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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 3 years

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Honestly the Supernatural ending was fucked all along, because to have a strong ending, a work has to resolve whatever tensions and questions it set up in the opening – not necessarily in an uncomplicated way, but it has to offer a kind of answer to the fundamental story questions.

The premise set up in The Woman in White is: Sam has a good life, Sam is an up-and-coming guy on his way to happiness and success, but Sam's father is not doing well; Sam is angry at his father, who he remembers as, at best, a habitual drunkard who kept Sam's life in chaos and then disowned him. So question number one is, given that Sam is better and happier now that he's no longer entangled with his father, should he revisit any of that? Does he continue to owe his father anything, should he help look for him, should he even care at all that his father might be in trouble? That feels like a clear no, not really, let John solve his own problems – until Jessica dies in the same way Mary did, and that introduces a twist. Has Sam actually misunderstood who his father was? Does John know, has John all along known something that Sam needs to know about his own past, that he can't live his happy life until he understands? The search for John is now about not just “does Sam owe his family anything?” – it's about “does Sam need his family?” And there's a plot resonance, but also a thematic resonance there: do you need your family? Even if your family's pretty fucked up? Does going back to your unhappy childhood serve some necessary function on your road to a successful adulthood? Can you pretend forever that you don't come from the fucked-up place you come from, or do you actually have to go back and understand the truth about who your parents were because the past is never just the past?

So the early seasons are largely about answering that question, through the vehicles of Sam, who would prefer not to admit that his fucked-up past can't really be run away from, and Dean, who would prefer not to admit that there was anything fucked-up about his past at all. Both of them learn and change: Sam begins to understand where he really comes from and why he can't separate himself from the forces that made him, and Dean begins to understand that yeah, actually, he should separate himself a lot more from the forces that made him, that it's foolish to hold up his father as some kind of infallible god, because even God isn't that. All the stories that spin out in the early seasons about Earth as the cosmic battleground for the family strife between Michael and Lucifer are linked to the pilot by that question: is there any escaping the reach of your family and its history? And the show decides, yeah, we have free will, we shouldn't just lie down and die because that's our inheritance. We should change the script. We can be better than our parents were. Better than we were ordered or prophesied to be. And the clear mechanism for all of this is love: Sam falls to Lucifer's influence when he's rejected again (Dean following in John's footsteps), but Sam is able to shake off that demonic control long enough to thwart Lucifer because Dean loves him and accepts him and remains with him when it looks like it's too late to save him (the thing John never did, couldn't do). Dean changes the script by being more able to love Sam unconditionally than John could, and the basic question of the premise is answered: you do have to go back to your family – not to accept or replicate their mistakes, but to do better, to love them better this time. You have to heal from the root. As a viewer, you can accept or reject this resolution; I personally like it, but I'm from that same cultural background, I have a family history that vibes with the things the show is discussing, I'm primed to like and agree with the conclusion. Maybe you're not, and that's okay! The point is, it is a conclusion to something. The show asked questions and then provided answers.

The problem is...the show answered its own questions in 5 seasons, and in such a way that the naturally satisfying conclusion was – literally anything else except more hunting. You can't say the Big Answer is loving and forgiving your family in spite of their flaws, and then also say that what you want to do with your life is The Family Business just as your father practiced it. Once you say that the prescription is to heal at the root, something should change. And it doesn't, really, because the show can't change. It has a formula. It's about hunting. Dean can't give up violence and become a family man, even though that's been clearly established as something he'd be better and happier doing. Sam can't pursue any dreams that weren't the dreams his father had for him, even though that's been clearly established as the thing he's been willing to fight for all along. So if the show isn't going to be over, they both have to actively choose to go against their own self-interest. And season 6 is pretty clever, actually – soulless!Sam is a device that does get them back on the road in a way that makes sense; we know why Sam isn't doing what's right for Sam, and we know that Dean can be convinced to do what's wrong for him in order to save Sam. It tracks. But it can't last, and what takes over pretty soon from there is...inertia, basically. They keep doing this because this is what they do. It doesn't really make them happy. It just feels necessary, because Hunters is what they are; no Hunters retire, in the whole show. They are never allowed. It is not done. They may lapse into more of a part-time gig, but nobody actually leaves the business, because it would be – bad. People would die, we guess? A hero never would, we guess? It's not terribly clear, but the general sense is that it just has to happen this way because this is their story now. This is who they are.

And that's the opposite of what the initial story was about. Now the story about using your free will to transform and redeem the dysfunctions you inherited is a story about two guys just working in the family business while they die inside of loneliness and PTSD. There's no story question in the later seasons; there's just stimulus and response. Oops, Leviathans. Oops, Mark of Cain. Oops, Amara. Oops, Lucifer and Lucifer and more Lucifer. Oops, Michael again. We better deal with that, I guess. Some of the storylines are okay in later seasons; some individual episodes are fantastic. But the whole thing is mired in the fact that there can't be forward momentum in the story because there are opponents and antagonists galore, but there's no internal engine to the story, no fundamental problem to conquer or question to resolve. From outside the story, we can sit here and say, Hey, it's a problem for me that these dudes are fucking miserable, I'd like them to work on resolving that! But within the story, they're never allowed to admit that is a problem. Because it's an adventure show about brave guys doing good deeds, and it's undermined at the most basic level if we come out and admit that what would make these dudes less miserable is no more fucking adventures, no more martyring themselves to do good deeds, no more hunting at all.

When the show came to an end, it was epically fucked, because it had nothing to resolve. And to give the show credit, it did try to do something interesting that would refer back to and provide a commentary on the whole show – this meta business about “have we all been God's favorite tv show all along?” There's something there; it reminds me of the CS Lewis quote about how he never worried that God didn't exist, but he did often fear that God was actually a vivisectionist. What if the reason this show has been churning along in place forever in spite of the characters' vivid and unchanging dissatisfaction with their life is that some other force wanted them to keep going on adventures? Maybe it's God, who's a writer (that's ground we've gone over before), but not just a writer – he's his only fan, his only audience. He's the Fandom. He's the Audience. He's us. Sam and Dean have been on this hamster wheel of labor and loss with no endpoint in sight because that's what we tune in to see; if they both quit, we change the channel. We're the ones who demand they Always Keep Fighting, who call them heroes for suffering through this endless parade of baddies and funerals. I mean, that's pretty good, as a way to retcon the complete pointlessness of the last ten years! The point is: it was fun to watch. We liked the characters and the episodes and we wanted them to keep doing that for our entertainment, even though we knew it wasn't any fun for them. It's basically the network tv version of Cabin In the Woods, and there's a – I would say mildly interesting question to raise there about what's drama, what's catharsis, what do we get out of stories about other people's suffering and other people's heroism? In my opinion it's a mildly interesting route to open up, although I don't know that there's enough meat on the bone to really make it pay off. An effort was clearly made, though!

But to follow that through to its conclusion, you'd have to answer it, and the way it's set up, there is no satisfying answer possible from inside the universe. We can answer what we get out of stories, perhaps. But why would that be of any interest or comfort to the people in the stories? Their story can't resolve for Sam and Dean if we learn it was actually a story about us the whole time.

So what do you do to end that story? Well, you're a little bit stuck. You can have them resign or get free somehow, sure, and the show does that. But what then? You have two choices, really: either we loop back to s6 and they keep being hunters because It's a Show About Two Hunters – only this time they have True Free Will so you have to assert that they're really freely choosing it, and you have to somehow justify that they would really freely choose to keep doing this thing that's never made them happy, which is depressing as shit – or you have them quit and go pursue their own lives and their own desires – which pretty much goes ahead and admits that the last ten seasons have been us the audience benefitting from the Winchesters' unwilling participation in this Saw-like theme park that was set up for our entertainment (via our stand-in, Chuck). That's clearly the bolder option, but it's also like – super fucked up! And it denies both the audience and, more critically, the people who make the show from having any real victory lap, any way to present the show as a completed entity and say “here's a great story that we're proud of and excited about.” It's such a bleak corner that the show has painted itself into at that point – all of this only happened against our heroes' will, but enjoy it anyway! Of course that got pushback. Of course people wanted to end with something that portrayed the characters as the drivers of the show, protagonists whose choices mattered, whose lives mattered. But they weren't, and they didn't. That was the premise the writers went with in season 15, because they needed to do something about the fact that nowhere in the past ten seasons had the Winchesters done anything on their own behalf, because they'd never been given story goals. All they'd been allowed to do is play whack-a-mole with monsters.

It's a mess all the way around, and it's almost impossible to resolve this late in the game. Season 15 couldn't be about the Winchesters resolving any real Stuff, because the show had long since realized that its prime directive was making sure that the fundamental pattern of the show remained intact: the boys go on adventures, bad things happen somewhere and the boys show up to stop it. And if that fundamental pattern is not a problem – if we're supposed to be glad it's there – then you can't allow any storylines that would end in changing it. Everything that's introduced has to be resolvable by a reversion to that vision of What We Do Around Here, so we can keep doing it. The legitimacy of What We Do Around Here is never allowed to be in question, and an attempt to question it at the very end of the series winds up inherently muddled and out-of-place. Third-act problems are always first-act problems, and the problem with the finale is that the show had spent so long actively reifying the value of an endless, unchanging sequence of events and actively working to quash anything that started looking like a linear story that would end in a place other than where it began.

I like a lot of the plotlines and episodes and characters in the later season. Honestly, 12 is probably my favorite season, just on the weight of good episodes I enjoy watching. But the only part of Supernatural that ever had a coherent story at the heart of it was the original five seasons, where things were set up, explored, and resolved in Swan Song with admirable narrative focus and direction. Everything after that was just stuff that happened, which is not what a story is, and you can't come back from that in the series finale and somehow make it work.

#spn finale #apparently i give writing advice now?

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nekokoaa · 4 years

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Phantom Pain- Overhaul (Chisaki Kai) x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: “Do as you wish,” he whispered and closed his eyes. You smiled slightly, not saying a word as you caressed the scar on his forehead with your thumb. You then pressed your lips on it, hands holding the sides of his face, and you pulled away to find his golden irises looking up at you in a trance. The faint light spilling through the cracked window behind you haloed around your figure, giving you the appearance of divinity that he found himself wanting to worship you. The urge to grab you soon consumed him, yet the action fell dead as there was nothing he could do except to express it by the twitch of his mutilated limbs.

In other words, thank God Shigaraki didn’t cut off his dick.

Warnings: angst, birds and the bees, dry humping, blowjobs, boobjobs, amputated Overhaul

Part of the NSFW series Euphoria

Also on AO3

AC: Always wanted to write Overhaul, this was so fun! Enjoy, loves!

Phantom Pain – sensations or pain that feels like it's coming from a body part that's no longer there.

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Phantom Pain – Chisaki Kai (Overhaul) x Reader

For how long you knew Chisaki, you have never seen such despair in his eyes—such lost. A dull shade of gold that was usually shimmering with determination and authority was now without light and harbored a sort of emptiness that looked foreign. It was like he no longer existed, but he was in fact there, no matter how much he felt like he wasn’t.

It’s been days since you heard his voice, the last of it was that strangled scream that echoed into the skies. A scream that exhibited regret, pain, and the shuddering factor that his initial plan to revive the power of the yakuza was taken away from him permanently. A scream that shook your very soul and froze you—refusing to believe that it belonged to the prideful young head you’ve known since childhood.

You wrung the wet rag above a bucket and squeezed the water held within the fabrics. The splashes resonated through the abandoned building along with the squeaky floorboards that would sound every time your feet would press into it. You sucked in your dry lips, briefly lathering it with your tongue before you let out a soft sigh and pressed the rag to Chisaki’s shoulder, watching it collect the dirt that has been accumulating. You soon dipped the rag back in the bucket and repeated your actions.

Chisaki sat still in his chair, shirtless with his golden eyes as far away as his expression. They were lowered and away from you, not on purpose but because he had no energy to lift them. Those golden irises were surrounded by bloodshot red pigments from his lack of sleep and under and around the skin was dark, nearly reaching a purplish tint to his normally cream hue. His head was also low, a striking difference from the Chisaki you knew who never lowered his head for anyone. You shivered to the fact that the Chisaki in front of you may very well be different—not humbled or submissive—but broken, perhaps, beyond repair.

You dragged the rag across his skin, cleaning his shoulders and chest. You noticed his skin was developing hives under the rag once it left. It wasn’t by your touch since Chisaki deemed long ago that only you were fit to touch him, it was instead the lingering phantom pain of losing his limbs. It still plagued his thoughts and he relived that moment ever since he had gone through it. Shigaraki hacking away at his arm, his blood splattering every time the knife came hurling down, and that taunting smile so large that it took up his face all because the fall of Overhaul was caused by his own hands. Chisaki flinched, more hives appearing around his shoulders when the rag followed down his arm until it stopped, nowhere to go as his forearm and hand were gone—nothing but a stump of his upper arm left.

Chisaki’s subtle movement made you glance at him and grimace. Hatred boiling within you as you remembered how you found Chisaki, bleeding from both his decapitated arms after you had followed the gut-wrenching scream. He already passed out from the blood loss and you broke him out of his bindings and carried him to safety before the heroes could arrive to arrest him. You had then found an abandoned building near the outskirts of the city and that’s where you and Chisaki had been staying for the past couple of days. The media had already been alerted about the young head’s escape and his face has been plastered on every screen around the city—labeling him as extremely violent and dangerous. Some part of you couldn’t help but snort at it, seeing Chisaki right now—violent and dangerous just wasn’t the words to describe him anymore. Though the police had no idea what had become of him, so you understood the panic.

“Kai,” you called his name for his attention, more to warn him about your hand that went to hold his cheek and the wet rag that pressed against his other. You wiped his cheek and the side of his face slowly. You wiped through his forehead, treading over the faint scar near his hairline. You then lined the rag with his jawline, making his head rise. It’s been so long since his eyes fell upon your face. You couldn’t help but briefly meet his gaze while you cleaned him.

Faintly, there was light in his eyes as if he had just noticed you were in front of him. You had missed the subtle change in his blank expression as you were more focused on getting him cleaned. Though Chisaki was looking at you like it was the first time he saw you in a while. Ever since he lost his limbs, he’s been dissociating, living in his head. A tactic to escape reality because his once strong mind couldn’t handle the trauma he had experience. His naturally stubborn personality couldn’t admit that he had lost—that everything he built for years was all in vain. Where had he gone wrong? He wasn’t sure because that was how confident he was in his plan. It was foolproof, so why did it turn out with these odds?

He closed his eyes. And then there was you, a woman who’s been by his side since he was a child, who had followed him to the hells of this earth and yet was still the only thing pure in this diseased filled world. You scoured the streets with him until you were both picked up by boss and together, you rose from street rats to yakuza members and earned the trust of the Shie Hassaikai. Even when Chisaki proposed his plan to restore the yakuza and eliminate quirks to you, you accepted it with a smile, agreeing that it was something that must be done to save the world. Every time he remembered your smile on that day, it urged him to work harder into making his vision a reality. That smile was hopeful, loving, and there was nothing in this world as pure as it. It wasn’t long before he asked you to rule by his side when this was over and word to word, he would always recite what had you said. I was always by your side. Such a simple response yet at the time it sent his heart racing and the sides of his mask stretched from his smile that grew behind it, golden pools that you thought weren’t capable of such softness proved you wrong. Only you were allowed to see such a look from him.

Through thick and thin, you stayed with him.

So, he knew it would take some convincing, but he didn’t want to see you fall to the same fate as him. With all he could muster, he spoke, voice heavy with rasp in every syllable sounded, pain stinging his strained throat, regardless he spoke.

“You should leave…”

“No,” immediately, you responded and even though you were surprised that Chisaki spoke, you didn’t show it in your face. Your ‘no’ felt like a reflex, like you were trying to convince yourself first before Chisaki. He began coughing right after, the sudden intake of air through his dry mouth made his throat squeeze in pain. You quickly dropped the rag in the bucket and reached for the water bottle on the floor. Chisaki took a few slow gulps, a bit of water spilling down his chin. You took a clean cloth and wiped him dry, but it did nothing to the filth that Chisaki felt under his skin.

He pulled in his cracked lips, trying to lather them with his remoistened tongue as he continued speaking. “…before the heroes come. Don’t let them take us both…”

“I’m not going anywhere. Remember,” you smiled lightly and caressed his cheek. “We’re supposed to rebuild the yakuza together.”

“It’s… it’s futile,” he cleared his throat. It did nothing to the rasp. “it’s no longer possible. The heroes… they have her—our pawn… the villains… with my drugs and I can’t do anything without… my… my…” he gritted his teeth, wanting to close his hands into fists. He felt the ghost of the action, and the stumps of his arms just shook in response. “This world can’t be cured. Everything we worked for—what I worked for…”

“is not in vain, Kai. It’s only a setback. The Shie Hassaikai will rise as it always does with you as their leader and me by your side.” It was a dream. A dream that both of you sought after for years to restore the yakuza and cure the world of the wretched quirk disease. As long as Chisaki was still alive, you believed that dream was too. But Chisaki thought differently, his face contorted into a grimace at your words like he was insulted that you still held such values after everything that had happened. You were well aware of how lost Chisaki was. The ego-filled yakuza boss you admired was crushed, shattered into pieces that if you were to pick them up would crumble into dust in your fingers. You have never seen him so fragile, so hopeless, but without his arms, his quirk—his purpose, without the very thing that was key to saving this world, how ever could he go on? You had to save him.

“Please,” Chisaki had never begged before in his life and he didn’t think he would ever start but his pride was lost along with his arms and his words flowed out of him like a water jutting out of the small crack of a dam, spurting and pausing, spurting and pausing. He was tired. “It’s… over. The Shie Hassaikai… is gone and there’s nothing left… for you to do but leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He growled your name, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the rasp in his voice or if he was truly losing his patience with you. His golden eyes were dull, but you could’ve sworn they hardened. And it excited you.

“I’m not leaving, and this isn’t over, Kai.”

“You’re acting like… there’s some hope.”

“I’m not acting. There is.”

“Are you blind, woman…?” His voice cracked when he raised it and he cleared the lingering gunk from his throat immediately after. He glared at you through his red-shot eyes. His hives becoming increasingly present as they appeared one after the other on his face and body. He had the urge to scratch himself, but he couldn’t, so he started visibly shaking to deal with it. It was unsightly but nevertheless, it was your Chisaki. “Do you not see what I have become? My arms! My quirk! It’s gone! The very thing I needed to save this world—to cleanse it from its filth! So, don��t you dare look at me as if there’s some hope!”

“You’re still here so of course I’ll believe there’s hope!”

“The only thing you should hope for is to leave me. There’s nothing I can offer you but a prison sentence in Tartarus.”

A brief kiss on his neck was all it took to stun him out of his rage. “What are you talking about…? You can offer me plenty, Kai. You could scream at me, insult me, hurt me, do anything to push me away but you must know that I will never leave your side. We’ve been together forever, through all the hardships… and pleasure,” your hand squeezed his thigh. “So why on earth would I choose to leave you because of this? You’re a smart man. I know that better than anyone.”

“I just don’t… want you to get hurt,” he spoke quietly, eyes lowering.

“I am already hurt. As long as you feel pain, I do too,” he gritted teeth to your words. A small grunt leaving him when you slid off your chair and onto his lap. You swiftly unbuttoned your collared shirt, leaving it open and revealing your black bra underneath it. “Let’s make each other feel better… like what we always do when we’re having a rough day,” you whispered before you pressed your lips to his ear lobe and felt the cold metal of his earrings. Your arms were perched on his shoulders and he already gasped to the small roll of your hips creating friction for the growing swell in his pants. “That’s something you can offer me… Hm, Kai…?” You wanted an answer, pulling back to gaze into his face. With his tired eyes, he searched within yours, not even sure what he was searching for but all he knew was that he was tired and maybe if there was a chance to forget about what had happened—even for a couple of minutes, he would take it.

“Do as you wish,” he whispered and closed his eyes. You smiled slightly, not saying a word as you caressed the scar on his forehead with your thumb. You then pressed your lips on it, hands holding the sides of his face, and you pulled away to find his golden irises looking up at you in a trance. The faint light spilling through the cracked window behind you haloed around your figure, giving you the appearance of divinity that he found himself wanting to worship you. The urge to grab you soon consumed him, yet the action fell dead as there was nothing he could do except to express it by the twitch of his mutilated limbs.

You pressed your lips to his cheek, a feathery touch that still had his heart fluttering ever since you first did it as children. Your lips traced his cheek, kissing through some disappearing hives, until you found the corner of his lips and he pursed them as soon as you touched it, longing to feel your soft lips against his own. But you pulled away slightly after and he sighed irritably. You brushed your fingers through his short hair to calm him, but it didn’t stop his tired glare from being directed at you.

“Patience.” You told him.

But he wasn’t having it. “Darling,” he husked, leaning forward just as you were leaning back. “Kiss me already.”

Chisaki’s patience was always thin. As a child, he had zero patience. If he didn’t get what he wanted right away, he would forcibly take it by murder. It wasn’t until after he was taken in by boss where he developed a thin layer of patience masked behind a calm, gentle persona, luring those in with kindness to get what he wanted and if he didn’t, his mask would slip, and he would become increasing irritable and dangerous with a killer’s intent. He wasn’t anywhere near that irritated right now but you saw a trace of old Chisaki that riled you up so much that you had to suppress your smirk with the bite of your lips. He wasn’t completely gone, and that relieved you.

Still, for the first time ever, Chisaki was at your mercy and if you wanted to, you could disobey him without having to worry about any precautions. But you knew what it would’ve done to a once prideful man so broken like him. This was about building Overhaul back up, not breaking him down.

You smiled at his glare, one hand caressing the side of his face while the other drew circles on his shoulder around his hives. “It’s the first time I’ll be on top. I’m a little nervous,” you told him.

“That’s not true. You did it before.”

“Kai, you know very well that you didn’t let me do anything last time I was on top,” you thought you saw a suppression of a smirk. “So, I don’t count that time. Just relax and let me love you…” you whispered your last words before sealing them with a kiss to his lips that had the both of you humming softly. He closed his eyes, angling his head slightly while you moved to slip your arms out of your shirt and it dropped to floor with a gentle thud. You were kissing Chisaki so softly, so different than your usual sexual endeavors that are fueled with pent-up stress and anger from work but it’s also because you didn’t want to hurt him as his arms were partially wrapped up and still healing.

But as the kisses grew longer, Chisaki grew hungrier. He nibbled and sucked on your bottom lip, at times his tongue would brush against it, urging you to open up for him. And when you didn’t in time, your lips were forcibly split by his intruding tongue and you succumbed to the feeling of it exploring your insides, treading over your teeth and inside cheeks and wrestling your own wet muscle. You pressed yourself closer to his body, your bra scratching his chest and your arms anchored around his neck as your nails lightly scratched his skin.

He separated from you with saliva connecting your lips together and you felt that wetness when his kisses went to your jaw and traveled to your neck. You sighed softly, and he felt you shivering against him. He wished that he could’ve held you, wrap his arms around your body, feel your delicious curves under his fingertips as you would melt against his touch. He was amazed how you weren’t turned off by him, that you still looked at him like he was the greatest man you ever saw.

“Still… even when I’m like this…?” He was uncertain, so he whispered that against your neck while he nuzzled his head into yours and you leaned your head on his, bringing a hand to stroke the side of his face.

“Yes…” you moaned at the ticklish feeling of his kisses. “You’re still my handsome man, my Overhaul.”

Even though he hated everything this universe had to offer, you were the one thing he loved. You didn’t weaken him. No. You empowered him unlike no other.

You soon found yourself gazing into gold when Chisaki lifted his head, passion oozing from his eyes that it nearly took your breath away. He couldn’t stand to be apart from you any longer. He pressed his lips against yours, resuming the aggression he had before but without his tongue.

You reached behind your back for your bra and unhooked it with a single tug and slipped the straps off your arms. Your bra fell between your bodies until you yanked it out and it fell on the ground. Chisaki was so excited to see your breasts, the perfect size and shape to his liking. He wished he could squeeze them in his hands like always, but he would have to make do with what he could do. He didn’t hesitate to abandon your lips to have your nipples between his.

“Hmn… Kai…” you arched your back and moaned against your pulled-in lips. You cupped your breast under your hand, lifting it up for Chisaki to have better access to them while he engulfed your entire nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue around it, sucking and pulling like he’s been reduced to a child wanting his mother’s milk. A growl rumbled within his chest when he swapped to your other tit and you started grinding on his lap to ease the warmth pooling at your lower belly. You felt the bulge of his pants pressing against your crotch, directly where your clit was, and you whined as you felt the sensitive nub rubbing on the cloth of your underwear.

Chisaki dragged his tongue all over your breasts and kissed your upper chest and collarbones when he left them. He glanced into your eyes and you caught sight of the darkness hiding behind those rich irises. A single look was all it took to know how much he wanted you.

You quickly hopped off of him, tugging at the button of your pants until it unleashed, and you threw your pants to the side. Chisaki eyed your body, subconsciously licking his lips as you saw them travel south from your face to your boobs, then your waist and legs. He had never felt the urge to grab you more than he did now. He wanted to destroy your underwear, carry you in the air, and fuck you gloriously under the shimmering sun rays from the window. How painful it was for it to only be a mere daydream.

“Like what you see…?” You smiled cloyingly as you stood between his legs, your fingers tugging at the stings of your underwear to tease.

