Miguel, of course, was right…

The thought of having a demigod, a mighty being, a child would, indeed, help everything…

Before departing from your dreadful mother, she spoke heavily about you bearing a child—one that she could care for and love.

During that time, you didn’t understand her reasoning, only seeing it as her not loving you anymore and wishing to replace you, but it wasn’t that at all. 

Your mother was wishing for something to fill the hole in her heart that was created when her husband, your father, passed away. She yearned for a grandchild that could help her mend her sadness and grief, which her desires blinded her from the pain she was causing you. This revelation changed your view of your mother. Over the years, you’ve grown to despise her when really, she was broken just like you.

Perhaps, like your great protector has said, this child could fix everything. With their mere divine presence, they can restore the good in your life and return it to how it was before…

Your mother, back to her happy and loving self.

Alden Hawthorne gone.

And lastly, peace and joy being restored to your life.

If this child was to impact your life this greatly, you couldn’t help but want to agree to these terms.

It seemed as if it was your last hope.

Your last chance to make things right…

Miguel stroked your cheek with his thumb, drawing you from your thoughts and back to the grand decision beforehand. “So what will it be, Cariño?” The divine being asked, his eyes seemed to glow with hope and reverence, the look rather foreign on the great protector. After thinking it over, you knew your answer, causing you to give him a hesitant nod.

“I-I agree…” You uttered sincerely. “I’ll bear your child and bestow upon it the love that I could only have wished for in my years of being with Alden.” You affirmed, keeping your eyes on the deity and holding the confidence in your voice.

At your declaration, Miguel gave you a warm, fanged smile. “I’m delighted to hear your acceptance of my terms, querida.” He said, caressing your cheek with his mighty fingers before pulling away.

"But may I confess something in return?" 

He inquired, returning to his regal posture with his arms positioning themselves upon the stoned rests of his throne. You were intrigued, yet worried about what his confession could be.

Was it about the child? 

Your fate? 

What secrets could possibly be shared from a divine being to a mere mortal? 

It was a troubling thought...

Giving him your approval with a nod, you shifted on your knees into a comfortable position, awaiting the deity’s confession.

Miguel smiled, keeping his crimson eyes on you. "I’m known as a being of protection, a divinity that is to guard the people of Nueva Yorkhaven, but that is my only role— it’s what I was created to do." His deep voice echoed off the walls of the sanctuary and blended well with the flickering of candles and torches inside; but to your surprise, the deity’s usual stern expression suddenly saddened.

"But recently I’ve grown to want more…"

He uttered, silence following his words. You were stunned at his confession, never wondering from the great protector’s perspective that possibly he could desire something other than being a guardian.

You felt sympathy for him…

"What is it that you want?" You asked with a compassionate voice, one that seemed to be new to the great being. His thick eyebrows furrowed and his posture faltered. Miguel tilted his head at you, confusion found in his usually stoic facial features. "I’ve…never had someone ask me such a thing." Miguel admitted, a soft and uncertain chuckle passing his lips. The mere question of his desires seemed to cause him to be unsettled.

"M-My apologies." You began. "It’s just…humans always come to you with requests and desires, and you consult them each and every time." The words being pulled from your being as your mouth continued to move. "Yes, we bring you offerings and tributes to thank you, but what is it that you truly want, Miguel? What is it that you seek but believe it’s too far away that even you cannot seem to grasp?" You sincerely asked. 

Miguel’s crimson eyes widened,  his defined Adam's apple moving with a hesitant gulp "What I desire sounds rather silly, but it’s a mortal want, something as a deity I find to be impossible to obtain." He said with a small laugh, the riddle troubling you. Miguel smirked, taking in your confused expression.

"I desire love, little one."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. You weren’t expecting that to be what he wanted from the world. Like he had stated, it sounded like a human desire rather than from a great being that has lived upon the world for many, many years.

Miguel took in your face as he shook his head, a snicker passing his tanned lips. "I know, a silly desire from a great being as myself, but I want to love like you, humans." He said once more, his expression turning into one of deep thought.

"I do not mean love as in worship, but intimacy and connection…I want to experience what it is that causes mortals, such as your mother, to not be able to live on without the presence of their loved one." Miguel said, looking off whilst he spoke.

"I want to feel the beating of the heart and the flutter of the stomach that you humans write of in stories and tales. I desire a love that drives and strengthens me; one that courses through my being and is the reason I breathe." He admitted so vividly that it could be seen as he turned his red orbs back to you. His eyes seemed to slightly glow a bright red hue.

"But that isn’t what I wish to confess to you, Cariño."

You were even more surprised than you were before at his words. "W-What is it that you'll l-like to share, Miguel?" You muttered with a voice stained with anxiousness. You were nervous to ask what he really wished to reveal that was even more shocking than what he stated before.

Miguel’s entire face hardened, his stern eyes trailing along your being, taking in every part of you—the aged bodice that framed your figure perfectly, the dark circles under your beautiful eyes, and the failed effort of taming the unkempt hair upon your head.

Even in this state, something was happening and it troubled the great being immensely.

"You’ve…done something to me."

He simply stated, causing your breath to become stuck in your throat. "W-what?" You asked in confusion and fear, not understanding what he could mean. "You’ve done something to me, human." He repeated, his piercing gaze never faltering from your kneeled being.

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, his statement leaving you completely bewildered. Despite how troubled you were by his words, you kept silent, looking down at your lap as Miguel's thunderous voice filled the sanctuary once more.

"When you arrived and called out to me in tears, I couldn’t stop myself from appearing before you," he stated. "When you told me your request of wanting your husband gone and your reasoning, it made my heart behave…oddly, especially when you did what no human has ever done and asked me what I desired." He tried to explain; however, his gravelly voice was laced with rigor and disarray.

Your heart dropped at his explanation of these "odd" feelings he was experiencing.

‘He’s not feeling what I think he’s feeling, is he?”

You pondered, biting your lip and rising slowly to your feet. “M-Miguel, I do not wish to speak out of turn or assume incorrectly, but is it perhaps that you are experiencing what you desire…? 

Love?”

As if a lantern was sparked inside of a dark forest, Miguel’s eyes widened. “It…It’s possible.” He replied in a suspicious voice while his gaze roamed along your figure once more before settling on your face. “To be honest, I’ve found you captivating since I first saw you in my sanctuary, Y/N.” He confessed with a small smile. “But it did sadden me to hear the debacles in your life. 

I would’ve eradicated Alden sooner to prevent them.”

His tone was completely cold and serious as he looked at you, but your heart fluttered at his natural protectiveness, something you wished you had alongside you in the years of being Alden’s wife-servant. “But…with your help, we can fix them now.” You whispered, remembering the terms of your agreement with the great being that brought a smile to his lips.

“Indeed…” He replied in a tone that he, perhaps, didn’t mean to sound erotic but made your cheeks burn nonetheless. You gulped, trying to regain your composure. “And…how would this be done?” You inquired, believing it to be a divine touch of his hands upon your belly would magically create a baby into your womb.

But this was far from a fairy tale…

“To seal our terms, we must perform it in connection to one another.” He explained.

“As one.”

You suddenly felt like fainting. The thought of experiencing that, with the great protector, shocked you more than anything you’ve heard in your time in the sanctuary.

Completely stunned, you could only look at him with an agape mouth and widened eyes. Miguel laughed. “Don’t be so surprised, human.” He chuckled, suddenly taking your hand and pulling you onto his lap.

With a gasp, you found yourself upon his thick thighs, your legs resting upon the taut muscles. Your cheeks reddened as instantly you were aware of how close the two of you were—the divine silk of his scarlet robe and your bodice being the only obstacles between the two of you.

You gulped, the action not helping your rapidly beating heart like you hoped. Snapping you out of your thoughts, Miguel cupped your cheek in his large hand, caressing your skin with his thumb as his crimson eyes roamed along your face.

“I know your first time was…painful,” He said sympathetically, continuing to stroke your cheek soothingly.

“But I’ll be sure to replace that memory to be something truly wonderful.”

He promised, his other hand moving along your side, feeling your body through your bodice. A shaky exhale passed your lips, eyes fluttering at the sudden intensity of sensations that were coursing through your being. You believed that due to his divinity, it was causing everything to be more heightened, every touch seeming to linger and burn into the surface of your skin despite fabric blocking his bare touch.

You couldn’t help but nod in approval, craving his divine touch. Miguel smiled, drifting his hands down to run along your legs, disappearing under your bodice to bring your housekeeper dress up and over your head. He dropped the neutral colored bodice on the ground beside his throne, revealing the white chemise that covered your bare body underneath.

He sucked in a breath at the sight, caressing your thighs and rear. “So beautiful, little one.” He purred, placing a hand to the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss. You instantly gasped as he kissed you passionately, massaging your chewed lips with his tongue before entering your mouth to taste you.

You’ve never experienced intimacy in this manner, allowing him to take the lead and bashfully returning the kiss. Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against him whilst he continued to kiss you. Every part of his being wasn't left unnoticed. 

It was impossible.

It was hard to ignore how his pecs pressed into your peaked chest through both of your clothing, his burly arms and muscles that held you snug against him, and his thick thighs that flexed underneath your legs; even the intensity of his body heat was causing your core to throb in desire, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Everything about your deity was slowly blinding you, like a heavy fog was briskly clouding your mind with the only light source being him.

You wanted him, needed him to be able to see clearly again, and Miguel, like always, was there to cure your debacle.

He pulled away from your lips, the lingering buzz and taste of him still on your tongue and mouth. “Are you ready?” He asked, caressing your bare thighs soothingly, his suggestive question causing a pit of uncertainty and fear to fill your being. The memory of your dreadful honeymoon with Alden rushed to the surface along with the excruciating pain, sorrow, and the suffocating feeling of helplessness that followed.

Miguel instantly saw the fear that grew upon your face, bringing him to take your chin in his powerful fingers, his eye contact with you, unshakeable. “What occurred with Alden will never happen again,” he sternly said, his crimson eyes roaming your face, taking in every expression.

“If you are worried, the pain will not exist with me; your body will be too consumed with…other feelings that it will not allow it.” Miguel reassured, stroking your cheek. “And if, by chance, the pain does occur, don’t hesitate to speak—to tell me to cease, and I will. Do you understand me, querida?” The great protector inquired.

With trembling lips, you couldn’t help but nod, wholeheartedly believing his words of assurance. In Miguel’s arms, you’ve never felt safer, and you trusted that he would make this intimate experience with you enjoyable.

The deity gave you a smile, reaching down to undo his robe and drawing back the scarlet fabric to reveal his perfectly defined olive pecs, abs, stomach, and thighs; but what instantly got your attention was the enormity that sprung up from the red fabric to rest against your belly.

In all of your life, you’ve only seen the male’s intimate part once, and it was with Alden; but his was nothing compared to the great being’s.

Miguel’s tanned member was large and thick with a bulging vein and an angry mahogany tip. It pointed up to the ceiling, perfectly erect and hard. The sight intimidated and aroused you as you looked up at Miguel with stunned eyes. Miguel chuckled at your astonished expression, running his fingers through your hair. “We will take it slow,” he said, consoling you once more.

You bit your lip, looking back down at the size of his length, trying to imagine how it’ll possibly fit.

It seemed incredulous.

Your eyes snapped up at Miguel at the feeling of his hand beginning to draw your white chemise up, revealing your bare rear underneath. A heavy blush spread across your cheeks at being exposed in front of your mighty protector, drawing a laugh to rumble from his chest at your flustered state.

His crimson eyes looked down at your exposed crotch and up at you. “Do you mind if I touch it?” He asked, his tone sweet and not wanting to overstep. “I just need to see if you are…

Ready.”

Miguel explained, but you didn’t understand what he meant. Your mother had never gone into thorough detail when it came to intimacy, only stating this was how babies were born and what occurred, other than that, you were lost.

Nevertheless, you placed your trust into your mighty protector, giving him a nod. You assisted him by lifting your chemise to your stomach, allowing him more access to your sensitive area whilst you nervously awaited for his touch.

Miguel looked pleased at your approval, moving his ringed fingers between your thighs to run the pads of them along your folds. You sucked in a breath, eyes instantly becoming hazy at his divine touch. Miguel clicked his tongue at your lack of saturation before pulling away. He looked up at you, meeting your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. “You aren’t…wet enough.” He stated, causing your eyebrows to furrow as he continued. “We’ll have to get there before we begin.”

Despite your perplexity, you followed his every word absentmindedly. Miguel placed his hands on your waist and slightly lifted you upon the girth of his cock. He groaned softly, his length laying against his stomach while your folds rested on the base of it. You moaned softly at the feeling of his warmth and hardness in between your folds.

Miguel looked up at you, a fanged smirk on his lips as he rocked you against him. The most unlady-like sounds began to be pulled from your throat at the sudden bursts of pleasure; his cock sliding between your folds and pressing into your sensitive bud with each push and pull of your hips upon him.

The great being grunted and groaned, his crimson eyes looking between the grinding of your pussy along his cock and up at you. “How does it feel?” He inquired, but you were unable to speak.

The pleasure was so intense and foreign, a tingling sensation seeming to sprout from your core and throughout your body. With clouded ears and dazed eyes, you noticed the divine being snicker softly, satisfied that you were enjoying it.

He gripped your hips tightly with his large hands, grinding your body along his cock with much force and speed causing your heavy gasps to change to loud moans in an instant. A wetness began to spill from your core, coating your thighs and his cock with each nudge of his base and tip into your swollen bud.

In all of your life, you’ve never felt this blissful. Naturally, you overheard the many housekeepers at Alden’s mansion speak of this type of intimacy with their husbands and lovers—of euphoric feelings that were so addicting, one could become entranced by the activity.

At the time, you couldn’t understand…

Your time with Alden Hawthorne was anything but enjoyable and euphoric as the ladies spoke of, but now…

You understood what they meant…

Everything about this moment was what they described—euphoric, blissful, and most of all, addicting.

Your hands landed upon his broad shoulders, a heat pooling at your stomach as you took control, sliding your hips forward and pressing your core along his base with each grind. Miguel’s large hand held your lower back to steady you, but his attempt in holding in his groans was intensifying the feeling. 

“Just like that, pequeñita.” Miguel moaned softly, meeting your dazed gaze. “You know how to please me.” He chuckled between his heavy breathing, the praise only making your stomach tighten like the thread of a spinning wheel about to snap.

“M-Miguel…” His name fell from your lips in a whine as your thighs began to tremble and still. You were feeling like you were about to burst with each ongoing friction upon your sensitive bud. 

“I can’t…Something’s c-coming.” You whimpered, gripping his shoulders tightly, blunt nails piercing the skin, but it didn’t seem to bother the divine being. At your words, you felt Miguel’s massive length twitch against your core, and a soft groan to escape his lips. “Can you hold it for me, pequeñita?” He inquired in a stable voice, despite being so aroused. The tension in your belly only heightened at his request, however, you bit your lip, nodding. 

Miguel grinned at your willingness and obedience, soon effortlessly lifting your body and standing from his throne. You gasped at his suddenness, his large hands holding your bare thighs and pressing you closely to his muscular body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your white chemise fell down your body to cover his large hands that rested upon your legs. 

When you met the great being’s face, the look he held was different and very unexpected. His crimson eyes were brimming with love and affection, but something that you’ve only hoped your true lover would cast upon you. The sight made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flutter. 

The thought of a great being such as him feeling this way towards you, despite all that you’ve been through, made you feel profoundly grateful and touched. Everything about him felt heavenly, like this moment was the world apologizing for what it had put you through, and you couldn’t have been more thankful…

He walked to the side of his throne, lowering you to the floor without breaking eye contact with you. Your white chemise covered your figure once more, whilst Miguel’s hands were placed upon your waist to turn you around. You followed along with his wishes, giving him full control. He gently laid you across the armrest of his stone throne and pulled your chemise up to rest on your hips once more, revealing your bare bottom.

You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling a wetness sliding down your thighs at the longing for the addicting pleasure he could bestow upon you. A contented groan left the lips of your protector at the sight of your rear, his massive, ringed hands moving to roam the soft skin of your bottom. You moaned softly, the need to release was still evident in your belly, but only intensified with every divine touch of his hands upon your body.

