#not to mention everything about the goblins

[haologram]

unforgiven 🏹 b.sk (m)

🏹 synopsis: Seungkwan may have been represented by his considerably heartwarming traits, but he ruined his own fate with his vengeful and prideful behavior. Despite his flawed outlook, he can still see you in every lover — until it's you, again.

🏹 genre: greek god au ; second chance romance au ; angst, fluff, smut ; sort of former enemies/rivals to lovers.

🏹 pairing: athena!boo seungkwan x reincarnated arachne!fem!reader | side pairing: eros!mingyu x psyche!tzuyu (twice) | side characters: zeus!seungcheol ; hades!jeonghan ; hephaestus!wonwoo ; hermes!vernon ; eris!saerom (fromis_9)

🏹 word count: 40.8k (and what about it?)

🏹 rating: 18+. minors please do not interact.

🏹 warnings: human x god dynamics. swearing, alcohol. mentions of infidelity, mentions of envy-fueled death, lowkey murder. seungkwan is a perfectionist, reincarnated reader is good at everything. seungkwan can be very hot and cold, reader is way too flirty and toes the line entirely too much. smut warnings: virgin!seungkwan...surprise! multiple scenes (3 shitty ones!), oral (m. & f. rec), fingering (f. rec), unprotected sex (in this economy?!), so much heavy petting (and casual intimacy), frottage, some begging, a bit of dirty talk, lots of pet names (baby, angel, threadling, brat,etc.), dacryphilia and breeding kink if you squint (and i mean really, really squint), praise kink, biting, nipple play, riding, body worship (including the feet...mostly f.rec), a little bit of humiliation.

🏹 what to listen to: run away - tzuyu ; highway to hell - ac/dc ; back to me - the rose ; cinnamon girl - lana del rey ; she's my religion - pale waves ; i'm your baby tonight - whitney houston ; take me back to eden - sleep token ; faithfully - journey ; ruby - woozi ; cry for love - baekhyun ; spell - seventeen ; sailor song - gigi perez ; tattoos - reneé rapp.

🏹 author's note: thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this, and this is for the greek god collab hosted by maren and aeris (link here!) for betas and support: @cheolism, @seokgyuu, and @diamonddaze01! thank you to everyone who forced me to get a fucking grip and just WRITE this. after two months of agonizing over it, writing and rewriting scenes (mostly the smut) and crying over boo seungkwan, it's finally here. seungkwan, my beloved little goblin...the brainrot has been far too real and i hope you get all the love in the world, and that this does you justice for the lack of seungkwan fics on this godforsaken app. xoxo. (star divider by @/enchanthings here on tumblr. link here.)

ONE.

It seemed you and Jeonghan were good friends by the way you speak to each other.

"Back so soon?" He calls, unsurprised. You huff, dusting your knees of rubble before looking up to him sitting cross-legged on his throne, flipping through a newspaper and tapping his pen on his chin. "Tsk, tsk."

"I'm just saying, Seungcheol shouldn't make me the best if he doesn't want me to show it off." You scoff, grimacing at the streaks of ash on your legs.

Jeonghan snorts, "Pride is a sin." Shrugging, you slump over the table before him, ignoring the pain in your diaphragm from the very obvious arrow sticking out of it. He gives you a quirk of his brow, folding the newspaper and folding his hands over his lap. He gives you a pointed look, making you groan. "Hannie, we've been through this so many times. Can't you just send me back?" "You know I can't." He smiles, and you throw a piece of gravel at him. Cerberus growls at you, and you stick your tongue out at the three-headed beast. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, pushing off his seat and tucking his hands into his pockets. "Say you're sorry." "But we know I'd be lying." You try and weasel your way out of begging the god for mercy, but he just gives you a wider grin in response.

"Oh, but you're so pretty when you beg." "You're a fucking freak." You mutter, and he just shrugs.

"You can beg or you can rot. I shouldn't even be giving you a choice, but I just like you so much, darling." He teases, flicking at your forehead. You frown, shoving his hand away before lowering to your knees.

"Come on! I promise I won't be a douche anymore." You exclaim, and Jeonghan just laughs.

"You said that the first time we had to do this. And tell me, Y/N, were you a douche again?" "Saerom deserved it!" You hiss, pointing a menacing finger at the god.

He smirks, a thoughtful look glazing his eyes. "Maybe I should just keep you here. You'd be a nice little pet, I think." He looks around, before you shudder.