“Yes, darling, you know I love it when you strip for me,” he loved the purr you gave after his words.

“You’re going to love what I do next,” you discarded your underwear shortly before dropping to your knees in front of him—in front of his bulge. You unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his black pants before you slid it off of him. His underwear was next, and his dick nearly hit your face when it bounced out and stood with all of its glory, reddened, veiny, and glistening with precum leaking from its head, and his pubic hairs were neatly trimmed as always.

He had to stop himself from cumming right on the spot from watching your voluptuous lips bounce back into shape after you had licked them. He couldn’t wait to see them wrap around his cock.

And he didn’t have to wait long. He groaned when you submerged his entire dick in your mouth, feeling the hot walls surround his girth as your lips nearly met with his pubic hairs and the head of his dick touched the back of your throat.

Your name was a breathless whisper from Chisaki, cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed as you began to bob your head. You loved how sonorous his moans sounded. It rattled something within, adding to the heat pool bubbling between your legs. You brought your fingers to your clit, rubbing in the same speed as you moved your head while your other hand was squeezing his inner thigh. There was something about seeing your mouth stretch to his length that had him jerking his hips into your bobs and although he couldn’t exactly move as fast as he wanted to, he marveled at the fact that he still had a bit of control.

He was writhing in his chair now, legs shaking, stumps of his arms trembling, heavy breathing with an occasional crack moan. You were driving him nuts. And just when he thought you would let up on his cock as you finally released it from the fleshy walls of your inner cheeks, you replaced it by surrounding him with your voluptuous breasts. You frantically stroke his length as it was being swallowed by the tits he wished could squeeze in his palms.

You gazed up at him with blushing cheeks and eyes so dazed that Chisaki’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of them. Your mouth returned to licking and sucking on the head of his dick, leaving him shuddering in his seat. You worked tremendously hard to pleasure him, to make him feel like he was still worth it despite what he went through, despite that he was reduced to mutilated monster. How you looked at him with eyes of pure adoration when your sight was filled with nothing but a powerless, armless man was still beyond him. Any woman would have left, but you stayed faithful to him. Truly, what did he do to deserve such a woman like you?

A shudder of your name was enough for you to give him a break, so you slowly slide your mouth and breasts off his cock, enjoying the sight of your saliva coating his length. It left a shiny hue like if the sun rays were to hit it, it would shimmer, while your breasts were wet with your own saliva and his precum.

“A little pent up, are we…?” You began to stroke his inner thigh, smiling slightly at his disheveled form. He responded with a breathless whisper.

“It’s… been a while.”

“I know,” you gave his thigh a small lick before you stood up and slid yourself onto his lap. His penis was pushed against your stomach. “Same,” and then you kissed him feverishly, arms around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. He moaned into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside and explored around like he was on uncharted lands. And you fought diligently against his strong tongue, the faint, stale flavor of iron upon your taste buds.

“Kai,” you whined, breaking the kiss sooner than expected while grinding your needy hips on his lap. You couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I…? I need this… I need you inside…” He knew very well that you didn’t need his permission to do so, so the fact that he still had that over you renewed some of his vigor. Something shined in his golden eyes, something deadly that if you were to disobey him, you would surely regret it.

“Sit on my cock.”

You shivered, his eyes, they reminded you of the very man you fell in love with. “Yes, Overhaul…”

You hovered over him. Your hands rested on his shoulders and you aligned your sopping entrance with his dick and slowly sank down. Your mouth went wide for a silent gasp to escape as you felt his length stretched your walls. You could feel it pulsing, twitching within you and your legs began to quiver the moment he was all the way in. A shaky sigh sounded from Chisaki as he felt himself nuzzled deep within you. He wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and guide you but unfortunately, he was at your mercy.

“God…” you moaned, fingers curled into his shoulders. Still, he was delighted that he could still make you feel this way—that he could still make you tremble with his cock. You then started to move, rolling and lifting your hips to no rhythm, squeaking and moaning every time you would slam yourself down on him while you balanced on the balls of your feet to keep you steady. Your breasts would shake to your movement when you slammed down while your nipples would lightly tap his chest when you lifted slightly.

You watched as Chisaki’s face contorted into what anyone would believe was anger and they would be too distracted by that assumption to notice the softness in his rich eyes as they stared into yours, mouth open for his frantic breaths to puff out just centimeters of your own. Sweat had gathered at his forehead giving it a light sheen whenever the sunlight would peek through from behind you.

“How are you this wet… when I haven’t even touched you…?” He breathed, and puffs of his breath hit your lips just as he heard your juices swirl to his cock.

You whimpered to answer him, your eyes teared in response to the overwhelming pleasure knocking at your core.

“Come on,” he grunted and pressed his lips to your neck. He bit and sucked on your skin until it blossomed in color. “Use your words…”

“B-Because it’s you, Kai… Ahn—just your presence is enough to get me wet… it’s just enough…”

He let out a shaky sigh and briefly closed his eyes. “Naughty girl…” you didn’t have any idea how happy that made him. He leaned forward because of the sudden desire to hold you close to his body. Your arms went around his shoulders sharing that same feeling of his. Your breasts were squeezed to his pecs as you continued to roll your hips, mouth full of nothing but his name and former alias, like you were somehow hoping there was magic in his name and all would be revived by just a simple hymn from you, and you would once again feel his hands on you. You were careful not to touch what was left of his arms because he was still healing and also a gentle brush was enough to have his hives break out, a subconscious reaction to the trauma he suffered.

Thankfully, Chisaki was too focus on how your vagina swallowed his dick like you trying to milk him for all he had. He was thrusting upwards, sloppy, he was trying not to give you full control but having him use most of his ab muscles to move was exerting a lot of energy. He couldn’t go as fast as he wanted to.

“Kai… I…!” He could feel it without you telling him. The end was near. You were already holding on to him with all of your strength while your instincts kept your hips moving against his. You were slamming your body so hard on him that it had your ass jiggling, skin slapping and your nails clawing his back because somehow his dick manage to hit the right spot every fucking time. Oh, you could barely keep up your rhythm as pleasure struck like lightning and rolled through your pelvis like thunder. You rested your head on his shoulder and mapped it out with open mouthed kisses, tasting the salt of his sweat on your tongue.

Chisaki’s breathing was loud in your ear and his groans were heavy, almost angry sounding when he pressed the side of his face against your head. He felt himself reaching his peak. He shut his eyes and focused solely on the pressure building until it finally released. A strangled moan sounded from Chisaki and he jerked his hips as hard as he could as spurts of his cum spilled into your womb and you felt so full of not only his cock but his warm seed as well. And shortly after a few more thrusts, you had reached orgasm, legs quivering, and moans so loud you swore anyone from the outside would’ve heard you.

You slumped against his body as your chin rested on the crook of his neck. Your arms were still firmly holding on to him and the room was silent except for the breathing of you and Chisaki filling your lungs with much needed air. You were exhausted. You spent most of your energy taking care of Chisaki and the rest of it fucking him. Your eyelids felt heavy and you surely would’ve fell asleep if you weren’t missing that one thing. The warmth of Chisaki’s arms.

There was no doubt in your mind that you had missed the feeling. Chisaki would always surround you in his warmth by pulling you into his chest with his arms around you after sex. He couldn’t bear to separate from you after. He would pull the covers over your sweaty bodies and hold you until you fell asleep. Then he would get up and shower because going to sleep in his own filth bothered him.

But now, all he could do was just lean against you as you hugged him. You hated this. You hated everything that made Chisaki this way. You hated Shigaraki. You hated the heroes. You hated that green haired kid for fighting him. You hated everyone that harmed him when all he tried to do was save this pathetic world.

You didn’t notice at first, but you were shaking. Suddenly, the memories that were masked by desire revealed itself and you were left to think about what had happened. And really, all you felt was rage, so much rage that you wanted to either hurt yourself or any innocent victim. You wanted to ruin someone’s life just so they could feel as horrible about this world as you.

But that anger soon dissipated as you felt something poking your sides. You gasped when you noticed Chisaki desperately trying to hold you by lifting his stumps and pressing them into your sides, fighting the feeling of his hives appearing one after the other across his limbs and shoulders. In his mind, he was holding you tightly. He felt you in his arms, a faint feeling like a ghost of his movement, a phantom born from the pain of his lost limbs. But to you, all you felt was reality. And your body continued to shake but this time with sorrow. Fat tears fell down your cheeks and the first sob that came from you was the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. You were supposed to be strong for him, but you were just as broken as him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried but you knew Chisaki must’ve been there as he’s been there all of your life. The kisses on your shoulder was there to soothed you yet it did nothing to the fuming rage still sitting within your heart. You pulled away from him slightly and held his head in your hands, bloodshot eyes drenched in shiny tears laced with nothing but pure wrath was staring straight into his own eyes. Your voice was shaky, yet determination shown itself proudly.

“I swear... I’ll get your arms back...”

Chisaki’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t take the tone of your voice lightly nor your eyes that looked as if he was staring into the fiery depths of hell. “How...?”

Your mouth twisted into a shaky smile. The look in your eyes changed to something psychotic yet a glimmer of hope, relief, and the gold reflection of his eyes shined through. A simple name was all that passed through your lips like the solution was there all along. “Eri.”

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #overhaul #overhaul x reader #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai fanfiction #overhaul fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #angst fanfic

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Queen of Hades

Hades! Shouta Aizawa x Persephone! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years or older, please refrain from reading any further. Thank you.

Warnings: TW: Incest, kidnapping, stockholm-ish, slow-burn ish, smut, praise kink and body worship if you squint, possessive during smexy time, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, masturbation (not super descriptive tho), unprotected sex (pretty obvious but I’m putting it here anyway), creampie, aftercare, tiny bit of angst at the end but not too bad.

Word Count: 9.7k (Holy shit)

Author’s Note: *kinda long note here, you don’t really have to read it if you don’t want to*

Ohhhkaaaayyyyyy so this took a lot out of me. This is my longest fic so far, and honeslty I’m kinda proud of it. I’ve always been a sucker for Greek mythology, and I’ve always had a soft spot for Hades because he’s so sorely portrayed as a villain in mainstream media. He’s really not as bad as movies like Percy Jackson and Hercules make him out to be. Nothing in the mythology suggests that Persephone was unhappy, so I took it a ran with it. I also drew a bit of inspiration from Lore Olympus on WebToon (iykyk) for the parts regarding Demeter’s parenting.

The only three characters I really referenced to mha besides Aizawa is Hizashi Yamada (Hermes), Momo Yaoyorozu (Aphrodite), and Bakugo Katsuki (Ares). I went with Momo for Aphrodite solely because she seems like the only one Bakugo would willingly listen to since she’s on par with him at least in intelligence. I made Bakugo Ares because he’s the god of war, and tends to get angry easily. Their temperaments are similar, except for the fact that Ares can be pretty cowardly (sorry not sorry Ares).

Anyway, enjoy~

The god sat on his throne, contemplating his lonely existence for what felt like the hundredth time. It may have been, considering he is immortal. At one time, he’d never given loneliness a second thought. He didn’t mind being this way. His job was important, even if melancholy, and he took it very seriously. Keeping Cerberus tame and entertained was probably the most difficult part, physically. The three-headed dog sat at the entrance to the underworld, guarding at all times to ensure any and all souls that passed through could never escape. And Hades simply ruled over this plane of existence, ensuring nothing was out of order and those kept in the depths of Tartarus remained there.

However, in the last couple centuries the raven-haired god had been plagued with longing for someone to share his existence with. He no longer wanted to be alone. He craved someone to spend his time with, someone to think about and experience what mortals and gods alike called love. He wanted a queen. With the time he had on his hands, he prepared himself to scour the mortal realm as well as Olympus, to search under the invisibility his helm allowed him. Soon he was walking the realms, invisible to all creatures, observing, searching for his queen.

____

Being the daughter of Demeter wasn’t easy. The goddess hovered over you, making sure you were doing your duties properly as the goddess of vegetation. Being a goddess yourself was only made difficult by your mother. She needed perfection. You worked diligently to hone your powers, urging plantlife to grow to your will and learning about the time before the gods. You spent every day under her guidance, until she was finally satisfied with your performance. She’d finally stopped pushing you about a century ago, now simply watching with no commentary or instructions.

Today was finally the day you’d be able to have time completely alone outside your quarters. You wandered, stopping in a beautiful meadow. The sight made your heart swell with joy. Lush, soft grass stretched as far as you could see, flowers of all colors blanketing the area. From bright, vibrant sunshine yellow to deep cerulean and mulberry. Some of the lone flowers stood tall enough to touch your hips as you floated through the greenery. It was serene, peaceful. Your chest felt light, finally you were free from your mother’s harsh gaze to relax, all alone.

As you finally decided you’d return, you thought of the beauty of the area. It didn’t take long for you to find a few choice blooms to pick and carefully pluck them from the ground. Keeping them alive would be effortless from your amount of training. You’d keep them in your chambers, a memory of the feelings you experienced here. Satisfied with your choices, you took a final glance around you and began your return.

You only made it a few steps when suddenly the ground began to quake. Only a horse’s length from your feet, you watched wide-eyed as the ground split open to a huge chasm, chunks of earth tumbling into the void. A golden chariot pulled by four beautiful black stallions emerged from the fissure, pulling to an abrupt halt next to you. A raven-haired man stood proud in the chariot, one hand extended out toward you. His face showed no emotions, his dark obsidian eyes tired and sad, a scar curved under his right eye and light scruff adorning his chiseled jaw.

You shrunk away from his hand, unsure of his identity or the reason for such a surprise visit. “Who are you?” you ask warily, your eyes narrowing slightly. “I am Hades, god of death and wealth. Your mother would know me as Aidoneus.” Your eyes widened in shock. No wonder you didn’t know who this is. Hades rarely left the Underworld, and hasn’t in the past thousand or so years according to what you’d heard from your mother. Why was he here of all places? Sensing your apprehension, he reached out for you once more.

“Please, my sweet, come with me to the Underworld.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. You weren’t entirely sure why the god of death wanted you, but you didn’t want to find out. Shaking your head, you took a few tentative steps backward. “I...don’t want to go with you…” The idea of abandoning your duties was absurd. You were a goddess, and your mother would be absolutely furious if she found out you’d gone with Hades and vanished to the underworld. Not to mention how your family might feel about your sudden disappearance.

A loud cry of your name had you snapping your head toward the source. A beautiful woman donning golden armor wielding a spear was sprinting toward you, her brown curls pulled tight into a woven plait down her back. “Athena!” You called to her as you began to run, but you were lifted off your feet before you could take a second step. In a blur of motion you found yourself in Hades’ golden chariot, a strong arm around your waist holding you tight to the god’s side. He peered down at you with those deep dark eyes as the chariot descended into the chasm.

“I am sorry, my love. But coming with me was never your choice to make.” You looked upward, watching as the earth closed above you. Panicked, you struggled in Hades’ grasp, but he was too strong for you to escape. “Please, don’t fight me.” You shot the god a glare that could kill, tears streaming down your face. “I never asked to be taken! Why? Why have you stolen me away?” A heaved sigh escaped his lips. “I will explain, my love, but for now,” he brings his other hand up and taps your forehead with two fingers, “Sleep.” Your eyelids droop, and your consciousness fades to black.

____

He had hoped you’d come with him willingly. Of course, he knew the chances of that happening were rather slim. Confiding in Zeus about his newfound feelings for you may have been a bad idea for him, considering he was the one to come up with this ridiculous plan. The god of the sky was supposed to be distracting most of the other gods and goddesses with a meeting, though it isn’t a surprise that Athena had managed to slip away. He was rather lucky to have been able to escape Athena without direct confrontation. He may be a powerful god, but Athena was the goddess of war strategy and wisdom. She could probably fight Zeus himself and find a way to come out victorious.

But now, as he gaze down at your sleeping form in his bed, he can’t help but feel it was worth the trouble. You were absolutely gorgeous, a beauty to rival Aphrodite, though he’d never say it aloud for fear of the woman’s jealous revenge. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted ever so slightly with your breath. He wants so badly to kiss you, to hold you and cherish you, to worship you the way you should be. But he wants you to accept him and love him of your own accord. He’d made that decision from the first time he laid eyes on you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving you to rest.

____

It felt like you hadn’t even been asleep for a second, like you had only just closed your eyes. But you definitely weren’t in the chariot anymore, and Hades was nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you took in your surroundings. You lay on a large bed covered in fine pelts and furs on the wall furthest from the door. The room itself is large enough to fit at least three chariots and room to spare. Cool blue floated around the room, candles inset in the walls lit with cerulean fire, emitting a soft glow and shadows dancing in the light. The room was relatively empty, save for the armor on the wall along with a two-pronged scepter and a helm. There was no question in your mind where you were.

The large wooden door creaked as it opened, the King of the Underworld himself standing in the doorway. You glared as he made his way over to you and sat on the edge of the bed. “Why am I here, Hades?” You absolutely meant for the edge to come through in your voice, letting out your aggression in the most passive way possible. You hoped the tinge of fear you felt hadn’t shown through as well. As much as you didn’t like being taken against your will and hated Hades for it, you didn’t want to get into a fight with the god of death.

“Please, my name is Shouta. The mortals call me Hades. And you’re here because I’ve fallen in love with you, sweet goddess.” His voice was gentle, apologetic even. “The kidnapping was Zeus’s idea. I only went along with it because I knew my sister would never let me have you if I asked. I know how she is with her children.” You gave a small huff and pulled your knees into your chest, eyes still on the god. “Talking to me first was always an option, you know.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “My apologies. I should have talked to you first.”

Apprehensively, you asked the question you were sure you already knew the answer to. You tore your eyes away from him, suddenly the furs underneath you were the most interesting thing in the world. “When can I go back?” His hand appeared in front of you, and you didn’t flinch or move away as his calloused palm cupped your face gently, making you look up into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t let you return yet.” You gave a small nod, and he pulled his hand from your face as he stood. “Walk with me?”

His eyes were hopeful, waiting for the answer he wanted. If you declined, would he force you to go with him anyway? You squeezed your knees further into you, giving an indirect ‘no’ to test his reaction. He let out a small sigh, “I see. If you need anything, you can call for me.” He moved to walk out of the room, not halfway to the door when you stopped him. “Actually...um...I think a walk would be okay.” Slowly, you got up and walked over to him, and he gave a small smile before leading you out of the room.

The underworld was nothing like you thought it would be.

Hades - or rather, Shouta - led you on a tour of all three realms of the Underworld on the boat steered by Charon, the ferryman that delivered souls to the three parts of the Underworld. The Elysian Fields were gorgeous, mirroring daytime in the mortal realm with lush greenery and bright sunshine. This part was reserved for the mortals that were exceptionally heroic in their lifetime. Good people who lived lives giving to the people that needed it with no expectation to be repaid. All the souls here were happy, either playing or relaxing with each other in this afterlife.

The next part was the Asphodel Fields. This realm was darker, stuck in a deep limbo but beautiful all the same. A bright full moon sat high in the sky, the ground littered with luminous teal crystals. These souls were shadows of themselves, normal mortals that made mistakes and loved and lived their lives as best they could. They now live a mirrored life here, as a shadowed version of themselves. It was not a sad existence, but one that the mortal souls could be satisfied with.

As you rode the boat with Shouta on the river Phlegethon toward Tartarus, your body began to shake and your breath shallowed. You could feel the foul energy seeping into the air the closer you got. This was where the worst of the worst were kept prisoner. This realm locked a wicked soul in a loop of punishment and suffering. He looked down at you and wrapped an arm securely around your waist, and you peered up into his black orbs. “Tartarus is not a place I enjoy taking you, but I do intend on making you my Queen. You will need to see it even from a distance. I promise, you are safe.”

With a nod, he turns his attention back toward the bow. The closer you got to Tartarus, the more you began to feel fear. Despite the river of fire and the heat pouring from the banks, your body shook. The sheer bloodlust, anger, resentment, and malice pouring from the shoreline was enough to make your heart race. You may be a goddess, but you are young and weak compared to the god next to you. You feel yourself pressing into Shouta more as you float past the shore. The sights before you are horrific, if only because of the souls that are there.

You’d learned about the war between the gods and the titans early on in your life, and now here you were seeing the titans for yourself. They were enormous. Even on their knees, bound in chains thicker than the largest tree trunk, made from Adamantine the metal of the gods, they towered like mountains. They were monstrous, some with more heads than you could count, some with extra limbs, some with animalistic traits and some purely demonic. The sound of the chains rattling rang through the entire realm as a few lunged out toward the boat, only to be stopped short by the chains.

You jumped several times, fear consuming you. Shouta held you close, his arm tight around your shoulders as you clung to him. Confidence and power radiated off his form as he raised his other arm, the chains around the titans tightening and drawing into the ground with a flick of his wrist. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. “You are safe, my love. They cannot hurt you.” You calmed a bit with Shouta next to you, securing you to him and keeping you safe.

The ferry floated along and soon you were out of the realm of Tartarus, back at the palace grounds that the god lived in. The building was beautiful, built like the temples the mortals built for the gods. However, the stone it was made from was not white but black, polished to a beautiful shine that reflected the cool blue glow from the misty realm. This area was not in any of the three parts of the afterlife. It was the god of death’s personal realm.

The large temple sat high on a rocky hill, a staircase carved into the cliff face that led down to the five rivers that course through the underworld, all of them parallel each other until they branched off. The realm itself was magical in its own right. It seemed to be an enormous cave, huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, which was shrouded in deep blue mist that sparkled and mimicked the night sky. It was so high even the largest and lowest stalactites hung miles above the ground. The ground was all black earth, void of vegetation but full of life all the same, the scent of upturned earth and rain filling your senses.

You ogled at the beauty of it all, despite the darkness. You hadn’t taken the time to observe before the tour, but now that you could you almost didn’t want to look away. You felt the warmth of Shouta’s body as he pressed against your back, a hand gently taking your chin and directing your head up to look at the misty abyss. “Would you like to know what sparkles through the mist?” You gave a small nod. Though the mist was thick, there was something sparkling from far above it that made up the constellations in the sky of the mortal realm.

He stretched an arm out, palm up as if to catch something. The star you recognised as Polaris shone brightly then faded, and the glimmering speck fell from the fog, landing square in Shouta’s palm. It was a large gem, sparkling against the darkness. You traced your fingers along its ragged edges, and it floated back up to its place when you dropped your hand. It was then you remembered that Hades was not only the god of death. He was the god of wealth, of earthly riches, precious gems and metals that mortals sought to obtain.

Shouta’s voice was smooth and deep in your ear, his body still pressed up to yours. “Let us go inside, my love. It is time to rest. Tomorrow, I will take you to see Cerberus.” You let your body relax into him, relishing in the safety of his embrace. Giving a small nod, you let the raven-haired god guide you into the palace. He led you to a hot spring in the back of the palace, the large steaming pool set deep in the ground and illuminated by blue flame candles. He left you alone to bathe, and you relaxed into the water as you reflected on the recent developments.

Despite kidnapping you, the god clearly harbors no ill intentions toward you. He’d even revealed that the whole thing was, in fact, your father’s idea. He’s kind, sweet, nothing like the angry and cruel god the mortals seem to fear. And he radiates power, his strength clear even when he first appeared to you in the field. He suppresses his overwhelming prowess around you, you’d realised. It became clear just how powerful a god he is when he took you through Tartarus. As powerful as he is he’s gentle toward you, compassionate and caring, dare you say loving. He did claim to have fallen in love with you.

Still, you had duties as a goddess, though your mother was more than capable of handling it on her own. The only reason you had duties is because you are the daughter of gods. You wondered briefly what she was thinking right now, if she knew you were gone, if Athena had informed her of your current placement. You would have to wait to find out. Until then, you would enjoy your time here. The Underworld is beautiful, and mostly peaceful, disregarding Tartarus. If Shouta means to make you his Queen, maybe you could learn to love the man as you’ve come to love the realm he rules.

And of course, the god himself was rather handsome. His deep obsidian eyes held eons of emotion. Strength, power, loneliness and longing. And when he looked at you, you could tell he was sure he loved you, his eyes full of pure adoration. His long raven locks framed his face perfectly, the onyx crown he wore nearly invisible in his dark tresses. His jawline was strong, sharp, his ivory skin seemingly glowing blue in the atmosphere of the Underworld. The robes he wore hung loose around his frame, but it wasn’t hard to tell his body was strong and well built. He was a god, after all. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see him in all his glory.

You finished your bath and fell asleep in the same bed as the god, your backs to each other and plenty of room between you. You only knew him for a single day, but you trusted him with your immortal life. When you woke up, Shouta took you to see Cerberus like he said he would. The dog sat proud just inside the entrance, the gate closer to resembling a cave entrance than an actual gate. Cerberus had his own wide perch above the ground to look down and watch the entrance closely, his job as gatekeeper being taken just as seriously as Shouta took his job as king of the Underworld.

Reaching the river bank, Shouta stepped out and held his hand out to you, helping you out of the riverboat after him. Soon the two of you were approaching the three-headed beast, and the closer you got the more you understood just how large Cerberus is. Sitting on his haunches, his shoulders towered far above your head. You’d have to climb up onto his back to reach his three heads. As the two of you approached, the hound turned his heads and bowed low, muzzles nearly in the dirt with a low growl emanating from him.