You suddenly became aware of how massive and close the deity of protection was. His body heat was like a furnace on a cold winter night, his mere presence being able to warm you in an instant. His toned pecs and abs were palpable against your back through your chemise as he leaned over your body. The great protector’s hard cock poked against the back of your thigh causing your wet core to drip along your legs. Miguel’s lips grazed along your ear, the feeling sending a wave of heat to sprout through your body. 

“Are you ready for me, Querida?” 

He asked, seeking clarification in case of you regretting your decision; but you could sense he hoped you didn’t.

The many fearful and anxious thoughts overwhelmed your senses once more, but his sweet kisses along your ear and cheek were causing them to fade. “Y-Yes.” You replied hesitantly, still nervous about performing such intimacy that always terrified you after Alden. 

Miguel was relieved but still sensed your hesitance. His large hand caressed your stomach through your white chemise and continued his soothing kisses in hopes of calming you. “Trust me.” He whispered into your ear. “I promise, it would not feel how it was with Alden. It’ll be better.

I’ll make sure of it…” 

You always found the traits of the great beings fascinating, one of them being their inability to deceive. The deities could only speak the truth which only made you believe his words even more. 

“O-Okay.” You replied, taking the hem of your chemise in your hands to cope with your anxiousness but to also grant him better access. The sight only made Miguel smile, thankful that his words were able to settle your troubled thoughts. He pressed a final kiss to your cheek before pulling away. 

Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest as you felt him slide his tip along your soppy folds, the squelching filling the room. “Take a deep breath for me,” Miguel told you, stroking your hips. 

You took a deep breath, inhaling deeply, and upon exhaling, he pushed his length inside. A loud moan erupted from your throat, fingers gripping the chair at the intensity of your stretched core. 

“G-Goodness, you are…so tight.” Miguel groaned into your ear, his grip tightening on your waist. His enormity filled you up completely, and to your surprise, you didn’t feel pain as you thought, only pleasure that only heightened when he bottomed out. He groaned, kissing along your neck. “How do you feel?” He asked, his voice full of lust and desire, his hips stilled to allow you to adjust to his massive length. 

You could only frantically nod, your stuffed core quivering in delight at how wonderful the sensations felt. Miguel smirked, pulling out to the tip before slamming back in, causing you to release a choked moan. It was as if an avalanche of pleasure crashed into you and overwhelmed your every sense with the suffocating emotion. At your wonderous response, the great deity began to slowly thrust into you, dragging his massive length into you and sliding out. 

In all of your life, you’ve never felt something so good and addicting. Your unkempt hair spilled over his throne whilst the most unladylike sounds were pulled from your lips with every smack of his hips against your rear. “Such pretty sounds you are making for me, Cariño.” Miguel cooed behind you, wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you close. 

The great protector kissed along your neck, nipping softly and grazing his fangs along the skin. It wasn’t long before the tension in your stomach returned. You whimpered and moaned, the improper sounds of skin and squelching bouncing off the walls of his sanctuary as the divine being took you to your blissful end. 

“M-Miguel, I- something’s coming.” You whined through body tremors and the clenching of your walls. “You may let go, querida. Give it to me.” Miguel moaned breathlessly into your ear, aiming his rhythmic thrusts to attack your sensitive spot over and over. 

Unable to hold it any longer, with a loud cry, you released the pent-up pleasure that was building in your stomach. Your eyes rolled, body shaking horribly in Miguel’s arms. Suddenly a rush of euphoria overcame you, making you weightless, like a feather being drifted off into the wind.

Miguel’s hips never ceased their movement, rutting into you as his grunts louden against your ear. "Are you ready to be mine, querida? To bear our child?" He asked, his pace quickening. 

The blood rushing to your ears and the pounding of your own heart made his words faint, but nevertheless, you heard him. Frantically you nodded. "Y-Yes. I'm...ready." You told him through breathless gasps and the slapping of his hips against your rear. 

At your final approval, a guttural groan escaped his lips as he burrowed his length deep inside you and released his warm, hot essence into your womb. You could feel his thighs tensing up against your legs and his toned chest heaving on your back whilst he filled you; granting you a child and fulfilling the terms...

The sanctuary was now laden with both of your heavy pants and the small flickering of fire upon the torches and candles. A comfortable silence fell upon the two of you as Miguel slowly pulled out, leaving you empty and longing for him once more. 

The great being kept you in his arms, seeming to not be able to let you go…

Not like you wanted him to anyway. 

It felt like forever since you were loved, and in Miguel’s arms was where you were cherished. 

But like all good things, they must come to an end…

“Your request will be completed, Y/N,” Miguel promised against your backside, caressing your stomach through your white chemise. In your moment of pure bliss, you’ve forgotten the reasoning behind the shared passion between the great being and yourself. 

His words brought you back to the harsh reality that you’ll have to eventually leave him…

He pulled away, fixing the scarlet robe upon his mighty, chiseled body whilst you also got dressed, drawing down your chemise and adorning your neutral-colored bodice once more. When you were finished, you turned to look at Miguel to see he was already staring back at you, his crimson eyes holding adoration in them.

He walked up to you, his divine body towering over your form. “Y/N…” He said your name upon his mighty tongue, making your heart flutter. You looked up at him, trying to calm the desire to avert your eyes due to how intense his gaze was. “Y-Yes?” The inquiry leaves your lips in a timid voice. Miguel gave you a small smile, cupping your face in his large hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I need you to promise me something.” The great being uttered, his words greatly intriguing you. “W-what is it?” You asked, willing to do anything for him. 

The divine being’s eyes roamed over your face, taking in your every facial feature. “In all of my years that I’ve traversed this world, I’ve never experienced something like this.” He confessed, tracing his fingers along your jaw. “You’ve done something that no human has ever done, Cariño.” He whispered, leaning closer to you, so close that his breath fanned against your lips. 

“You’ve fulfilled the wish of a deity and have set my heart ablaze.” 

You sharply inhaled, staring at the great being with widened eyes. You wanted to believe that his words were false, that the great protector of Nueva Yorkhaven had mistaken his feelings of love for you as something else; but the truth of the most alluring trait about the deities continuously filled your head. 

He couldn’t lie. 

He was created unable to…

His words of adoration and affection were all real. The great being loved you out of all mortals and that thought only made you even more confounded. 

You wet your lips, meeting the red-eyed protector, and taking in everything about him: his morals, values, greatness, natural will to protect his people, and even his physical appearance with his perfectly sculpted body, chiseled face, dark wavy hair, and beautiful, scarlet eyes. 

In all your life, you’ve never fallen deeply in love, you were never given the chance to—being forced into marriage with Alden severed your ability to find love for yourself, however, after all this time, you believed you’ve succeeded. 

You’ve fallen in love with your divine protector...

“I…love you too.” You said, the words leaving your mouth before you could even think about it. Miguel’s thick eyebrows rose briefly in shock to soon settle once more. He hastily pulled you into a kiss, his plush lips interlocking with your own in a passionate entanglement that seemed to go on forever. 

When he finally pulled away, he kept you snug against him, his arms protectively wrapped around your body. “I want you to promise me you’ll never love another—that your heart will always burn for me as mine does for you,” he uttered, his deep voice filling the small space between you and adding to the tender moment even more. 

Unbeknownst to him, his promise was an easy one...

In the pit of your stomach, you knew from this moment onward, things would never be the same, and you were content with that. 

When you first pressed your lips against the great protector’s, it was as if you were being reborn, your wretched life leaving you as a new one welcomed you. 

Once you leave this sanctuary, Alden Hawthorne would be like a terrible nightmare that never occurred. Your mother and yourself could mend the relationship between the two of you, and you would always have a piece of Miguel with you even if he wasn’t there physically, holding you in his mighty arms. 

And you were satisfied with that…

Like the sun emerging to dispel away the shadows from a long, dark night and bring light across the lands, goodness was being revived into your life all because of the might of Nueva Yorkhaven’s great protector—Miguel O'Hara. 

Looking up at Miguel with glossy eyes, you smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a loving embrace. 

“I promise. 

I’ll love you till my last breath.” 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading my oneshot! Shoutout to the wonderful anon who gave me the request, there is still more to come for you, but I hope you enjoyed it!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog and follow! If you would like to add a request to the kink series or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask! ❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedevax @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywattyy @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne

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#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #the blue panther #miguel ohara #miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #astv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099

[raitonsfw]

𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚘𝚔𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚞

synopsis: You thanked the deities above you that you had noticed the rope that hung from Tomioka’s sleeves, eyeing you with compulsion. You knew it was only for missions, like if he had to tie someone up if they weren’t cooperating, but your mind went elsewhere and who could blame you? That’s why he’s laid out like this now, the shibari technique threaded down his chest, against his thighs... he was the perfect art form waiting to be painted with watercolors.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, hashira!reader, shibari (or bondage), grinding (against one of the rope knots), teasing, dirty talk, slight dom!reader, slight sub!giyuu, begging, rope markings, gagging with rope, a quick mention about edging, p in v intercourse, riding, creampie, giyuu and reader are a couple, naive giyuu who just doesnt know how to socialize, shinobu outs the reader’s crush, alludes to giyuu being able to tear rope likes its fucking paper, (no idea how to put this as a warning but cbt?? reader presses her knee to giyuu’s cock a little too hard, but he’s a slut for it), pet names (princess, baby), use of honorifics in the beginning part.

a/n: so you guys can thank the inosuke scene and a random person on reddit for this. Like you know what, why does giyuu carry rope on him, idk but here’s food for thought. wc: 1.3k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

It wrapped around him with intricate lines and tight knots adorning the middle of his chest. You were proud of your art, of your boy, laying against the sheets with nothing but the best shibari work entwined against him. You made sure you secured the knots, even double checking them, there was no way he would be able to get out of the soft embrace of the ropes. 

Days prior, you found out he carried rope with him on his missions and you were more than intrigued, for all the wrong (right) reasons of course. You knew he was quiet and well kept, nothing out of the ordinary ever really piqued your interest to bother him on dangerous missions until you saw the rope hanging from one of his haori sleeves. You swore at first you saw a thread loose, but upon further inspection you realized. 

“Tomioka-kun, you carry rope on you?” You asked, an innocence veiling your voice. 

“And you don’t?” He didn’t snap at you, it was more of a question answering yours as he kept his hand still on the hilt of his katana.

You stepped over a rock, humming to yourself whilst following him down the forest path. “I don’t believe I would ever have to tie someone up.” 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as he stuffed the rope back into his haori sleeve, the rest of it flowing with him as he sensed danger at the edge of the trees. “Stay close to me, princess.” 

You genuinely loved Tomioka, though you knew he didn’t pick up on it during the first few months he knew you. He seemed oblivious to a lot of social norms and tended to isolate him away from the Hashira group when everyone trained together. But you tried to stay as close as possible, offering him traditional gifts and food every chance you got. He took it with an aloof thanks, still so seemingly confused about why you cared so much about him. 

Until Kocho told him flat out at one of the meetings in front of everyone. You covered your face within your haori as the other Hashira muttered little sayings amongst each other. And there was Tomioka, blushing like an idiot and trying to apologize for being so naive. He stumbled over every word and chased after you as you ran towards the bridge that cascaded the water. 

“Y/N-san!” He caught up to you, his breath wavering as he slipped his fingers around your wrist. “I apologize for Kocho, she’s quite crude, isn’t she?” 

“I’m used to it.” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked over to him and you swore you saw his heart break in two. 

“So am I.” 

And here you were a few months later, learning shibari techniques as Giyuu laid out his entire body to you. He was naked from the waist up, the rope denting his skin and his boxers bunched against them except for the sleek waistband that crowded against his waist.

“I can tear these easily, baby.” Giyuu said, looking at you with a straight face. You frowned at your partner, smacking him on his bare thigh and he jerked it away with a silent chuckle. His hair came to lay against his back, out of the ponytail he normally wore and you tangled your fingers in it for a moment, reveling in the way he gasped as you suddenly pulled it.

“Well, don’t. I tried really hard to make you look pretty underneath me.” You pouted, leaning over his face. He yearned for your kiss, but he knew he wasn’t going to get your soft lips on his anytime soon. Not when your hands held extra rope that was pushed into the crook of his mouth, his teeth baring down onto it. He groaned around it and you tutted at him sharply.

“Stay still or I won’t ride you.” You said plainly, kissing at the flesh of his thigh as you looped a part of the rope around it. Your fingers then ghosted over the swell of his cock and he breathed out a light sigh, relief about flooding through him; but they moved past to pull another knot against his thigh. 

“Please, it’s enough...” He said slowly, trying to enunciate properly but failing as a tiny groan escaped him from you pinching his inner thigh. “I want you on top of me.” 

“What’d you say, couldn’t hear you properly?” You finished the knot and sat against it, grinding onto the knot on his thigh with a purposeful smirk. You let out a moan as the knot knocked directly against your clit as you rolled your hips onto it. “C’mon baby, use your words.”

Giyuu watched you with wide eyes and he threw his head back against the pillows as your knee pushed up against his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine. He panted out around the rope as you continued, pressing your shin into him harshly. His eyes squeezed shut and he trembled, wishing to so desperately touch you and get you to sit on him already but his hands had been bound by his back. 

“Oh you’re really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” You cooed, trailing your finger down the knots on his chest; some had been adorned within a heart while others were a typical knot. You smiled at the redness that laid beneath it, digging into his skin and you knew they’d leave marks only you could see afterwards. He practically writhed against you know, so fucking desperate, you knew once you sank down on his cock he wasn’t going to last very long. You’ve been edging him for hours prior whilst you tied the knots after all. 

You pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out onto the flat of his tummy and you noticed how much precum had leaked out of him during your teasing and rope knots. You kinda felt bad for him and you crawled over him, pulling your lace aside to take him into your entrance. “Fuck, I’m sorry Giyuu.” 

“Please, please, fuck me already.” He pleaded around the rope, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and you sank down in earnest. A long moan was drawn out from him and he thrusted up into your tight heat, nearly knocking you off of him. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking at him as he twitched inside you. His blue eyes were half-lidded, lust clouding them over and you rolled against him slowly so as to not overwhelm him too much. 

He bucked up in time with your hips and you clenched around him each time, hurtling towards your own orgasm as you picked up the pace. Whimpers and pleads slurred from his mouth the best he could and you were so grateful that the boy underneath you had been kind to your advances, once Kocho told him. 

You were absolutely in love with him. 

You felt his hips falter underneath you and you watched as Giyuu arched into his orgasm with a loud whine, his mouth open and the rope falling from it. You followed right after, bouncing on his cock at a fast pace as he whimpered at the oversensitivity. A few moments later, you moved off of him and his cum dripped out of you, down your leg and you cursed quietly. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized, his hair disheveled and there was a shine to his skin, as if he had been sweating. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him, moving to start untying the ropes that littered his body. “I think we’re done for tonight, okay?”

You kissed him gently and Giyuu nodded into it, love intertwining your tongue with his. Yeah, thank God for Kocho Shinobu. And thank God for the rope that fell from his haori, threaded with dirty thoughts.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

#𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 •┈••✦ #giyuu x reader #giyuu x you #giyuu x y/n #giyu x reader #giyu x you #giyu x y/n #giyu smut #giyu tomioka #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x female reader #giyu x female reader #giyuu x female reader #kny x reader #kny smut #kny giyuu #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny x female reader #fem reader #𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 ✰

[yelenassafeplace]

Childhood sweethearts

Again sorry for my bad English, I’m French and still have a lot to learn. Anyway please do not translate or re upload this oneshot. Thank you.

pairing: aged up!Neteyam x human/Na'vi fem!reader

Author's note: In this AU: reader replace Spider (she's a scientist’s daughter and not Quarritch's), she’s a human but went through the consciousness transfer ritual like Jake at the age of 13, Neteyam is 5 years older than Lo’ak, the humans never came back to Pandora and the Sully's never left the forest to ask for Uturu from the reef people.

Warnings: baby fever, breeding kink, p in v, oral (f! receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, fingering, Neteyam talks to your pussy??, childhood best friends, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, Neteyam talks you through it, belly bulge, size kink if you squint, tell me if I should add more warnings.