"Hell no, you'd probably make me clean the floor with my tongue." You grimace, but sigh in defeat. You feel your cheeks burn in subtle humiliation as you adjust your knees on the gravelly terrain, touching your forehead to the hot pebbles and extending your arms out flat.

You hear Jeonghan clear his throat. "Recite the oath I wrote for you." Groaning inwardly, you feel his boot toe your rib. You scowl up at him, but the glowing maroon of his eyes tell you to get on with it. While this little odd game of Jeonghan's fruitless flirting was entertaining, his process definitely took a lot out of the two of you.

Often why Wonwoo reminds you that you should be grateful Jeonghan keeps letting you get away with it, fighting with Seungcheol constantly over you.

"I apologize." You start, and Jeonghan hums.

"What are you apologizing for?" "I apologize for allowing my pride to overcome my senses and cloud my judgment, allowing me to perform in ways I wouldn't otherwise. I see that my ego has grown further than I can control, and I ask that you allow me to prove that I can be better by returning me to the Overworld and allowing me to perform differently. If I am sent back due to my behavior, I will honor the wishes of those who sent me, and perform under your watchful eye." You're sure Jeonghan can practically hear your eyes rolling, but he sighs nonetheless. "Alright, you goblin. Get up, you're forgiven." You do so excitedly, wiping away any gravel stuck to your skin. Jeonghan smiles at you, a tilt to his head before he speaks in a serious tone, his fingers carefully wrapping around the fletching of the arrow. "This is the last time, Y/N."

You quirk a brow at him as he yanks the arrow out, rolling your eyes. You couldn't really feel anything when you were down here with him, much less did you care about the blood dripping down your front. "Right, same time next week?" He shakes his head, and you feel your brow furrow. "I talked to Seungcheol. We agreed that your presence in the Overworld, while entertaining, is fruitless. You're great at what you do, and the reason Seungcheol allows it is because he's hoping you'll eventually use it for the greater good. In your first life, you decided to challenge Seungkwan of all people. Seungkwan, Y/N." "Listen, just because he–"

"No, Y/N. This is the last time. If you're sent back, you're staying here for good." Jeonghan says sternly, and you think you see a glint of disappointment in his eyes. "You're too smart to keep doing this, stop letting your ego get in the way. You're a mortal, and you will always be a mortal." He turns away from you, and you hear the heavy gates of the Underworld open. Cerberus presents himself next to you, ready to guide you back out. You watch as Jeonghan carefully takes his seat again, and you purse your lips. Your hand rests on the open wound in your torso, feeling a bit of resentment fester in your lower belly.

"How are you sending me back this time?" "I think your original form would be good, no? I know you like the crazy hair colors but we should stick to the blueprint. Maybe then you'll behave." He says, shaking his newspaper off and opening it to the crossword. "Seungkwan regrets hurting you, you know." "Yeah, right." You scoff, feeling a pang in your chest as you recall your first time landing in the Underworld. Jeonghan had nearly sprung out of his seat, his long black hair pinned back by deep purple Gladiolus flowers. You were covered in spider's thread, wrapped tightly in the web and littered with leaves and twigs.

You'd challenged Seungkwan to a weaving contest. Your father had been highly praised amongst mortals for his talent in textiles, leading you to follow his legacy – your weaving had garnered the attention of anyone within a hundred-mile radius. This lead to your chest swelling with pride at the compliments you received, and the business you were able to bring your father. But, like Icarus, you'd flown a bit too close to the Sun. You started boasting that not even the wisest and craftiest of gods could rival your talent – even going as far as saying that Seungkwan, the god of wisdom and craft, would fail at creating something even worth his weight in silk.

Once word reached him in Olympus, he agreed to face you. He presented himself in Lydia, quickly guided to the home you shared with your father by looking for your tapestries. The owl on his shoulder blinked at you, a soft chirp from its beak as you carefully lugged out a loom to your backyard, unaware of his presence.

Seungkwan had watched you carefully from his spot behind a few bushes, something Jeonghan had later told you as he unwrapped you from the web you were bound by. You soaked up the sun in your long dress, before carefully stretching your fingers and threading the yarn through the loom. You seemed at ease with the loom, comfortably and confidently weaving the yarn through your nimble fingers.

What Jeonghan didn't tell you? Seungkwan – though turned off by your ego –  was enthralled by you, his attraction only heightened by your beauty. He would've never assumed that you would blatantly boast god-like talent without an ounce of respect. It seemed now that he was wrong, as he watched the way your pride practically seeped out of your fingers as they did what you knew best. He couldn't help but feel a bit of jealousy tangle in his stomach.