Shouta, with a hand at the small of your back, walked up to the beast and placed a hand on the middle head, slowly petting up and down in between his eyes. You could hear the whoosh of his large tail behind him. He may be the guard dog to the Underworld, but he was still a dog, you supposed. “Hello, old friend. Meet your future Queen.” The head closest to you lifted, a large huff blowing in your face from his snout, before his nose twitched as he sniffed at your hair and face. You giggled, the air tickling your neck and face, as you reached up and held the large head in your hands and kissed above his nose.

“Such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” The hound’s tail swished harder and one of his front paws tapped against the ground, his body almost dancing at the praise and attention. Mindlessly, you let your hand pet at his fur as you observed the other two heads. Each one seemed to have a different personality. The one you were giving attention to was happy and jumpy, constantly sniffing and licking you. The one in the center was calm and collected, stoic even, eyes trained on the entrance as Shouta pet it. The furthest from you seemed angry, a low growl a near constant as his gaze was focused on the cave entrance.

“Show her a little respect won’t you? It won’t kill you.” The angry head huffed before turning its gaze to you, giving a short bow, and with a snarl turning his attention back to the entrance. As interesting as guarding the gate seems, the only one that actually entered through the gate was Hermes. You watched as the god zoomed in and out, delivering souls to the dock, sending those who could pay off with Charon as he rowed them to their respective placements. You doubted any soul would be able to leave. They’d be spotted and caught easily, if Cerberus had anything to say about it.

Several months passed while you were down in the Underworld, staying by Shouta’s side through whatever he needed to do. No matter how many times you travelled through the underworld with Shouta, you never got enough of the beauty of it all. Sometimes he’d take you through the Asphodel Fields, deep into the crystal forests. He walked with you through the fields with a warm hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you where you had yet to roam. The longer you stayed, the more you found yourself wanting to be around the god.

Any time he needed to visit Tartarus, you’d join him, and he’d keep you tucked into his side the whole time. You felt safe in his hands. Lately you’d been cuddling closer to him at night, longing for his embrace. His rather thick arms would curl around your waist and shoulders, pulling you tight to his chest. You'd wake up to the god’s deep obsidian eyes on your face, his gaze soft as he told you how beautiful you are or how thankful he was that he could wake up next to you. He’d leave soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, thick fingers rolling shapes into your skin.

It was those little intimate moments that had you falling, very possibly in love, with the King of the Underworld. When he’d run his hands down your arms and whisper his affections. When he’d teach you about the workings of the Underworld while you pet Cerberus’s head. In the bath when he’d wash you after a long day, never advancing further than a chaste kiss to your shoulder and neck. The lingering, longing, loving gaze he set on you while you rode the riverboat to the different realms. In no time at all you’d realized you’re happy here.

Now, you both stood at the gate with Cerberus once again. One head was nuzzling up against you, the other two focused on the entrance as you and Shouta pet the happy dog. You’d learned that while the center wasn’t averse to physical touch, he preferred to be left alone. The angry one had become less growly and aggressive toward you, which you supposed was progress. Though you were sure if you ever attempted to leave the Underworld, Cerberus would stop you regardless. Not that you wanted to leave.

A whoosh of wind rushed past you and suddenly Hermes was standing on the other side of Shouta, a wide grin plastered on his face as he leaned on the god’s shoulder. “What’s up, Sho?” His hypnotic green eyes wandered over to you and his eyebrows raised as his grin widened. “So this is miss Persephone, is it?” He held a hand out for you to shake. “It’s good to meet you.” Tentatively, you reached out and took his hand, shaking it before you asked the question burning in your mind.

“Sorry, but why did you just call me Persephone?” A moment of realization hit the blonde. “OH! Yeah, you’ve been called Persephone by the mortals, as well as the rest of Olympus. The Bringer of Destruction. Fitting for the Queen of the Underworld, isn’t it?” Your breath quickened and eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why would they call me that? I haven’t done anything!” Shouta narrowed his eyes at the god. “Hizashi, what’s this about?” He leaned away with his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, it wasn’t me. When Demeter found out her daughter was missing she abandoned her duties up in Olympus. The mortal realm has slowly been changing ever since she left, slowly becoming cold and barren. It’s not pretty. Your other siblings are trying their best to uphold Demeter’s abandoned chores but...they aren’t their mother.” Shouta slipped an arm over your shoulder, tucking you into his side, and you clung to him in your increasingly distressed state, relishing in the safety his arms often held for you. The two gods talked as you tried to ground yourself.

“How much does Demeter know?” A high-pitched hum rang from the blonde. “Well Zeus, Athena and I are the only ones who know you took her. I believe Hestia, Hera, and Poseidon know she’s here but not how she got here, and the rest just don’t know anything. Zeus made Athena swear not to say anything, but considering she’s his favorite it may be only a matter of time before she confesses to Demeter with no repercussions. There’s also a possibility Aphrodite and Eros know for reasons that should be obvious to you.”

While they spoke your mind was reeling. You never thought anything of your mother’s hovering, but she’d abandoned her duties up in Olympus just because you’d vanished. What did that even mean? And now that the mortal realm was suffering, would you be punished for it? Would you be blamed for your mother’s absence?

____

“Do I have to go back to Olympus?” Shouta could hear the slight panic and sadness in your voice, and it made his grip around you just a bit tighter. Both their eyes flicked over to you, Shouta’s gaze soft and concerned. Hermes - Hizashi - gave a kind smile. “So far, nothing’s been decided. Zeus is pretty adamant about keeping this whole thing discreet, so for now you can stay here with Sho.” You seemed to relax in his arms, but Shouta could tell you were still stressed about the whole situation.

“Thanks ‘Zashi.” The blonde nodded, then zipped away and returned to his duties as the messenger god. Shouta looked back down at you and he could see the tension in your face. Eyebrows slightly scrunched, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you chewed on it, crossed arms and hands clutching your biceps. He’d almost call it adorable if he couldn’t feel just how stressed you were, leaning your body into him like a cat seeking shelter from the rain. His arm slipped down to your waist as he guided you back to the ferry.

It didn’t take long for the both of you to be back at the temple. He sat you on the bed then kneeled in front of you, rough hands gently holding your own, calloused thumbs massaging circles into your skin. “My love, you are upset.” He watched and listened as you poured out your worries, all of them fears of whether or not the mortal realm would survive, if you were to be punished for your mother’s actions, if your mother would punish you herself for disappearing. He reassured you that he wouldn’t let anyone punish you for anything, that he’d protect you with his life.

He had already vowed to himself never to let anything happen to his precious Queen. He is not a violent god, but he would hunt down any soul that dared so much as a wrong thought about you, vowing that there would be hell to pay. If he ever let something happen to you, he swore he’d never leave the Underworld again, and instead trap himself in Tartarus indefinitely. Eventually, he would express his devotion to you, his undying love and loyalty, but for now all you needed to know was that you were safe with him.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when your eyes filled with tears, voice breaking as you cried about not wanting to leave the Underworld, not wanting to leave his side. You’d grown to love the realm for all it had, as well as the man who ruled over it. He knew as well as you did that you would eventually have to return to Olympus, and there was no guarantee you would ever come back. Well, there was one, but he would never suggest it to you for it was almost cruel. It kept you connected to this realm, like a chain to an anchor.

But then you had to go and ask.

____

You could see the turmoil behind his dark irises. He was thinking, and thinking hard. “Sho...is there any way for me to come back?” His jaw clenched, something you’d come to recognize as a signal of stress for the god of death. “What do you mean, love? You could return any time you like.” You squeezed his hands, willing him to listen. “I mean permanently, Shouta. If somehow my mother refuses to let me return, is there a way to tie me to you? To make sure I need to return no matter what?”

His usually calm features twisted in surprise, eyes wide and jaw clenched tight, his hands gripping your own. But the shock only lasted a moment before he was relaxing again. “My love, there is a way. But it is not kind to you, to force you to return here.” The sadness at that statement was clear in his eyes. He didn’t want to think of it, but the possibility for you to never want to return to him was there. Your eyebrows furrowed deeply and you ripped your hands away from his, planting your palms on either side of his face and forcing him to look deep into your eyes.

“I want to return here, Shouta, to you. Look into my soul and tell me I’m lying to you.” His dark onyx stared into you, and you stared back. He would know your sincerity, whether he wanted to or not. He had to know how much you truly cared, how far you’d fallen since that day in the meadow when he scooped you up into his golden chariot. You had to make him know. He didn’t protest when you began to pull him closer, leaning in until your lips ghosted over each other.

You’d never been this close before. He never advanced on you, never made you uncomfortable, never forced anything on you. He refused to force even the smallest things on you, like placing a hand on your waist or your shoulder, always asking permission and making sure you were okay first and foremost. Maybe it was just because of how gentle he is with you, or the fact that he’s the sweetest deity you’d met. Maybe it was the work of Eros. But you were no doubt in love with Shouta.

When your lips connected it was like a wave of heat crawled over your body, a spark igniting flame that rolled through your veins. You fit perfectly together, molding to each other in a sweet, passionate kiss. His own hands found purchase on your waist and neck, gentle caresses holding you close. Finally pulling away, you were both breathless, sucking in air through shuddered breaths and adrenaline. His voice came through heavy and thick with swirling emotions. “There is a way to keep you here, but will you wait and think about the decision before it is made?”

You knew what he was doing. He was preparing himself for what, in his mind, is an inevitable rejection from you. You also understood that he was taking you greatly into consideration, thinking about you and your happiness first. And that’s why you knew you loved him. Because you cared about him before yourself. Loving each other more than yourselves was something you shared. “Tell me now, my King, and I promise I’ll think about it.”

He sighed, but you couldn’t tell if it was from relief, sadness, or stress. Regardless, he explained to you the magic of the Underworld, and that if you were to eat a pomegranate seed from the realm you’d be compelled to return, whether you wanted to or not. You gave a nod and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Shouta. I will think about it. And you’ll know my answer when it comes time for me to return to Olympus.” He nodded, clearly grateful that you’d heed his words. However you fully intended to eat a seed when asked to return to Olympus. You had already made up your mind, and nothing could change it.

____

Waking up every day to see your face was a blessing for the god of death. He loved that you’d become comfortable with him, that you curled into his side while you slept. He adored your half-lidded, sleepy eyes when you first woke up in the morning. He adored your mussed hair before you combed it out and pulled it into a loose braid down your shoulder. Everything you did made him adore you even more, everything about you was the most beautiful thing to him.

He loved all of you, all that you did and said, every little detail of your existence. And he made sure you knew, whispering sweet nothings as he held you in bed, praising your beauty while he bathed with you. Every morning he watched your gorgeous eyes flutter open and made known his gratitude for being able to hold you so close. You never said much yourself, but he’d never have it any different. Your movements were enough for him. He lived for the little gestures and physical touches. The way you’d cling to him while you were out, how you’d hug him close at night. How you’d lean into his chest while you bathed together, or run your fingers through his hair when you relax in bed.

But he hated what you did to him, when you’d get close and squish your body up against him, when he felt your soft skin under his rough palms. He hated the feelings being with you unlocked, the filthiest parts of his mind coming to light. He wanted to ruin you in the best way, to make you his forever. He wants to worship every inch of you, and watch as you unravel beneath him. Late at night while you were fast asleep he’d gaze at your body, eating up every bit of exposed skin and letting his imagination run rampant. Tears falling down your face from pure overwhelming pleasure, sweet sounds pouring from your kiss-swollen lips, legs quivering and fingers clawing at the bed beneath you.

Tonight was no different as his eyes raked over your slumbering form. He could feel himself hardening just at the sight of you, and it drove him insane. He was slightly disappointed in himself for allowing something like lust to affect him so heavily. But it did, and he had to take care of it.

____

You were only half awake when you heard a soft curse and felt Shouta shift in bed behind you. When you rolled over to curl into him, you confirmed he wasn’t there and it woke you up rather quickly. Still a tiny bit groggy, you got up and went to search for him through the temple. Really, there weren’t very many places to search. It wasn’t long before you ended up outside the bathing room, but something stopped you before you stepped through the curtained entryway.

You could hear heaved breaths and soft curses from inside, the light slosh of water muffling a lot of the sounds. The sounds which were coming from none other than Shouta. You slowly pulled the curtain back, just barely, and peeked in. The sight before you made your thighs squeeze together and heat build in your stomach. The god was leaning on the edge of the small pool, head thrown back and his lower half below the water. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was doing, with his hand submerged and the muscles in his arm flexing and pumping slowly.

You’d be lying if you denied how much you wanted him. You craved him in the worst way, wanted to touch his bare skin and feel the muscles in his back tense under your fingers. You wanted to see him lose himself and ravage you, to watch as he let his more primal instincts take over. The only problem you saw was how you would approach the subject, especially when your lustful feelings were becoming very hard to ignore. But now, you had just found the perfect opportunity.

Shouta’s back was mostly turned toward the curtains, so it wasn’t hard for you to slip into the room unnoticed. Silently, you padded up behind him and knelt. He was still pumping himself below the water, whispering filthy words and your name under heavy breaths. You reached out and grabbed his shoulders, making him jump, but you quickly shushed him. “It’s me, my King.” He froze, his entire body tensing and his shoulders rising with shuddered breaths.

“I-I’m sorry, my love...I-” You released your grasp and leaned over to look in his eyes, silencing him. “No, Shouta. Don’t be sorry. We may be deities but we are afflicted with emotion, same as any mortal.” Leaning down, you kissed and nipped below his jaw. “Come to bed, and we can help each other with those emotions.” He turned his head to you, brows slightly furrowed and concern laced in his voice. “You don’t have to help me, sweet girl. You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Did I not just say we’d help each other?” Surprise was evident on his face as he gazed up at you from the water. You leaned close to his face, lips just grazing each other, and stared deep into his eyes. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have offered.” Just as he pressed forward, you leaned back and stood, leaving the god shocked and wanting more. “I’ll be in bed, if you feel like joining me.” You swayed your hips a little more as you disappeared behind the curtains, a small tease to lure the god.

Back in the room, you stood at the foot of the bed, back to the door as you waited for him. You made it abundantly clear what you wanted, that you knew what you were asking for, and knew what you were offering. The door creaked open, and you could feel the heat of Shouta’s gaze on your body. He was on you nearly instantly as the door shut, his hands roaming your body and lips ghosting over your neck. His voice was raspy, heavy with lust and want. “Are you sure you want this?” You pushed your hips back into him, feeling his hardness through your thin robes.

A sighed ‘yes’ passed your lips, and it was all the confirmation the god needed. His hands came up and pulled the fabric off your body, the cloth wrapped around his waist following soon after. His thick fingers pinched and pulled at your body, relentless in their attack on your skin. His touch floated over you, sending electricity buzzing through you. Lust built like a wildfire, spreading and burning your blood as it coursed through your veins. You leaned back into him, pressing yourself against his strong body as he peered down yours and left kisses on your neck and shoulder. Your body felt impossibly hot, arousal pulling you deep into him as he traced your body with feather light touches.

Suddenly he grasped your hips tight, turning you and pushing you backward onto the bed. He stayed standing, and you both took a good look at each other for the first time. Yes, you often bathed together, but your back was always to his chest, and the lower halves of your body were submerged. He never touched you anywhere other than your back, shoulders and hair when he helped to wash you, and you never turned to look at him. But now, as you looked up, there was no doubt in your mind you were looking at a god.

He looked as if he was sculpted from marble, ivory skin pulled taut over chiseled muscles. Scars littered his body, discolored lines carved into his skin, each holding a story. Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on his cock. You may be a goddess, but if you weren’t prepared, he would undoubtedly destroy you. You felt more than heard the deep chuckle he let out, a devilish smirk set on his lips. “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t break you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his, “Yet.” You swallowed thickly, anticipation building in your chest. He climbs up and slots himself between your legs, leaning over you as his hair hangs in curtains around your face, drawing your eyes to the man above you.

“My love, you can tell me to stop any time.” The look in his eyes told you just how serious he was. He would do anything you asked of him without a second thought. You gave a nod and looped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a deep, sweet kiss. Your bodies pressed into each other, your skin burning against his as every cell in your body longed for his touch. Both your tongues poked out and melded together, tasting and savoring each other while his hands roamed down your body and your fingers massaged into his scalp.

When he finally pulled away you both panted, hot breaths fanning over each other’s face. One of his hands trailed down and gripped your thigh, fingers digging into your plush flesh as he ventured toward your heated core. He gathered the slick at the apex of your thighs, groaning at both how wet you had become and the little breathy moan you let out as he pushed a thick digit into your sopping folds. Soon he was adding a second, the burn quickly subsiding into pleasure as his thick fingers curled and scissored, stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

The pleasure was intense for you, never having experienced it like this before. In the 200 years of your life you’d never lain with a man, but there was nothing your mother could do to stop you from learning to pleasure yourself. She knew nothing about what you did alone in your chambers. But this was something different entirely. Shouta’s fingers reached deeper than yours could, stroking every sensitive spot inside you that you’d never known existed. Your legs shook as that familiar coil built in your abdomen, though much faster than you could build it on your own.

Shouta cooed praises into your ear, that knot beginning to fray the more he focused his attention on that gummy spot on your walls. His thumb slick with your juices reached up and rubbed at the little nub between your folds, and it only took a few tight circles for you to fall apart on his fingers with a moan. He drew out your orgasm, curling his fingers into you until you were choking on sobs from the overwhelming pleasure, your thighs trying to clamp down on his hand and nails digging crescent shapes into his wrist.

You whimpered as he pulled his fingers from you, moaning softly as you watched him suck your essence off his fingers with a lewd groan. He leaned down and pulled you into another heated kiss, and you could taste yourself on his lips. “Are you ready for me?” His breaths are heavy, hands gripping your hips tight, jaw set as he tries to compose himself. “Yes, my love. I’m ready.” He kisses you softly as he pushes into you slowly, swallowing up the little mewls dripping from your lips. One hand is rubbing at your swollen clit and the other toying with your breast to distract you from the stretch of his thick cock.

Your own hands are dragging down his back, trying to ground yourself as the god sank all the way into your cunt, stilling as he bottoms out completely. You’re both taking heaving breaths as your walls flutter, adjusting to him. Your legs are quaking and you mewl softly, tugging at his hair. “Please, Shouta, move.” He pulls his hips back and slowly thrusts back in, dragging the head of his cock along your sensitive walls deliciously. He starts a slow pace, languidly driving himself deep inside you. He leans down and kisses at your neck, the angle change making you throw your head back and moan.

You purposely clench down on him, and he bucks his hips up into you with a curse under his breath. His hands come back to your hips, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he growls. He pulls back until only the tip of his cock sits inside you, and snaps his hips forward, punching all the air from your lungs as he sets a brutal pace. Shouta doesn’t react as your nails claw furiously at his back, only yanks your body into him as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. Deep guttural growls and moans pour from his lips, the sound of wet skin slapping skin and the sweet, salty smell of sex permeating the room.

The little air you’re able to suck in is expelled in whines and sobs, fat tears streaming from your eyes as they roll back in your skull. Your mind was so far gone with pleasure, your entire body shivering and shaking as calloused fingers rub your clit, sending you head first into a powerful orgasm. His growls deepened as he kept himself from his own release, pounding into you with reckless abandon. His voice was raspy and breathless and one hand gripped your chin, tilting you to face him as he slowed his rutting. “That’s right, little goddess. Cry for your god, for your King. Tell me, who do you belong to?”

You took a moment to breathe through a sob, barely able to think with the overwhelming sensations. He was still thrusting his hips into you, slowly, dragging along your fluttering walls and gripping your face ever so slightly harder. “Answer me, sweet girl. Who do you belong to?” He punctuated the question with a sharp snap of his hips, stealing the air from your lungs before you gasped it back in. “You! I belong to you Shouta!” He’s pounding into you again, his hand moving to squeeze gently at your neck as he drives his cock deep into you over and over again.

“Yes, you’re mine. All mine forever. My goddess, my Queen, my wife, my love.” He lets out a loud moan, rubbing at your clit furiously. “Cum for me again, pretty thing. Cum.” Your entire body thrashes with the intensity of your orgasm, electricity jolting through you, your body answering Shouta’s command as if it knew you belonged to him, just as you both had said. You scream a moan as clear liquid splashes over his thighs and abdomen, and he fucks into you relentlessly as he chases his own release. With a long, low growl he shoves himself up against your cervix, pumping his thick seed into you and painting your insides white.

He keeps his cock buried deep inside you as he wraps his arms under your waist and rolls over onto his back, holding you tight to him as you lay boneless on his chest. You’re panting heavily, a sheen of sweat covering the both of you as he rubs his palms up and down your back. Fatigue tugs at your mind, your eyelids drooping as your breathing finally evens out. You feel Shouta shift your body with ease, pulling himself out of you with a hiss and lifting you into his arms.

You nuzzle into his chest as he walks, and soon you’re in the warm water of the bath, sitting on the submerged ledge between Shouta’s legs and leaning back into his chest. You can feel the water running down your arms as his hands cup and pour it over you. His rough hands are gentle as they run over your body, slowly cleaning you and massaging your aching muscles. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness, barely registering being carried once again before being laid down on the bed again. Shouta’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest as you relax in his hold.

Barely conscious, you kiss his chest lightly, getting a kiss to your temple from the god. His deep voice is tired, but happy, gravelly from earlier. “I love you, (y/n).” You echo the sentiment, barely a whisper, and somewhere in your mind you wonder if he heard you. The question vanishes as quick as it had appeared, and you drift off to sleep.

***About 2 months later***

It was early, much earlier than you’d normally wake up, when someone showed up at the temple. You were in bed with Shouta, and he awoke at the presence of other gods. Yes, gods. The both of you went to see who it was that garnered his attention. Hizashi - Hermes - stood at the top of the staircase with another god and a goddess. You recognized both. The god with spiky blonde hair and eyes red as blood was Ares, god of war. The goddess had hair black as Shouta’s pulled high on the back of her head. The front of her red dress draped low, down to her navel, her shapely figure complimented by the soft fabric that was no doubt woven from silk. Aphrodite.

The three stood at attention as the two of you walked out, the three eyeing you with very different looks on their faces. Hizashi regarded you fondly, like old friends reconnecting. Ares was angry and guarded, as always, and Aphrodite had a glint in her eyes that you couldn’t quite discern. The ravenette turned to the god of war and nodded, and Ares visibly relaxed, no longer ready for a fight. Hizashi strolled over and leaned on Shouta’s shoulder again, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hiya, Sho.” The blonde nodded his head at you. “(y/n).”

You smiled back at him, greeting him kindly before turning to the other two and giving a short bow. Aphrodite returned it, but Ares almost sneered. You weren’t really surprised. “Why are you three here, Hizashi?” Shouta asked sternly. The blonde seemed to deflate slightly as he walked back over to the other two and stood with them before speaking. “Well, for one, Demeter knows now where her favorite daughter has disappeared to. Imagine her fury when she found out her own brother had stolen her away.” Shouta groaned, then huffed. “She’ll live.”

The blonde chuckled. “Probably. Zeus has ordered that Persephone, formerly known as Kore and given the name (y/n) by Demeter, return to Olympus indefinitely.” Your eyes widened in shock and time seemed to freeze at his words. Your heartbeat drowned out any other noise, panic swirling in your head. Indefinitely? That meant until your mother decided you could come back to Hades, and you knew the answer would be never. You couldn’t live in a world where you couldn’t come back to Shouta.

The god could sense your distress and pulled you into a tight embrace, still discussing the arrangement with the three deities. But your mind was elsewhere. You knew what had to be done if you ever wanted to return. Heart racing, you leaned back and grabbed Shouta’s face, pulling him to meet your eyes. “Let me eat a seed, Shouta. Please.” His eyebrows knit together and his body tensed as he shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, my love. I can come visit you in Olympus instead.” But you wouldn’t have any of it.

____

He watched as your eyes filled with tears, your voice quivering and breaking as you spoke. “No! My mother won’t let you see me! And even if I begged her she won’t allow me to return here. She won’t let me come back to you.” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sobs shaking your shoulders as you tried to hold them back. He hated seeing you so sad, so heartbroken. But he knew what would happen if you ate a pomegranate seed. To be fair, so did you, and you were willing to do it if it meant you could see him again.

You were willing to be compelled to return, compelled so strongly that if you didn’t return your body would fall ill and weak, pain seeping into your very bones. You would need to return here, to the Underworld, or you would suffer. You would need this realm to survive. He had explained it to you when you asked, and you’d promised you would think about it. Still, he hated the very idea of you being in pain. His mind reeled with the possibilities, and as much as he hated it, you both knew how this was going to go.

____

Staring up at the god, you waited as he lost himself in thought. You didn’t want to force his hand, but if you needed to, you would. Three other deities were present, and could probably hold him long enough for you to pull a red fruit from the earth and swallow down a seed. A deep sigh came from the raven haired god, and a large hand cupped your face as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. He leaned his forehead against yours and sighed softly before speaking, his voice low. “I won’t force you, my love. It is your choice to make.”

You let out a shaky, relieved breath and pulled away from him. Extending your arm out to your side, palm down to the earth, you willed the plant to grow. In mere seconds, a tree sprouted from the dirt, a single large pomegranate glowing with the magic of the Underworld hanging just at your face. You plucked it smoothly, then let the tree shrink back down and vanish. You cracked the fruit open and held a single seed in your palm, looking to Shouta as you took a deep breath. He gave a final nod, and you popped the seed into your mouth, swallowing it whole.