Na’vi vocabulary used: Omaticayan (a Na’vi clan), Eywa (the guiding force and deity for Pandora), Toruk Makto (a Na'vi individual who successfully manages to ride a great leonopteryx), the last shadow (a great leonopteryx), Olo’eyktan (a clan leader), skxawng (a moron), Ikran (a mountain banshee), Talioang (a sturmbeest)

You were many things for the Omaticayan clan and the sully family. Looking past your humanity (maybe it was because Eywa had sent them a sign) they saw you as a friend, a sister, a daughter, someone they could rely on and trust, a kind and warm soul.

You were always eager to learn new things and give a hand to people when they needed help. You were even considered as a potential woman for the many boys looking forward to the day they would get the opportunity to get a mate.

But it was useless. Your heart was already taken.

By someone who probably didn’t even feel the same way about you, but still. You had the biggest crush on the eldest son of Toruk Makto, the rider of the last shadow and the Olo’eyktan of the clan.

His mother somehow found out, or maybe she always knew, and, to your great surprise, she was pretty supportive of this (non-existent) relationship.

Neytiri treated you as her own child, always there to protect you and even teaching you how to use a bow as well as crafting your very own one when you were big enough to hold it by yourself.

You didn’t know why she was so kind to you when you were a simple human, the kind that had hurt and killed her people almost eighteen years ago. Her sister, her father, her brother and even her Ikran, had died from the hands of the sky people.

Yet, she was showing nothing but love and affection towards you.

You were approximately 3 years old when they took you in. Neteyam was already born and around the same age as you, only a few months older.

You basically grew up together, being best friends since your youngest age. You had learned to talk, walk, run, annoy Jake, swim and eat on your own together.

The bond between you only got stronger as the years went by, the two of you never left each other’s sides, Neteyam often following you like a shadow and vice versa.

And then Lo’ak was born. This child was so annoying yet so adorable. He was always causing trouble to Neteyam and you, putting you in uncomfortable positions in front of the father figure of the family.

He calmed down for a while when Kiri was born but eventually got his attitude and sass right back after 3-4weeks. And it became even worse as he grew older.

This skxawng was always arguing with Kiri over the smallest and stupidest things, Jake almost ripping his braids right off when the two off them began to hiss, or more like scream in Lo’ak’s case.

But Kiri, unlike this hyperactive of Lo’ak, was literally the calmest kid you ever met. She barely ever cried, always looking at everything around her with wide and curiosity-filled eyes.

You liked to spend time with her. Whether it was at the lab when she needed to see Grace, her biological mother by whatever miracle, or in the forest when she wanted to take a break from her family and spend some time surrounded by nature, the great work of Eywa.

You plaided your case to Neytiri and Jake to transfer your spirit into a Na’vi body through the eye of Eywa for years.

And they finally accepted when you turned thirteen. So you went through the ritual. All the Omaticayans were more than happy to, officially, fully welcome you into the clan.

You worked really hard and got your very own Ikran, named Nrraya, at the age of 15. Your first hunt and first Talioang kill happened only a few months later.

You remember the feast they prepared for you as if it happened yesterday. Everyone was smiling and dancing and eating…You were really the happiest in the world.

But then Tuk came into the world and you were even happier. She was the cutest baby ever. She learned well and quickly, she was affectionate (and she still is even now) and so, so, so loving.

You were extra protective of her, often holding her on your hip as you walked through the forest or your village, always making sure that she was well-fed and hydrated, that she slept enough and kept her entertained as best as you could when you were free and she wasn’t sound asleep.

She loved the nightly routine you had when Jake and Neytiri asked you to babysit her while they were going out to spend some time alone. And you loved it too.

You tucked her in her makeshift hammock, telling her made up stories until her head lolled from side to side and her eyes squeezed shut, a little snore confirming her sleeping state.

And today was one of those nights.

What you didn’t know is that someone was watching you. Yellow eyes scanning your form and following you as you did all of these cute and kind things. And it was Neteyam’s of all Na’vi’s.

He couldn’t help but get hard at the sight of you getting so motherly with Tuk. It made him want…No. it made him crave and need to give you a child to mother. Your very own child. A child with him. A child that you would bear within those wide hips and waist of yours.

He has to close his eyes and breathe deeply to stop himself from jumping on you and fuck you right there and then.

Instead, he waits patiently for you outside the family’s home and think a few minutes before he decides that tonight is the night he will confess what he feels for you. He already knows that you feel the same way towards him. You’re not really good at hiding things. And he can’t hold himself back any longer anyway.

You come out of the house and smile brightly at him.

"I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long."

He shakes his head, smiling back at you.

"No, you didn’t. Are you ready?”

You nod enthusiastically as he takes your hand in his, the little touch enough to make you shiver.

"Mhmh…We can go now."

You follow him through the forest, your tail happily swaying from side to side as you listen to him talk about his day.

Your smile falters a little when he tells you how his father had been so hard on him yet again but you quickly brighten the mood by telling him about your day too. And he listens to your rambling with a wide smile playing across his lips, glad to hear that at least one of you had fun.

You finally reach your favorite spot in the forest and lay on the mossy floor to look at the stars. Neteyam does the same and scoots closer to you.

"It’s beautiful…”

Your best friend turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly as he watches the reflection of the sky and stars dance into your wide, pretty and almost pitch black eyes in the dark night.

"Not as beautiful as you."

Your eyes widen even more if possible, a light blush tainting your plumped cheeks with a bright purple color as you crunch your nose.

"Ew, that’s so cheesy, Neteyam ! Stop saying things like that…"

He sits and pulls you to him so you sit beside him too, tilting your head up by your chin with his free hand as he keeps your hand in his other one.

"I’m dead serious, y/n. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in the entirety of our clan. And I’m sure it would be the same beyond the village and the forest and even on earth. I could bet my life on it."

You blink up at him, heart thumping hard in your chest like it was trying to get out of your body.

"N-Neteyam…What are you saying?"

He smiles fondly at you, thumb rubbing your cheek soothingly.

"You know what I’m saying. Nga yawne lu oer, y/n."

A single tear slides down your cheek, your lips trembling as you try to keep your emotions down.

Neteyam frowns and wipes your tear away before he plants a quick, yet firm, kiss to your plush lips to try to ease the pout forming on them.

"Oh, don’t cry baby…"

You sniffle and he helps you settling on his lap, your arms locking around his neck and legs crossing behind his lower back.

"I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin this moment. I promise I won’t cry anymore."

Neteyam chuckles softly and rubs little circles on the small of your back.

"You’re not ruining anything, princess. Don’t worry."

He sighs contently as you press yourself even closer to him and kisses the side of your face.

"I love you so much Nete’…So, so much."

"And I love you even more."

You get your head out of the crook of his neck and take his face in your hands before kissing him lovingly.

Neteyam kiss you back, groping your ass to make you gasp so he can swiftly slide his tongue in your mouth.

You feel butterflies in your tummy when Neteyam caresses your tongue with his, moaning softly against his lips as you instinctively press your clothed pussy down on his swelling cock.

He makes quick work of discarding your chest piece and get rid of your loincloth, leaving you completely bare, before he lays you down and sit back on his heels to take a look at your body.

You can practically see his cock twitch under his thin loincloth at the sight.

"Fuck…You’re so pretty."

His tail wraps around your thigh and stays nestled there as he leans over you to kiss you again, settling comfortably between your open legs. You moan at the feeling of his hard on rubbing against your pussy when he starts to move his hips slowly, desperate for any kind of friction.

"A-All of this…just f’me."

You grind up against him in hope that it will somehow make him touch you faster.

"’Teyam…please…"

He cups one of your tits and massages it before pinching your nipple, the pain shooting a spark straight down to your core.

"Please what, y/n? What do you want, precious girl? I need to hear it."

You start blabbering, cheeks pink, almost purple, and all your body burning from desire for him as he latches on one of your nipples and suck it harshly.

"F-Fuck me ! I need…I need to feel you inside of me, please Neteyam…stop this teasing. I’ve been waiting for you too long already."

He bites on the column of your throat, earning a little hiss from you, and leaves a trail of kisses and wet patches from his tongue before he gives you a few hickies.

"Ah, you’re right, my love. I’ve kept you waiting for long enough. I should take care of my needy baby now, shouldn’t I?”

Neteyam kisses down your body. Your neck, chest, stomach, just above your pubic bone, your knees, your calves, your ankles and your inner thighs…He doesn’t forget anything.

He looks at you one last time before he gives the sweetest kiss to your puffy clit.

"There she is..My little princess. You felt neglected while I was kissing mommy, mh?"

At first, you’re a little confused as why he’s saying that to you. And then you realize that…He’s not talking to you. He’s talking to your pussy.

You shouldn’t be turned on by this. But you are. You can’t help but get even wetter as you listen to him talk to your pussy, acting as if you weren’t there at all.

"Oh, did you get wetter? You like that, yeah? What a sweet girl…Daddy’s going to take good care of you, don’t worry."

He practically starts to devour you, two fingers easily sliding in and out of your fluttering hole as he laps up some of your arousal before going back to lick and suck your sensitive clit.

You can hear him growl and mutter something as your walls clamp hard around his fingers when he hits your sensitive spot.

"It’s here, isn’t it? I found your weak spot…That’s good news."

Having a hard time trying to keep your voice down, a few moans and huffs passing the barrier of your lips without your consent, you squeeze your eyes shut in hope that it will help you in any way. But it doesn’t.

"Such pretty sounds…don’t be shy, let me hear you, love."

You don’t really know if he’s talking to you or your cunt but you don’t care anymore. So you just let go and moan to your heart’s content.

"That’s it, let everyone hear how good I make you feel. Let them know who you belong to."

And just like that he brings you over the edge, lips tightly wrapped around your little bud before he releases it with a pop to lick you through your orgasm.

A loud squeal escapes you when two of his fingers replace his tongue, quickly rubbing your pussy from side to side.

Your juices gush out of your hole as Neteyam keeps abusing it and finger your pussy even harder. Your body jerk up, trying to get away from this overwhelming pleasure, and that’s his cue to slip his fingers out and let you recover from your orgasm.

"Didn’t know you were the squirting type."

You roll your eyes and lay flat, still out of breath but feeling the energy come back in you as soon as you flip him off.

"Fuck off, skxawng."

He laughs and takes you in his arms, kissing your forehead and your nose and your lips.

"Yelp. I deserved that."

You smile as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek and wrap your arms around him to pull him in a tight hug.

"Oof- are you trying to kill me already? We’re not even mated yet !"

"Yeah, but you’re annoying, so I might just…Strangle you…While I still can !"

Neteyam pretends to struggle in your grasp before you finally release him.

"Damn you’re strong."

He lays back down and pulls you on top of him so you don’t stay on the ground too long.

"Yeah, I know."

"And humble too."

"Ahah. Very funny."

You plant a kiss on his lips and the mood shifts to a more heated one again. Neteyam hold you by the neck and pulls you back to his lips when you pull back. It’s all tongue and teeth and spit, and you love it.

Your body melts against his as he reaches between you to push his loincloth to the side and holds his hard cock to guide it to your pussy. He slides it through your folds to get it wet and shudders at your warmth.

He moans out as you slowly sink on his dick, hands on his chest for more steadiness. His hips snaps up into yours to get his cock fully seated inside of you and his eyes roll back.

"S-So fucking tight…Aah…"

Your hand come to rest on the little bulge his cock forms in your lower stomach, biting your lip as you start to bounce up and down his shaft.

"You’re so deep inside, Neteyam…Look."

He opens his eyes again and lock them on your stomach, almost cumming on the spot as he sees the bulge his cock forms in your tummy before it disappears again as he helps you up ‘till only his tip stays inside and force you down right back so he’s balls deep in your pussy.

Your pornographic moans only get louder when Neteyam hold your hips still and thrust up into you, thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna cum for me again? Mh? Y’re going to cum on my cock and -fuck- you’re gonna soak it, yeah?"

You nod frantically, breath coming out as loud huffs when he fucks you harder.

"Yes, yes ! Neteyam…I’m so close."

"I got you, baby. I’m gonna get you there, just relax."

And he keeps his promise. He makes you cum so hard that your entire body shakes and twitch so much that you slump on him. But he doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own high as your pussy holds a tight grip around him.

"G-Good girl. That was good, mh? You liked t-that? Gonna like it even more when I’m gonna cum inside of you and give you a baby…"

You can’t hold back the moan that bubbles in your chest at his words. He chuckles lowly at that before he becomes a moaning mess as he starts to cum.

"Oh…Yeah, keep clenching around me like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck…Oh, I’m cumming…I’m cumming !"

He unloads inside of you, thick ropes of cum coating your gummy walls white. Neteyam fuck his cum into you before pulling out slowly when it becomes too much and starts to physically hurt.

He keeps you close to him, his hand coming to push your hair away from the damp skin of your forehead.

"Are you okay, baby?"

You only make a "uhuh" sound, incapable of moving or say anything for now.

"Oh my pretty lady can’t even move uh? Did I fuck you so good you don’t know how to talk anymore?"

Yeah, now he was being way too cocky. You straighten up quickly and ignore your blurry vision and dizziness before you hit his chest playfully.

"Shut up or I’ll cut your dick off."

Neteyam spank your ass and laugh when you hiss at him.

"You wouldn’t. You like my cock too much to do that. But I’ll still shut up just in case…”

You spend the rest of the night cuddling and kissing, coming back to your house only after a quick shower, the sun already rising behind the two of you as you walked hand in hand.

#neteyam sully #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam #avatar 2 #atwow imagines #atwow neteyam #avatar the way of water #smut thoughts #smut imagine #+18 only #yelenasdirtythoughts #yelenassafeplace

[konigbabe]

the fruits (of my labor)

DAY 4 ⇢ Power Dynamic Pairing: deity!Satoru Gojo x fem!acolyte!reader Word count: 2.5k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; deity/acolyte dynamic; deepthroat; throatfucking; riding Gojo’s knee; p-in-v; orgasm denial; creampie; dacryphilia; japanese terminology and mythology; religious imaginery; allusions to manipulation and toxicity; inaccurate historical descriptions Summary: He's a deity, yet he's faithless. The only belief he invests in is between your thighs. Satoru Gojo enjoys the fruits of your labor that you've offering him of late. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023.]

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.

If you were told to describe him, only one word springs to mind – Kami.

Divine.

His gestures – possessing an elegance that rivals the dance of willow branches in a gentle breeze. His voice; a melodious biwa ballad. The way blue hues of his eyes resemble the heavens melting into the boundless sea and the moon's reflection on tranquil waters, a sight that both soothes and enchants –

Satoru Gojo was considered an enigmatic legend in your eyes; among the people from your village. A young boy of mysterious lineage, his parentage shrouded in uncertainty. Some deemed him a yōkai, an unsettling otherworldly presence, while others gravitated towards yūrei, a spectral spirit.

He stands tall and slender, a figure exuding undeniable firmness in every line of his body. Hair the shade of soft grey; it reminds you of the moonlight filtering through the forest's canopy near your mother's okiya house, a teahouse adjacent to the gate of your village. Soft and fluffy; as the memory itself. His locks beckoned, inviting you to run your fingers through them, much like those stolen moments when he allowed you to do so – aware of limb-loosing consequences if any other maiden caught wind of your affiliation with Gojo.

Eyes mostly hidden underneath a woven silken cloth. Only allowed to see the day's sun when all others have been blinded; only a selected few made aware of Gojo's countenance.

("It's in the interest of my own well-being," he mumbles against the tender curve of your neck. Teeth grazing the marks there.

His cloth mask's fastened over the bridge of your nose, denying you eyesight. Hands sliding beneath the scarlet hakama, altered into a flowing skirt, enabling him to grasp your bare thighs with a grip so tight it threatens to leave lingering imprints. He's wrenching his pelvis up, engorged cock sliding against the sensitive walls of your drenched core as he moves you up and down his lap.

Robe shamelessly untied and disheveled but still hanging from his shoulders; with your arms clinging to the garment for dear life, a lifeline that anchors you as he delves so deeply that it elicits a desperate mewl from your lips, pushing aside any lingering questions.

"I cannot allow commoners to pose threats to my safety. After all, I am but a Kami." His hand raises one of yours, placing your palm flat against his. In that instant, you feel it—the non-existent space between your palms expanding, pushing your hand away from his. An invisible barrier materializing and separating your limb from his. It makes your fingers tingle.