Seungkwan waited three nights to return to your home, taking shelter in the forest around your town. He returned peacefully, with a clear mind as he knocked on your door. He heard soft laughter and a gentle reassurance to your aging father as you gracefully opened the door. Your eyes were hidden behind your plump cheeks, full lips spread into a smile as you greeted him.

"Hello." He didn't respond nor introduced himself, only scanning you quietly. His eyes lingered on your lips, before noting your bandaged fingers folded neatly in front of your apricot-colored skirt.

"Can I help you, sir? Are you here on business?" You'd had no idea who was in your presence. Your warm smile almost made him forget who he was.

"You're Y/N, right?"

"That's me, sir. What can I help you with? Oh, we just got a shipment of beautiful violet yarn. It's dyed–"

"I'm Seungkwan. You said you could out-weave anyone."

Your expression changed at that, your smile turning into a smirk as you looked down at your bandaged fingers.

"A god is threatened by me?" Your voice had been teasing, but it only managed to irritate him.

"On the contrary, I quite enjoy your little act. What am I, if not a just and fair opponent?" With that, your gaze hardened slightly, and you extended your hand. He shook it carefully, watching as you walked to the center of your village, your fingers reaching for the cornucopia carefully held by a stone carving of Dionysus. You brought it to your lips, blowing what seemed to be a memorized tune.

Children flooded out of homes, followed by their parents and even some domesticated animals trailed around. Everyone smiled at your presence in the center of the village as you replaced the cornucopia.

"Everyone, I thank you for coming out. It seems we've got a visitor." You'd gestured towards Seungkwan, earning various gasps and even a scream from a young child in the crowd. Murmuring had quickly started, your bandaged hands calling for their attention as you waved them around.

"Seungkwan, the god of wisdom, craft and strategy…has come to accept my challenge." There hadn't been much speaking after that – the villagers quickly moved to watch as your father and a few other people moved looms out for you and Seungkwan. Your fingers quickly threaded the yarn through yours, watching as Seungkwan took his time unraveling it and threading it through. He noted your impatience through the flare of your nostrils.

The villagers watched in awe as the two of you wove like your lives depended on it – though, your art told different stories. The people had heard tales of Seungkwan's relentless discipline, only confirmed as he weaved those tales into each corner of his tapestry – and it caused a bit of anxiety to fester in their stomachs. His tapestry held symbols of peace, his infamous olive branch weaved into every space he could fit it.

Your tapestry told tales of Seungcheol – the god of the sky and his countless romantic escapades. You shunned him, intricately weaving each and every face of his lovers with yarn and creating a bigger battle to be faced by the god himself. You took the thrill and rush of the callout to continue onto the god of music, weaving Jihoon's lyre into the tapestry with tales of his manipulation of mortals with his song, as well as his scorn. You even went as far as involving who would one day become one of your closest friends – the god of the Underworld, Jeonghan.

You wove mercilessly, spilling truths that were unbeknownst to you. You expressed resentment against Jeonghan with your yarn, spewing hatred of his isolation and cruelty towards the damned. You implemented his manipulation of other gods and mortals, his way with words and the imposement of his feelings upon the damned.

You flew too close to the Sun.

Seungkwan watched as you fell frantic with pride, your fingers working almost overtime as you burned through yarn like there was no tomorrow. He was impressed, but his expression hardened at your disrespect of the gods. What could you, a mortal, ever understand about being a god? What could you, a simple village girl who sold tapestries for a living, understand about pressure and having to guide all those to wander to where they need to be? Who were you to judge a god for having multiple lovers – had you ever had one? Who were you to talk down on a god for being cold and isolated, when you were the very same – boasting about your pride, isolating yourself to perfect a craft that would lead you to your demise? Who were you, to complain about the blessed tune of a god, can you do anything other than weave your loud-mouthed opinions?

The damned. That's who you were, if not who you would become.

"That's enough." He'd stopped you just as you reached the end of your yarn, tearing through the tapestry you'd woven before him. Your mouth fell, watching as the god ripped your work to shreds. You, ever so human…said exactly what passed through your head.