You felt the magic course through you, a piece of the Underworld itself flowing through your body and making itself a part of you. Turning to the three, you spoke, radiating the confidence of a Queen and a goddess. “You three have witnessed me consume a pomegranate seed from the Underworld of my own volition. You know that Hades has not forced anything upon me.” The three nod, acknowledging the truth in your statement. You addressed the goddess of love. “Aphrodite, I believe you can confirm that I love Shouta just as he loves me, and that it was not influenced by you or Eros but developed naturally.”

She gave a sweet smile, nodding in confirmation. Turning back to Shouta, you wrapped your arms around him and he held you tight in a final embrace before you left for Olympus with Hermes, Ares, and Aphrodite. You peered up into his dark obsidian eyes. “I’ll be back, I promise.” He smiled down at you, adoration and love the only emotions in his gaze beside a tinge of despair. “I know you will, my Queen. If you are ever in danger, or if you long for me too much to bear, tap the ground and I will come to you.”

You held him close, then separated and walked to Hermes, who picked you up gently and held you to his chest. Aphrodite and Ares climbed into their own chariot and set off before you. With a final glance to the god of death, you called out to him.

“I love you Shouta.”

“I love you too (y/n).”

He and the rest of the Underworld vanished in a blur, replaced by the grand palace grounds of Olympus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 4 years

Text

Day by Day, Month by Month

AN: This is a server prompt for MHA & readers server which I own along with @liliesoftherain . It’s a soulmate AU with fem reader x mirio

Warning: Explicit sex with Mirio Togata, angst, with a bit of one sided enemies to lovers

Read the rest of the prompts here.

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June

Y/N gritted her teeth as Hado cheerfully loudly greeted Amajiki at 8 AM. All mornings were terrible for her, but Mondays were the worst. The fact that Hado had no consideration for other people’s nerves on an early morning, really, really made Y/N dislike her even more than she already does. And she already disliked her enough to ignore all of Hado’s many attempts to befriend Y/N. Especially when Hado figured that Y/N and her quirk were the same. Which is not true, Y/N’s quirk worked on the fact she could absorb small wavelengths of energy like incandescent bulbs, LEDs, or artificial lights that didn’t generate violet waves. Y/N then used that energy to make whatever she desired from beams to moving at lightspeeds using her absorbed energy. Nothing at all like Hado’s whatever waves.

Now there was a good reason to hate Hado and that reason was the fact she was friends with her mortal enemy AKA Togata Mirio. He probably didn’t even know she existed, but Y/N hated him since second year. First year, Y/N did the impossible with her difficult to control quirk as she absorbed the LED lights in the stadium to blast her way to 4th place in the Sport’s festival. 2nd year she didn’t even make it to the top 10 because Togata had knocked her out in the 1st round of the last tournament. Ever since then Togata Mirio had exploded onto the scene of U.A., he was praised universally, and all the 3rd years worshipped him like he was a god. Y/N’s grinding of her teeth became even louder as she thought of the blonde idiot. Yes, Y/N didn’t just dislike him, oh no she hated him with every fiber of her being. She might be called a monster for it, but what she wouldn’t do for a chance to wallop his idiotic face. Maybe even strangle him for a minute or two after getting a few hits in.

Y/N watched as the slouched, nervous boy with pointed ear greeted Hado back quietly and sat in his seat. See, she didn’t make a point to be rude to Amajiki. What would be the point of doing that when he was basically a scared rabbit? Even she wasn’t that much of a monster to destroy his badly needed confidence, so she mostly just ignored him.

Finally, the sensei had come in and all the student quieted down for the morning lessons. Y/N stood up and bowed as the class president called out the greetings and they all sat down when the teacher let them. Most of the morning passed by quickly as Y/N actually did pay attention since she had a couple of tests coming up, otherwise she would be sending texts to her best friend in 3B all throughout classes. The bell rang indicating it was time for lunch, sending a quick text to her best friend to save her a seat as Y/N needed to use the restroom. She took her time leisurely to wash her hands and straightened her school uniform and made sure her hair wasn’t mussed. She even reapplied her nude pink lipstick, before taking a quick selfie to send to her friend. Y/N walked out as she used the Line app to edit some cute stickers and added on the hashtag “felt cute”. She didn’t notice until it was too late as she crashed into a wall of muscles. Y/N bounced off their chest, and her phone scattered to the floor. Quickly grabbing the device, she made sure the screen wasn’t broken. A huge sigh left her, and she turned around to give that idiot a piece of her mind.

“You moron, can’t you watc-“ Y/N cut herself as she realized she looked into the eyes of Togota Mirio.

Her whole view disconnected and reconnected as both of their minds melded. Her feelings were no longer just hers, but rather a whole of synergy of emotions as both of their desires, wants, and even fears entangled. Why was she so angry most of the time? So afraid. So anxious. She was no longer alone because he was her-

Those thoughts disconnected as the meld ended, their connection broken. Y/N stepped back in horror. Oh no. Togata was her soulmate. She just found the one person who was supposedly the perfect match for her, and it turned out to the person she hated the most in U.A.

‘Fuck my life.’ Y/N thought. She quickly turned around, ignoring his very loud protests, sprinted all the way back to the 3rd year hallway. She sent a quick text to her friend saying she was feeling sick and was at Recovery girl’s office when in reality, she was currently hiding out in the girl’s restroom. Sitting on top of a covered toilet, she frantically searched the web for a way to get rid of one’s soulmate.

Y/N knew since she hit puberty the science behind soulmates. Basically, a body’s way of finding your perfect mate that will the create the most optimal offspring. When two individuals’ eyes meet, their minds would mesh and basically their souls would connect. Y/N had watched a health video in her junior high year as two soulmates would stand there make eye contact for 5 mins with large creepy smiles and hazy eyes. Basically, looking like two drugged out idiots before regaining their senses. She remembered thinking how dumb the two looked whereas everyone else cooed at how romantic it was.

As for their souls’ connecting, it was another sugarcoated way to say the two soulmates would share emotions. Even now despite being hopefully far away from Togata, she could feel his frantic worry causing her chest to burn. Y/N tried to sooth the pain with one hand and the other one scrolling through articles. Anything that could help get rid of the moron that was her soulmate. She didn’t know how fast the lunch period passed because she was reading articles when she got jerked out of trance by the bell.

Y/N aggravatedly sighed. All the damn articles were no help, they just kept spewing the gospel of soulmates and how 80% of all soulmates would succeed in creating a healthy, loving relationship. She scowled, the only thing she would create with blonde Astro boy will be a lawsuit after she kneed him in the family jewels. As the bell rang once more, Y/N got up and kicked the toilet out of pure frustration before sulking back to her classroom. She made it to her seat and slumped over her desk. Y/N rested her eyes for a few minutes as she could hear her fellow classmates make it back from lunch. She jerked out of her nap when she heard the familiar voices of Hado and Amajiki. Keeping a close eye on them without being obvious, she noticed how they didn’t acknowledgeable her more than normal.

Letting a sigh of relief, she relaxed knowing that Togata hadn’t let his friends know what happened in the hallway earlier. The rest of the classes continued as normal except for the occasional bursts of happiness and the need to laugh startling her throughout the day. Y/N scoffed, of course he would be happy whereas he continued to be her source of frustration. The last of the classes were soon over so she headed home on her own. Usually Y/N would walk with her best friend, but she had an appointment with the support department to fix her hero costume.

Y/N walked leisurely down the sidewalk, enjoying the warm sunny day when a voice called underneath her.

“Hey-“ A familiar blonde face appeared in the sidewalk. Y/N screamed and bunched her skirt together so he couldn’t peak at her underwear.

“Pervert! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed as she stomped at the face.

“N-no wait! It’s your soulmate, Togata Mirio!” the face yelled desperately as he dodged her stomps.

Y/N paused in her stomps. “Well, that’s even worse than a pervert!” She resumed her stomps before giving up entirely and running away.

The next morning, Y/N used a baseball cap to keep her face from being visible and hopefully go unnoticed until she arrived in class. She didn’t need a repeat of yesterday. Arriving in class, she took off her the cap and settled in her seat. The morning lectures continued as she halfheartedly took notes and completed her assignments. Everything was going well until Togata walked in during lunch break.

Y/N jerked in her seat and turned away using her long hair as a curtain to hopefully escape his eyes.

She could hear Hado yelled out Togata’s name as the two friends conversed.

“Oh, this time I’m not here to hang out. I’m looking for Y/N. She is in this class, right?” She heard him ask.

Y/N looked up when she heard her name and saw Hado looking in her direction in confusion. She also saw Togata follow Hado and turn in her direction. Her eyes shifted to Togata, noticing the way his face lit up as he waved her over.

Y/N groaned. There was no way she could get out of this. She got up reluctantly and approached Togata, the entire class erupting in whispers and some of the girls were either giggling or shooting her glares. Y/N couldn’t help the flush, she never did like being the center of attention. Togota led her out of the classroom before pulling her aside in a nearby hallway.

“Look, I’m not sure why you are calling me out,” she began.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” Togata held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Togata Mirio.”

Y/N stared at his hand in disbelief. “Of course, I know who you are,” she spat out.

“You do? I thought you ran away yesterday because you didn’t know who I was,” Mirio sheepishly said.

“No, I know. I ran away because I want nothing to do with you!”

“N-nothing? But I’m your soulmate, we should get to kno-“she interrupted before he could finish.

“No, No! And No! I wouldn’t want to get to know you if you were the last guy on earth. So, you better leave me alone!” she yelled. Seeing the shocked face of Mirio, Y/N felt satisfied that he had gotten the message and marched away to enjoy the rest of her lunch period. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty when she felt the hurt coursing through Togata.

Meanwhile, Mirio shoved the hurt away and looked on in determination at the challenge that was walking away. Next time he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily, he promised as his eyes burned and sparkled.

July

Y/N drew a makeshift figure of Togata’s face on her notebook before she viciously started stabbing the drawing. ‘Stupid Togata, why can’t he get that he’s not wanted’ she thought. She threw a glare at the pretty arrangement of flowers on her desk. Every morning there was a new bouquet waiting for her on the desk. It attracted a lot of unwanted attention from her fellow classmates. At first, she threw all of them away in the garbage in a fury. But, over time the arrangements became more complicated and more beautiful than the last and her heart couldn’t bear the thought of throwing them away. So, she took it upon herself to donate it to Recovery girl’s office. She knew the older women appreciated them. Y/N saved the scattered chocolates in the bouquet for herself before dropping off the peony flowers at the Pro Hero’s clinic.

As Y/N walked to the lunchroom, she was interrupted when Togata came through the walls and in front of her.

“Y/N! Do you want to eat with me today? I brought a bento," Togata asked.

She looked down on her own bento and wondered how he knew that she was going to bring her own lunch today.

“Are you a psycho? How many times do I have to say no to you before you get it through your head?”

“I’ll keep asking until you say yes. I won’t ever take no for answer,” he cheerfully replied.

Y/N felt the fury inside of her build up and her face became tomato red. “Time to die, Togata.” She stepped towards him before tripping on her foot and her entire bento fell on the ground. She watched in shock at the hard work that had gone wasted and she turned towards Togata and sent him a death glare. Togata fearing for his life, slipped his bento into her hands before bolting out of the hallway. He activated his quirk and vanished through the walls.

August

Y/N panted as sweat dripped down her face. She’s never felt so tired in her life yet so energized. The roar of the crowd helping her forget the aches and pains of the fight. Togata wasn’t even winded as he stood across from her. This was the revenge she wanted. The second round of the battle tournament of the Sports Festival.

“Come on, Togata. Give me everything you have. Otherwise, I swear I won’t ever forgive you. I’ve given everything to be here. So, extend that courtesy to me,” Y/N said.

She knew he wasn’t taking her seriously. Though, she landed a few hits and gave 100% percentage to her energy attacks. She couldn’t say the same for him. His punches and his overall speed were too slow. She knew he was capable of being faster than what he was displaying right now. Her words affected him, as his face lost the pensive look and a look of concentration overcame it.

She remembered the humiliating defeat by him in second year. A blonde blur, a scream of “Poweeeerrr!” and Y/N was knocked out of the ring. She wasn’t even able to display her growth or how much she improved from the 1st year.

However, this year Y/N showcased everything she learned in U.A. and she showed everyone in Japan that Y/N was ready to be a Pro Hero. When she would lose to Mirio and she knew she was going to, Y/N had no regrets.

Y/N raised her hands to gather the energy from the LED lights in the arena as they blew out one by one overwhelmed by her quirk. She felt the energy rush through her body and readied herself for a charge at Mirio. This time she would lose on her own terms.

September

Y/N sat nervously on Mirio’s dorm room bed and watched as he scrambled around his room to get her birthday gift. She had gone home last weekend to spend her birthday with her family, so this was the only time Mirio had to give it to her. His relationship with her was still pensive. Y/N didn’t scream at him to leave her alone and she stopped calling him Togata. Most of all that bitterness dissolved after the Sports Festival, there was no reason to keep him at arm’s length anymore. Still, there was a degree of unsureness, Mirio being too afraid to set her off again and she too unexperienced on how to properly convey her feelings.

Mirio came back with a small gift bag that he held out for her. Y/N took and peered into it to see an assortment of chocolate.

“Remember how I would send you those bouquets and you never kept them except for the chocolate in it? I thought this time I would give you something you would want to keep.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. Mirio smiled goofily in return, satisfied that he had made her happy. She wanted to do something in return to show him how happy she was. Y/N leaned forward to kiss him on his cheeks, while at the same time Mirio purposely turned his face so she could kiss his lips instead.

The touch of his soft lips quickly made Y/N break contact. She turned her blushing face away and was about to quickly run out of his room in embarrassment, when Mirio grabbed her and mashed his face into hers. Their teeth clanged together, and it was soon clear neither had any idea on how to kiss.

Y/N pushed Mirio away and clutched her lips and teeth.

“Mirio! Why did you do that?!” She could feel embarrassment surging within him and a small ounce of shame for hurting her. Feeling bad for her overreaction, Y/N grabbed his hands and pulled him close.

“I-I think we should try again and maybe a little bit slower. Like how they do on TV dramas,” she said as she coaxed him into trying again.

Mirio gave her a small peck, withdrawing to see Y/N’s reaction. She nodded in encouragement, excited he continued to slowly give her kisses that caused her to chase him and eagerly respond to his ministrations. He caressed her cheeks and snaked his hand down to her waist to pull her close. Licking her lips and asking for permission to enter, Mirio entangled his tongue with hers as it sensuously made contact and cajoled her to respond. Following Mirio’s lead she responded back to each lick, feeling her body get hotter and hotter. Wanting to get closer to his body, she sat on top him and wrapped her legs around his waist. They continued to slowly kiss; Y/N liked this attempt immensely compared to their first one. Mirio wanting to feel her, grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his member. Y/N curiously touched it, wondering what she was touching that was so hard and warm. She broke contact from his lips and looked down at her hand. ‘OH MY GOD. I’M Touching A MAN’s PENIS!’ she thought hysterically. She poked it a couple times, finding it rock solid and admiring the length of it. Her tiny hands couldn’t even fit most of it. Mirio startled her out of thoughts when he placed his hands onto hers and started moving them along with him.

“Like this, Y/N, ok?”

Y/N short-circuited realizing what Mirio was asking from her. ‘Oh god, we are doing this now? Are we going to have sex!! That thing is going to fit inside of me? I’m going to die!!’ her thoughts spiraled and made Y/N panic. She quickly disentangled herself from Mirio, ignoring his grunt and his confused call of her name. Y/N grabbed her gift, not forgetting to say a quick thank you to Mirio before hightailing it out of his room and back to the sanctity of her own dorm.

December

Y/N waited anxiously outside in the cold, windy afternoon. Yesterday’s snowfall had already covered the entirety of the park, most kids were playing in the snow. Either making snowman or trying to hit their friends with snowballs. She huffed out a few breaths, watching as her warm exhales became smoke. She overheard footsteps and saw Mirio heading her way. Y/N sighed, relieved that he had showed up. Ever since a month ago Mirio had lost his quirk and Sir Nighteye, he had been avoiding her. She wasn’t the best person when it came to comfort, so she figured he needed time on his own. But as weeks went by without any sight of his blond hair or blue eyes, she couldn’t help but worry. So, Y/N had tracked him down and called him out during lunchtime just like he did so many months ago and made him promise to meet at the local park so they could talk things out.

She stood up to greet him, but he just motioned for her to sit back down and took a seat besides her on the park bench.

“Hey, Mirio. How have you been? We haven’t talked in a while,” Y/N cautiously began.

“Well, you are my soulmate. You probably know better than me how I’ve been this past month,” Mirio said quietly.

It was true, she felt his sorrow and loss like an aching pain in her chest. Y/N knew he went around school acting happy go lucky, but she knew he couldn’t fool her or himself.

“That’s true and its probably why I was so worried-“ Y/N began.

Mirio interrupted, “Worried? Why? You must be happy that I lost my quirk. No more competition!” He let out a weak chuckle.

Y/N couldn’t help the hurt that rose in her despite it being a fair assessment. She had treated him terribly, the fact he was lashing out at her now just showed how much patience Mirio really had. She swallowed the lump that had arose from her needing to cry because this wasn’t about her or her feelings now.

She turned to him, watching as his face twisted with guilt and he opened his mouth. Y/N cut him off.

“I know. You can throw everything at me, Mirio. I will take it if that’s what it takes for you to feel better. I don’t know what to do or what to say to make you feel like your old self again. I’m not good at any of this. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be alone. Don’t shut me out,” she pleaded.

Y/N saw the way the shine returned to his dull eyes and the soft blush that made its way to his face. He was looking at her like he had never seen her before. She could feel her own cheeks heat up due to the unnerving way he was looking at her. Mirio leaned forward as if to kiss her when Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and turned her face away.

“We can’t we’re in a park. There’s too many people,” she whispered.

Mirio let out a boyish giggle. “Right, sorry.”

She toyed with her fingers as a thought occurred to her. “Do you wanna go to my house instead? It’s nearby, we can warm up and get some hot chocolate.”

Mirio at the thought of seeing the place where Y/N had grown up shyly agreed. They both got up and walked for 15 minutes before coming to a modest house. She unlocked the outdoor gate and let them both in. They went up the steps before Y/N unlocked the door.

“No one’s home it’s just me,” she said as she turned the house’s light on and started to prepare some hot chocolate for them both.

Mirio made himself home in the living room as he snooped around and looked at the various pictures of a younger Y/N. She came back with 2 hot chocolates. Mirio thanked her and steadily drank the hot chocolate. Y/N sat next to him and observed him as she finished hers. Though, her earlier words lifted his mood, she could tell that her distraction was only temporary.

“Mirio,” she began as he looked up at her, “I wish I could do more for you. I feel everything, all your pain and I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. I wish I can take it away even just for a while.”

Mirio looked at her seriously and put his drink on coffee table. He grabbed Y/N’s drink and put that on the table as well. She just looked at him in confusion as she hadn’t finished yet. Mirio grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. Y/N blushed at their proximity as her breasts were squished against his firm chest.

“I know what you can do for me, Y/N..,” he trailed off as he leaned in close to kiss her. She closed her eyes as his soft lips connected. She could taste the remnants of the hot chocolate on his lips as she desperately responded back. She clutched him tightly as she couldn’t remember the last time he held and kissed her. Y/N didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much who wasn’t her immediate family let alone someone she used to hate. Her fingers dug into his soft hair as she tightened her hold and pulled. Mirio let out a groan in response and rolled his hips into hers. He disengaged from her and quickly kissed her cheeks, forehead, and nose in succession.

Mirio panted. “Y/N, please I need you.” She blushed as she knew what he was asking from her. “I-I’ve never…,” she trailed off.

“Neither have I, we’ll go slow. I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. Y/N nodded, giving him consent. Mirio pushed back one of the curls on her face and brought her close enough for him to kiss. Giving a nip to her lips, he explored the inside of her mouth, still tasting the chocolate. She moaned into the kiss and messed with the hoody he was wearing, trying to get to the smooth skin underneath. He tried to help her take off while still kissing her hard. He broke away in frustration when the hoody wouldn’t budge.

“Wait maybe we should take this to my room,” she suggested. He liked the idea at least they would know beforehand if they were about to get interrupted.

Mirio tried to get Y/N to let him carry her bridal style up the stairs like in the movies, but she adamantly refused. She led them to a very pink and feminine room unlike the fierce Y/N he had gotten to know. Y/N stood in awkward silence not knowing what to do when they had arrived in the room. Mirio taking the lead, took off his hoody and his jeans. He immediately went over to Y/N to help her take off her clothes. She tried to protest but it got muffled by a kiss.

Hoisting Y/N in his arms, he dropped her delicately onto her bed. It was medium size just enough room for both. Mirio couldn’t help himself as he let his hands roam the entirety of her soft skin. Her heaving breasts caught his attention as she looked at him with dilated eyes. He tugged the cups of the bra just a tiny bit for her cleavage to spill over, He bit and sucked them, leaving red marks all over. Y/N let out a whimper as he continued his ministration on the other breast. Mirio moved her legs aside, allowing his body to settle in nicely between her thighs. Slipping his fingers into her panties, he immaturely explored her.

“Like this,” she said as she showed him what she liked best. Wanting to see all of her, he slipped off her panties and snapped off her bra with ease, tossing them somewhere in the room. The two teens continued to explore every inch of their soulmate. From the beginning they were connected by their minds and hearts, now they were crossing the final threshold of their bodies. Preparing Y/N had paid off as he inspected his fingers that were wet with her essence. Curious he tasted the wetness and discovered he liked the tangy flavor. He wanted to lick up all of it, to savor the taste, but that was something he wanted to try out in the future. Mirio shimmied out of his boxers as he lined up his member with her center. He felt her tense, so he whispered reassurances as he stroked her face.

Y/N felt his member slip a few times before he finally got it into her. The initial pinch startled her before she forced herself to breath and relax. Mirio didn’t lie, he went slow prioritizing her needs over his own. Y/N hardly felt a pinch when he broke through her membrane and filled her up to the brim. She raked her short nails down his back, causing him to buck into her. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Y/N, don’t do that, love,” he panted into her neck. Y/N flushed at the impromptu nickname Mirio had bestowed upon her.

He waited a few minutes before trying out short, shallow thrusts to see if she flinched in pain and seeing her writhe and moan gave him the signal to move.

Mirio tried out different rhythms to see what she liked first, matching his thrusts to her reactions. When he lifted up her hips a bit and hit a particular spot that had her gasping and tightening her hold on the bedsheets, he hit that spot over and over in a frenzy. It wasn’t long before Y/N became a babbling mess as she came all over his penetrating member.

SLAM

Mirio lifted his head up in confusion when he heard the slam of a door and muffled talking.

“Y/N! Is that you? Okasan and Otousan are home. Come downstairs we brought food!” Y/N’s mother called out.

Y/N looked at Mirio in panic. She tried to push him off so she could get dressed and go downstairs to greet her parents.

Instead he held her hips tight as he slammed into her over and over, muffling his moans by biting onto her shoulder.

“Mirio! Ahh, what are you doing? We’ll get caught,” she said.

Letting her shoulder go, he whispered back, “just a little more I’m so close.”

When she didn’t say anything else, Mirio took as a sign to keep going so he chased his own pleasure. It wasn’t too long before he pulled out and came in the junction of her thighs.

Luckily for the teens, they were both able to get dressed and downstairs in time for Y/N to introduce Mirio as her soulmate. Her parents were delighted to meet him, and Y/N flushed with happiness knowing that her parents approved of him. Though, she didn’t notice how her mother kept sending them suspicious glances when she noticed the bite mark on Y/N’s neck.

March

Mirio’s tousan watched in absolute happiness as his son graduated from U.A. Who knew his son would one day graduate from the most prestigious hero school in Japan?

He looked around for his tall, blonde son as many graduates filled in from the auditorium outside in the sun to find their parents.

He finally found his wayward son and was about to call out to him when he noticed his son holding and teasing a girl. She seemed very frustrated, gesturing wildly and pointing at him in anger. Mirio just laughed and hugged her. What was even more astonishing was that Mirio kissed her forehead and the girl blushed and yelled at him some more before she stomped away. So that was his soulmate.

He remembered how his son came home one day in jubilation and explained everything in one breath. Though, Mirio seem to be disheartened when he explained how his soulmate didn’t seem to like him. Mirio’s tousan just laughed in glee and Mirio watched him in confusion.

He went on to explain how Mirio’s okasan hated him at first glance and threw a glass of water at him when she discovered her soulmate. He remembered how each day he would do everything to win her heart over and he encouraged Mirio to do the same. He smiled now knowing that Mirio had won his soulmate over just like he did his.

#mirio togata #bnha togata #bnha prompts #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha soulmate au #mirio x reader #mirio x oc #mirio x you #togata x reader #mha togata #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha discord #server prompts

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dazaii-sann · 3 years

Text

DAZAI x CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [LOVE OR GUILT]

Blue.

Brown.

Green.

Yellow.

Orange.

Varied colors blended with each other like a 24-color palette. The wind blew from the west, causing the nearby tree leaves to dance along with the non-existent beat. The blue, clear water rampaged in silence, creating an almost seemingly soft serenade. A huge shining orb in the distance was split in half, projecting its reflection on the calm, unmoving water from below.

The whole place is quiet as if every single living soul had already vacated the area.

Well, not quite.

Two figures stood beneath a tree's shadow, taking refuge and solace after a whole day of struggles. The calm, light afternoon breeze soothe their souls as they look at the orange-painted sky.

Silence ensues but for them, it's what they need.

The quiet rage of the sea.