"Who would–umph–desire to hurt you, my honored one."

A forceful push surges from behind you — or at least it feels that way — propelling your body towards Gojo's body. Lips colliding with his, all tenderness vanishing from his actions. His strong arm encircles your waist, lifting you up and creating the sensation of flying through the air. In one fluid motion, he turns you both around, deepening the kiss when his tongue plunges between your gasping lips.

"No one would dare, angel.")

– His taste. Briny yet the pearlescent droplets of his prespend sweet. With your cheeks hollowed, nails digging into the meat of his thighs, you savor the saline tang of him on your tongue. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks; eyelashes fluttering as he thrusts his hips upwards. Hand on the crown of your head pushing down simultaneously.

The swollen tip of his leaking cock plunges into your throat, scratching the sensitive back of it, and causing an involuntary gag reflex, throat instinctively closing.

"Just like that," Gojo groans in response to the sensation of your tight throat suffocating his cock, his arm positioned behind his head while the other moves to cup your cheek. His thumb tenderly wipes away a tear tracing a path down your face.

You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.

Leaving only his tip inside, you suck; draw him in, the tip of your tongue swirling over his slit as you let all the saliva gathered in your mouth coat his head, letting it dribble from the corners of your mouth onto his cock. Using your hand to spread the slick, covering his entire length in the mixture with your tongue concentrating on the spongy spot under his tip, slowly moving down until your lips meet your fingers wrapped around his hilt.

With bated breath, you ease your throat open wider, feeling the mushy head breach the gateway to your trachea; the friction growing more intense as he pushes past your tonsil area. Swallowing carefully, you take him in until his pelvis presses flush against your nose. You add a low hum to the mix, your fingernails lightly grazing the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling it tighten as he twitches inside you. Something swells in your chest, expands and tightens over the feeling. Pride? More like a fervent devotion that borders on reverence.

"You little akuma–" he lets out a breath, fingers tracing the bulging curve of your throat before you pop him out with a wet sound. You repeat after – take him fully down your throat, keep him there and humming; vibrations shooting up his every nerve ending.

And the sounds he makes – the groan he lets out is drawn-out and echoing. You kiss his cock one more time before nipping at his sensitive area just below his abdomen, muscles hardened and shaped into a v. A place stained by the nips of your teeth, nicks of your nails; a teasing breeze caressing the shoreline.

Face moving upwards, your lips ache to meld with his. Yet as his breath mingles with yours, his fingers snake around your throat, tightening their grip.

Gojo holds your face intimately close to his that you can discern the white sparkles seemingly dancing within his eyes.

So close that you can distinguish myriad shades of blue within his iris, reminiscent of the Pleiades, or the very hue of the sky on a day when wisteria blooms swell.

"What are you doing," his head tilts to the side, lips tracing the corner of your lip until moving to your jaw. Soft gentle nibbles in contrast with the tight grip on your throat as you remain on all fours above his body that's still adorned in his night robe but completely untied.

A light breath escapes your yearning lips, eyes searching his face for any imperfections, any blemish in his otherwise divine visage – but finding none. Heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment, you believe that he's capable of hearing the beats. Thump, thump.

"Akami," you mumble, eyes falling to his lips when the tip of his tongue peaks out to slide over them, "kiss."

You remain motionless, almost paralyzed by the heated tension in the air, afraid to make a move or even swallow. Your cunt drenched, folds glistening with need to be filled. It pulsates, thumping steadily as if your heart dropped between your legs.

Gojo's eyes, once filled with desire, now appear almost bored, as if he's testing your resolve.

"Do you believe you are deserving of a kiss from Akami?"

Your head sways from side to side instinctively before you even fully process his question. Thighs failing to press together to relieve some of the tension as his wide frame blocks your attempts.

"I would not pose such queries without belief in their pertinence, correct?"

You nod. His face contours, creases between his brows. Bending one leg, he brings his knee to your cunt. Pressing onto the pulsating nerve on top, making you mewl and moan from finally getting some release. Your hips shamelessly grind onto his offering knee, painting it in your juices.

"Speak," he corrects you, putting his knee higher — forcing your calves to strain in order to remain on the soft cushion.

"You are—mmph—," Gojo's eyes flick down to see the way your pussy parts for his knee, circling it and disturbing your chain of thoughts, "—you are correct, Go—gojo."

"Good," his thumb presses against your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part more before he pushes the digit flat against your tongue, "then undertake a deserving act."

Satoru Gojo refuses to allow your lips contact with his. Even after what feels like hours – when he's already painted your body in his pearlescent spent, now slickening your gummy walls and sticking to his cock like honey – he's continuing to pound into you with relentless strength.

And yet he still doesn't let you reach the sweet high. Unable to tumble into the abyss of ecstasy. Your body his canvas, on which he paints strokes of desire – a merciless dance on the edge of rapture; where you can feel the waves building and receding like a capricious ocean tide.

("Patience, my angel. You're too pure to be stained. My forsaken tenshi.")

Robe finally discarded, he has you positioned to bend over the side of the yaedatami; high enough for your back to arch forcibly. The stretch across your abdomen feels like a taut bowstring. Ass up, held aloft and elbows pressed against the floor. Your hands grope desperately for purchase – yet finding nothing in this empty sleeping chamber – as Gojo looms over you, one arm bracing his weight beside your head, the other cradling your cheek as he spreads you wide for his cock to plunge insanely deep into your leaking cunt.

His thrusts are relentless, each one driving his cock impossibly deep. So deep it makes you feel as if the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, a blunt pressure inside building with each pivot of his hips. It builds steadily inside you, like a dam about to burst. And the loudness of your moans only assures the man in your body's response to him – his body, his heat. His cock. All of him.

"Just like that–," Gojo's voice's raspy, throat strained from the sounds of pleasure he's given you, "stay down—ugh–"

His words cause your back to arch more; prideful in his praise. The pleasure profound, toe-curling and spiraling through your body.

"Gojoo–," you try to meet the aggressive roll of his hips, even if the position doesn't let you move too much, "please–'m so close–please…"

You're begging, whining for him to never stop. To – for once – listen to his acolyte's pleas for release. And just as he senses your cunt quivering, throbbing with the impending orgasm, he draws a sharp thrust. Body heavy against your bottom, bottoming out before pulling out.

His response is a single word, "No" escaping his lips. Sitting back on his legs, his eyes lock onto the sight of your cunt – spread open, his own cum trickling from the fluttering, empty hole, glistening as it strains your inner thighs; pussy puffy and swollen from overstimulation. Chest puffing out, he basks in the tableau before him.

"I shall have a painter immortalize such image," he muses, leaning closer. Fingers tracing the curve of your calves, gliding over the skin of your thighs, bathing in the slickness of your inner thighs. He swipes the blend of his cum and juices from your cunt, collects them on his fingers.

In a commanding gesture, he raises you up, positioning you to sit atop your legs, mirroring his own stance. His wet fingers dance along your parted lips as you grow more desperate.

"Please–," you beg more, licking the saline sweetness off your lips, throat parched, "please–."

Gojo doesn't respond – not immediately. Instead, he turns you to face him with your back. Pulling your body onto his sitting lap and thrusting his cock into your abused cunt without any resistance. Your body strains as your back arches, head falling back to rest against his neck as his hands grasp both of your biceps, securing you to his chest as he thrusts upwards.

"You reach your release only when I deem it," his lips trace your neck, biting the sensitive flesh as he moves you up and down his lap. You can feel his cock scratching that insatiable itch deep inside you, each punishing thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The emptiness that follows only stokes the fervor building within you, a desire that only HE can satiate.

And does he take his time…

Legs pushed against your chest, his body weighs down on you – folded almost in half. Tears of exhaustion and bliss course down your cheeks, his name on your lips. Moaning, gasping, arching your back as you lose yourself to the euphoria that builds inside. His cock pushes against your clenched walls, swelling and so close to releasing and coating your walls with his sore.

But Gojo holds tight to his resolution; muscles taut under your trembling body; your fragile body. You're his to do with as he pleases, after all.

"Ahh–close, Gojo–please," you plead, feeling his cock plunge into your core, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root, "I want to–ugh–I can't–"

He cuts you off with a rather painful thrust, the head of his cock bruising your cervix, it seems. Making you gasp at the suddenness and pain. It's afterward that he slows down, rapid thrusts becoming languid rolls of his hips. He moans, gruff and low in his throat as he pushes himself deeper inside of you with each movement.

"You cannot what?" His eyes gleam even as he gives you a momentary reprieve. The thrumming pleasure from being so completely filled subsides, but not entirely leaving altogether – just enough to remind you that Gojo's presence is still there.

"I can't–," you whimper in his ear as he moves onto his elbows, straining your hamstrings until you feel as if he's gonna tear your legs apart, "I can't…"

"You cannot what?" Gojo demands, his cock stilling inside you, only to resume as he leans you forward, "tell me, my faithful one."

"No more–please," your lips search for his; to which his head fives to your clavicles, nibbling the tender and sensitive skin there, "I need the release, please," you beg with a strained voice.

His eyes flutter shut, teeth catching hold on your shoulder, harder than they should, "beg one more time. Let me hear your prayers."

He's waiting for a particular syllable and sounds; the first syllable of his name. For it to flow out of your lips.

"Please–," your voice becomes but a mere exhale, body spent; falling to his mercy. Shaking as you beg for this man to take whatever he wants. The only reason you're even able to speak is to plead for release, having nothing else to offer but yourself freely to him. A twisted, filth-covered shinsen.

In the end, Gojo eventually does take your offering, grants you your release.

Being that way for several moons.

#GojoNSFWweek2023 #might be my fav entry so far 🥹🥹 #pls ignore the dailogue #idk whether i love it or hate it yet #moni writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk fic #anime x reader #anime smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x you

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Hellooooo? Is anyone alive? Is ok if you do... A part two of the yandere fierce deity? Please?

Order up!

Ngl this was actually really difficult to write! Y’all seemed to like Part one, so here’s the continuation!

Tw: Described murder and violence, obsession

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The sigil had since faded from the back wall of your home. It had taken many moons and many storms before the blood had truly faded. But it wasn’t gone. You picked up on the marking more and more, the swooping V shape with two lines intercepting. You saw it carved into the trees you tapped for sap, in the bones of the elks still left at your door and —perhaps most concerning— scratched into your skin. You awoke to it after awaking from a nap, and it came with a sense of all-consuming numbness. You bled, despite no knife piercing your skin and felt a hollow pain looking at the wound… but the gash itself was not painful. The scab on your palm itched as you walked through the markets, and despite switching the hand that held the basket, it only seemed to worsen. An itch is not bad so much as it is annoying. An instinctive feeling to pick and prod until a disturbance is removed. But the sensation has festered into thorns digging into your nerve with every graze of another’s hand.

“That’ll be… 300 total” The farmer handed over the produce youd carefully picked out, a frown of dismay pulling at your lips.

“That’s double last time” His smile faltered and his eyes darted far behind you, glassing over for a moment. He breathed out until his lungs had no more to give and his lips fell shut. It was only when you were about to turn around to see what had enraptured him that his tongue farted over his lips and he picked back up where he’d left off

“Sorry you must understand, it’s-“ His voice faded into the chatter of the crowd, a low hum fading into the back of your mind with a throbbing pain. So much for living here all your life, there was no reason for produce to cost half your wages. It’s not like anyone in this hamlet made much, nor was there any reason for one to struggle. The is community held up on its ties, it's only as useful as its people make it.

“Keep- Just keep it.” You would’ve felt bad at the way he sunk in on his feet with upset, but it was beyond your responsibility to help. Not without proper food in your stomach. You’d need to forage if you had near any hopes of not starving through the week. And so, basket in hand, you returned to the eerie empty of the wood.

The thicket was empty. The berry bushels had since been picked clean by the birds and the wild sprouts trampled or rotted in the soil. It was foolish of you to hope that perhaps whoever kept leaving you meat —your only source of sustenance— could provide you with something that could possibly go with it. Your spice cupboard is beginning to run dry and you had nothing aside from the carcass left behind to prepare.

“If only I had some potatoes… carrots… something- anything!” You threw your wicker basket to the ground, the thin fibres crackling. Anger burned within the humid draws of your breath, seeping into your lungs and through your blood and settling among your being. Thunder rolled in the far distance, but the wind had already made its way to you. The whispery gusts combed through the long grasses and shook the old trees, the wood croaking and groaning. The path back home was no different than it had been recently. No humdrum that followed life, only the cawing of crows. But, rather disappointingly, even they had disappeared as of late. The shadowing of the storm mounted atop your already heavy-hung gloom. It seemed as if every living thing, even those that surpassed mortality had vacated the forest. And as you pushed inward to the unkempt of the wild, you could only feel like you were leaving yourself to the execution block. Your legs faltered and trampled, your limbs felt stiff. And like a corpse of those slaughtered, you fell.

The deity knew that mortals were cruel. He didn’t need much knowledge about the world to know that fact. With such a gift of consciousness, Hylia’s creations were tainted with such bitter malice. That is what made them mortal. Their innate ability to surpass their better moral to kill and to hurt. He saw it every time someone used the likeness of his face. He saw the blood. He felt their drive— to stick cool, unforgiving metal within another. To crack and break and destroy the fragility of the world. The fragility of other people. Hunt or be hunted as it was. There was no matter for if they were above animalistic intent, for they were every bit predator and prey as the wolves and the rabbits. That is why he is so keen on protecting you. Only you have been so kind and pure —A divine among mortals, he’s certain— and such purity can only be tainted within a world so vile. The mortals even admit to it. Making their societies guard such fragility from the maw of itself. It was only himself he could trust to be your guard. Only he could be trusted to deliver you from such a system. He knew the cruelty of mortals upon one another. But for you to be denied sustenance? That was sacrilegious. Did they not understand that they were blessed to have been with you? If that was such a case then perhaps they weren’t worth the salvation you offered. The wretched mortals should bow at your feet, stumble over eachother and themselves to leave you offerings. For one to deny themselves such a right is to deny one’s god. And so, as the twists of his blade delicately carved out the heart of the worthless farm boy, he hoped this would serve a sufficient offering. He could afford to spend more time with you tonight with the storm’s onset. The rain would do most of the work cleaning the blood. The body would mingle from the earth from whence it came and be no more. Maybe if the damned was lucky, his blood could nurture the soil to make plants that you could eat from. Maybe then he’d have paid penance for his sins. Heart and produce in hand, he displayed them all lovingly in your discarded wicker basket and left it looped around the elk horn. He held his offering in one arm and your limp body in the other, carrying you the way to your little temple. The basket was hastily discarded upon the porch —though he doubted you cared much about the presentation— and he tucked you into bed. On his exit he wrangled the body so it would be easier for your untrained limbs to carry indoors. Offerings should be prepared to the highest degree— and you only deserved the best. He’d deliver the world to you exactly as you’d expected of him. Although the procurement of spices would certainly take a while longer, he’d meet your demands in full. Such is what’s expected of him as he’s courting you. Such is the way of devotion.

#yandere link x reader #link x reader #fierce deity x reader #yandere fierce deity link x reader #fierce deity x you #yan!link x reader

[dujour13]

Commander as Companion

Commander as companion prompt by @dragonologist-phd

amazing art commission by @arnaerr ❤️

Name: Siavash Mirani

Race: Half-elf

Class: Bard

Appearance:

Medium build, not tall for a half-elf, dressed in assorted pastels/earthtones: embroidered sky-blue tunic, burgundy jerkin, light blue sash, forest-green trousers, doe-brown cloak. Shoulder-length blond hair swept back at the temples in a man bun. In his class equipment he has a guitar slung over his shoulder.

Portrait – leaning on a lush willow tree by a riverbank, legs crossed at the ankles, playing guitar with a soft yet somehow compelling smile.

He has a nice tenor with a slight BBC English accent. His barks sound friendly and on the edge of laughter, but in romance scenes it becomes soft and a little husky.

Favored Weapon/Equipment:

Crossbow, longsword

Default stats are pretty even across the board except for high Cha and slightly less Wis.