"You gods could never imagine someone to be better than you. You, of all gods, could never accept someone that's more capable than you. Someone faster, someone wiser–"

Seungkwan decided your idea of friendly competition had taken a turn for the worse. He simply held the shreds of your work in his hands, and gave you a stern look. "Pride will get you killed, you know." And, it did. However, you didn't exactly know how, and neither did Jeonghan – just that you were wrapped in the web, with spider-like limbs protruding amongst the rubbish tangled in the spindle and your dark hair framing your tear stained face.

It seemed you couldn't get enough of the thrill, though.

You begged Jeonghan to set you free and send you back – but Jeonghan knew of your insults directed at him through your tapestry. He'd clicked his tongue at you, eyeing your clothing. Your skirt was made of only the finest thread, your fingers bleeding through the taped cloth on them. Your hair was tangled and your skin was dull, and you were truly coming to the realization that that was all you were. A human, a mortal. A plaything, if he so desired.

Nothing in comparison to Jeonghan. Nothing in comparison to Seungcheol, Jihoon and, as much as you hated to admit it, Seungkwan.

He'd made you apologize, and he kept you in the Underworld for three days and three nights. By then, Wonwoo had come to fetch you – called by Jeonghan and Seungcheol. You'd met Wonwoo several times, often trading your finest tapestries for anything he'd give you.

He'd made you and your father a special pair of scissors in exchange for a woven satchel and the cloak you'd made of hemp for him, dyed carefully with safflower petals. He wore them as he sauntered into the Underworld, bearing a gift for Jeonghan – a pomegranate, forged from bronze and riddled with garnets of all shapes and sizes. He offered Jeonghan it as a trade-off for you, and the god accepted – not saying anything about you being free to return to the Overworld. But not without a catch, and not without a punishment.

What was the catch? 

You looked nothing like yourself. You were…different. Different slopes in your nose, different curves of your ears and your legs shorter. Your fingers permanently bruised from your past life of weaving and hubris.

And it happened again, and again, and again – until Jeonghan expected you to crash into the graveled ground like a spider falling from the sky. He'd always give you the same look, the same sigh, and the same flirtatious routine. Though, the more he saw you, the more he grew fond of you. He enjoyed humiliating you, watching you squirm under his gaze – but by your eighth visit, he was tired of the act.

Wonwoo was the only one who knew how much you'd been thrust in and out of the Underworld, offering you his spare room. He and his wife had long separated, so you were simply filling the void of a companion for him.

The punishment for your shenanigans? You lost your father, and didn't get to say goodbye.

Wonwoo took care of him, from a distance, while you were routinely jostled through the experience of living and dying, and physical change. Your father was never allowed any information about you, simply being told that you'd disappeared. No one expected him to live on in peace without his only daughter –  and he fell ill with worry and stress – leaving the god of fire to beg Seungcheol to let you return to him for a final goodbye. Seungcheol refused, and your father died after three nights of hard rainfall. 

Your punishment was not the worst there was. You knew that – but it still aches deep within. You challenged anyone and anything, you didn't really care to find a cure for your pain. You fought against anyone who would allow you to – your latest quest proving that you could entice anyone into a fight far quicker than Saerom, the goddess of discord and strife.

She obviously didn't take too kindly to that, sending you back down to the Underworld with a golden arrow in your chest. Leading you to this very conversation with Jeonghan – potentially your last ever conversation with him where he doesn't banish you to the depths of hell with all those who have wronged him.

You sigh, glancing down at your fingers. The same bloodied cloth from all those years ago reappeared on your hands, your bruised fingertips softly throbbing. Your apricot skirt hung carefully on your hips, the bandage top now carefully wrapped around your torso. You felt the weight of your jewelry return to your ears and neck, the singular ruby ring sitting snugly around your right thumb.

"Are you sure? Won't they remember me?" You ask softly, and for once, Jeonghan can see inner turmoil. He shakes his head. "Everyone has either left or died. And, you're always welcome to move around as well. As far as I know…they need a weaver in Olympus."

You look up to see Jeonghan's maroon eyes glint with mischief, his smile wide as Cerberus grunts next to you. Seeing your lips curl gently, he waves his fingers at you. "I'll see you in a few decades, yeah?"

Nodding, you take a deep breath before turning your back on him, seeing the three-headed beast begin to lead the way out. "I'll see you, Jeonghan."

TWO.

Seungkwan was restless.

He promised his life to this. A life of being just, a life of being fair, a life of being a pure and sound god with nothing but the best of intentions for the mortals he helped guide. A life of losing himself, and his own desires, in order to be there for those who truly needed help, those who were truly in need of guidance and a path to follow.