The hushing sound of overlapping leaves.

The way the remaining rays of the dusk kiss their flesh.

The sound of their even breathing.

Sounds romantic, right?

It is, except for one thing.

Everything, everything seems to retain its brilliance but something decided to exclude itself from that small band of glow.

A redhead's eyes… It's empty. The very exact opposite to his surrounding's radiance.

Meanwhile, the brunet beside him stood still, unmoving, as if he's already accustomed to that kind of scenario.

But is he?

No. Definitely not. Not in a million years.

Seeing his ex-partner like that made his knees wobble. All the remaining courage in his body had left him that even panning his head to Chuuya became an impossible task.

The guilt is slowly consuming him, pulling him into a world far more hellish than hell itself.

They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the setting sun completely vanished into existence and was dethroned by a huge dark blanket covered with stars. The moon is in its crescent form, seems incomplete but whole all the same.

The coldness of the night embraced the two up to their bones, causing them to shiver.

"It's getting cold, Chuuya. Let's go inside?" The brunet proposed without looking at Chuuya.

He can't. Or maybe he actually can, but he chose not to.

Chuuya nods his head slightly and Dazai saw that movement from his eyes' corners.

Dazai's feet move in front of Chuuya's rear. With a slight push, the wheels on Chuuya's seat were sent into motion, carrying Chuuya's body along with it. Trails of the redhead's wheelchair and the brunet's footprints were engraved in the shore's sand and were immediately erased by the wave's arrival.

In just a few minutes, they reached a small house built near the shore. From its size, one can conclude that its interior can only shelter two people at once.

Upon entering the house, Dazai turned on the lights that he closed before going outside with Chuuya this afternoon. It has a simple structure. A kitchen, two couches and a table in between them, the comfort room, and a shared bedroom.

Dazai carefully lifts Chuuya's body and transfer it to one of the couches.

"You're so light, Chuuya~ Am I not feeding you well?" Dazai tried to annoy Chuuya like he used to back in the days but the redhead's expressions didn't even change. Not even a single move in his facial muscles. The brunet knew from the very start, that he could no longer hear Chuuya's annoyed response coming from his own mouth but he's still hoping, hoping that he could still hear Chuuya's voice one more time.

Chuuya's just like a lump of flesh without a soul inside of it. It is said that the soul is the trigger of an ability.

Maybe that's the exact reason why Chuuya lost his.

Ah no… There's no one to be blamed but Dazai.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

After moving Chuuya in a comfortable position, Dazai left him and went straight to the kitchen.

Dazai was a bad cook. Everyone must ready their pitiful stomach before taking in Dazai's food. Not only that but for the aftermath (puking included). But who would eat those kinds of stuff (can't consider them as "food") in the first place?

Everything changed when he started to live and take care of Chuuya over the past 3 years. He learned how to prepare varied homemade viands. Well, he doesn't want the redhead to eat canned goods every single day!

Dazai turned on the flame and let the ingredients fly and land on the pan's heated surface. He hummed a familiar tune, hoping that Chuuya might remember its tune but to no avail.

Dazai arranged the food into a plate and went to the redhead, utensils in his other hand.

Without a word, he scooped a spoonful and brought it closer to Chuuya's mouth.

"Say ah~"

If anyone could see this kind of scenario, the brunet looks like he's feeding a 3-month old baby.

"Well, he's indeed a baby," Dazai said at the back of his mind while moving the spoon back and forth.

After that dinner, Dazai once again carried Chuuya to their bed. It's not that big, but not too small. Just enough for the two of them.

Dazai then wrapped his arms around Chuuya's body. To give him warmth, a human's warmth to liberate the coldness of the night.

With the brunet's slender arms encircled around the redhead's body, and Chuuya's head leaning against Dazai's shoulder, they fall asleep.

Almost at the same time.

***

For three years, the very same sequence of events happened.

Watching the sunrise and sunset together.

Helping him to eat his own food.

And then finally, cradling each other until they got consumed by the God of Sleep.

Have they grown tired of it, especially Dazai?

Even he doesn't know the answer. He was known as the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, someone who can see through everything. But why can't his superior, almost inhumane mind comprehend this feeling of longing?

Longing for what?

Is it for the return of his ex-partner's glory or the longing to return to his old life?

Maybe, but maybe not.

Dazai thought that the same exact happenings will happen again for today, and the days after that.

But he's wrong.

On with their usual routine, they watch the sun's tiny movement, trying to pull itself up higher in the sky as if it's trying to assert dominance and power. Somehow, the sunrise resembles Dazai every time he rose to bed, struggling his way up like he was being pulled down by the Earth's gravity. To make it less fancy, he's just simply lazy.

"C-chuuya… Is that you?"

Dazai froze, literally.

T-that voice…

Dazai panned his head to where the sound originated.

"A-ane…san…"

Kouyou smiled, but there's hidden remorse in it. The intensity of her eyes changed the moment it landed on Chuuya's frail body.

She looked away and face the brunet once more.

"It's been a while, demon."

***

"So… You're still taking care of him?" Kouyou sat in one of the couches inside of their house.

"Mm…" A simple nod is the only response that he could offer. He's not in the right mood to entertain a conversation right now, especially to those with whom he had ties.

Despite his seemingly uninterested remarks, he's still on the lookout. Who knows? Kouyou might try to do something funny. As for Chuuya, he doubts that this woman will do such a thing.

"I see… I see…" At the same time, a mocking laugh escaped out of her lips. Dazai, on the other hand, painted confusion throughout his face.

"It's all your fault anyway. You've got to clean your own mess and atone with what you had done."

Dazai clenched his fist as tightly as he could.

"Why are you still taking care of him?"

Dazai's lips went agape, trying to utter a word or two but failed miserably.

Why then? What keeps him from escaping and leaving Chuuya behind?

He doesn't know.

"I…"

"Do you love him?" Kouyou's question streak kept on bugging Dazai's feelings.

Dazai's so sure of that fact not until Kouyou retorted once more.

"Or is it because of guilt?"

Guilt, huh?

The brunet said no more and silence governed the two of them.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

***

Darkness… Just pure darkness…

Or at least, that's what Chuuya sees.

He can't feel anything, nor grasp reality. He's just there, floating in the middle of nothingness. But amidst that abyss, he can feel his bones cracking, his body collapsing, and his blood leaking out of his system. The pain must be immeasurable and unbearable but none of those physical pains can equal his suffering.

He hates the dark, the emptiness because it always made him feel alone.

He can hear a huge crowd of people screaming at the top of their lungs as if their lives are in danger of death.

Yes, that's actually the case.

They're fleeing, away from the young boy in the middle of that immense object and that enemy he's battling against.

Their abilities clashed and the fiery battle caused a deal of damage to the establishments and facilities in the city, but Chuuya came out victorious. Yokohama is safe once again. The civilians already evacuated, thus no casualties recorded.

Everything's fine now.

But Chuuya's still not.

He's on his limit, and his rampage will continue up to the end of his life.

He had already accepted his fate, that corruption will disappear along with his existence but a bandaged hand tamed him.

But it's already late.

Chuuya got hospitalized after that. His life was saved, but his nervous system was badly affected.

Dazai couldn't help but blame himself. He was doing a lot of paper works at the armed detective agency's office (forced by Kunikida of course) but the unexpected foe barged its way to Yokohoma without even knocking.

That's why he's late to arrive at the scene.

Why did Chuuya activate his corrupted form without him?

He's such an idiot, an utter idiot…

But he's far worse than that.

***

"Chuuya~ Let's go outside?" Dazai asked his ex-partner but the latter shook his head weakly, much to the former's surprise. It's the first time Chuuya declined his invitation.

Instead of going outside, Chuuya points his finger to their room's direction, by which, Dazai understood and followed. Maybe Chuuya is just sick of watching the sun's routinary motion every day or he just wants to rest.

To ease his boredom, Dazai cooked for their supper, but a creaking sound came out from Chuuya's location.

Dazai dropped the spatula in hand and sprinted to their bedroom only to find Chuuya scribbling something on a small piece of paper. Because of his malfunctioning muscles, the pen he used created a noise as it dropped on the floor.

"Chuuya? What are you doi-" Dazai is stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw the letters inscribed on his paper. Beside the redhead is a small calendar with eighteen days crossed out for the month of June.

Today's June 19. Dazai's birthday.

"Ha…" Chuuya struggled to say something with his shivering and shaky voice. "Ha…ppy bir-th-da…y, sh-itt…y mac…ke-rel."

Dazai's heart starts to pound harder as if it wants to leap out of his ribcage. His head feels so fuzzy, but light at the time.

What's this feeling…?

Sadness?

Happiness?

Longing?

But Dazai knew that it's more than that.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

"Ane-san… I already know the answer." He said at the back of his mind before embracing the redhead. He leaned closer to the former executive's ear and whispered, "Thank you, chibi."

Chuuya might not be able to restore his condition the way it once was but for Dazai, that doesn't matter now.

Whether Chuuya the petite mafia executive who kept on bickering with him back in the days or the Chuuya who's struggling to write a single sentence of greeting over a sheet of paper… Dazai's always fond of him, whatever the version.

And that will not change until the end of time.

-END-

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #double black #dazai x chuuya #bungo stray dogs

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tiny-belle · 3 years

Text

My @secret-shifters gift for @write-1t-bop-1t. Hope you like it! 😊

I wanted so badly to get away from there. I felt put on the spot as all eyes were upon me, waiting for me to make a decision right in that moment. How on earth was I supposed to choose a suitor, someone who I was to devote the rest of my life to, without the chance of truly getting to know any of them? Sure, some of them did try to genuinely impress me, but there were still quite a few who only wanted me because of my title or money or appearance. The notion of simply throwing a fancy ball and expecting me to suddenly fall in love with at least one of the male attendants is ridiculous. So when the time came for me to announce my choice, I fled.

I flew away as fast as I could, but the guards chased after me. Luckily, I managed to throw them off my trail as I tossed aside the tiara from my head. Before I knew it, I had reached the edge of the kingdom; a giant barrier of roses. No one ever dared to leave the kingdom because apparently there were rumors about horrible monsters on the other side who supposedly tortured or even killed fairies. According to the stories about them, they were a hundred feet tall with sharp teeth and bloodthirsty eyes and booming voices, and they would snatch up anyone who dared to venture outside the kingdom. Between their frightening appearance and horrible actions, yet no actual proof of their existence, they were usually relegated to scary stories children told each other and warnings parents used to scare their children straight. But I was so caught up in the heat of the moment that I was willing to take my chances of potentially dealing with them if it meant getting away from my royal obligation.

I flew into the rose bushes, only to get tangled up in the thicket of thorns. I pushed myself as I maneuvered through the stems, despite my gown tearing and cutting myself along my arms and legs. The worst damage was when my wings got caught, resulting in the thorns poking and slicing holes into my wings. I could no longer fly because of this, so I grabbed ahold of the stems to prevent myself from falling. I was so close to the end of the barrier that I could just see the other side, only to notice just how high off the ground I was. I could only hold on for so long that my hands became sweaty and I lost my grip. The roses cushioned my fall so that I didn’t die upon impact, but from what I can recall because it happened so fast, I blacked out before I hit the ground.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but I woke up to find that I was no longer outside. Rather than waking up in darkness, I awoke to the soft glow of firelight. The first thing I noticed upon opening my eyes was just how high the ceiling above me was. It seemed to stretch all the way up into the sky. Not even the highest ceilings in my castle reached anywhere near as far as this. I felt the extremely cushioned surface below me to find that I had been placed on a giant pillow. I tried to sit up, but between feeling too weak from my injuries and the lack of support from the pillow, I couldn’t. It took a while, but when my consciousness fully returned to me, I was able to actually take in my new surroundings. That’s when I saw that I was inside an enormous house. It was so huge that my castle could actually fit inside, and it would be no bigger than a dollhouse. Heck, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire kingdom could fit inside.

What really startled me awake was the sound of footprints stomping into the room. A monster! I panicked, unable to fly away due to the condition of my wings. I couldn’t even find a place to hide without getting caught as I could barely sit up, let alone walk. I shut my eyes as the stomping became louder with each step closer towards me. I then heard something tiny being placed beside me, followed by feeling the tip of a giant finger stroke my head before walking away. I opened my eyes to see that beside me was a thimble full of water. I looked over, but the “monster” was nowhere to be found. I slid off the pillow, sitting against it as I took a much-needed drink, not realizing just how dehydrated I was from the adrenaline of running away.

It wasn’t long though before I heard the “monster” return. There wasn’t enough time for me to scramble back onto the pillow, so I lay down on the table and closed my eyes again, pretending to be unconscious. I heard a couple objects being placed down beside me and the “monster” pulling up a chair to sit down. I then felt four fingers push their way under me and gently lift me up, causing me to tense my whole body. Not only did the physical contact sting my cuts, but I froze with fear that this was the beginning of the end for me. I wanted to retaliate so badly, but I was afraid of what would happen if I dared to move. I wasn’t held for very long, as I was immediately placed back onto the pillow. I wanted so badly to see what exactly was going on, but I couldn’t bear to look at the terrifying creature who I was at the mercy of. Suddenly, I felt the tip of a finger just barely touch my chest, only for it to be immediately removed. “Oh, thank god,” a deep yet soft voice said just under its breath.

I couldn’t help but be confused. So far, this thing has had every opportunity to do whatever it wanted with me, but hadn’t done anything even remotely harmful. I heard the sound of scissors cutting something, and the tips of fingers reached for my arm and carefully held it up. Whether it was due to the physical pain or the fear of what it would do to me, I flinched and pulled my arm away. It tried to grab my arm again, only this time I swatted away. My eyes still closed, I scooted backwards. I didn’t realize that I had reached the edge of the pillow, so just as my body tilted off backwards, a giant hand caught me. I screamed as I pushed myself off of it, falling forward onto my knees. Almost as if against their own will, my eyes opened, and without meaning to, I saw the “monster.” I only looked for a split second, but because I was so overwhelmed by its size, I immediately shut my eyes again and curled back into a ball, my breath staggering as I trembled like a leaf. I so desperately hoped that what was happening was just a nightmare and that when I opened my eyes, I would be back in my bed.

I then felt myself being moved onto the hands and lifted up into the sky. “Please, don’t be afraid,” the voice begged. I slowed my breathing down as I recollected myself. “It’s alright, you’re safe.” The voice was calm and gentle, lulling me into a sense of security; so much so that I slowly opened my eyes. Surrounding my field of vision was pure flesh, causing me to freak out again. “No, it’s okay!” the voice said assuredly.

Still unable to look at its face, I winced as I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that tears began to trickle out. “Please don’t hurt me,” I cried. “Please just let me go.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re safe here.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I just want to nurse you back to health. You’re clearly hurt and I want to give you a safe place to stay while you heal.”

“Really? That’s it? You’re not going to torture me or kill me?”

“What? Of course not! I know you’re scared right now, but if you look at me, you can see that I mean you no harm.” I remained practically motionless. “Please, trust me.”

So far, nothing in his voice, words, or actions had indicated any intention to harm me, so I gave in and looked. What I saw was nothing like what the stories about the “monsters” had described, with the exception of the enormous size. The face right before me alone was taller than the average man, but the face itself was as normal as any one I would see back home. I still couldn’t help but be overwhelmed just by the scope of the being before me, but I was just as much in awe. I never took my eyes off him as his face grew further away while he lowered me back onto the pillow. “You’re not a monster,” I said as my voice trailed off.

“No, I’m a human,” he said with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“A human?” I tilted my head in confusion.

“Yes, you’ve never heard of us?”

“No. We were told that giant monsters lived outside our land. But you’re just like us, except bigger and without wings.”

“Exactly,” he smiled.

I looked around. “So is it just you here?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But doesn’t it get lonely and boring without anyone else around?”

“It does, but I’ve never really been good with other people.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just never really got along with anyone or had anyone to talk to. I prefer my solitude and being surrounded by nature anyway.”

“I understand how you feel. I’m the same way.”

There was a moment of silence before he picked up the two objects I heard from earlier, a pair of scissors and a roll of bandages. He cut up an extremely thin piece and asked for my arm. This time I willingly gave in and he bandaged up my cuts and bruises. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he said as he bandaged my other arm, “what exactly happened?”

“I ran away from home. There’s a barrier made of rose plants blocking my land from the rest of the world, but I fought through it to escape.”

“Why did you run away?”

“Because I’m being forced against my will to get married, even though I want to find my future husband on my own.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.” I paused before I spoke up again. “How did you find me?”

He finished bandaging me. “I was outside for a stroll when I saw you lying on the ground. I was afraid of what would happen if anyone or anything else found you or that you would die if I left you, so I brought you back here.” He reached over for my wings, which flicked in his touch. “Does it hurt when I touch them?”

“Not really. Wings don’t have any feeling to them. They’re like hair in that you can only feel them if pressure is applied or if they’re pulled on.”

“I’m guessing that you can’t fly given the holes?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry, they’ll heal. They’re like broken bones or cut hair, the holes will fill in, but it just takes quite a bit of time.”

“Well, until you can fly again, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

I looked up at my savior and smiled for the first time. “Thank you.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #micro/macro #story #fairies

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cherrywoes · 3 years

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inferno.

𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀:

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢. 𝘍𝘓𝘈𝘕𝘌𝘜𝘙.

— a person who strolls the city in order to experience it. “deliberately aimless.”

THE MORTAL WORLD was as he recalled it to be; wild, lush, and potent with life. The grass beneath his feet was cool and damp, as if there had been a light rain just seconds before he stepped out of the portal, and real. He could touch it with his fingers, feel the sunlight and energy coursing through its very veins, could feel the way the earth beneath him trembled at his touch, bowed against his power and immensity. He could pinpoint every human being on the planet down to their heartbeats, their individual thoughts and emotions, to a degree where he was certain his powers could rival even Lucifer’s, as glorious as his former brother had been.

He twisted a blade of grass between his fingertips, watching the pieces split and tear apart under the force, much like his soul and the darkness rolling like a thundercloud within him. His wings grew a steady black the longer he stood apart from his angelic soul, each feather turning more jagged, more rough, the sharpened edges growing dangerously serrated. His wings were no longer the slate gray he had sported all his life, proud of the line he toed when forever opposed both heaven and hell; they were now black as pitch, sparkling like oil in a field of water. He could even feel horns beginning to rise from the top of his skull, long, delicate things that curled around the back of his head and ended in points just above his eyes in a mimicry of a diadem.

The Nameless One was no longer an archangel, or any sort of being that existed previously. He was new; he was fresh from hell, born out of both light and dark, without a shred of divinity left within him—except maybe there was. A small spark, barely there, fighting against the evil within with all of its might, bent on surviving, existing in a world where it was unwanted.

“Who are you?” A man stepped out of the treeline. He crushed poppies and baby’s breath as he walked, uncaring of the tiny lives he had snuffed out. His hair was cropped short to his head in a style that the Nameless One had never seen before, and he wore clothing made of mixed fabrics, even shoes of bizarre color that sparked no memory within him. He was foreign, and yet he was not, for the Nameless One could smell the divinity on him, could smell Hell on him like a second natural scent, an odor of sharp citrus and brimstone. He was no more powerful than any other Second Sphere angel but could easily sit within the top of those ranks, for certain. “Answer me, Fallen One.”

Here was an angel the Nameless One did not recognize, but knew had participated in Lucifer’s crusade against God besides. He allowed the grass strands to flutter to the ground at his feet, wings—all six pairs of them—rolling in circular motions to ease the ache of centuries of torture from his shoulders and spine. While the scars on his body were forever healed, the pain within continued to linger, dragging down his coil of flesh and bone until he was almost mindless. The gravity of this world pulled upon him like chains, made him ache, made him hurt, made him feel heavy in many ways that he could not put a name to but knew existed.

“You’re an archangel,” the man continued when the angel offered no answer to him. His expression appeared almost permanently angry, or stern, and he took a step closer to him, eyes flickering over his wings and features. “But you’re not Lucifer, and all of the others are already here. So... you can only be the Nameless One. Am I right?”

“Congratulations.” The Nameless One’s voice was a multi dimensional purr, shaking the atoms around them and causing the air to physically vibrate. The flowers wilted near his bare feet, succumbing to the raw power that filtered off of his skin in harsh waves; the trees bowed towards him; the mountains trembled. “Your assumption is correct…” He paused, flicking through the other angel’s memories with razor sharp metaphysical claws until he found the right one. “Iraphel.”

“It’s Iwaizumi now.” Iraphel, or Iwaizumi, crossed his arms. At the Nameless One’s questioning look, he added,”To exist here, we must have human names. You’ll have to choose one if you’re going to stay here.”

The archangel turned his head back to the portal, sealed off and permanently closed. No other would be going through it if he had the choice; keeping Lucifer in Hell was the best opportunity he would have at being free of his beliefs and doctrine before armageddon. And Lucifer would be loathe to part with his divinity, besides, he assumed, still too caught up in heaven, in their Father, who he so desperately loved and despised in the same breath. He would not be going back to that, to an angel who regretted his decision and affirmed it by the very existence of Hell—no, he was too proud, and he had already betrayed his friend once. A second time would be unforgivable.

“I have no intention of returning to Hell.” The Nameless One rubbed his wrists where he could still feel the imprints of the cuffs used to bind him in Cocytus. He would likely never get rid of the phantom pains, but it was a small price to pay for such freedom, where God had turned a blind eye and relied on humanity’s sense of morality to provide the right path for them. “No, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Right… Well, you’ll still need a name.” Iwaizumi’s eyes darted up and down his physical form, still covered in the inhuman toga given to him in hell. “And normal clothes—”

In a brief moment, the Nameless One was clothed. He had mimicked the outfit of a human nearby, had chosen him at random, and altered the outfit to fit his human body as he pleased. It was strange to wear so many layers; a pair of undergarments, pants, a shirt, and brown overcoat that ended just at his knees. Even the shoes would take getting used to, flat and close toed and restricting. He had learned much from that human just by browsing through his mind, but it was such a small part of a vast world, he was beginning to learn. “Is this acceptable?”

Iwaizumi blinked. “Yeah, but… I guess it’s fine. Now you just need a name.”

Another facet of humanity plucked from an unknowing human; he paired one with another that seemed reasonable, disliking several of the meanings that came from some of them, and came up with one he liked, to a degree, and felt he could live with for some time if needed. “Oikawa Tooru.”

“Did you get that from someone else?” Iwaizumi inquired. At Oikawa’s nod, he shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “Just how powerful are you?”

“I am unsure.” Oikawa shrugged and knelt down to pluck a dead flower from the ground. It dissolved in his hand at the touch, crumbling into a fine black powder that smelled just like Cocytus—icy and unforgiving. He allowed it to fall to the ground with the strand of grass in a mimicry of snow, each individual flake following its own path just as he would. “Separating from my divine soul has amplified my powers. It will be some time yet until I am able to control them properly.”

“Well… Shit.” Iwaizumi exhaled a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. He rocked back on his heels, tilted his head to the sky, and groaned. “Right, huh, okay—let’s get you out of here. We can deal with the rest when it comes up.”

Oikawa held out a hand towards where he knew the city was. “Lead the way, Iwaizumi.”

For the next several years, Oikawa—his identity as the Nameless One shed from his mind like an old skin—roamed the city of Tokyo and the entirety of Japan in search of knowledge. From farming to technology, he wanted to know it all, to learn about this world his Father coveted so much, to know if he could learn to love it as strongly too—but instead, he found something else. Something equally as precious, a diamond among moissanite.

A human girl.

“Oikawa, look!” Tiny hands reached up to shine a reflective piece of multicolored glass up to the sun. Rays of blue, red, pink, and yellow reflected upon soft flesh, the corner of a [color] eye, and fewest strands of [color] hair shining underneath the light. “Look what I made today! Isn’t it pretty?!”

“Of course it is!” The archangel peered over her shoulder to look up through the glass with her. It was a depiction of an angel, ironically enough, dressed in a white gown and a golden halo hovering above its head. Interestingly, it looked much like Lucifer, with dark hair and blue eyes, though that had to have been an artistic choice and not because the child knew what the Morningstar truly looked like. “Can I keep it, [Name]-chan?”

Over the years, he had picked up on the language, dialect, and social mannerisms. It had allowed him to form a personality that was more acceptable among humans, most of them unused to the formality that angels had ingrained into their very existence. Iwaizumi had helped him along in that regard, forcing him to use casual slang, contractions, even made him learn other languages, although any language other than Japanese or Spanish was difficult for him.

Suspicious [color] eyes flickered up to regard him. “You promise you’ll keep it safe?”

“I promise.” As an afterthought, he held out his hand and stuck out his pinkie. “Pinkie promise! I’ll keep it safe, or you can hit me if I haven’t.”

In that time, he had come across her—[Name] [Surname]. A little orphan girl with no parents, no home, not even a penny to her name. It had been an accident that he met her in the first place, injured from a fight with an angel that had left him grounded for some time. She had tended to him as best as she could, but his wings just weren’t safe enough for childish hands to heal, and since then, he had a fond spot for her despite Iwaizumi advising otherwise. Human connections were dangerous, he’d told him, especially ones that came from the heart.

But, Oikawa mused, every time his best friend shook his head at him when he returned from the orphanage, what Iwaizumi didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“How will I know if you haven’t though?” [Name]’s nose scrunched cutely in thought. “I’m at the orphanage all the time and you don’t live here.”