Top Skills: Persuasion, Knowledge: World, Knowledge: Arcana, Knowledge: Nature

Alignment: Chaotic good

General Personality: Easygoing, optimistic, kind, confident, lazy, unreliable, prone to guilt

Siavash is rootless and fun-loving, but he can show remarkable determination when it comes to things that are important to him—while needing constant reminding or stimulation to get more mundane tasks done. One thing he is zealously committed to is freeing people from different sorts of chains, whether those are literal chains, poverty, or closed-mindedness. With a high charisma score and high persuasion, he frequently attempts to talk the KC and companions out of their prejudices and toward an egalitarian and compassionate vision. With mixed success.

Because he sees people as ends in themselves and never a means to an end, in wartime he can be accused of irresponsibility by lawful characters more concerned with the possible consequences of their actions.

That said, he secretly carries quite a burden of guilt when doing the right thing does not happen to lead to a good outcome.

In romance he’s fun, sappy, sincere and affectionate but hesitant to commit.

What traits/values do they admire? Kindness, open-mindedness, willingness to bend rules, fun. Chaotic commanders will always fare better.

What traits/values do they disapprove of? Cruelty, closed-mindedness, prejudice, grim dutifulness, dehumanization

Are they affiliated with any deities? Desna 🦋

What do they think of their role in the Crusades, and of sharing the Commander’s Mythic powers? What are their reasons for joining the commander’s party?

He’ll join the crusade saying it’s for the fun and adventure, but you will soon notice he shows determination when it comes to helping people. Everything else is shrugged off.

He’s more inclined to see the KC’s mythic powers as a giant stroke of luck and encourages the KC to embrace them as long as it’s in service to the crusade or other noble goals. An evil KC who uses those powers for personal gain will earn less favor, but he will stick with the party with a certain obstinate optimism that he can convince them to do better. A lawful KC who uses those powers to dominate will rapidly fall out of favor.

Who are their friends among the other party members?

Woljif, Arueshalae, Ember, Sosiel, Seelah (in that order of warmth); lots of snarky banter with Daeran but eventually they’ll be friends in a party with a good-aligned commander; with an evil-aligned commander where Daeran’s cruelty is more on display the banter becomes bitter by Act V.

He and Ulbrig would get along until Ulbrig begins to suspect he’s channeling magic through his music, at which point he will tease him unmercifully, like to psych him out: “When you passed me that mug of beer just now, was it free will or did I enchant you? Will you ever know?” Still they’re on the same moral wavelength and Siavash doesn’t actually look down on his superstitions. (I haven’t played with Ulbrig yet but I sense they’ll be bros.)

What about rivals?

Regill. Daeran but that can change, Wenduag, Lann to a smaller extent (if Siavash would please pull his weight with camp duties), Camellia because she resolutely resists his attempts at making friends.

Are they on any councils? If so, what sort of advice do they give?

Diplomatic council – pro-Andoran / anti-Cheliax; he is always militating for human rights and democracy; likes to bring aristocrats down a peg; has many connections he can call upon but most often in opposition to the Royal Council’s will; neutral about religious issues.

Logistics council – he will always support taxing the rich to improve conditions for the lower ranks, and will not shy away from creative corruption as long as the rich are targeted; will suggest throwing a massive Ritual of Stardust in Act V that will cost little but give a bonus to morale as well as recruitment of mythic units and mercenaries.

Where do they hang out in Drezen? In the Abyss?

Never in the same place. Most likely to be at the Half-Measure, but sometimes chatting on the top floor of the inn, busking or hanging with Woljif at the Market, chilling with Crinukh, playing for the soldiers at the barracks, posing for Sosiel, talking to prisoners, sitting on top of the walls. In the Abyss he won’t budge from a spot near the fire.

What are their idle animations?

The bard groove that’s already in the game (I need to make a gif of that one of these days, it’s hilarious.) Or he’ll whip his guitar around his shoulder and tune it.

If they’re taken to Areelu’s lab, what is their dream?

He’s in Elysium surrounded by adoring naked azata. (Deliberately a superficial fantasy.)

Do they advise the commander to abandon or keep their mythic powers?

“Hey man you do you.” He tells the KC that they should take control of their own destiny, whether that’s by giving up their powers, or keeping them and using them as they see fit. The important thing is not to be a tool of Areelu or any other greater power.

How/when do they join the Commander’s party?

As a game companion he’s not an Andoren Diplomat but a traveling bard. You’ll see him busking at the City Day festivities.

The KC comes across him in Kenabres after the attack, helping people escape a burning prison. The KC overhears his conversation with one of them:

“Malthor, Katia Malthor, is that your name? These people seem to think of you as a leader. Gather them and rally them to defend the city. Help keep people safe. You can do that, right? I’m counting on you.”

“Uh, yeah, sure…” And she runs off.

When questioned he will then explain to the KC that he let the prisoners out of the Inquisition prison when he heard screaming from inside the burning building. If you make a perception check you’ll see wood and straw piled up as if someone lit the prison on fire deliberately. You may be able to question Hulrun about it later. (It was on his orders.) Siavash will pull the KC aside and ask them not to report him. If they do, he’s arrested and out of the lineup.

If a lawful/evil commander objects to his actions, Siavash will say the prisoners didn’t deserve to be burned alive especially without a trial. KC: “Aren’t you worried cultists will wreak even more havoc?” Siavash: “I talked to them. It’ll be fine.” [Radiant smile.]

Relationship with the Knight-Commander:

He never calls the KC “Commander” but in text always by their first name or “my friend” in spoken lines.

The KC will have opportunities to make remarks about his not pulling his weight, being difficult to locate when needed, or generally annoying. These he will laugh and shrug off but they will decrease his approval counter.

A more aggressive KC can harangue him for being unreliable, careless and obnoxious.

His approval is high for Azata, Legend, Trickster, Angel and Gold Dragon in decreasing order.

Describe their companion quest:

Act I – Releasing the prisoners from the Inquisition prison is the start of it.

Act II – Rumors of a cultist cell called the “Avenging Pyre” circulate in the crusade. They have been preying on Kenabres refugees and sacrificing them to invoke demons which they then unleash on the surrounding areas.

Act III – With Siavash in the party, there will be a random encounter with cultists wearing special black robes bearing a flaming design (Avenging Pyre). They have burned a bunch of crusaders alive. A few escape the ensuing battle and say something about their leader “Malthor” as they flee. Siavash asks to talk to the commander when they get back to Drezen.

He looks really upset and says he thinks Malthor may have been one of the prisoners he freed in Kenabres, and admits that it may have been a mistake that he needs to make right. The KC can: 1) (lawful) give him a chewing out and regret not throwing him in prison himself; 2) (chaotic) tell him he did the right thing and he couldn’t know the consequences. Lots more approval for 2 obviously. In Crusade Mode more reports of the Avenging Pyre’s depredations continue to accumulate.

Act IV – Siavash is found at the Bad Luck tempting fate with busking and the KC has to intervene to prevent him being torn limb from limb. He then tells the KC that he overheard rumors Hepzamirah has been funneling Nahyndrian crystals not only to Xanthir Vang but also to a cultist cell in Golarion. In Colphyr, Mutasafen confirms that Malthor is getting crystals and she is preparing to unleash an augmented demon.

Act V – An army of demons led by an augmented balor shows up in Crusade Mode. Captain Odan reports after the battle and confirms that it’s Malthor’s work. The KC gets the quest to talk to Siavash about it but after a short search is approached by Anevia, saying he’s left Drezen.

Alternatively, if romanced, he will be found in the KC’s chamber sitting on the bed playing guitar. He’ll confess about the guilt he’s feeling and how important it is for him to fix things, and ask the KC to accompany him.

In the Worldwound the party will find him preparing to sneak disguised into Malthor’s camp and fix this or die trying. The KC alone will accompany him, and you’ll have to avoid alert guards and dogs/demons. When the two of them get to Malthor’s tent they find that Malthor is not Katia but her sister!

The sister has been leading the cultist cell believing Katia was burned alive in the Kenabres prison. This is her revenge on the Inquisitors and crusaders. The KC can then 1) (LE) execute her on the spot – Siavash will turn on the KC and be killed too, 2) (LN) take her prisoner – Siavash will disapprove strongly or 3) (LG) take her prisoner but promise a fair trial and to help find her sister; the KC will berate him for being careless – Siavash will disapprove less but all of these choices increase his bad ending counter.

4) Chaotic – let Siavash talk to her, in which case he tries to convince her that her sister is still alive by an act of Desna’s grace and that he’ll help find her. If the KC has been supportive up to this point he will succeed. If not, he will fail and she’ll attack. Best outcome is she comes back to Drezen and atones by joining the crusade (ending slides will say she found her sister eventually and they lived out their days making up for the damage she did). Talking to Siavash after the final quest you can forgive him and relieve a significant burden of guilt but he will be pensive about the consequences of his actions.

Obviously the party has to fight the augmented balor to escape!

Are they romanceable? Describe their romance quest/scenes if you want!

Restricted to male commanders. In Act II the KC will get a dialogue where he’s singing about admiring someone mysterious and exciting from afar, and you can ask him if it’s about you. He’ll give you a really cute grin and say “It is if you want it to be.” Hard to tell if he’s joking. He’ll also do this with a female KC and then if pursued in Act III will friendzone her. (Deliberately annoying. He’s a flirt.)

With a chaotic commander, there will be a camp cutscene where he says “This crusade is turning out even more fun than I expected. There’s never a dull moment with you, is there? Sometimes I thank Desna she put us in each other’s path.”

Act III – He will show up at the command room and ask the KC to take a day off and have some fun. He then disguises both of you with a cantrip and takes you to the Half Measure to drink and listen in on gossip, and from there you tail a cultist together, prank Hulrun if alive / Horgus if not, and finally climb up and walk along Drezen’s walls so you can stargaze. In the dialogue you can either resist his ideas or add your own, earning more approval, in which case at the end of it he tells you you’re a lot of fun and that he finds you fascinating.

If you press for more, he’ll sleep with you but be gone the next morning. The next time you talk to him he’ll be friendly but a little reserved.

Act IV – After the Battlebliss you get a dialogue where he’s off by himself and you realize he’s been crying. He tells you the Abyss is getting to him and that he was terrified when you were taken prisoner, and asks for a hug. You can press for more but he’ll say not here. He will then hold you close and sing a lullaby until you fall asleep in each other’s arms, and you will have no nightmares for once.

Act V start – Choosing Devil, Lich, or Aeon will trigger a cutscene where he breaks up with the KC politely but firmly, with barely disguised bitterness. With Swarm he’ll just get eaten I guess. With Demon he’ll hold out longer, and there will be a lot of pleading and tears before the end, but eventually a Demon romance locks him into his bad ending.

Act V – At some point when you exit the Citadel into the city he’ll run up and grab your hand and ask you to come with him. He takes you to a secluded spot outside the city walls where there’s a nice little brook and a picnic already laid out, and plays you a really sweet, sappy love song. If you respond positively he’ll confess:

“I messed up. I didn’t want to fall in love with you. At first it was because I didn’t want to be tied down to Drezen or to this crusade, but the longer I stayed the more I knew I wanted to stay, to be by your side wherever that took me, even if it meant going to the Abyss—and even if it meant staying here.

“The more I stayed the more I felt drawn to you, the more I began to care about you. Your happiness means everything to me. Just the thought of your smile lights up my whole world.

“The real problem is, I know myself. I’m afraid I’ll let you down. And that I couldn’t bear, because I… I love you. With all my heart.”

You can accept in one of two ways: you can ask him to stay with you in Drezen, in which case he will commit but with some trepidation (A little shaky: “Staying here with you will be a whole new adventure.”) The best outcome is if you tell him you dream of a day when you can leave this behind and travel the world together. He will say “Your smile is like Elysium—it fills me with joy and wonder. I want to walk in your garden forever.”

After that if you suggest spending some time together it will be in your picnic spot, not in the Citadel bedroom.

At Threshold he’ll gush and promise never to leave you, but he will not propose.

What would their ending slides be like?

Good non-romanced ending with Good!Woljif – they are inseparable and it’s strongly implied romantically involved. They gathered a cult following in Razmiran and were subsequently run out of the country; the KC had to pull some strings to get them out of jail in Druma; their infamy grows as their scams funnel money to Woljif’s charities.

Romanced endings: 1) staying in Drezen – he is forever in the KC’s orbit like a bright, wandering planet, always full of love songs and romantic escapades, but he sometimes gazes out over the walls with a longing expression—until his eyes meet yours. 2) travelling – inseparable, you travel Avistan, then across the Inner Sea to the Golden Road and beyond, finding love and adventure and always seeking to help the downtrodden; he says his soul has taken wing.

Bad ending – Siavash was last seen on the run busking in Kerse, having displeased the Thrunes with his attempts to interfere with the slave trade in Cheliax. The KC received a letter from him posted in Katapesh but that was years ago.

Any other fun facts?

Gargoyle attack – he is one of those who are carried off. You find him on the road to the Lost Chapel rallying scared crusaders. His HP are at 50%.

Taking Drezen – if the KC goes azata he will be overjoyed; he and Aivu tend to one-up each other in terms of mischief

Wintersun – at the waterfall, with or without Daeran’s suggestion of erotic bathing, he will try to turn the event into a skinny dipping party

Battlebliss – he will make a rescue attempt in disguise and get thrown into the ring with the KC

Fleshmarket – he’ll fully encourage an azata commander to raze the place, but even with a non-azata commander he will frequently comment, and when Daeran offers to buy the aasimar he’ll warm to him

Ivory Sanctum and Ivory Labyrinth – will insist on freeing every possible prisoner, getting the party into a couple of scraps

Provide some dialogue/bark examples!

Hm? Oh, sure. / Anything for you, hon. / It’ll be fine.

Too many clicks: Ugh, can’t someone else do the boring bits?

Perception check: Hey, check this out!

Skill check success: No problem. / Ha, luck and looks.

Skill check failure: Oh, well. I’ll… make it up to you.

Attack: Oh man, not again. / When will people learn?

Crit: You were asking for that. / Tremble before my mighty lute!

Rare: I don’t manipulate people; I just get them to reconsider what’s in their best interest.

Provide some examples of companion banters!

(Act II) Daeran: You do understand that if I frequently mock your clothes, it’s because I’m inviting you to remove them.

Siavash: I’m afraid my tastes run toward the more plebian, as you’ve wasted no opportunity to point out.

Siavash: (singing) …you are ensorcelled by my music…

Ulbrig: LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.

Regill: Will you cease this inane singing? Not only are you a distraction, your noisemaking attracts enemies and provides them with a most tempting target.

Siavash: Distracting, attractive and tempting, eh Regill?

Woljif: I got a good one. I’ll put up handbills and talk up the show, but on ticket sales we hit ‘em with a service charge and then say it’s sold out and double the price. Tell ‘em the proceeds go to veterans of the crusade.

Siavash: Not bad! I’m up for it, as long as the proceeds really do go to veterans of the crusade.

Woljif: Hey, you talk a good game about tiefling rights, but I ain’t seen you give to the cause.

Siavash: Here, you can have my cherry roll.

Siavash: Woljif, you have such a funny expression when I play, like your eyes go all dreamy and your tail curls up. I guess you like music.

Woljif: Huh? I don’t know what you’re… I mean, everybody likes music. Hey, sing that one about the orphan pickpocket who strikes it rich again.

(Act V Good!Woljif / unromanced) Siavash: If you’d taken Ygefeles’ power you’d be living it up right now, but you wouldn’t have real friends. Like the chief. Like me.

Woljif: “Friends” huh? Yeah, I guess things could be worse. Could be better too though… uh, you know.

(Act V Good!Woljif / unromanced) Siavash: Are you all right, Woljif? You look cold.

Woljif: You look warm.

Ember: You sing carefree songs and make people feel hopeful, but you never talk about how scared you are.

Siavash: Everybody’s scared, Ember. I just want them to forget about it for a little while.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #wotr commander #commander as companion #siavash #this... got long

[mask131]

The myth of Dionysos (8)

And to conclude this long overview of the mythical figure of Dionysos, here is the remaining parts of Félix Guirand's analysis/recap of the deity.