He was there to answer questions and solve problems. He was there to make decisions for everyone who needed him to.

Who answers his questions? Who solves his problems, who makes decisions for him when he is too overwhelmed to think for himself? Nobody. If he doesn't do it, it simply won't get done.

He'd even attempted to take lovers in, trying to kiss and touch his way out of his own stress only to pull away before things got too heated. He couldn't, in good faith, allow himself to submit to just anyone. The mortals were just excited to be with a god, someone who could easily break them, someone who was deemed an esteemed part of their community – he didn't want them to see him like that, not during an intimate affair. He wasn't just a notch on a bedpost; he too, felt things. He'd see hurt flash through their eyes as he casted them away, shame radiating off his shoulders as they gathered their clothing and left his temple.

He felt like something was missing in all of them. He thought about it tirelessly – he felt attracted to them. He felt lust, he felt desire, but nothing got him to the point where he felt it could be quenched. His yearning for someone deeper, someone real, someone deserving of him ate away at his heart.

He sighed, hearing the echo of his shoes against the marble tile of the temple. He'd had a long day, only to be rang with yet another qualm – a mortal who searched for a job was granted access to his temple, and had been sent by Jeonghan and brought to the sacred home by Vernon, Wonwoo, and Cerberus.

Jeonghan said the mortal was good at almost anything and everything, and was looking for a mentor to take her under as she had no remaining family in all of Olympus. Vernon and Cerberus came into view as Seungkwan reached the open doors of the temple, hearing soft laughter rip through the air as Wonwoo appeared as well, but it wasn't from him.

He sees a bandaged hand resting lightly on Wonwoo's shoulder, a hint of an apricot skirt peeking from behind Vernon's leg.

"I've missed you, Wonwoo."

His ears perk at the tone of voice. It's soft, it's melodic, it's teasing. 

He clears his throat, the three-headed beast flaring its nostrils as Seungkwan takes the steps down to the gathered polycule. Wonwoo smiles at him, something mirrored by Vernon as he quickly spins around. Cerberus carefully lowers to the ground, watching Seungkwan's every move as he clears his throat again.

"Gentlemen?" He questions, and Wonwoo steps aside. He sees the long, dark hair he spun into cobwebs so long ago flowing freely down your back once more. The sliver of your honeyed skin peering through the white bandage top you wore, your taped fingers folded in front of the loose apricot skirt you wore that very day.

"Hello." You speak softly, and Seungkwan doesn't reply as your smile reaches your eyes, the same way it had the first day he'd met you. He looks at Vernon, who shrugs. Wonwoo does the same, before holding up his satchel.

"She won't take up much space, and she can help you with anything you need here. Jeonghan said to talk to Seungcheol if you have any issues." Wonwoo seems to speak as though his word is law, making Seungkwan's jaw tick. They knew how meticulous he was – a place for everything and everything in its place. His home was holy to him, his gardens crafted so not even a single blade of grass was out of place. His windows washed morning and night to let the light in perfectly, his meals like clockwork.

He wasn't sure if there was a place for you here.

Seungkwan can't bring himself to say anything to Wonwoo and Vernon, who seem dead set on leaving you here. You carefully open Wonwoo's satchel, holding out a hemp sash. It was dyed a soft olive green, likely from nettle or dandelion leaves.

"For you. They said you like green." He sucks his teeth, taking it gently from your hands and draping it over his forearm. Wonwoo smiles to himself as you move to stand by Seungkwan's side, who shuffles a bit away from you. Seungkwan was never one to shy away from a mortal, he took his job seriously.

"Well." Vernon gives a smirk, one full of mirth as he pats the scaly beast next to him. "It's best we get going, Wonwoo here has got quite the journey back to Lydia." "So you're just going to leave her here?" Seungkwan asks, a bit of a bite in his tone making Wonwoo grin.

"You'll find a job for her, right? She's good at everything, she can even make you tapestries to help decorate. Your place feels like a prison sometimes." Seungkwan scowls at this, the older man reaching to pinch his cheek gently. "We'll see you around, Boo. We'll come check on you every few weeks, try not to rip each other's heads off." The men turn on their heels and saunter off without so much as a second glance or word to either of you. He can feel you practically vibrating as they walk into the distance. He doesn't know if it's nerves or excitement, but he can't bring himself to ask as he notices your body is covered in quite a thick layer of grime. There is black streaks of dirt all over your shoulder, your arms covered in green, likely from dying the sash.