Oikawa hummed in thought. [Name]’s orphanage, centered in the middle of Eden, the safe realm that the first Fallen to crawl out of Hell had created to hide them from the world, was only a few blocks away from Oikawa’s apartment. While humans were allowed to enter Eden, they could never leave once they learned of their existence, and if they still wanted to, then their memories would be wiped clean. It was likely that was what would happen to [Name] one day, if she was adopted.

“You’re right.” He nodded his head in agreement. Then, with a flourish of his hand, he produced a brilliant white light in his palm—bright, but also dim, and full of color. [Name] gasped at its beauty, reaching for it with greedy hands. “No, no! This is part of my soul. You can’t just grab it like that, it’s too fragile.”

She frowned at the scolding, but dropped her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. Just be more careful,” Oikawa advised.

He had been waiting for the right moment to do this. Iwaizumi had often told him he needed to find a safe place to put the remnants of his divine soul, and what better place than a human he was fond of?

“Here.” The bright light floated above his hand for a moment before shooting into [Name]’s chest. Her hands flew to her collarbone, patting the area, and she showed no sign of pain; but Oikawa could sense her like a beacon now, a human with a hint of divinity within her. “You can keep this; as long as you never break it, I’ll make sure to never break your glass.”

The smile that erupted upon her face was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

“Thanks, Oikawa!”

one | masterlist | three

taglist: open.

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader

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ring-smith · 3 years

Text

Dwarrowtober Day 21 - Ravens

(Doesn't match the films, probably inconsistent with the book to, but was fun to speed write).

The Ravens of Erebor, the dwarves called them. It was a funny thing to call them, as the mountain had existed long before its name, and the ravens with it. They had never before left it, safe in this mostly isolated corner of the world, for few people except some particularly adventurous Elves came to the mountain. Some hobbits had lived nearby for a time, but even they moved on, before the dwarves came. The ravens were as much a part of the mountain as the mountain was.

So when they did leave, after fire and death had made its home in theirs, they didn’t go all that far. Some moved south to Laketown, while others merely flew through the nearby ruins of Dale, eating what was left untouched by the dragon before moving with the rest. All left but none abandoned this place. Without knowing it they waited, their very nature knowing what was to come.

After a longer time than any could name, word spread east through the network of other birds. First a owl from Rivendell arrived, chattering excitedly about dwarves and a wizard, and one queer little fellow who had looked mighty confused but was much more polite then the rest. The old ones, used to the over exaggerated nature of their western kin, thought it nothing more than an exaggerated story of some travellers getting lost then helped as most were by Elrond (for all animals know the Elvenking’s friends) and left it at that.

But the owl was insistent that they had been Durin’s folk, heading straight here to reclaim Erebor in all haste. Though their elders dismissed the very notion, their younger generation listened, and waited. They may not remember Erebor, but something in them still knew that a change was coming.

Next a thrush from Mirkwood arrived, relaying a tae of some dwarves, imprisoned for lies and trespassing. They would not sa where it was they headed, but had clearly been moving east. The youngsters were stirred, feeling more thsn ever that something was happening, something was changingyet still their elders called for waiting, for proof of these dwarves intetn before ant action was to be taken.

Many wondered what action they would be taking if they were true, as Ravens are not the most skilled of fighters, yet none asked, and none acted.

Finally, weeks (a People concept, but one we will use for ease of understanding) later, the dwarves made their arrival, and the truth was revealed. In joy, the youngsters flew ahead, to the delight of the dwarves as they saw the ravens return. Roac, even as old as he was, flew down to meet them, and the Mirkwood thrush flew to the door never opened, compelled by instinct beyond its understanding. The King Under the Mountain was back, and a return was imminent.

Yet the trials were not yet done. Soon word came down that the armies of Mirkwood were imminent , accompanied by the Men of Laketown. And then disaster formed on the horizon, as the orcs armies arrived, drawing destruction in their wake.

Ravens are not fighters by nature, and their was little they could do. Yet Roac knew their was something at least. He summoned his fastest bird, and commenced the order.

“Summon the Eagles”.

All along Middle-Earth, birds of all kinds let of the greatest symphony of noise since the Last Allaince. They repeated one phrase, from Erebor to Laketown’s ruins to Mirkwood to Dol Guldur to the Misty Mountains themselves:

“Summon the Eagles.”

And when they appeared on the horizon – great and dangerous, gods among birds – Roac knew that the ravens would have their home again, whatever its name.

#dwarrowtober #my work #my writing #headcanon #dwarves #thorin oakenshield #roac #ravens of erebor #based on the book not the film #the hobbit

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inviouswriting · 3 years

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Darkwarden au - Redemption

Finally touching on this one again.

I think it deserves an alternative ending that’s nice. What do you think?

Revived au - For a few more installments.

Featuring @snow-covered-moon ‘s Shuri/Anubis along with all of her lovely children.

I will have another installment as I can write them. I have a nice way to end this one.

Kivera had lingered behind instead of leaving on her normal hunt, for other sin eaters and those with higher aether count to keep Anubis safe from those that wish her harm. Kivera paused in her thoughts for the name Anubis, in her world she knew the name of the Egyptian god of death. It was almost fitting, she is serving another god in that sense.

The reaper’s thoughts drift to her past, how many has she served. From those in charge of her, from Bathory, Gabriel, Hades, Thanatos, Chiron. Her life of servitude never ended. Always the dutiful angel she is. Even if she wasn’t of the heavens, her path was laid before her in that sense.

Her thoughts are drawn out when a pinged cry hits her head. She knew what it was, and turns on her heels, forgoing finding anything for a meal, instead she approaches in time before Thancred could fire his weapon.

Anubis in a vulnerable state from her hunger. She would never be able to fight back against him. She could but she didn’t “want” to fight. Thancred driven on his own conviction to put her out of her misery. To end someone who was doing no harm to those around her except exist. Power surged in the gunblade and just as it was about to fire, Kivera knocks it to the side with throwing her scythe. The blade fires missing its target, shooting pass her head and into the wall of the well itself.

“What the!” Thancred looks to the weapon that flew pass his head to knock his own. Kivera takes his distraction as opportunity and kicks her toe to the ground to send a ripple through it underneath Thancred’s feet to knock him further off balance.

Kivera flits and stands between Anubis and Thancred. She checks over Anubis quickly, only seeing mild fear in her, and acceptance of what would have been her death. Something she would talk to her later about. Kivera turns her attention onto Thancred who regains himself by now.

“You can’t leave her like this! That is not Shuri, and you know it.” Kivera ignores his words, her eyes going to where Antares landed.

“Is there anything else you can say?” Kivera turns her back to him in favor of looking over Anubis. Thancred wouldn’t attack the fallen carelessly, he has seen her in action and knows it is suicide to fight her.

“Shuri. I think it is time to leave this place. It’s no longer safe.” Kivera completely disregards Thancred being there. She extends a hand down to where Anubis sits, and a hesitant hand takes hers. Kivera helps her to her feet, being gentle when regarding the darkwarden.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Kivera murmurs the words Shuri had been wanting to hear for a long time. Home.

“Where do you intend to take her...” Thancred is met with an ruby eyed stare from Kivera.

“Away from you, where you can’t go.” Her answer is cold, and she would never grant him the permission of going to her world, her domain, her sanctuary. Not when he intends to murder one she loves in cold blood.

Thancred starts towards them, only for the ground to disappear underneath his feet.

“Quagmire.”

Like water, the ground felt like water around him. Just as he wanted to climb out, he felt the surrounding get colder as it froze, his attention goes to the foot that was embedded in the ground. He forgot she is a master of elements. Earth is an element. Estinien himself has said the spars he had with the fallen that he could never get pass her tricks when she used earth and water together.

“Why are you trying so hard to protect her?” Thancred feels the ground around him start to give from his moving around slowly. The ice chilled his core, seeping in faster than Coerthas’ winterlands ever chilled him.

“Why are you so intent on killing her?” Kivera guides Anubis to a gate she had prepared, a wall of ice that was reflective enough as a mirror. A conduit for Kivera, any reflective surface was her door to her world.

“I know her, that she would not want to live like that.”

“So why must it be you then?” Kivera pulls a white feather out of her left wing and uses it as a quill to write something on the surface of the ice. Scrying a door into its surface.

“Because of you, you dispatched anyone I sent after her.” Kivera knocks on the mirror and opens the gate for Anubis, on the other side a familiar hand reaches through from Divinity.

Anubis had been quiet throughout the exchange, almost tranced from her near death. She recognizes the warmth from Kivera, standing closer to her white wing, the former angel curling it around her to shield her.

“It’s Divinity. She’ll take care of you while I clean up things in this world.” Kivera runs a hand through Anubis’ dark hair cupping her face to rub her face with her own. A show of affection she remembers from her youth as a Xaela. To try and jar her out of what she was feeling.

Anubis reluctantly takes the hand, and is lead through the mirror to Divinity. As soon as Anubis was through the gate, it shatters as a preventive to keep Thancred from rushing the door.

Kivera now that Shuri was safe, turns her attention onto Thancred fully.

“I will give you one chance to go home. I will not attack you, you can forget all the happened here. You can run back to the townsfolk and tell them that the threat has been eliminated for all I care. She will not harm here or The Source. Leave with Kiya, and go about the threats in the other world.” Kivera walks over to the center of the area where Storge once was. Kivera looked small compared to the expansive nest that use to be the sineaters and darkwardens domain.

“And what happens if I don’t want to leave here?” At these words, Kivera whistles; to Thancred’s left Antares springs from the ground summoned back to Kivera’s hands. She catches her scythe to spin once on her feet holding the blade outward to her side in a way to strike.

“I will end you. And you know how good I am at that.” Kivera looked more sure of herself now that Anubis was safe from certain death. Thancred takes Kivera in, really looking at her. She wore different clothing than what he remembered not the odd attires she wore around them. From the black mage persona or dancer. This was her natural state, even the miqo’te side of her wasn’t there.

“Are you not taking my offer then? You truly want to see this through to your end?” Kivera reminds him that he has an out. They don’t have to fight, Kivera is as certain of death to him as he would have been to Anubis.

“What do I tell them... that you ran off with a threat?” Thancred sees her visibly upset at his words. Her eyes narrow, Kivera sighs.

“Someone like you would never understand unless you have been relentlessly persecuted. I take you are dismissing my offer.. don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Kivera taps her feet to the ground to stretch them. Kivera rests her head on one of her hands regarding him.

“Someone has to.” Kivera sighs, as much as she would love to fight with him, there was no point for her to do so. Shuri was safe from him and everyone that could cause her harm wouldn’t not with her secure in her very home.

“I don’t have time for you. Consider yourself lucky... I am being merciful today. I have no interest in fighting you. Go back home before your spirit severs from your body.” Thancred is shocked that she would engage him after trying to actively kill Anubis.

“Why?” Thancred takes a step towards her only to fall through a hole she created, it felt like he was slipping through another dimension itself. Unceremoniously he lands in a heap outside the well. Kivera stands on an abandoned crane away from him.

Thancred looks up at her, he sees her with her scythe again, and using an ability to reduce the size down to an earring and pins it in her ear. She had no intentions of fighting him. She had already been gone too long from Shuri, and knew Divinity needs explaining as to what was going on from the reaper.

“It’s not your time yet. Your world needs you. I will take care of her from here on. If you somehow find a way into the other realm. May I be merciful on your soul.” Kivera ends her warning with leaving him on the red sand flitting away as if she was never there. The dread sensation Thancred had lifts, he wouldn’t say he cheated death, but simply death didn’t want him.

The darkness still lingered in the air, from the remnants of Anubis’ influence. Thancred wondered if there were others that he overlooked. Perhaps Shuri was not the only corrupted spirit in this world.

“Kivera... is alot more kind than we give her credit for.” Thancred looks over his shoulder, Ryne.

“Ryne?” He gets up and sees her fiddle with her hands.

“She’s not evil. She’s just protecting those dear to her. Let’s... let her do her part.” Thancred knew her right, and he’d thank his lucky stars he didn’t die today. The look in Kivera’s eyes meant it if he had harmed Shuri.

“I know... but why did she work so hard when she knew it is hopeless.” Thancred sees Ryne bring a hand to her own face in thought.

“For the same reason I don’t give up on Gaia. Everyone is worth redemption.” Thancred understood after that, that Kivera knows of a way to help Shuri somehow.

“I have been foolish haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

Kivera had secured all of her lingering doors to her world. Shattering certain mirrors that were direct doors. When she arrived back into her domain, she is greeted to the sight of the eternal night sky it already is. Only she can barely see the two moons overhead. Yet here she didn’t worry over Shuri’s well being like she was forced to do in the other two worlds.

She barely recognizes how long it had been till she had been home, as she walked through to the middle, she felt the pings between Shuri and her children. Kivera smiled to herself, there was no fear among them. She had a feeling they wouldn’t fear her, they missed her.

Divinity regards her leader when she comes into view. Getting up to greet her.

“Welcome back. I thought you weren’t going to bring her here until you found a way to break her out of this.” Kivera pulls Divinity more towards the house in the middle.

“I was put in a position where I had to bring her here. Thancred was after her again, and he meant to kill her this time. Caught her at her most vulnerable, and when I was just leaving.” Kivera explains, Divinity understands it. It was a better move for Shuri, Kivera’s own home was brimming with life energy. Just breathing was enough to fill and satisfy the darkwarden’s needs.

Ysayle was confused to why her mother looked different, but did not fear her. In fact was content in her arms while her siblings clung to her after being away for so long. Divinity regards Kivera, a look between them both. The Libra spirit sees her relaxed with all of them out of danger.

“How do you intend we help her though?” Divinity asks the question that Kivera is unsure how to answer.

“Keeping her safe for starters.. The young ones are unaffected it seems, that is a good thing. She is still in there, bringing her to them was a good idea. She’s mostly composed of dark aether, the way we can counter that is of course with light.” Divinity closes her eyes, she wondered if her ability would be enough.

“I can try with mine.” Kivera’s eyes flicker blue brief then back to green. Divinity had a feeling about the abilities.

“It can’t be done carelessly, otherwise we could accidentally kill her, or alter enough to where she loses her humanity.” Divinity sighs, she knew. Kivera was best when it came to elemental differences, her entire life in training was spent learning and honing each element. Even her own weakness in holy. Enough to not be affected unless she prolonged using it.

“We’ll just let her be for now, till we figure something out then.. Does Estinien know you brought her here yet? He might want to see her. As she is now or not.” Kivera didn’t have time to send the dragoon a message.

“I’ll go see him, and bring him here then.” Kivera muses aloud, her fingers finding the end of her left wing to pull a few white feathers off. New wards for her charges.

Kivera approaches the group of children and Anubis. Anubis greets Kivera, her dark figure sees the feathers in her hand. Enough for all of the children, a single black one for Anubis.

“What are those for?”

“Protection. Just like the first feathers I gave you. They’ll let me know if something is wrong.” Kivera kneels down and meets Anubis pressing forehead with hers. She felt tears, Shuri surfaced.

“Thank you.. for not killing him.” Kivera’s eyes widen and she tilts her head enough only to feel a full kiss pressed to her cheek.

“You’re welcome..” The fallen feels a hand press on her white feathers. She doesn’t shrug Shuri’s hand off even if it felt like they were burning under her hand. Kivera gently takes her hand to lace their fingers together, prevent her from burning them further on the only holy thing about herself.

Shuri looks at her for removing her hand.

“You’ll burn yourself...”

“Does it hurt you too?” Kivera lifts her eyes, purple are her eyes. Hiding her pain behind her love.

“A little, but please, it means there is a way to counter. Give me more time. I kept my promise that you would be back with your family after all.” Kivera winds her arms around Shuri, pressing a palm to the middle of her back and rubs along her spine.

“I’m sorry.. I know you kept your promise. Thank you.. I missed them. I missed everyone.. When can I see Estinien?” There is a sense of need in her voice, and Kivera feels it. Green eyes close.

“I’ll bring him here soon. I have to locate him, but I had to check on you and home here.” Kivera cups Shuri’s face using very trace amount of light in her palms. Using her thumbs she rubs Shuri’s face to test something, seeing pink almost white flesh underneath her palms.

“Does this hurt?” Shuri thinks of the warmth on her face, a tingling where the reaper’s hands touch.

“Itches more than hurts.” Kivera stops the magic after clearing her face of the dark almost pitch black tones.

“I might have a lead then. I’ll return with Estinien soon. Be patient for us?” Kivera asks, and Shuri nods. A small kiss placed on her face, she returns it as Kivera stands up after placing a feather on each child and Shuri.

“I trust you.” Shuri says.

Kivera feels her soul alight.

“I love you too.”

#kivera x shuri #Kivera Siverstein #shuri fontaye #estinien wyrmblood #darkwarden au #I almost wrote a fight in here but... it didn't work out

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izzyfandoms · 4 years

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Intrulogical (platonic or romantic) : Forest!God Remus (moss, decay, insects, underbrush darkness, mold, slime ect) meeting Sky!God Logan (Stars, constellations, clean rain, thunderstorm fury, knowledge divined from clouds) and having a complementary relationship with his foil. (It shouldn’t surprise Logan as much as it does. The forest needs rain to grow and flourish- just as the heavens needs the earth to shine. The sky needs the trees to breathe. The plants need the air to live. As is nature)

(Okay, so, this prompt is fucking amazing. I spent much longer working on it that I usually do with prompts and I would absolutely LOVE to write more things in this au (whether it’s intrulogical or another ship). Therefore I’m gonna tag this as ‘clouds and moss au’ which i’ll tag anything else i write in this au as. Also, i only just remembered i have a taglist so i’ll start adding it to my short prompt things from now on. Also this mentions all the other sides once.)

General Taglist - @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

Intrulogical - Clouds and Moss

Masterpost

Clouds and Moss AU Masterpost

Remus and Logan never really had a first meeting. None of the gods did.

At first, they didn’t exist, and then, one day, they did.

And when they did, they knew their purposes immediately. They knew of the other gods, and they knew, well, everything.

They didn’t need to meet, they interacted with each other through the interactions of their creations.

Humans cooked and danced with fire, and, through them, Patton felt Roman’s warmth.

Janus collected the numerous souls of the drowned, and, through them, he felt Virgil’s waves in his own lungs.

Plants flourished and grew as every drop of rain gave them life. Through them, Remus felt Logan’s gentle touch, like fingertips brushing against his skin. He never knew how much they paled in comparison to the real thing.

“I didn’t know you ever left the clouds.”

Logan glanced up from the tree he was studying, startled. He looked over Remus: the forest god leaning against a mossy tree trunk. It was hard to tell where the moss ended and Remus begun. There wasn’t a difference, really.

The sky god bowed, respectful, before straightening up and adjusting his glasses. Remus wondered why he needed them.

“Good morning, Remus,” He greeted. “I trust you’re having a pleasant day?”

Remus shrugged, wriggling his toes as a beetle crawled over his foot. He watched a butterfly land on a nearby branch. It didn’t know it was in the presence of two gods, and there was something nice about that.

Logan watched it, too. He didn’t seem to mind the silence.

“There will be a thunderstorm in exactly thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds. I hope it doesn’t disturb any of your plans,” Logan said eventually, and that was that.

He disappeared, and a sillouette-shaped cloud lingered for a moment or two, before it, too, disappeared.

Remus sunk into the mud, until he became the mud, and took a nap.

He didn’t know how long it took until he saw Logan again. Gods lived longer than mortals, so most had a rather crooked sense of time. Some moments lasted years; some years lasted moments.

Logan seemed to be an exception to that rule.

“Good morning, Remus.”

Remus sat up. He hit the side of his head a few times, and a few bugs fell out the opposite ear. They hit the ground and scattered. Remus watched them run, and wondered how long it would take for something bigger to come along and squash them.

He didn’t speak for almost a minute, before he finally glanced up at his guest.

Logan was sitting cross-legged, floating a few feet above the ground. He, too, was watching the insects, with an odd look of fascination on his face.

“Why are you floating?” Remus asked, after a minute of watching the other god. “Afraid of a little mud?”

Logan looked up from the ground, meeting Remus’s eyes.

Blue. Logan’s eyes were blue.

Fitting.

“I do not want to get dirty.”

Remus stared at him for a few moments, and then slowly and deliberately - without losing eye contact - picked up a handful of mud. He then threw it at Logan, hitting him in the centre of the chest.

If he was honest, he’d expected the sky god to leave after that - maybe reciting the exact time of the next storm, beforehand, if he wasn’t too irritated at the forest god, but leaving nonetheless.

Instead, the corners of his lips twitched upwards, and he slowly lowered himself onto the ground, until he was sitting in the mud opposite Remus. He placed his hand close to the forest god’s, feeling the mud ooze between his fingers, and gave him a small nod.

Remus, a little perplexed, nodded back.

They sat there in silence for some time, until there was a rumble of thunder overhead, and Logan disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.

It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Remus began counting the days after that. He had no interest in keeping track of the time. However, he had been watching the sky more, unintentionally keeping track of the days and nights through that.

It took fifty-seven days for Logan to come visit after that.

“Hey, Logan, how are the clouds?”

Logan gave him an amused look, adjusting the glasses that he absolutely didn’t need.

“They are adequate. There shall be some light precipitation in four hours, twelve minutes and three seconds.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Remus waved his hand. “Why do you wear glasses? You don’t need them.”

Logan blinked a few times, before glancing away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. The red was a stark contrast to the cool blue colours that decorated the rest of his body.

Remus tilted his head, and decided that that colour suited him.

“I, uh… I just like them.”

He said that as if it was a crime, something to be ashamed of, and Remus paused for a moment, watching the flustered sky god, before reaching out and plucking the glasses right off his nose. He then placed them on his own face.

Remus looked around at their surroundings. They looked the same; the glasses altered nothing.

“Hmm,” Remus blinked owlishly at Logan. “I don’t get it.”

The corners of Logan’s lips twitched upwards, and he leant forwards, his face impossibly close to Remus’s. He carefully took his glasses back.

“They’re upside down.” He righted them, and then slid them back onto the forest god’s face. “Here.”

Logan’s fingertips brushed against Remus’s cheeks. They were soft, so soft, as gentle as the raindrops that landed on leaves and stayed there for hours. But Logan’s touch didn’t stay there for hours, no, it was gone within moments, and Remus found himself desperate for more, more, as the sky god pulled away and looked at him expectantly.

“It’s, uh… it’s the same,” Remus said awkwardly. “You really don’t need these, do you?”

Logan shook his head. Little droplets of water fell from his hair and landed on the ground. Remus felt them as if they’d landed on his own skin.

And his hair, oh, his hair. It was as black as night and looked as soft as clouds and Remus wanted desperately to hold him close and run his fingers through it.

Remus took off the glasses, and then carefully - more carefully than he did anything else - pushed them back onto Logan’s face. He let his touch linger, before pulling away.

There was mud on the sky god’s face now, and his glasses were lopsided.

Logan took a moment to correct them, but he made no move to get rid of the mud. The two stared at each other for an unknown amount of time, before Logan’s eyes drifted elsewhere, landing somewhere behind Remus.

The forest god didn’t even need to turn around. He had eyes everywhere, so he knew Logan was admiring a patch of flowers beside a tree.

Remus’s moustache twitched, and the prettiest blue flower appeared in his hand. He reached out and tucked it behind Logan’s ear. His fingertips brushed against a lock of hair; it was exactly as soft as it looked.

Logan’s lips parted slightly in surprise, and he reached up to touch the flower, his hand coming in contact with Remus’s, sending a shiver up his arm and down his spine.

There were a few moments of silence, before Logan suddenly disappeared, and then the rain began. Had it really already been four hours?

Remus turned his face to the sky, feeling the rain hit his skin and run down his body. If he closed his eyes, it wasn’t difficult to imagine that it was Logan’s hands on him instead.

The next time he saw Logan was much sooner than the last.

“Good evening, Remus,” Logan said, appearing behind the other god and peering curiously over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“This tree is dying,” He answered, laying his hand on the mossy trunk, feeling the life drain out of it like blood dripping from an open wound.

“Oh.”

Logan placed his hand on Remus’s shoulder. The forest god turned around, opening his mouth to speak again, but the words slipped back down his throat when he saw the other god’s face.

Oh, what a fool he’d been, when he’d called Logan’s eyes blue.

Logan’s eyes were the sky.

They weren’t just like the sky, they were the sky.

They were soft blue during the daytime, sure, but a harsh grey during storms. At night, the irises were dark blue - barely distinguishable from the black of his pupils - speckled with numerous bright white stars. Remus was sure that if you were close enough, you would be able to make out the constellations in his eyes.

And, right now, as the sun began to set over the horizon, his eyes were filled with the soft pinks and oranges of sunset.

Consciously or subconsciously - neither could tell - Remus began to lean closer to Logan, their faces only inches apart.

And then, Logan crossed the gap, and kissed him.

As soon as their lips met, rain began to pour from the clouds. The sky met the forest and it was impossible to tell where they ended and the gods began, but the duo didn’t seem to care.

Remus wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together and deepening the kiss. Time either flew by or crawled at a snail’s pace, neither god felt the need to keep track.

When Logan eventually pulled away, Remus let out an involuntary whine, and the sky god’s eyes - his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes - were wide, his lips parted in surprise at his own actions.

Remus glanced up at the sky, at the passionate storm that raged above them, and then back at Logan.

“Was that planned?” He asked, soft and breathless, and even he didn’t know if he was referring to the storm or the kiss.