III/ Birth and childhood of Dionysos

After the earth was fertilized by the benevolent water of the sky, it needs to suffer the dry burning of the sun. Only then will theplants reach maturity, only then fruits grow – and only then will the grapes appear on the vine. This seems to be the deeper meaning of the myth of Semele, usually said to be the mother of Dionysos. Daughter of Cadmos, the king of Thebes, Semele attracted the attention of Zeus, who seduced her and made love to her – the god frequently visited her within her father’s palace. One day however, Semele followed a pernicious advice given by Hera disguised as the princess’ nurse: she begged Zeus to appear before her in his full Olympian glory. However she could not stand the intense and burning light of the divine form of her lover, and the fires that surrounded Zeus’ true shape burned her alive. The child within her belly only survived thanks to a miraculous thick ivy that had wrapped itself around the palace’s columns, and that shielded with its green leaves the unborn baby from the divine flames. Zeus took the baby, that was not yet fully formed, and placed it in his own thigh so he could finish growing. When the birth was due, Zeus (with the help of Eileithyia) removed the young Dionysos from his thigh – and this is why ever since he was called “Dithyrambos”. Zeus then gave his son to Ino, Semele’s sister, who lived in Orchomenos with her husband Athamas.

This was the most common tradition, but other tales recall how, when Cadmos learned of his daughter’s pregnancy, he locked her in a wooden chest that was thrown into the sea. The floating chest want to the seashore of Brasies, in the Peloponnese: when it was opened, Semele was dead, but the child was alive, and it was taken by Ino. Still filled with jealousy, Hera continued her vengeance by turning Ino and Athamas mad. Zeus saved his son once again by turning him into a young goat, and he gave the order to Hermes to carry Dionysos to the nymphs of Nysa. Where was Nysa? Was it a mountain of Thrace? It is impossible to pinpoint the exact location of Nysa, because every region of Greece where the cult of Dionysos settled claimed to have their own Nysa.

Dionysos spent his childhood on the legendary mountain of Nysa, taken care of by nymphs whose efforts were rewarded later on, as they became the constellations known as the Hyades. The Muses were also said to have helped with Dionysos’ education – and so did the Satyrs, the Silenes (Seleinoi) and the Maenads. Finally, in Euboea, it was said that Hermes had entrusted Dionysos to Macris, a daughter of Aristaeus that fed the young child with honey. Crowned with laurel and ivy, the oung god spent his time exploring the mountains and the forests surrounded by nymphs that laughed and screamed happily. The old Silenus also taught Dionysos how to be virtuous person, and gave him a great love for the concept of glory. When he became an adult, Dionysos discovered the fruit of the vine, and how from these grapes he could make wine. He visibly first used it without any kind of moderation, as the legend says he was struck with madness by Hera – but it was only a temporary derangement. In order to be cursed from his insanity, Dionysos went to the oracle of Dodona – on his way there he had to cross a swamp on the back of a donkey. To reward this animal, he gave him the power to speak. Once his mind was healed, Dionysos started travelling throughout the world to teach mortals the art of winemaking. Numerous fabulous adventures happened to him as he went from country to country.

V/ The travels of Dionysos

Coming down from the mountains of Thrace, he crossed Boeotia and entered the Attic land. There he was welcomed by king Icarios, to whom he offered his grapevine. Icarios carelessly offered wine to his shepherds who, upon feeling the effects of drunkenness, believed they had been poisoned, and killed Icarios in revenge. Her daughter, Erigone, searched for her father and thanks to her dog Maira discovered his grave. Despaired, she hanged herself on a nearby tree. Dionysos, to punish this tragedy, cursed all the women of the Attic region with a furious madness – meanwhile Icarios was brought to heaven with his daughter and the faithful she-dog, where they became constellations. Received in Aetolia by the king of Calydon, Oeneus, Dionysos had sex with his host’s wife, Althaea. To reward Oeneus for pretending this never happened, the dog offered him the very first grapevine, and from the one-night union of Dionysos and Althaea was born Deianira. In Laconia, Dionysos was received by king Dion, who had three daughters. Dionysos was in love with the youngest, Carya, but the oldest two tried to prevent their romance by warning their father about it. Dionysos punished them first by making them mad, then by turning them into rocks. As for Carya, she was turned into a walnut-tree.

After continental Greece, Dionysos visited the islands. It was during these travels that, as he walked by the seashore, he was kidnapped by Tyrrhenian pirates who imprisoned him on their ship. Mistaking him for the son of a king, they hoped to get a ransom from him. But in vain they tried to tie him up with ropes: they kept falling to the ground, and the knots unmade themselves. One man, feeling Dionysos’ divinity, became scared and encouraged his companions to set their prisoner free, only for his crewmates to refuse. Then a series of miracles happened: a strong wine started pouring from the ship, vine grew onto the sail, and a dark ivy surrounded the mast. The god himself became a terrifying lion, and the terrified sailors threw themselves into the sea, where they were turned into dolphins. Only the man that had tried to set him free was spared by Dionysos. Finding himself on the island of Naxos, Dionysos saw a young woman asleep. It was Ariadne, the daughter of king Minos, that Theseus had brought back with him from Crete but had just abandoned. When she woke up, noticing Theseus’ absence, Ariadne fell into a violent despair – but Dionysos comforted her, and soon after, he married her officially. All the gods were guests to the wedding, and they covered the couple with gifts: Ariadne gave Dionysos three sons, Oenopion, Evanthes and Staphylos. The Homeric tradition, however, gave a different record of this tale: in the Homeric texts, Ariadne was killed by Artemis as a young woman, and Dionysos only married her after her death. A grave of Ariadne could be found in Naxos, where the Homeric tale was commemorated through dual celebrations: one was a sad celebration about crying for Ariadne’s death, another was joyful and centered around her wedding to Dionysos.

The travels and adventures of Dionysos did not limit themselves to the Greek world. Followed by satyrs and maenads, he went to Phrygia where he saw Cybele, and the goddess initiated him to her mysteris. He then went to Cappadocia, where he banished the Amazons from Ephesus, and to Syria, where he fought against Damascos – for having destroyed the grapevines planted by the god, Damascos was flayed alive. Dionysos then went to Liba, where he met Aphrodite and Adonis (even making love to Adonis’ daughter Beroe). After ruling for some times over the Caucasian Iberia, Dionysos followed his journey to the East, crossed the Tiger river on an actual tiger sent by Zeus, he united the two shores of the Euphrates by a rope made of vine and ivy branches, and he went as far as India where he brought civilization. He was also seen in Egypt as a guest of king Proteus ; and in Libya, as the one who helped Ammon regain his throne, usurped by Kronos and the Titans.

After those glorious expeditions Dionysos returned to Greece – but he wasn’t the rough god that came from the mountains of Boeotia. No, after having lived in Asia, Dionysos became an effeminate figure: he was now a graceful teenager wearing a long dress in a Lydian style. His cult had now orgiastic rites borrowed from Phrygia. And so, when he returned to Greece he was met with mistrust and doubt, sometimes with outright hostility. Most noticeably, when he returned to Thrace, its king, Lycurgus, declared himself the enemy of Dionysos. Forced to flee, the god found shelter with Thetis in the depths of the sea. However Lycurgus had imprisoned the Bacchants, the followers of the god. Dionysos cursed the land with sterility in retaliation, and removed Lycurgus’ sanity: the king ended up killing his own son by believing he was cutting a grapevine. Peace only returned to Thrace when Lycurgus, by order of an oracle, was trampled to death by horses on the Pangion mountain. Dionysos was not received better by Pentheus, the king of Thebes, who imprisoned the god in his jail. Dionysos easily set himself free, and he cursed with insanity Pentheus’ mother, Agave, as well as all the other women of Thebes. Transformed in Maenads, they went to the Citheron mountain to perform Dionysian orgies. Pentheus, who had followed them, was ripped to pieces by his own mother. This terrible tragedy became the subject of Euripides’ play “The Bacchants”. A similar adventure happened to the inhabitants of Argos, who had also refused to recognize Dionysos’ divinity: their women, possessed by an insane fury, ripped to shreds and then devoured their own children. Among the many punishments inflicted by the gods, the most famous is the one of the daughters of Minyas, king of Orchomenos. They were three sisters: Alcithoe, Leucippe and Arsppe. Since they refused to participate in Dionysos’ celebrations, the god appeared before them under the shape of a maiden, and he tried to convince them in a sweet and soft way. Failing, the god turned successively into a bull, a lion and a panther. Terrified, the Minyads were literaly scared out of their wits, becoming insane with fear – one of them, Leucippe, even killed with her bare hands her own son. The three sisters ended up transformed in nocturnals animals.

Now, no one would dare challenge or refute Dionysos’ divinity, and no one would dare prevent his worship from spreading. The god completed his glorious career by going into the Underworld to rescue his mother Semele. He then renamed her Thyone, and brought her with him to Olympus among the Immortals. The place through which Dionysos returned from the Underworld was supposedly located in Troezen, within the temple of Artemis Soteira. According to the tradition of Agos, Dionysos has rather learned the road to the Underworld thanks to the help of a man of Argos called Polymnos, and returned to the world of the living through the Alcyon sea. Within Olympus, Dionysos also took part in the war of the gods against the giants: the braying of the donkey he was riding terrified the Giants, and the god killed with his thyrsus a Giant either named Eurytos or Rhatos.

#greek mythology #the myth of dionysos #dionysos #dionysus #greek gods #greek myths

[airxn]

muse as a deity.

Rules: Think carefully about your character and their development through their journey (canon or OC) within their story. Fill out the chart and tag whoever you want! Multi-muses, feel free to pick any of your characters—just a few, or all of them. Please repost, so the dash isn’t clogged with reblogs.

tagged by: @carnivorare – thank you! 'v'

AIRIN NIMESCU.

God of: creation / destruction – the protector of the spirit .

 Associated with: lightning in a brewing storm, haze over mountain tops, new flora growth after a fire, dense forests with light trickling through their leaves, sunrises, sunsets, yellow apples, and protection of nature.

 Sacred plants: lavender, oak trees, dandelions, white roses, and marigolds.

 Sacred stones/gems: sapphire and pyrite.

 Sacred animals: coyotes, dragonflies, jackals, cheetahs.

 Colors: gold, white, blue.

 Food: venison, peanuts, wild berries, oranges, strawberries, and apples.

 Scents: lavender, fresh rain, fresh pine, morning dew, first sunlight, smoldering ash.

 Accepted offerings/ways to honor: he doesn't ask for anything, as he finds it mildly offensive. but if he has to, at his alter he accepts different cuts of meat, fruits, books, and little notes. in honoring him you respect all fauna and nature alike, but also accept the hardships they must endure without interference.

tagging: @rathalascendant . @ama-tcra-su . @bleedinghearth . @mindfoster

#Documents. #Dash Games. #( this was fun thank you! )

[autumnagain]

So I’m caught up on Critical Role and having some CONNECTING THE DOTS thoughts.

The Raven Queen ascended to godhood on an apogee solstice, supplanting the old god of death. Their names have both been erased from reality. Decades later, the archmage Vecna, creator of many powerful + destructive artifacts during the Age of Arcanum, attempts to recreate the Rite of Ascension on a celestial solstice but is interrupted and killed by an army of Pelor. The Rite of Ascension (also called the Rite of Seeding) is successfully performed by Vespin Chloras just before the next apogee solstice, instigating the Calamity.

Aeor was struck down during the Calamity when the Prime Deities and Betrayer Gods called an armistice to turn against it together, as Aeor had developed god-killing weapons. Parts of Aeor crash in Eiselcross, but at least one district of Aeor, the Cognouza Ward, plane-shifted into the Astral Sea to escape destruction either before or during the gods’ assault upon it. Cognouza encounters a psychic storm in the Astral Sea which “shatters every mind and spirit” in the city, turning the living people of the ward into a twisted hive mind, melded with the city itself.

The divine gate is consistently described as a “lattice weave”— the same kind of weave is wrapped around Ruidis. There is a city on Ruidis behind the red storm raging upon it, and potentially multiple forgotten gods locked away there. In one origin myth, Ruidis is a an alien power from another reality, and the prime deities and betrayer gods banded together to seal it away.

Delilah Briarwood was on the Cerberus Assembly as Archmage of Antiquity until an investigation by the Cobalt Soul into her use of necromancy lead to her flight from the Empire. She later resurrected Vecna, who re-attempted to ascend to godhood and was killed by VM. While serving Vecna, she was near-impossible to kill, as her soul continued to return to Thar Amphala rather than passing on. Her soul is currently riding shotgun inside of Laudna’s (I believe).

Vess de Rogna became the next Archmage of Antiquity, a position which concerns historical studies and research. De Rogna was particularly interested in pre-Calamity history and artifacts, and in her pursuits contacted the still-living hive mind Cognouza. She was marked by its eyes and compelled (either by her own ambition or its influence) to become its avatar, the Nonagon, until Lucien killed her.

Vess de Rogna and Ludinus Da’Leth were both researching the beacon which had been stolen from the Kryn Dynasty— the M9 saw her and Da’Leth in Felderwin and both Yeza and Luc mentioned that she had been the primary mage “working with” Yeza to extract dunamantic essence from the Beacon.

Da’Leth worked with Essek to steal the beacon from the Dynasty and research it, but we never learned what exactly his intentions were in this research. Essek expressed frustration at the deal, suspecting that they had certainly gained more knowledge through their research than what had been shared with him. Da’Leth’s co-conspirators in this scheme were Trent Ikithon and de Rogna, at minimum. Little is known of the true nature of the beacons, beyond their connection to an entity known as the Luxon, a being of light and possibility which pre-dates the gods of Exandria (and maybe Exandria itself).

Da’Leth is a survivor of the elven city of Molaesmyr, which was destroyed by corruption from an artifact from Aeor in 585 PD (about 260ish years before current day as of campaign 3). This artifact destroyed the city and corrupted the nearby Savalirwood. Quote “terrible fey creatures now call this city home” and the fey magics of the city and the Savalirwood have grown “twisted and dark”. Savalir means guilt in Elvish, it is believed that the curse was released in a labyrinth under the tower of Caes Mosor in the city, and the corruption of the trees was disturbingly similar to a subterranean, maybe sentient forest the M9 found while exploring the ruins of Aeor.

The Star Razor, a vestige of Divergence tied to the Wild Mother and the Moonweaver, was destroyed in a terrible battle in the ruins of Molaesmyr within the Savalirwood. The Moonweaver (Sehanine) is, of course, tied to the moon of Catha, whose cycles around Exandria are studied and recorded by elven astronomers. Sehanine often wanders the Feywild and is strongly tied to the Moontide Crown. There is also a weave-like barrier around the other, fucked-up moon.

Ira Wendagoth, the Nightmare King, is a twisted fey creature with some vested interest in Ruidis and whatever is happening with it. He stole the Moontide Crown from the telescope he used the Calloways to construct, is a member of neither the Seelie or Unseelie Court, is an inventor of dark and terrible artifacts, and (as a fun fact) shares a first name with one of the Somnovem of Cognouza. He built a telescope which is capable of seeing both leylines and the Weave surrounding the red moon, as well as something else the party did not see. An apogee solstice is about to occur, according to Hondir.

There is so much more going on (FCG is an Aeormaton! What is so threatening about the Grim Verity’s research that its members are being killed? Why did those same assassins attack the Ashari and kill Orym’s husband? Who is Otahan Thull and WHAT IS IN HER BACKPACK?) but these are the big things rattling around in my brain after last night’s episode.

Do I know what any of this means when put together?? NO. Am I saying the Nightmare King is one of the fey twisted by whatever happened to Molaesmyr?? MAYBE?? Am I feral about Da’Leth’s involvement and his still-opaque motivations?? ABSOLUTELY.

#critical role #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #ludinus da'leth #I’m losing my mind but this is everything I needed to get back on board with C3 #liam slapping the table when Matt said ludinus was literally me

[jasminewalkerauthor]

Deep dives into folklore: Italian folklore

Italian folklore is a rich tapestry woven with threads of ancient traditions, mythical creatures, and timeless tales. Rooted in a history that spans thousands of years, Italian folklore reflects the diverse cultural influences that have shaped the country. This week aims to take a deep dive into the enchanting world of Italian folklore, exploring its mythology, legendary creatures, and the enduring narratives that continue to captivate imaginations.

I. Historical Context:

To understand Italian folklore, it's essential to delve into the historical context that has shaped its narratives. Italy's geographical location at the crossroads of various civilizations, including Etruscan, Greek, Roman, and Byzantine, has contributed to the rich tapestry of stories that form the basis of its folklore. The interplay of cultural, religious, and social influences has given rise to a unique blend of myths and legends that continue to permeate Italian society.