Logan looked up, too, as if he’d only just noticed the rain, and then laughed. It rang through the air like bells and Remus silently declared it his new favourite sound. He looked back at the forest god, looking happier than he’d ever seemed before.

“No, it wasn’t.”

The other gods soon learned of the lovers, of course; rumours spread like wildfire. They talked and they talked and they especially loved to say that every drop of rain that hit the forest was a kiss shared between Logan and Remus.

When asked, Logan called the idea prepostorous - basing something as constant as the weather cycle on something as fickle as kisses would be foolish.

But, privately, he knew that they weren’t that far off.

#me #ask #writing #clouds and moss au #intrulogical #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #gods au

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lineffability · 5 years

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// and the angel said unto them, do not be afraid // Luke 2:10

Aziraphale was in a good mood. Which was sort of his State Of Being, what with him being an angel and goodness incarnate and generally Holier Than Thou.

That was the way he liked to think of himself, anyways. He didn’t like to look past that thin, fragile layer into the burning depths out of which he had been forged. His goodness was the crust of the earth, the protective layer that made life possible on the surface.

What lay beneath was both life-giving and deeply destructive. Like God herself, in that way. Shaped in Her image.

Hellfire was not the most cataclysmic force around.

Like most angels, it was a part of him he kept under lock and had mostly forgotten (denied). Aziraphale had worked hard to shape himself into who he wanted himself to be. Who he had consciously chosen to be.

He was a being of love, at the end of it all.

And the things he loved and surrounded himself with were like the homemade, cross-stitched fabric of his soul: food and books and warm colours; softness and fondness and contentment; and Crowley.

(Woe betide the fool who might try and rip a hole into this fabric, to snatch a thread and force it to unravel--to reveal what lay neatly tucked away underneath.)

Currently, Aziraphale was in particularly high spirits, because he had struck a most pleasing book deal, and was on his way back to his shop with a pack of chocolates under his arm, and was also very much looking forward to Crowley returning tonight from his little trip over to Wales where he was wreaking some Moderate Inconvenience for old time’s sake.

He entered his shop with a smile on his face: a smile that died when he saw the tall, broad man clad in a perfectly-fitting grey suit standing right there in the centre of the room, waiting for him on the carpet that he knew hid a rather occult chalk sketch.

“Gabriel.” Aziraphale fixed his bowtie, smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is a... surprise?”

Behind the angel, Aziraphale could see the answering machine blinking at him from under a pile of books--an ugly device, really, but Crowley had pestered him to get one set up so much he had to give in at some point, that wily old serpent--and his thoughts involuntarily wandered off to the demon. Not exactly an appropriate moment.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel smiled his business smile, play-punching Aziraphale on his shoulder as he came up to him. The angels had kept their distance ever since The Hellfire Incident; this was the first time Aziraphale had seen the Archangel since that day, a few months ago now. “Old boy! Just dropped by to update you on some stuff; keep in touch, right? Well, anyways, about the demon Crowley--”

Aziraphale straightened, lips parting slightly.

“--well, about him, you’ll have to manage without him for a bit, nothing serious. No harm done, right? Well, no permanent harm, anyways.” He laughed, as if he’d made a little joke. He had, only Aziraphale was not in on it yet.

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded weak to his own ears.

“Oh, come on! You know we’re big on vengeance!” Gabriel beamed. “Of course, we honour our agreements, but a well-placed little discorporation has never hurt anyone, now, has it? Actually, scratch that, it hurts a little. Anyways, we acquired some fine murderers--aren’t humans just great? Murder by purchase, hilarious! They should be on their way to eliminate his earthly shell as we speak, just wanted to let you know.”

Aziraphale was barely listening anymore. The red light of the answering machine glowered at him from the depths of his consciousness like beastly eyes in the dark, its happy promise turned to bone-deep, spine-chilling dread.

Crowley, discorporated? His knees felt weak.

"Oh don’t look so upset, now. He’ll be back in no time, the paperwork only takes a few years down there. Anyways, I gotta run, duty calls, and--”

He stopped dead when he caught the look in Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale had never looked at him like that. Perhaps Aziraphale had never looked at anyone like that. Gone was the pudgy little man with eyes so blue they must’ve been taken right from the perfect sky of a picture book. He looked like rainclouds, like a cold desert, like a stormy sea about to come crashing down to drown the entire world. He looked like The Fury Of God, and Gabriel took a step backwards, involuntarily.

But just as suddenly as it had come on, the wave subsided (but oh, the dark sea remained). “It has not happened yet, you say?” His voice sounded strained.

“Oh, no,” Gabriel started, but Aziraphale, staring at the floor, merely snapped his fingers, and the Archangel disappeared as the carpet below him incinerated and the chalk beneath glowed white.

Another snap, and the answering machine started playing by itself.

“Aziraphale!” A chipper voice piped up, and the angel suddenly felt so scared he wanted to sink down onto the floor. “So, I was wondering, since I can’t quite recall--was Wales one of yours or ours? I mean,” and here he laughed, “I do know who’s responsible for Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch--still proud of that one. Anyways, come over to my place tonight at 7, I’ve brought you some bara brith and a bottle blanc de blancs.”

The rest of the tape ran empty. “Dammit, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, trying to convince himself that he was not about to cry. He rushed to the phone, and picked up the receiver. The right number started dialing by itself.

The clock showed 6.

“Angel? I know you miss me, but--”

“Crowley! Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale closed his eyes, the relief was so big.

“--really, gotta be patient only a little while longer.” Crowley’s voice was mischievous, a sentiment that currently went right over the angel’s head. “I still got some business to attend to in Hackney.”

“Wait, are you back in London?!”

“Oh yeah, just about to meet up with some shady people, y’know, my favourite kind, they wanted to strike some sorta deal and--oh, gotta go!”

“Crowley, wait!”

“Toodeloo!”

The line went dead, and Aziraphale, aggravated, threw the receiver down. It fell to the ground, so he picked it back up and put it on the holder, angrily. He felt like swearing.

He had to get to Crowley. Before they did.

Crowley was expecting nothing. If they really were trained assassins, and if they acted fast enough, there was a real chance his demon was in serious trouble.

It took half an hour to get from Soho to Hackney by cab or public transport. For a human.

Aziraphale had been out of shape for six thousand years, but right now he didn’t have time to acknowledge that fact. Reality would just have to deal with it. So he ran. He ran as if the devil was on his heels, even though it was in fact quite the opposite. After a few steps he was barely touching the ground anymore, while an Old power deep inside him reared its tired head. Nobody took notice of him, nor of the flash of white feathers that flickered in and out of existence around him as he moved, ever faster, dragging his body along for the ride.

Ten minutes later he stood in a dark alley, gasping for breath as he tried to put himself back together: literally; rearranging his atoms and reattaching the patches of Soul that had spilled over like water out of an overflowing cup, like cotton out of a crude and frayed doll.

He was close enough now, to feel him. Could sense the demonic aura.

(That was good, right? That meant he still had an aura.)

It didn’t take long to track him down.

Through a broken fence and along a wall full of horrendous graffiti and towards the entrance of an abandoned warehouse. It was a truly sinister place; no person in their right mind would meet up with strangers here. Except Crowley was no person (and quite possibly never in his right mind.)

(I don’t have a right mind, angel, Aziraphale could almost hear him say, I have a wrong mind. And I’m very much in it. Duh.)

The doors crumbled before him, evaporated into thin air that he could feel against his wings. He hadn’t bothered putting them away.

“Crowley?” he called.

And Crowley turned around, surprise on his face, and as if they had been waiting for this moment the two people he was now facing away from drew their guns.

Two shots echoed through the empty hall.

They never reached their target. Aziraphale lifted his hand, and for a moment everything stopped. The wave of his righteous fury came crashing down all over again, and this time there was no stopping it. When reality resumed, the bullets had found new targets.

With twin screams, the two henchpeople went down and writhed on the ground, their kneecaps shattered. When they looked up, they wished they hadn’t.

All they saw was bright white blinding fury, a vast nothingness so incomprehensible to the human mind that it burned their eyes and their souls, and inside that nothingness a million eyes staring right through them. There were whispers, in that place, echoes and ghosts and memories of worlds, and as the angel spread its wings they started screaming.

They stopped, abruptly, when the demon Crowley let them fall into merciful unconsciousness.

“Angel, that’s enough.”

The sound of Crowley’s voice reached him through a haze, and Aziraphale faltered. He turned towards the demon, and saw shock and worry on his face.

Crowley saw something else entirely: He saw Both. There was Aziraphale, tired and dishevelled and unbearably horrified and so very Human; and there was Aziraphale, blinding and manifold and unbearably Holy, and not human at all.

“Aziraphale,” he murmured, “it’s enough, now. It’s okay.”

And Aziraphale closed his eyes, and stood there as the light receded, and when he opened his eyes he was One again. And he looked terrified.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said, and his voice almost broke, it sounded so feeble. “You’re, you’re alright.”

Crowley, on the other hand--now that he had his angel back, he knew it, saw it--looked at him... almost a little smitten. He stepped closer, steadying the angel before he could ask. Though he tried to look Casual, he still scanned the angel’s face intently, until Aziraphale looked away.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he finally said, and after another moment: “Should I thank you?”

“Better not,” Aziraphale answered with a weak smile. “I could get into all sorts of trouble...”

Crowley smiled: faintly, softly. (Almost, very almost, he touched a hand to the angel’s cheek.)

“So, care to tell me what this is all about?” he asked instead, carefully circling around Aziraphale, his touch never quite leaving him.

Aziraphale pressed his lips into a fine line. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Silence settled around them, and both their gazes landed on the poor unconscious souls lying in a heap on the ground.

“Well uhhh, alright, then,” Crowley spoke up, “So... Let’s get you home? I still have that sparkling wine in my Bentley, y’know the one.”

“Wait.” Aziraphale sighed, taking a few exhausted steps towards the two murderers acquired by Gabriel. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured as he took to healing their knees, “ When you wake up, you migth want to re-evaluate your choice of profession. And try not to believe what you saw.”

(Forgetting, he knew, was impossible. They would have to carry this burden for life. As did he.)

Crowley stood waiting, and then wordlessly walked by his side (his arm brushing against Aziraphale’s now and again, close enough to offer comfort with his presence, but keeping to himself.) He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this situation, wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew Aziraphale well enough to give him time.

He’d always needed time.

As they stepped outside, someone was waiting for them.

He was Gabriel--but not quite. A few inches smaller, a little lop-sided, with less of his perfect hair on his head. He looked like he’d been run through a pastry machine. And he looked pissed.

“You’ve really done it now, Aziraphale,” he snapped. “Discorporating an Archangel! Look at the fucking body they gave me!”

“You what?!” Crowley wheezed, incredulous and, not to his credit, looking absolutely delighted.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and straightened his shoulders, and suddenly looked like his old self. Like his softness was his armour.

“I thought, despite everything, that you were still one of us... but I must have been wrong.” Cold anger sat deep in Gabriel’s eyes, and behind that, hidden, something like disappointment.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, instinctively, ready to go No, no, of course I still am, but then he glanced sideways at Crowley. And that was that. He knew.

They were still His Side... but right now, though he would never say the words out loud despite it all, there was only one thought burning inside him and it was:

Fuck My Side.

“No, I don’t suppose I am.” He said it as if he was realizing it only as he spoke, and a part of him did. Another part had known it for a long, long time. He looked Gabriel right in the eyes, holding his furious gaze with his own.

Beside him, he saw (felt) Crowley’s head snap around, just impercetibly, a motion so small that Gabriel would never notice, but Aziraphale did. Behind his sunglasses, Crowley’s eyes had gone wide.

So this was it. The moment he had been so very scared of for so very long, but now that it was happening he suddenly was not scared anymore at all. Determined, he took a step forward, positioning himself slightly closer and slightly in front of Crowley. He thought he saw the demon smile softly, for just a second, a little unsure twitch in his cheek.

“I would appreciate it if you never did that again,” Aziraphale said, and somehow it sounded both like a polite request and a Threat.

And Gabriel, The Trial still present in his mind--the image of Azirapahle standing in Hellfire and basking in it--thought he saw that same Aziraphale again now. The Archangel smiled, a short and humourless smile that was mere acknowledgement, and then he snapped his fingers and was gone.

Crowley waved after him, a little wiggle of his fingers that he very much enjoyed.

Aziraphale felt all his strength leave him, yet at the same time he’d never felt stronger in his life. He exhaled, trying to wrap his mind around all that had happened. He had truly chosen his allegiance once and for all, and he knew it was the only decision he ever could have made.

The power that had so forcefully reminded him of its existence, never quite forgotten, still tingled beneath his skin, but it was only a soft stream now, and Aziraphale gently led it back down. The fabric of Himself was still intact. With a little smile, and an even littler glance to the demon by his side, he clasped his hands contentedly in front of his stomach.

Aziraphale knew who he had to thank for that. Wily old serpent, always meddling in his affairs. He’d better never stop.

“He’s a real jerk, that one, isn’t he?”

Aziraphale gasped, looking scandalized, and completely missed the irony of that. Then he grinned, and laughed, and looked at the ground and then back up into Crowley’s face, a little unsure.

“I guess you might, on occasion, have a point,” he conceded.

He smiled broadly, warmly, one of his best smiles, and Crowley, a little stricken, reciprocated. Suddenly nervous, he took off his sunglasses and tried to clean them with the hem of his shirt, before giving up and slipping them into his pocket, as had been his (very secret) intention all along.

They locked eyes, in the twilight, and almost seemed like bashful teenagers, ready to come of age but feeling very shy about it.

“What’s this horrible feeling all around here?” the demon asked suddenly, looking around. “It’s making my stomach all upset.”

“That would be love, my dear.” Unadulterated.

“Oh.” Crowley said nothing more.

But his hand brushed against the back of Aziraphale’s, just lightly grazing it, and the angel, as if by serendipity, turned his hand to face his--not quite taking it, but letting their fingers touch, and not pulling away.

_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_

tagging the people in the OP who sounded like they would want to be tagged:

@idinink @aangelphale @ohblessit @armoredavengers @e3105eb @ineffable-bisexual @cake-cow @snake-in-the-bookshop @crowleysscaredplants @the-best-pilot-in-the-resistance @crowleys--angel @qfantasydragon @aduckwithears @jesuisfabulous @azirafuck @snakecrowleyy @foolish-principalitee @crowleyraejepsen @azfellandco @on-our-own-side @imlowercasemad

#good omens #ineffable husbands #a/c #aziraphale x crowley #my omens #my writing #inefficable #why do i hurt the ones i love #the one in which aziraphale has had Enough

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timeskip · 3 years

Text

OC writing, individual scenes of all 6 of my main OCs at some of their lowest moments. 2316 words.

For the sake of clarity: Palinorous and Storm are the same person, but after they were erased from existence / “killed” for knowing too much, everyone forgot their name and began to call them Storm only.

---

The world is ending and Palinorous is in the center of it.

Fate. That is the name of their destroyer. Their hands fold into the book describing Fate, as if to hide the words. Palinorous is breaking in half, split, torn. They weren’t supposed to find out about Fate—what will become of them if they let it slip that they know they’re being controlled? Maybe humans are the real gods, Angel told them, because they knew, they fucking knew. Palinorous, granted the title of the God of Storms, is no god here—controlled and confined, sitting alone with the books that tell the only truth they know.

How can they accept this? How can they do anything but pretend they never saw, that Angel is simply trying to get them killed for knowing too much? But Palinorous asked for this; they’ve been searching for the reason they’ve felt off, the reason things haven’t gone correctly. And they found it.

They found it, and they hate it. They want to be their own person, their own god. They want to be everything, but all they end up doing is lowering their head into the book and trying to stop tears from staining the pages.

---

The world is ending and Caelestis is barely there.

He compresses himself into this feeling—grief swirls within him like nothing he’s ever known before. He’s never had to grieve before, never known love to die with a god Caelestis cared about. It was always distant, in his immortality. Humans die—Caelestis has spent enough time with them to understand that every connection he makes with them will burn into nothing.

Storm was not supposed to be the same. Storm was not supposed to end up as a blank in his mind, secrets locked behind memories he can’t feel. He knows there’s something he’s forgetting; all he remembers is their smile, their grin, the way they dragged him around as if he wasn’t larger than them, making him follow.

He doesn’t remember why he let himself go along, and that makes him sick, lying on the floor and staring, staring, staring. What did Storm mean to him? Why? Why? Why?

He spends a week numbly on Earth, surrounded by humans. He knows they’ll die, which doesn’t make it better; he sits on the floor and only opens his eyes when they speak to him, giving him offerings. He’s a god, after all, isn’t he? He’s in pain, isn’t he? He needs his anxiety soothed, doesn’t he? He used to get that from Storm, maybe. The humans don’t remember Storm at all. Their existence is gone.

His throat tightens, and he cries in the middle of a building built for him. Wind swirls around the circular room unbidden—Caelestis’s powers are out of his control now, only matching his emotions.

---

The world is ending and Tempest is dying because of it.

There are certain expectations placed on them as a successor of the God of Storms, and they grasp at them; they will become a new God of Storms, in the only way they can, as the God of Thunder is only half as brilliant.

First; Topaz tells them that they don’t need to live up to those expectations, that it’s all in their head, that the light of their god weighing on them is just that of someone dead, a god that Tempest needs not bow to. Tempest is a god too, after all. And Tempest believes Topaz; how could they not?

And still, when faced with Storm in the flesh, Tempest is simply a human next to them. This is the god they’ve dedicated their life to understanding, brought back to life by Topaz’s hand. It should be easy to fall into that, to try to help Storm, to call them by their real name—”Palinorous,” they say, heavy on their tongue. “May I call you by your name, Palinorous?” They finally know the name of the God of Storms. It does not give them the comfort they thought it would.

Storm gives them a withering look. The answer is no. Storm doesn’t like them, after all, or their sibling, or anything about them. They get shown what Tempest has worked on, formed from fragments of Storm’s memories, and they get a horrified look.

This is not love. This is worship, and Tempest has failed to please their god.

This is when Tempest really becomes their own—like bursting from a cocoon, skin shattering on impact. Their past self is dying, decomposing by itself. Storm is not happy with Tempest’s actions, and that is everything to Tempest, who has tried and failed to break free from them. They still believe themself to be based on Storm’s DNA, only themself when Storm is waiting for them to complete something.

Tempest is a god at the end of the world, their strings cut and collapsing alone, away from Storm’s bright yellow eyes, from Topaz’s concerned gaze, from the sound of Palinorous on the other’s lips.

---

The world is ending and Araceli no longer believes it can be fixed.

She has suffered before; she has fallen and scraped her knees on the concrete of humanity’s creation, when they experiment on her godly body as if she were an object with no thoughts. She once thought herself irreparable, fundamentally changed by the experience. Maybe she still does, though she buries that beneath love and power, standing above the others and making sure things get done. Araceli was cold and she still loved the other gods.

She does not love Storm, but Storm loves her. They visit her everywhere—they used to do this in the past, too, but they don’t talk about that much, and when they do it’s with a sadness and softness uncharacteristic of them. The past is a wound for both of them, and Araceli swallows down who they used to be bitterly.

Both of these things should be the end of the world, but they aren’t. Araceli is stronger than the others, does not break under the pressures of human or god. She is more powerful than Storm, simply shutting them down when they grin and grin and grin.

Until.

Storm tells her about Fate. They whisper the truth in her ear, that she isn’t actually powerful, that she is basically a human, that she hates humanity because she must hate humanity, that they cannot exist without gods like her, who want to destroy them. Fate controls her every movement, and Storm seems to think that Araceli is tied to it more than the others. They give her that sad look again, and tell her that they love her—they want to protect her, they want her to break free of Fate.

“The only way to escape your Fate is to know about it,” they say, taking her hand. Their hand is so much smaller than hers. She remembers when she thought of them as good. “We escaped. Now it’s your turn.”

She throws their hand off. She doesn’t want to hear about it. It’s a vile truth, one she can’t swallow down like memories or blank voids left by the hands of humans.

They return. They talk about her, in all her glory. Again and again. She wears jewelry because she wants to be better than humans, but they also wear jewelry. Her hair is flowing like clouds, multicolored and strange and inhuman, but Storm runs their fingers through it and makes her spine tingle until her stomach is sick and she’s on the verge of tears. Storm calls it pretty, but asks why she keeps it.

She doesn’t reply, because it’s easier to ignore than to admit that she needs it for a reason she can’t explain, even when it was touched over and over. (Is this Fate?)

But Storm continues. And Araceli crumbles with each word from their mouth, each explanation for why she has no control over her life, how she’s an Overseer Goddess but she is still controlled, always a puppet, never her own self. She hates the world; she hates humanity, and she hates gods like Storm, and she doesn’t think she can be fixed anymore.

“And you’re tall,” Storm is laughing. “But not so tall that you’d stop looking human. You’re basically a human—”

Their eyes widen as Araceli stops looking human at all, body warping and twisting, horns sprouting viciously from her skull, torso growing taller and less defined, fuzzy on the edges where Storm is still soft in their humanity.

---

The world is ending and Ry is losing himself slowly.

Tempest is sitting across from him. Their eyes focus first on his face, and then to the empty space beside him. “They didn’t come.” It’s not a question.

Ry doesn’t know why Storm likes him better than they do Tempest. They’re both the same, in essence; twins made from Storm’s remains before they came back. Ry is the one who asked for them to come back. Ry is an idiot. He should’ve stayed afraid of them, and he did; when he avoided Storm, when he believed them to be dangerous, they spent more time chasing after him than they did even looking at Tempest. It just fuels Tempest’s hatred of Ry, and the feeling that he’ll never be able to reach out for his twin.

It’s funny. They should be a family, all born from the same mold, but they’re fractured in all the worst ways, cracks running through them like lightning into the air. Ry, the God of Lightning, is aware that he caused these faults—that Tempest hates him because he is himself rather than someone else, and that he hates Storm and Storm’s legacy more than anything else.

But he still arranged for them to be brought back. Even Storm themself doesn’t know about that.

And now Ry sits across from Tempest on two couches held parallel, as if to force them to look at each other. Storm is not coming; it’s their own decision, and regardless of how Ry feels about it—anxiety swells at the idea of them coming, so this is a relief, except that Ry wanted something more than absence—he has to accept that this conversation will only be his and Tempest’s.

He’s calm. Too calm. There is nothing in him that can be called a person, but he also barely believes in his own godhood. The longer Storm is around, the more Ry feels himself slipping away, devolving into something else entirely.

He built himself around the idea of not being Storm, but when Storm came back, they had no answers. Is Ry a part of Storm? Is Storm simply the predecessor to Ry? Will Ry never be able to fix this, because he keeps thinking of Storm as that same monster he was warned he should never become, that same thing he laughed at Tempest for pursuing? Ry has never been able to escape this—he asks questions of the universe and humanity, and gets nothing back.

“I had a lot more of Storm’s memories than you did,” Ry tells Tempest, and there’s something so gloriously fake about it, behind his sharp teeth and the reality that he’s been running from Storm this whole time.

The world is ending, and Ry is smiling while it happens. The world ends quietly, like the ground slipping from beneath his shoes and leaving him to fall before he can scream.

---

The world is ending and Topaz will be the one to end it.

The first time she met the Higher Being who granted her freedom, she didn’t understand a single thing. Now she knows she can reclaim her Fate as her own; she’s been controlled by the Higher Being that they call Fate for too long, but she’s watched it slowly decay, grasping at all the awful things it’s given her and crushing them.

The world that Fate created is cruel. Topaz knows that best of anyone, waiting for decades, centuries, longer and longer, biding her time and keeping secrets and hoping to be free. She’s known all about Fate, and known that if she revealed it she’d die.

She and Storm are the same in that way, but when Storm told her she needed to fix things instead of keeping it secret, she felt like laughing.

How can she fix things? She’s trapped in Fate as much as they are, and they died for it, they changed themself until they died, until Fate snapped them in half. Topaz is different. Topaz is stronger, and will keep herself alive as much as she needs to. She’ll do anything Fate needs her to, only disobeying when she knows she can. Topaz has become quite attuned to Fate’s needs, and sometimes it doesn’t even grip her anymore.

She’s breaking free. She doesn’t need to be glitched by Fate anymore, and she will force it to the ground, where she will snap it just like it snapped Storm. Fate is over, and Topaz will free herself once and for all.

Topaz knows how this works; Fate was created for humanity. She is aware of the twists and turns, the ways gods were made to control humans, which the Higher Beings couldn’t touch by themselves. But Topaz is no longer a regular god—she no longer needs the Higher Beings, and she no longer needs humanity.

Her jacket hangs off her shoulders, a brilliant red like the flames she prided herself on as the Goddess of Fire.

She won’t kill humanity with fire this time, but they will die to pave the way for her freedom. She feels no guilt from this, and how could she? She’s spent too long waiting. She’s done fixing the world, controlling herself, staying within the lines.

If the other gods hate her for it, she couldn’t care less.

(Or, at least, that’s what she tells herself. It’s better this way. It’s always been better this way.)

#oc tag #my writing #storm #caelestis #tempest #araceli #ry #topaz

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milkygcf · 4 years

Note

Hi i'd luv 2 req. A bully jungkook x reader e2l fic pls 🥺 5k~ tysm!

//credits go to @jjoon for the gif!//

Pairing | jjk x reader

Genre | e2l, bully!jungkook, college au

Warnings | mild cursing

Summary | ❝ Hi i'd luv 2 req. A bully jungkook x reader e2l fic pls 🥺 5k~ tysm!❞

Word Count | 5.4k

Author’s Note | hi anon! i’m sorry this took so long to write ... this really inspired me to write a full fic! i had to cramp in as much as i could and hopefully it goes to your liking ❤ thank you for your request! ________________________________________________________________

When you hoped for the best college experience, you didn’t mean to bring Jeon Jeongguk along with you. As far as you knew, he had other plans for a different school - so why did you end up spending a year and a half of college facing the worst each day?

It started when you accidentally spilt his juice all over his study notes when a friend of yours jokingly pushed you. From that very day on, he’s been firing you up almost every day of seeing you within his sight. Making you seethe when he steps into your vision. Despite apologizing and offering to rewrite his notes for him, he still made it his mission to make college incredibly agonizing for you.

For example, all the times he’s made you feel like pure, utter shit.

Unlike what his looks demonstrated, Jeon Jeongguk was an absolute bully. You have all the evidence to back this up.

And that so happens to be at this very second as he scribbles all over your essays, vandalizing them with random characters from the games he spends all night playing. “Stop that-!” You cry out, watching your clean work melt into a behemoth of a mess before you.

“Stop? Your notebook’s boring - I’m just adding more life to it!”

The look on his face symbolizes the devil incarnate himself. Jeongguk was devilishly handsome, except for the fact that he was the bane of your existence.

Handsome?

God forbid he ever finds out you think of him like that.

“No,” You let out an exasperated huff, “You’re just earning me a bad reputation! Can’t you just fuck off?” Frankly, you’re just wasting precious time and energy, because no matter how many times you urge him to piss off, he wouldn’t budge. He’d keep on being a complete brat.

Nothing was on your side when it came to Jeongguk - not even the gods themselves.

Truly, you deem yourself as the most patient person to ever walk this earth. You say this out of the experience. But when Jeongguk steps into the picture? You want to give him a good kick to the balls because he was simply so aggravating.

Your friends know well of this yet they look at the situation in another light. A light which leaves you effectively deceived.

As you stomp towards your local buddies, you could hear the faint “Ah, here we go again,” leaving Seokjin’s lips as they all brace themselves for your routined outburst. It’d be surprising if you didn’t do this on the daily.

“I can’t believe him!” Your voice booms, agonized and worn out as you tumble onto an empty seat, letting yourself sink into the warmth of your arms. Attention attracts itself to you, but you couldn’t bother. Humiliation has nothing on the daily hardships you face - literally - every day.

“What did he do this time?” Jimin and Seokjin mutter in unison, watching you practically deflate in front of them. Honestly, what didn’t he do? Nowadays, whenever he even breaths your way, you deem it a huge inconvenience. Unfortunate.

How exactly is this unfortunate? You happened to be best friends with someone who’s very fond of your arch-nemesis, and that is Park Jimin. It’s either because he’s a libra or the heathen hypnotized him into blooming a friendship together. Countless times the beam of smiles tried his best to convince you that Jeon was an angel at heart.

You beg to differ.

With a distraught face, you look up at both of them. “He scribbled all over my essay - that little twerp is going to ruin me.” Words of truth. It’s not that deep - it isn’t. You offered to rewrite his notes, he was the one who decided to be all salty about the matter. Salty enough to make your life a living hell, that is.

“Wouldn’t you consider the fact that maybe his intentions aren’t to just be a bitch to you?” Jimin chirps in, wincing.

“You’re kidding. How many times do we have to go through this?”

“As many times as we need to,” Seokjin intervenes, letting out a fatigued sigh. To put it simply, he has way too many other things to be focused on right now besides your incessant whining. He loves you dearly, but having to listen to you ramble on and on about your rivalry with Jeon drains him to the last drop. “Haven’t you thought about clearing things with him? Perhaps it’s all a misunderstanding.”

“Over my dead body! He’s the one who started it, I already did my part of the job.”

If there was one word to describe you, it would be dense. This was on him, even if it bothered you to ends. Seokjin and Jimin knew this very well - they also knew that they were wasting their breaths with you, but it was worth a shot either way.

And so it was left at that.

As winter break approaches, you find yourself growing ecstatic as each day passes. Once you finally catch yourself a break, you’d be able to scatter away from the plight that is Jeon Jeongguk. Likewise, the man himself. You’re pretty sure he finds your mere presence a disgrace by the way there’s always a scowl tugging at his lips, or perhaps the devilish tricks he pulls on you until you can no longer take it and scurry off.

Jimin, much to his pleasure, compelled you into signing up to help with the school dance alongside him. Eventually, you caved in, albeit protesting that you’d rather use your free time binging whatever show Netflix recommended you. No one can bypass Jimin’s charms and the way his lips turn into a pout as he pleads to you.

And, well, perhaps you did need to be more productive.

So in reality, your best bud was doing you a favour.

How hard could it be anyway? All you had to do was decorate and help plan the catering, maybe throw in a few song suggestions. If possible, even cop yourself a date - you’d hate to weigh down Seokjin and Jimin just because you were looking sulky in a corner with your only friend being a cup of cranberry punch.

“You’re not going to bail on me last second, are you?” The brunet queries, looking at you cautiously with his eyes twinkling. Despite his teasing and constant pulling to get you to do things with him, you know he’d never force you into something displeasing.

You give him a look. “Gosh, what do you take me for? I promised you, didn’t I? You just have to make sure you keep your side of the deal.” A grin blooms onto his features. Right - he promised you a meal at your favourite diner for accompanying him. That way, he knew you’d accept for sure.

The hall is crowded with students, bustling with chatter as they discuss their excitement for the dance. You have to admit, it was an event to look forward to. To catch your breath and enjoy a moment of peace in a place that you can call a second home. And to top it off, it’s with the people you see every day who, just like you, are there to study for a future.

Understandably, you have no idea who half of the student body was, but it still felt like family.

Jimin instantly finds himself one of the coordinators and advises them about your presence whilst you fumble behind him rather nervously. “What exactly do we have to do?” You mumble to him, taking a good look around. The place seems way too dull when it’s not enriched with DIY banners and colourful lights adorning every nook and cranny of the room.

“Our duty for today is decorating. The theme’s pretty sparkly this year.”

“Isn’t it always like that?”

A voice is quick to interrupt your conversation, making you practically dart around to see the source of it. And it’s no surprise when you come face to chest - curse his height - with the very being you’ve grown to dislike over the months. He was here, in the hall, helping.

Just when you thought you’d be able to hide from Jeongguk, he proves you wrong. Like a predator hunting its prey.

“Gguk!” Jimin exclaims mirthfully, wrapping an arm around your sworn enemy. You really can’t help but worry for him. Ah, it is what it is. “I didn’t think you’d be joining this year.”

“You know I’d never miss an opportunity to help around. But,” he pauses, averting his gaze to you with a quirk of an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise you brought Y/N along.”

“I’m sorry?” You gasp rather too dramatically, earning the attention of those around you. Jimin bursts into laughter, shaking his head at your antics. This is betrayal at its finest - laughing at your misery, you might as well drop him this very second.

“Apology accepted.”

That fuels you even more. Your blood boils under the layers of your skin. God, couldn’t he get any less arrogant? “I can’t stand you,” you breathe out, scoffing. “Is there a rule that I can’t give a helping hand by any chance?”

Jimin watches all of this unfurl. If anything’s worth pure entertainment, it was the two of you. “Not if you run around with a stick up your ass,” Jeongguk replies with a measly roll of the eyes, “This won’t be any fun with you here.”

“Alright you two, cut it out.”

In all honesty, you doubt how fun that'll be. With him around, no one knows about the perils he could throw at you to prove his disdain. Your life could be in danger as you speak. What if you were walking around and he stuck his foot out for you?

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “See you around Park - you should hop over to the sound room later. We could use your help.”

And that’s another encounter with Jeon Jeongguk for the day, much to your annoyance. You could see the way the brunet turns to look at you with a soft smile on his face, a small, reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Lighten up, it won’t be that bad.”

“My ass.”

“Y/N!”

---

Truthfully speaking, it isn’t all that bad. You’ve grown to interact more with everyone else - surprisingly. Not only that, but you were given the blissful pleasure to befriend what seems to be God’s favourite specimen, Kim Taehyung.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was God himself.

Amid all these students, there’s Taehyung who you secretly claim as the light of your life. You’d be surprised if someone didn’t know him or of his presence in the hall, he truly stuck out brighter than all the sparkling decor being hung around the walls and on stage.

“Y/N-! Catch!”

If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve been hit with a small pack of glitters straight to the head. Even worse, they could’ve opened and left you in a glittery mess. Laughter bubbles out of the man’s lips - music to your ears. You adore the way his locks bounce with each move he makes.

“That was pretty hazardous - I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to hand them over to you more politely next time.”

“I caught them, didn’t I?” You smile, letting the item dangle lightly from the tips of your fingers. Taehyung continues to beam, his pearly whites put all on show. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the man before you. Oh, and not to mention his voice. That golden bundle of harmony.

“Surprisingly,” Jeongguk butts in, snickering. And here it is again - like a comedic show, ready to make you the laughing stock. “Would’ve been hilarious to see you covered in pink glitters.”

“Ggukkie!”

Ggukie? If it wasn’t for the respect you hold for other people’s comfortableness, you would’ve bent over and hurled. It would’ve been a cute nickname if it wasn’t directed at the fiend. But it’s fine, you suppose - Taehyung has an endearing way of lacing nicknames.

He’s quick to ruffle the latter’s hair, making shy giggles tumble out of Jeongguk’s mouth. You can only stand and watch, squinting rather annoyingly at him. He was such a joy kill.

“I need your help with the soundbar,” Jeongguk explains nicely. His tone is gentle and he uses his hands to explain whatever was wrong, much unlike how he interacts with you. It’s in these moments you wonder why he treats you so differently when it was a small inconvenience you’d pulled on him months ago.

“No can do,” the elder tells him, scratching the back of his head. “I have to help Namjoon with the tickets. But I’m sure Y/N can help - didn’t you say you were good with tech?”

Oh.

In another life, in the same position you are in now, you would’ve declined and scurried off to avoid him. But, if you think about it, this could be the perfect opportunity to flaunt your knowledge and skill. If he gets to do it, then so can you.

It’s only fair, no?

You quirk an eyebrow towards the duo. This was your time to shine. “I’m sure he won’t need my help,” you taunt, “Jeonggukie can do everything, can’t he?”

Silence. He’s like a deer caught in headlights, with the way his eyes widen and his mouth becomes agape. You managed to pull a stunt on him, showing him victory and deeming yourself superior. Kim gives you a peculiar look before offering you a smile. “You’re right - Gguk’s incredibly talented.”

That wasn’t really what you were hoping for. You admit it hurt your pride a little, but there’s no way you were going to put it out on show. Jeongguk can kiss your ass.

“Uh, whatever. Follow me, I can’t wrap my head around what’s wrong with it.”

You were quite ready to start calling him petty, but as you slowly take in his response, you’re left perplexed.

Perhaps you’re taking it too far - this is only for a school dance after all. Although you can’t help but stand and stare at him for actually accepting your offer to help. “Hello? Are you going to just stand there? We have other things to do - hurry up.” Curse you Jeon Jeongguk.

“See you later Y/N!”

The chance of copping yourself a hot date to the dance, slowly streaming out of your grasp.

As you bid your farewell to Taehyung, you let yourself be whisked away by a rather grumpy Jeongguk, who stomps his approach to the sound room. It’s quiet - save for the weight of his rather chunky shoes - and if you may say so yourself, awkward. But nevermind that, you were assigned something to fix.

He takes you up a flight of stairs - much to your dismay, you weren’t fond of the exercise - and into a tiny, cramped room just on the opposite of the school’s stage. You could see everyone clearly from here - ants scurrying around to get their work done.

Jeongguk shuffles around behind you - you could feel his build bumping into yours here and there. “Okay, do you know what to do?”

“Huh?”

“I said, do you know what to do? Or were you just talking out of your ass?”

God, you can’t stand him. “Can you stop being such a bitch for once? Yes, just give me a few minutes and it’ll be ready.” A huff follows your line of conversation as you squat down to handle the component. He should be grateful you’re sacrificing your sanity to be with him right now. “What exactly is the issue here?”

There’s silence until your ears prick at the loud sigh that tumbles out of his lips. “Didn’t you hear what I told Tae? The sound keeps cutting.” You hum.

Your fingers lace around its wires, untangling the unattractive mess they’re in and inspecting whatever could be the problem. Unlike you, Jeon stands as far away as possible, offering you all the space you could need. His eyes watch you carefully, dancing onto every move you make. It’s peaceful, the only sound reverberating through the room being your breaths and the light clinks of the soundbar wires.

Your fingers start pulling each cable off one by one, setting them aside neatly and letting out a small sigh. Everything was in order, except for the crooked pins inside one of the cables that directly connects to the speaker. You turn to Jeongguk with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you plug these in? You bent the pins.”

He purses his lips, his hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck. “Guess I was in a hurry - can you fix them?” As he speaks softly, almost shyly, you swear you could see a hint of pink tinting his cheeks.

That’s cute.

“Hand me your credit card.”

“My what?”

“Your credit card - hand it over.” His face displayed pure horror. It’s not like you were going to run off with it - he wanted the soundbar fixed, didn’t he? You extend an arm out towards him, an eyebrow quirked at his hesitation.

“It’s fine,” an eye roll follows because he genuinely looks like he’s waiting for dinosaurs to resurrect. “I just need it to straighten the pins, yeah? Your card’s going to be back in your wallet before you know it.”

He’s looking at you with worry laced in his features until he’s stuffing his hands in those baggy pants of his and shuffling out his wallet. “You better give it back in one piece.”

What did he think you were - a heathen? Did he not know just how valuable credit cards were in today’s life? “Whatever,” you huff, fingers diligently wrapping around the piece and instantly starting to work your magic.

It takes you a few minutes of focus and caution, aligning the component back to its original shape. While you do so, Jeongguk observes cautiously. His eyes fawn over the way you stick your tongue out in concentration or the way you just engulf yourself in your own little world. Jeongguk thinks your hair colour compliments your skin.

You look pretty when you’re not throwing profanities at him.

It’s the daily entertainment he looks forward to every day. Not a moment goes by that Jeongguk doesn’t think about how to make you boil with fury in a matter of five minutes. Yet despite the delight of it all, he figures it’s about time he gives you a break.

Maybe a five-minute break - he misses the constant scowl etched onto your features whenever you catch sight of him.

"All done!" You beam, lips stretched wide as your hands perform the last trick. "Put a song on, bunny boy, see if it works."

Jeongguk stutters at the nickname. You, however, didn't realize it rolled down your tongue until it was too late.

He brushes it off and starts to scrolls through what seemed to be a multitude of playlists on his phone. You eagerly await the melody to boom quietly through the soundbar. However, he seems to be hesitant on what to choose and frankly, he was taking too long.

So you swipe his phone out of his grasp, leaving him clutching his credit card, putting his songs on shuffle. You give yourself the pleasure of coursing through his music taste - it wasn’t that bad. Diverse, to put it simply.

Kind of like yours.

“You listen to them too?” There’s an enthusiastic tone to your voice, eyes gleaming over the discography of a group you’ve grown to admire ever so much. They were the good fortune in your life - what was keeping you moving forward. Listening to their music gave you a sense of bliss.

Jeongguk peeks over your shoulder, his interest piqued as to why you’re so delighted over his music taste. “Hm?” He mumbles to himself, “You follow them?”

“Are you kidding,” you express matter-of-factly, “I don’t just listen to them! They are my heart and soul Jeon. I love them more than taco Tuesday.”

The last comment sends him hollering, catching you off-guard. You’ve never, in your time spent around him, heard him laugh so heartily before. If you must admit, it sounds melodious. Like the singing of birds in the early morning.

“Taco Tuesday - god, you’re something.”

Heat trickles up your neck to the ends of your ears, leaving you red in front of him.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” A snicker follows. “Well, it’s open for interpretation. Did you go to their last showcase?” You notice the way interest bubbles in the tone of his voice and the way his eyes glimmer with a newfound shine that you can’t quite decipher.

“Hell yeah, I did! It has to be one of their best one yet - they’re hitting it big this time!”

The room reverberates with joyous laughter, drowning out the low drum of the music playing in the background. It feels rather cumbersome, how one minute you’re at each other’s throats and the other your boisterous laughter mixes.

Maybe Jeongguk isn’t that bad.

However, it’s when the laughter dies down that the tension slowly rises. It isn’t thick - nor is it thin, but it’s there. It weighs on your shoulders and watches the inelegance crawl towards you. Jeongguk clears his throat and you find him rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, uh, I think you should be getting back down there.”

You shake your head heartily, your feet shuffling underneath you. “Could’ve sent a thank you my way you know.” The way it tumbles down your tongue makes it seem like you’re joking. His eyes wander onto you and there’s coral painting his skin again - he looks like a child. With the way his eyes go wide and he starts pursing his lips whenever he finds himself in situations as such.

“Right - yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

That’s where another part of your constant feud ends.

Would you even call that interaction a feud? Technically, you weren’t exactly at each other’s throats this time, despite all you did was fix up the soundbar. It was rather nice. You think a smile on Jeongguk’s handsome features is ravishing - god forbid he ever finds out of the compliment.

It’s childish. It’s like throwing buckets of water off a sinking ship - useless. For someone attending college, both of you lack the maturity for it.

Okay, maybe he’s not the only one taking things out of proportion - you can be quite the bitch sometimes.

New revelation - for the last term, you’ll just drop it. Just like that. Let it unravel however it wishes.

Yet, it’s quite hilarious how all this took you was a heartfelt moment with the guy.

---

It takes you patience, teamwork and hours upon hours of choosing through various types of decorations and goods for the dance. Now that everything is ready - and just in time, if you may add - the event was to be held early in the evening.

Whilst everyone was simply ecstatic for the event, you were pissing yourself. Why exactly is a mystery - your nerves were slowly bursting one by one and you were growing anxious. You had no reason to.

Seokjin is currently rambling about how elegant his suit was going to look. It makes you admire how he considers a minimal event as something grand - another quality you can’t help but adore about him. Seokjin always makes himself stand out in the best ways.

Jimin sits by his side pecking at the loose threads of his jumper, eyeing someone which, according to his line of sight, was about a few meters behind you. At his silence, both you and Seokjin quirk an eyebrow.

“Goodness!” Seokjin squawks, sending a light slap to the youth’s shoulder. “All you have to do is ask him to go with you, you raging homosexual!”

Ah.

Jimin has had the fattest crush on one of the philosophy guys. He describes him to have the sexiest brain to ever walk the grounds of earth. Frankly, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Kim Namjoon walked the college halls with people behind him practically foaming at the mouth. He, however, didn’t exactly take notice of this.

The youth’s gawking at the elder amongst you, giving him that specific look at me, now look at him look. “No way. I’m too fond of the pride harboured within me to let it be crushed by someone so unbelievably hot.”

“Funny, considering you’re ranked one of the best looking to roam this goddamned building,” you comment, rolling your eyes. “Jimin, I bet you the moment you walk into his vision he will be swooning. He can’t say no to you.”

“You think so?”

“With a juicy ass like yours, no, he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

You feel something shuffle beside you, which you brush off as Seokjin’s feet - it’s not the first time he’d stretch his legs out beside you, just to annoy you. It’s until Jimin’s doubling over with laughter at the sound of someone’s voice that you finally pay mind to.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Really? I didn’t take you for an ass person, Y/N.” That’s exactly why your ever so lovely best friend - since high school, may you add - was tearing up. Seokjin tries his best to keep his laughter at bay, knowing well you’ll give them hell after this.

You’re abashed wholly as red inherits your skin from neck to ears. Jeongguk’s very existence was made to shame you - catch you at the most vulnerable moments and have you burden them for as long as you breathe.

“Where did you come from?”

“From the cafeteria. I came to ask you something.”

After this presumptuous interaction, you are confident that he may have hit his head this morning. This was more than peculiar, and frankly, it left you perplexed as ever. “Okay, go ahead, shoot.” Interest piques and you notice the way he hesitates before shooting a quick look towards Jimin who grins ever so evilly.

“Be my date for tonight.”

That bastard.

“What?”

“Hello? Can’t you hear? I told you to be my date for tonight.” He says it so straight-forwardly it almost has you toppling over your seat. His face harbours a look that you can’t quite fathom and it irks you. What was he plotting?

“There’s definitely a catch to this.” Seokjin and Jimin observe quietly, the elder sending the youth a few questionable glares here and there. It seems as if Jimin was the one behind this all - which, if he was, wouldn’t leave you surprised at all.

What a libra.

Jeongguk shakes his head - you grow soft at the way his locks bob as he does so. “I promise there’s no catch - I just want a date for the dance. That’s all.” It leaves you with a frown hanging on your lips. All he needed was someone to hang by his side.

“And from all the chicks around you ask me?”

There’s silence then - he doesn’t respond, only purses his lips and fiddles with his fingers. He avoids eye contact. You sigh. “Sure - yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll be your date, Jeon.”

“Score!”

You watch as both Jimin and your new dance date high five before you. The pits of your stomach continue to bubble with anxiety and soon enough you might even think this might be a bet.

Jeongguk went from provoking you to asking you to be his date.

Seokjin gives you a rather sceptical look, tapping at your hand lightly. “What was that supposed to be?” He asks you, gaze wandering about the two snickering to themselves. You peek at Jeongguk and he seems to be pretty content. You still can’t comprehend just what’s going on in his head, but you conclude that it’s no good.

“I don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t pull any shit and ruin a good night.”

---

To say you’re beyond nervous is an understanding.

The both of you agreed to meet at the school gates, and as you step out of the cab you conveniently managed to catch, the situation dawns on you greatly. What happened to being sworn enemies after an unintentional spill?

If you were to look back at the time you’ve spent planning the occasion, you’d say something changed. He doesn’t make your blood boil as much - he presents you that charming smile more often. Not to mention how soft and kind it’d become in contrast to the many devilish grins and disdainful scowls he’d sent your way before.

You can’t tell if it’s progress or not.

The building looks rather magical - students loiter around the main entrance with big grins decorating their faces. Their well-prepared looks shimmer under the dim lights radiating from inside the school.

“Y/N!” Your body instantly freezes at the sound of his voice. You’ve grown used to it over time, but in this specific condition, it shakes you to the core. “Over here!”

Feet trepidatiously coursing over to him, you let your fingers fiddle with your fit. You look presentable to say the least - perhaps not as extravagant as the other people who’ve probably spent half their paycheck on something to wear. Decent, as you would put it.

“You better not pull anything on me, Jeon,”

“Why would I?”

Well, why would he? Makes you debate. The behemoth of worries and what-ifs subsides slowly but surely because Jeongguk sounds so sincere. Not to mention the way he’s looking at you right now - it makes you shrink, but in a positive way. He has the faintest of smiles plastered on his lips.

You don’t know how to feel whatsoever.

“Listen,” you tell him softly, looking at the ground as if it was the most interesting piece of art. “If… If this is all a joke or a dumb bet with Jimin, cut it out. You’re acting weird.” As a result, you can almost detect the frown drowning his smile as you speak.

Jeongguk reaches out to hold your hands. If he hadn’t done that, you’re pretty sure you would’ve ruined your somewhat prized possession. His touch is warm - it sends electricity coursing through your veins and leaves you stunned. Your head’s quick to shoot up at him.

“I promise that it’s nothing like that. Can’t I take the girl I’ve had this like, huge crush on to a dance?”

If pigs could fly they’d be more believable than this very moment. What was he saying? Is he even sure he’s talking to the right person?

“You’re kidding?” You say almost breathlessly. You’re pretty sure your eyes are wider than what’s physically possible, and your mouth’s hanging open. Nothing could convince you just how true this was. “Shut up - crush? You’ve been nagging me since I fucked your notes up. How could you possibly have a crush on someone you clearly dislike?”

His facial expression becomes even more unfathomable. Jeongguk shakes his head gently, “I was just teasing! It’s a habit - you’re fun to mess with, much less be around. Was I that bad?”

Oh?

This was like entering a whole new universe. Was that a good way to even describe the whirlwind of emotions washing over you right now? Never had you even considered that, because why would Jeon Jeongguk, quite possibly one of the most alluring men to ever walk this earth, find entertainment in you? Much less harbour a liking.

You punch his shoulder jokingly.

“God - you bastard! For how long has this been going on?”

There’s a sheepish grin on his face - he’s rubbing the nape of his neck again, it’s endearing. “You remember that time you fixed the soundbar? Yeah, by that time, I was a goner - I think?” His words are all fumbling together. He was growing shy by the way red bloomed onto his cheeks. “Then… Then we kind of vibed during the whole planning thing. Jimin was kind of sceptical, so he uh, he confronted me about it.”

Ah, so Jimin was part of all this.

“Uh, I hoped this would’ve gone in a more, uh, romantic way? Maybe while we were dancing. I heard you put some pretty sappy songs in there.”

Seeing this new side of him hit you like that time Seokjin threw your school bag and earned you a nasty bruise on your nose. It’s fresh, better than the usual cocky talk he gives you.

Perhaps by time, it’ll grow on you.

“When I say you’re really something, I never had in mind this side of you.” You sigh gently, letting a miniature of a smile wash over your lips. This is nice. It’s calming. “Now that I have clarification, you’re not so bad yourself, Jeon.”

“And if you let me, I can continue to prove that on the dance floor.”

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