II. Mythological Pantheon:

Italian mythology draws heavily from its ancient Roman roots, with a pantheon of gods and goddesses who embody various aspects of life and nature. At the heart of this pantheon is Jupiter, the king of the gods, along with his consort Juno, and sister Minerva. The stories of their interactions, conflicts, and relationships with other deities shape the mythological landscape of Italy.

The influence of Greek mythology is also evident in Italian folklore, with gods like Apollo, Diana, and Mercury finding a place in the collective imagination. The fusion of Roman and Greek mythologies has given rise to a unique blend of divine characters that populate the tales of ancient Italy.

III. Legendary Heroes and Heroines:

Italian folklore is replete with legendary heroes and heroines who embark on epic quests and face mythical challenges. One notable figure is Aeneas, the Trojan hero who played a crucial role in the foundation of Rome. His journey, as chronicled in Virgil's "Aeneid," serves as a foundational narrative in Italian mythology.

Another iconic figure is the medieval knight Orlando, whose adventures are chronicled in the epic poem "Orlando Furioso" by Ludovico Ariosto. Orlando's exploits, alongside those of other knights and heroes, contribute to the rich tapestry of Italian chivalric folklore.

IV. Folkloric Creatures and Beings:

Italian folklore is teeming with a diverse array of fantastical creatures and beings, each with its own unique attributes and significance. From benevolent spirits to malevolent monsters, these entities populate the cultural imagination of Italy.

Fairies and Spirits: Italian folklore features benevolent beings such as the "Befana," a kind-hearted witch who delivers gifts to children on Epiphany Eve. Other spirits, like the "Lares" and "Larvae," are guardian deities of households and ancestral spirits, respectively.

Monsters and Malevolent Beings: The folklore of Italy is also populated by menacing creatures, such as the "Lupo Mannaro" (werewolf), the "Strega" (witch), and the "Banshee-like" "Striges." These beings embody the darker, more mysterious aspects of Italian folklore and have been the subjects of cautionary tales for generations.

V. Folk Traditions and Celebrations:

Italian folklore is not confined to ancient myths and legends; it also encompasses a vibrant tapestry of folk traditions and celebrations. Festivals such as Carnival, with its elaborate masks and lively parades, and the Feast of St. Anthony's Day, marked by blessings for animals, showcase the enduring influence of folklore on Italian cultural practices.

Italian folklore is a captivating realm where ancient myths, legendary heroes, and fantastical creatures converge to create a rich cultural heritage. From the heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of enchanted forests, the narratives of Italian folklore continue to echo through the centuries, connecting the past with the present and providing a profound glimpse into the collective soul of a nation. As these tales persist and evolve, they weave a timeless narrative that transcends generations, ensuring that the magic of Italian folklore endures for years to come. Taglist (reply or reblog to be added): @axl-ul @crow-flower @thoughts-fromthevoid @alderwoodbooks @harleyacoincidence @tuberosumtater @sonic-spade @theonlygardenia @holymzogynybatman @nulliel-tres @w0rkah0licz @sylvanthorn @tigertaurus22 @profiterole-reads @mathias-musings @1899adgg1997tbmd @grimmparanormalinvestigations

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #bookish #booklr #fantasy books #creative writing #ya fantasy books #ya books #book blog #writers block #teen writer #tumblr writers #writblr #writerblr #writer problems #writers community #writers #writers corner #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writerslife #writing blog #writing community #writers and poets #folklore #italian folklore #mythology #roman mythology #classical mythology

[tastic-in-its-finest]

Strike Midnight

Ao3

For the @tss-october-ghostwriters event, the prompts transformation, full moon, midnight, ancient, and a little bit of magic were used :)

Warnings and tags: Minor violence, tw blood, mentions of murdering/killing, and animal attacks

Summary: To improve an imperfect world, he does what needs to be done. Roman, a human, hunts the feral and out of control monsters in his path while sparing the misunderstood, along with his twin brother Remus.

However, it's hard to hunt a werewolf when it turns out to be your own brother.

Written by: @tastic-in-its-finest, for my lovely Giftee @edupunkn00b

...

He searched every corner and crevice yet couldn’t find it. Roman checked almost every burrow, climbing many trees of the dark and deep thicket of the forest to survey the area. He knew he wasn’t trying as hard as he should. He wasn’t desperate enough to cannonball into a lake just yet. Yet the ancient bracelet he was trying to find seemed unreachable.

He was given instructions by Janus, a snake deity, of which surrounding area to look, and bribing them with the sweet ‘rewards’ to come with it.

He could try to enjoy the rewards, if not for him, then for his brother Remus. He didn’t hate the Janus, harboring only a slight dislike for him since he’d met him, but they bonded over theater and a love for drama. And he wasn’t about to let his brother down, who was enthralled with any ideas Janus had in mind, even if they were clueless of their prize.

He took a short break to wait for the impending sunset, in the middle of a semi-open clearing with rocks nearby, he could mentally hear Janus scolding him. Where is he meant to find this anyway? Janus didn’t tell them too many specifics to find the bracelet; like a key hidden under a rock.

Well, what did he have to lose?

Looking under one, two, three stones, and the fourth, much larger and stuck in the ground. He pulled harder, and harder, before it popped out and he almost decked his beautiful face. It isn’t stuck to mud however, a shiny silver pendant, or bracelet somehow found itself lost. The bastard who stole and threw it away knew where to hide it. It was the exact description he needed.

“Eureka,” he whispered, drying the wet and dirt, wearing the ancient bracelet, golden, fabulous, the smell of metal grazing his wrist, quite charming, preparing to speak with Remus about his discovery.

A hesitant twig broke close, near one of the large bushes. Roman felt eyes prying the back of his head. He wanted to think Remus was attempting to scare him, poorly, but Remus knew better.

The handle of his sword proved a sturdy grip, seethed in his lightweight holster for now, he waited.

“Show yourself!” He yelled, as he swung his sharp sword out and a fast figure tripped him down, standing unfazed in front of him dark and stormy. A sharp face he found all too familiar these days.

“You.” He pointed his sword, finding the means to pull himself up while looking at the unimpressed emo nightmare, V, short for vampire, held an black spider web umbrella one-handed, big enough to cover him completely.

“You’re too easy sometimes… princey,” Roman glared, remaining serious, yet slightly relaxing the tip of his sword towards the vampire's turtleneck.

“What sort of a nickname is that?”

The pale emo grinned, “If you don’t want to be called a prince, don’t act or dress like one,” the vampire gestured towards his favorite red sash over his hunting clothes.

“Should I call you a dark and stormy knight then, cause that’s exactly what you are,” with layers upon layers of black and gray clothing in the hot grueling sun.

“Real original of you.”

“It’s the only thing I can call you, unless you give me a name.”

“In your dreams.”

His name was not V, but he was called Virgil. Stuck in an open area, one of his many obstacles, he ran into him, all of his stamina diminished, the sun already tiring him. The extremely skilled and dangerous monster hunter, his sword resting near his side, ready to strike him at any moment, “What’s your play vampire?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

"My brother will be here any minute. I'd hate for him to kill you before I do,” he playfully tapped him, but Virgil internally wondered if he was being serious or not.

"Lower your sword, then we can talk," Virgil tried to put the most nonchalant voice imaginable, he cringed when he croaked the words out. The hunter listened.

"...Have you been stalking me?"

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not the only reason I’m out here,” he stepped forward, looking distantly behind Roman. The side dense area of trees were difficult to traverse by, more difficult with an umbrella no less, however, he could make a run for it, only, a sharp and cold blade tapped and pressed the tip of his bicep before he could move forward.

He blinked rapidly, “You want to do this now?”

“We don’t have a truce at the moment,” The hunter flashed a cocky grin, stance in the ready. He was testing him, always, but Virgil never wanted to believe he couldn’t be. Didn’t think he noticed the wooden stake slotted near his sword holster. Make sure he never touches it.

“Cocky, princey,” Virgil looked into the deadly rays of the sun, the dark umbrella his only protection, assessing his situation. He put his hood up.

From what he could gather, it was a pure coincidence they met again. But Roman was ready to defeat him this time, defend his honor and beat his brother to the kill.

He took the first swing, missing by an inch, another, another, and another, the monster ducked, shielding the blow meant to strike his face as his back sizzled from a lack of protection. The vampire hissed, scratching Roman’s cheek, burning and painful.

Backing away, Roman got stunned by such a violent reaction, furthermore, V remained in defense. Taking a chance, he kept stepping forward, swinging fast, failing to kick his chest, and swiping his legs from under him with a katana. The fiend stumbled into the grass. He tried stomping to the side of his pale face yet rolling out from under him, swiping at Roman’s spine, getting a hard grip on his hands, flipping him onto his back as his hood fell off.

Groaning in pain, pushing himself up, the monster tried kicking him to the ground while he was vulnerable. Roman ducked, slashing the torn Umbrella. Hissing, cowering and retreating from the sun, Roman rushes forward and trying to pin him to the tree, his head hit it too hard, knocking him out cold.

Roman leaned on the tree, catching his breath, the vampire lucky enough to be left in the shade of the leaves. Seething his sword, somehow without a trace of vampire blood, in his holster, fitting the wooden stake in his hand.

Standing over V, blissfully unaware of what could be a stake about to be driven in his heart, turned Roman’s stomach. He gripped the stake, he could do it, rid the world of one more evil. Yet he blanks trying to search for an evil deed V committed. He isn’t feral. This wasn’t honorable, it felt so wrong. He would have hated to be murdered this way.

The stake is slit in its rightful place, along with neatly folding the umbrella. Leaving after his slight distraction.

…

Remus is having the time of his life. Swinging upside down on trees, squeezing his bum into every burrow, and cannonballing into a lake to find an eensie weensie ancient trinket bracelet thing and the magic to neutralize the strengths of those who weld it. He was given sort of clear instructions by his close friend Janus, an idea of the whereabouts, and the sweet long morningstar to come with it.

Like any good friend, he lamented on a large stone, reeking of wet dog, cuddling his stick and staring at his reflection in the water, throwing small stones that emerged in the water at himself. It was going to be hard to earn his trust back, after what he did. One bracelet and he can have his weapon back instead of using a sad and sharp stick to murder monsters when he needs to, and of course, Janus’ unconditional love that he cherished more than anything. If only he could see how hard he is trying now.

Echoing through the thicket, a low whistle drew his attention, a call to warn him of his twin's return, in case Remus tried stabbing him.

“Back so late?”

“I have what we need, let's go,” Roman’s shoulders were unusually tense, Remus didn’t question it. Pulling out a large map to guide them out of the unfamiliar area.

“Want to make time for hunting feral werewolves or Rougaros?”

“Well, if only he thought about that on a night other than a full moon,”

“Boo, you’re such a bore. We can do both.”

Roman gasped, feigning annoyance. They crowd the map. Only a few paces north to reach Umbra, a magical spirited place, reachable by oak trees where Janus resided most of his time. The journey was easy however long it was, hopefully they could get back to do some proper werewolf hunting.

…

The confusing fuzziness began to emb. The bark was rough on his pounding head and scarred back, the tingling burn on the side of his face slowly reconstructing the skin, remembering how he ran away and the umbrella broke.

The hunter is nowhere in sight, he waited, and nothing came of it.

Virgil huffed, moving the umbrella folded neatly in his lap, flexing the panel, a large obnoxious ripe in the fold, great.

Moving along, he couldn’t believe the hunter let him go with only a mild headache. It could have been much worse. Dying wasn’t too far of an option. Probably sparring him out of pity, he wouldn’t doubt it. Virgil just wanted to leave the clearing.

His boot clinks, glaring down, a round metal bracelet under his foot. He reaches down, probably something the prince owned. He tries it for himself, a sudden wash of drowsiness and fatigue traveled from his arm, a scary amount of relaxation as he couldn’t see sharper or hear farther, he yanked it away shrieking.

He’d rather not touch it ever again, but maybe he really wanted to get back at the hunter, maybe repay him for not killing him, as pathetic as it sounds. He pocketed the bracelet and avoided touching it as he squeezed through the bushes, following an obvious trail left by its rightful owner.

…

The sunset started, yet the sky wasn’t fully darkened. Remus’ watch going off and being silenced immediately to watchfully and carefully listen to any howls from werewolves, ready to use his long stake for one they both heard close by. Whilst his brother preoccupied himself, Roman read the map, not surprised if they’ve been walking in circles for the past hour.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Remus took a peek over his shoulder.

“Of course,” he sighed, “We have a long way to go,” Remus held a manic grin, mussing, “Not too far, we can run there.”

“Too risky,” folding the map in his pocket, preparing to traverse first through the tight narrow trees, sticks stabbing his torso, through the rough patch then another path, passed the building, and arriving at the tree, Roman imagined it all going perfectly, hating chopping through the bark. A high pitched whistle turned his attention.

Remus froze, a finger over his lip. Roman stops moving, confused. While it might have been funny to see Roman become frazzled and get attacked by whatever growled in his ear, Janus would chastise him, and Roman would never forgive him. Roman looks petrified, a hand easing down, reaching for his sword.

Remus turns his head around, a black threatening wolf stalks behind them, big, with human eyes, a werewolf, staring at Remus through the trees, a far enough distance where they can run, the closeness of the trees restricting their movements, they decide to run.

Roman is ahead, breaking and hurting his arms as he hurls himself out of the forest.

Remus can’t breathe, he feels the warm breath and slobber on his legs, fighting, fight to get out, he jumps getting yanked by his leg, a sharp and tight bite on his ankle, he kicks its snout shouting, shielding his face, the long jaw chewing on his tough leather jacket, with no weapon but a stupid stick.

“Roman!” He punches, punching as hard as he can until Roman finally stabs it’s head. The wolf whimpered and cried, scattering away into the darkness.

“Are you ok?” Roman kneels down.

“Where were you?!”

“Remus-“

“You watch me get mauled by a wolf and ask me if I’M OK?!” Roman didn’t know how to respond.

“… Are you?” It quieted, Remus never got so frustrated before, it felt off.

“Sorry. I’m fine, check for bites,” Remus prompts his arm, rolling up the sleeve, Roman finds nothing but a tear in his jacket.

“All good, but your leg…” ominously, his boot is torn, notably a sliver of skin, Remus shrugs, pulling off his boot, no need to roll his socks, exposing a long nasty fresh bite on his ankle.

His heart sunk. Was— was he about to turn? No, no, they had until midnight, reach the Umbra and Janus will cure him before he feels anything.

Remus pushes his boot back on, unable to walk properly, letting Roman support his body with his arm on the path.

“Stay calm. You’re going to be fine, I promise,” it was beginning to turn dark.

Doubt seeped in.

“How much longer?”

“Just a bit, past the building, near the tree.”

Remus starts laughing, “Imagine me turning and ripping into your face, blood everywhere, then both of us wouldn’t make it with Janus’ stupid pendent.”

“Don’t think like that,” Remus was silenced for a moment, giving Roman time to check his wrist for the bracelet. All the rest is bare skin.

He lost it.

“… I don’t have the pendent anymore.”

Remus starts to laugh hysterically, Roman jostles him, “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything. Who cares about the pendent, we need to get you someplace safe.”

He hurries his pace, and Remus goes uncharacteristically quiet.

Numb, unconsciously going from zero to hundred, to hearing every chirp, creak, snap, Roman’s booming echoing voice and his own, to utter nothing. His ankle hot flashes every now and again, aching, throbbing, and in need of rest. Remus should have suggested Roman cut off his ankle in favor of ridding him from turning into.. a werewolf, slowly starting to accept that to be his reality, and how unsafe Roman would be once he does.

He needed to get away from him, away, run, limp as fast as he could.

Remus gently loosens his grip then pulls away from Roman, “Remus! What are you doing?”

He couldn’t let Roman get hurt, or bitten.

Roman holds him in a tight embrace, Remus scratches his face instead, straying away from the path running and half limping, going through a narrow path to lose his trace.

Roman covers his bleeding cheek, regaining his focus and chasing after Remus, weaving through the deep forest, his footsteps getting further away, lost to the wind of the woods. He continued forward. Sighting the large building in the distance, reaching the gate and the entrance to the abandoned boarding school from the map, left slightly ajar, pushing through and closing behind him, an air of death and a bone chilling cold, as if something invisible watched him, the place abandoned for years.

The caved in roof glowed the full moon's light on Remus, curled into himself stomach growling, he is a physical ball collapsed in the room, barely holding himself together. Roman slowly whistles, and kneels, rubbing a comforting circle on his back. Remus looked up to him, his eyes more navelly green and sharp, but he smiled a toothy sharp grin upon seeing him, contracting in pain again, shriveling.

He shushes, calms him down, doesn't let his emotions get to him. They can prevent this from happening.

The door creaks open. He can hear Remus’ breath hitch, the animalistic panic in his eyes, no, he rubs more circles and stares at a surprised and concerned figure, in all black and gray, a broken umbrella in his hands.

He’s going to kill that vampire.

He rushes as fast as he can to not disturb Remus any further, “V, what are you doing here!?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” V backed into the loud door cowering, the bracelet held in his hand snatched from him, “You had this?” Roman couldn’t believe it.

“Leave now,” Roman couldn’t stress enough how in much in danger he was there.

“I wanted to-“

Roman grabbed his neck scruff, pulling out his stake, “Go, I mean it or I will make you!” V’s eyes widened, about to protest or argue.

A large crack interrupted the room, turning around, Remus’ hand was covered in fur, nails sharpening into claws, ears pointing and morphing, screaming in agony, Roman couldn’t look away. Roman lets go, stepping closer, V holds his shoulder, preventing him as his clothes ripped and his back arched of brown fur, except for a silver streak.

(Wolf?) Remus growled, he couldn’t recognize him, and he was stalking towards them as if they were a fresh meal.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

Wolf Remus snarls and bites the air, they dodge out of the way. Roman held the handle of his sword, but he didn’t feel the urge to pull it out, even with a hungry, feral, and vicious wolf lunging at him, he used his fists, barely able to miss Remus from biting him, scratching him instead. He’s too large, it’s too easy to let him overpower. He couldn’t hurt him, but he needed to defend himself, he took out the stake… he couldn’t do it.

V pushed Remus from attacking Roman again, but dazing him for a bit, “Look, I know that’s your twin, but you are going to need to wake up right now or he is going to have to live with the fact that he murdered his own brother!!” V yelled, bringing all of his attention to him, toying with Remus, giving Roman time to readjust his focus.

Virgil jumps out of the way of Remus’ lunge on the opposite side of the room, letting one of the twins think over his options, to which they barely had any left. He had no inkling of what to do, other than distract Remus until morning, his stamina during the night was exponentially better, yet he could tell he was already losing his focus and Roman would be bit, skilled hunter or not.

At that moment, he remembered the numbness and tingling feeling of the bracelet, making him more powerless than he’d remembered in a long time. It seemed him and the hunter had a similar idea.

“V pin him down!!” Roman waved the bracelet in the air, along with gaining the wolf’s attention. Virgil sprints towards the doorway, gripping his abandoned umbrella, jumping on the wolf's back and blinding him with its leftover remnants. He wiggles and snarls trying to throw him off, a hand on his snout, torso, lightly stepping on his leg and balancing himself.

Roman rushed over, pinning the furry pastern, sliding on the jewelry, holding it in place until it took effect. His escaping efforts faded into slow breathing, enough Virgil removed his blindfold and respectfully removed his strong hands and feet from pinning him, almost lulled to peaceful sleep. It took a long time but then he stopped moving into a slumber.

V and Roman shared a deep breath of relief as they waited until morning.

…

During the night, Virgil and Princey were careful to make a makeshift bed for the werewolf, they debated keeping watch, neither were too comfortable with watching the others sleep and letting the other watch over them, collectively deciding to stay up most of the night.

Virgil zipped up his jacket, needing to leave early to avoid the sun and any prolonged interact with the twins bound to end in despair, seeing the Prince succumbed to sleep either way, he tiptoed to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Prince stared at him, somewhat close to the exit, standing up.

He sighed, “I have to leave before the sun rises, since someone ruined my umbrella,” the hunter blushed in embarrassment, “I apologize for that.”

V couldn’t stop thinking, if he didn’t intrude, he never would have caused such a butterfly effect.

“Look, I feel like a major jerk. Here,” Roman thought he must have been glaring. V rummaged through his pocket, he pulled out a lavender paper colored roll, “What’s this?”

“Wolfsbane bandages, it’ll heal your wounds and his so.. yeah,” V awkwardly walked to open the door.

“V, or, whatever your name is, thank you. Don’t let me catch you,” they shared a smile, the dark of the night beginning to lighten.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

He probably was going to regret this.

“My name… is Virgil,” he noticed the hunter's eyes widen before softening again, mentally assessing the name and accepting it.

“See you around.. Virgil.”

He gave a military salute, “See you Princey.”

He closed the door behind him.

…

The next day in Umbra

Remus felt completely fine, a sore throat and a headache, along with a few bruises cooled by the bandages the hot and mysterious vampire they’ve been hunting for months, given to Roman while he was out cold, were his only issues.

“You can’t move in your state darling. I know it’s going to be impossible. You’re the best couch potato I know, why don’t you stay for a few days?” Janus tried convincing him to remain hostage in Umbra, surprisingly Roman agreed.

The calm and alluring waves of Umbra smoothened his muscles, the hot chamomile tea mixed with potion infusion Janus brewed eased his ribs, and Roman checked on him every now and then while he laid on bed rest. Roman didn’t talk much about what Remus did as a werewolf, his memory went blank, he barely remembered that he had even gone inside the boarding school without one of Roman’s passing comments. But he knew did remember Roman happy to see him awake.

His eyes blared open, blinking ever so slightly to a ruined ceiling laying on the floor. Remus was running, his ankle throbbed, he found a gate, then…

“Remus?” Remus was running away from Roman, he was about to turn into a werewolf.

He hummed in response, the blankets enfolded with his naked body were ragged but warm.

“How are you feeling?” he tilted his head.

Remus grinned, “I’ve never been better.”

...

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic dukexiety #sanders sides fanfiction #:) #tw blood #werewolves #murder mention #tssoctobersubmission2023 #i hope i did this justice

[mirahuyooo]

[Preview] Stranded | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Content: ANGST, fluff, romance, betrayal, hurt/comfort, & MANY MORE! [Greek Mythology AU ; inspired by Dionysus & Ariadne]

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

Leaning the umbrella over to your side, he once again thinks of the quickest path to a shelter he knows of. It’s around here somewhere.

Still, that won't seem to make the journey any less difficult. The rain was stubborn—as stubborn and proud as a man he knows—the thunder bellowing every once in a while to scare the daylights out of you. Though the forest was easier to navigate for the likes of him, it definitely doesn’t make it any less pleasant to tread through. He, himself, feels unpleasant walking through the forest in a state like this. 

A surprise, however, soon comes to the young man. It appears that, at some point, you have noticed the position of the umbrella, and your conscience couldn't seem to take the unfairness for his side, because you had let your bodies huddle a little closer. Your hand even lightly holds onto his tunic as you look elsewhere. 

Hoseok hides a smile at all of this. How sweet of her to care. 

It was fortunate for the both of you that it didn't take too long for you to have reached your destination—just as the umbrella was about to give up, too. He steps under the stone roofing, arm gesturing with a welcome. "Here we are," he sings, tossing the umbrella aside and wringing out the rainwater from his clothes. 

You gawk at the structure of the building as you step under its shade, the frown and furrow between your brows deepening. It was dark—especially with much of the moon obscured by heavy rain clouds—but you could make some sense of your surroundings. “This is a shrine,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, staying put where you were. 

Hoseok stifles a chuckle. “And?”

A frantic trace of panic besets your face at his lack of concern. “We may offend the deity that reigns over this place,” you scold him, crossing your arms across your chest. 

This refusal comes across as puzzling for him. He supposed all mortals are devoted in some sense of respect and fear for the gods, but you were walking too carefully on eggshells—driven mostly in fear. Have you or your family offended a god before?

Hoseok doesn't linger on the thought any longer, giving you an assuring smile instead. “It’ll be alright,” he tells you, “Trust me.”

It’s my shrine after all.

coming this Feb 18, 2023, Saturday at 6:00 PM (PHT)!

A/N: ngl I was hesitant with posting the preview, bUT i only have a few scenes left to write!!! (it's a LONG one) I CAN'T WAIT FOR THIS Y'ALL! DIONYSUS HOBI AAAAA (Also, how fortuitous that I can finish it around Hobi's birthday uwu) Hope y'all anticipate this one! 🥰💖

Let me know if you want to join the taglist! ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

#ITS HERE! #mira gives previews for the shit she writes rawr #bts au #bts greek myth au #bts greek mythology au #bts writing #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts oneshots #bts fics #jung hoseok imagines #jung hoseok x reader #bts jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok angst #jung hoseok fluff

[wanderingmarine]

Post-Apo Fantasy Writing Prompts, Round I.

You know I love DND, my stuff speaks for itself, but you know what I also do love ? Post-apo and Zombies. So, to combine both, here are a few prompts I thought about recently and wrote down ! Hope you like them and feel free to tag me if you make content with it, I would love to see what you come up with !

Prompt n° I: Deep within the ancient forest, a tribe of peaceful centaurs has fallen victim to a mysterious necromantic curse, turning them into savage undead centaurs. Your party is called upon to investigate the cause of the curse and restore peace to the forest. As you delve deeper into the dark heart of the woods, you uncover a tragic love story between a forbidden union of a centaur and a powerful necromancer. Plot Twist: The necromancer, driven by grief over the death of their centaur lover, unintentionally unleashed the curse while attempting to bring them back to life. The undead centaurs are merely trapped souls, desperately yearning for release. To break the curse, your party must help the necromancer find closure and peace, ultimately releasing the spirits of the centaurs and allowing them to find eternal rest.

Prompt n°II: Rumors circulate of a remote village haunted by zombie creatures that emerge from the nearby swamplands every night. Your party ventures into the swamp to uncover the truth behind the haunting. However, you soon discover that the swamp itself is a sentient being, its dark energy giving rise to the zombie creatures as a means of self-defense against encroaching civilization. Plot Twist: The swamp's sentience was awakened by the destruction caused by the villagers who sought to drain and exploit its resources. The zombie creatures were once innocent beings who fell victim to the swamp's defensive mechanisms. To bring peace to both the village and the swamp, your party must find a way to reconcile with the sentient entity and persuade the villagers to coexist harmoniously with the mystical ecosystem.

Prompt n°III: Deep in the heart of a cursed forest, a group of zombie werewolves terrorize the land under the control of an ancient necromancer. Your party is called upon to end their reign of terror and bring peace to the afflicted land. However, as you confront the necromancer, you discover that they are not the true mastermind behind the curse. Unravel the mystery and face the true puppeteer pulling the strings. Plot Twist: The true mastermind behind the curse is a vengeful forest spirit seeking revenge against those who destroyed their sacred grove. The necromancer unwittingly stumbled upon the curse and used it to gain power, unaware of the spirit's true intentions. To break the curse and restore balance, your party must reconcile with the forest spirit and find a way to heal the wounds of the land.

Prompt n°IV: In a small coastal village, an eerie fog rolls in every night, bringing with it a swarm of zombie-like creatures known as the "Drowned Ones". The village pleads for your help in uncovering the source of the curse. As you investigate, you discover that the curse originates from an ancient sea deity seeking retribution for the pollution and destruction caused by the village's inhabitants. Plot Twist: The ancient sea deity's retribution was triggered by a corrupt leader within the village who disregarded the consequences of their actions. Uncovering the truth, your party must convince the corrupt leader to make amends and restore the village's connection with the sea deity, ensuring a harmonious coexistence and breaking the curse once and for all or straight up kill him but if you do, you'll have to restore the balance in your own way.

Prompt n°V: Deep in the heart of a cursed forest, a once-majestic family of owlbears has fallen victim to a dark necromantic ritual, transforming them into ferocious zombie owlbears. The nearby village is gripped with fear, and they beseech your party to put an end to the undead creatures' rampage. As you delve deeper into the forest, you discover an ancient burial site, and it becomes apparent that the owlbears' transformation is tied to a long-forgotten curse placed upon the land.

Plot Twist: The curse plaguing the forest is far more complex than initially believed. Upon further investigation, your party uncovers that the necromantic ritual was a desperate attempt by a grief-stricken druid to save the forest from a deadly blight that threatened to consume it entirely. However, the ritual went awry, and the owlbears were inadvertently turned into zombie abominations instead.

Prompt n°VI: Legends speak of a hidden grove guarded by zombie nymphs, once known for their ethereal beauty and healing powers. The grove's enchanting aura has been tainted, turning the nymphs into undead abominations. Your party is approached by a desperate herbalist who believes that an ancient curse is responsible for the corruption. Unravel the mystery behind the curse, heal the grove, and restore the nymphs' vitality.

Plot Twist: The curse was not inflicted by an external force but rather by the nymphs themselves. Consumed by an insatiable desire for eternal youth and beauty, they made a pact with a malevolent entity, unknowingly accepting the curse in exchange for their desires. As your party confronts the entity, you must find a way to break the pact, redeem the nymphs, and teach them the value of acceptance and embracing the natural cycle of life or eliminate the Nymphs so it never happens ever again.

#dnd #dnd campaign #dnd homebrew #creative writing #dnd prompt #dnd oc #dnd stuff #dnd5e #dungeons and dragons #fantasy #Look at me go #anyway hope you like them #zombies #horror #monster #dnd ocs #ttrpg #writing prompt #writing project #writers on tumblr #fanfic writer #ao3 writer #female writers #writeblr #writing community #writerslife #writing

[ukfrislandembassy]

Januwordy 29 - away with the fairies

OK, let's start to flesh out some of the more culturally specific aspects of these people I'm imagining. Let's talk something of their spirituality this time. We're working on the basis that these people follow a semi-animist faith, but with some beings that approach the canonical polytheistic 'deity' as we would understand them.

Firstly, we have kotsʲ, which is a little hard to translate. Perhaps the best English rendition might be 'spirit', because it both refers to something like the spiritual self of an individual, but also the power and strength that they wield. This is a class V noun, which lacks a plurality contrast, but there is a separate oblique stem ktsʲen.

Then, we have various kinds of beings that reside in this spiritual world. First is the ɣtuk (I, oblique ɣətɣu, plural ɣtuɣu). This is a kind of tree spirit, which are known as intelligent, but also somewhat shy. There's a strict protocol for approaching them, usually involving the singing of a particular style of unaccompanied song, but doing that grants permission for the felling of trees, and the addition of some gifts can result in the granting of additional gifts.

Secondly, there is the pá:r (I, oblique pâ:r, plural pá:ru). This is a much more malevolent spirit, which primarily feeds upon kotsʲ, particularly of humans. This might be a deverbal derivation of a root *pAd-, which probably meant something like 'eat, consume', but which is no longer around in the language. This is also intelligent and can be bargained with, but those that do so are making something of a faustian pact and are generally seen as malevolent warlock-type figures.

Third, there is the tsʲu:m (II, oblique tsʲú:m, plural tsʲu:mu). This is a water spirit, primarily inhabiting rivers and lakes. It's not shy like the ɣtuk, nor actively malevolent for the most part like the pá:r, but they aren't to be talked to as they don't talk to humans (whether they can't or won't is not clear), merely drown and eat those who don't take care in water. They can be propitiated, usually by making a small offering, but it's more like throwing meat to distract a dog than any kind of negotiation.

As for the deity-level beings, there's two (three) main ones we will talk about here; ɣɬu:s (I, oblique ɣɬú:s), who is kind of a forest god. Offerings to him ensure successful hunts, as he sends the animals for which you are hunting in your direction. He created the ɣtuk as tree guardians, so one of his titles is ɣtuktonʲ 'Tree-spirit father'.

There's also sʲkán (II, oblique sʲkân), who is in effect a sky goddess. Her primary responsibility is weather, particularly rainfall. She can't be propitiated, as she's too far away to make direct offerings too, but she can be thanked for sending rain with the sounding of the krum, a kind of deep drum sounding like thunder. Her sister me:sʲ 'sun' can be conversed with similarly, this time by singing and bonfires on the solstice.

#conlang #lexember