"You need a bath." He states, missing your scowl as he turns, marching back into the temple quickly. You pull your skirt up to scamper after him, your worn leather sandals clicking against the tile. He silently leads the way to a large bathroom, a clawfoot tub in the center surrounded by beautiful herbal soaps and sprigs of lavender and rosemary.

"Have you any other clothing?" He asks, carefully turning the knobs of the tub and receiving a steady flow of water.

He rings his ringed fingers under it as you shake your head. "No, just…this."

You gesture at your dirty clothing, making him click his tongue as he nods. "I'll find something. Feel free to use anything here, and I'll be back."

He can feel your eyes trail after him as he leaves, before hearing the soft thwip of your clothing being pulled off your body, the jingle of your jewelry being pooled together. He hears the splash of the water as you lower yourself into the tub, and a hum as you test the temperature.

He scurries off to his bedroom, throwing open a few of his drawers to see if he has anything he could offer you. You looked exactly the same as before, but he'd sworn that you'd died. He'd wrapped the cobweb so tight, he was sure you would have kicked the bucket at some point.

But, here you were. As if you didn't remember, as if nothing had happened between the two of you that would make you want to hate him. He had to tell you, right? It was the just thing to do, the honest and right thing to do.

He grimaces to himself, yanking a white chiton out of his drawer. It'd been a gift from a former lover, but it'd be your pajamas for the night. He shuffles around for towels, taking the softer ones out of his closet before trekking back out and hearing you hum a soft melody. One that reminded him of Jihoon, his tunes of love and desperate isolation.

When you come back into view, your entire body is submerged below the soapy water. The bandages on your fingers soaked through as your hand dangles over the edge of the tub, your thumb ring a sparkling contrast. Your legs are crossed, one foot in the air as you examine your toes. It was like it was your first time on Earth.

"Here." He drapes the items over the towel rack a few inches away, and you look up at him. Your face was stained as well, a few odd lines likely from streaming tears paving their way through the dirt on your cheeks. You give him a smile.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" You ask gently, and he sighs, folding his hands in front of him before nodding. You sit up, your bare chest peeking over the soap as he looks away. "I can't…my fingers are really messed up."

You hold your hand up, the bandages threatening to peel off before you close your fingers again. "Can you wash my hair?" This is innocent. Even seeing you in the nude, meant nothing to him. He'd done this for dozens of mortals who had worked under him. He knew he was a tough guy to please, his perfectionism often shown in the pricking of his pupils' fingers and their sore joints. He nods.

"As you wish." He moves around as you adjust, dragging a stool from behind the door to the tub and lingering at a shelf in the wall. "Rosemary? Lavender? Thyme?" He gestures at the jars of infused shampoos, and you shrug your shoulders.

"Whatever you'd like is fine." He plucks the rosemary shampoo off the shelf, opting to roll his sleeves up and sliding his rings off before he sits at the stool. He shoves the rings in his pocket, before running his fingers under the running water once more to ensure its warmth.

"Lean back for me." He murmurs, and you tilt your head back, letting the water stream over your hairline and brows. Your eyes flicker open, watching as his hands gently card through the tangled locks, carefully undoing the knots you'd acquired.

It's not long before his dull nails are working the shampoo into your scalp softly, making your shoulders sag in relief. He assumes you'd been gone for a very long time, probably under the watchful eye of Jeonghan and whatever other damned souls were down there. He scratches behind your ears softly, making you shiver and close your eyes as you lean into the touch.

"How long has it been since you've had a bath?" He asks aloud, and you sigh quietly. 

"In this form, or the others?" 

"The others?" He echoes, and you peel an eye open to look at him.

"I remember you, you know." He tries not to let relief show in his face as he nods with an unimpressed look. "I figured as much, otherwise Jeonghan wouldn't have sent you here. Your second chance is my punishment." "My ninth chance." You murmur as he tilts your head back into the running water, the shampoo running off the sides. You close your eyes again, and Seungkwan says nothing as he rakes his fingers through your hair. He gently rubs the dirt off your cheeks before you move away.

"I don't expect you to like me, nor do I expect you to do me any favors beyond this one. I'm only here because Jeonghan said he wouldn't send me back again, so I have to be on my best behavior." You mutter, sitting up before tugging your bandages off with your teeth and flinging the wet cloth onto the floor by your dirty clothes. Seungkwan grimaces, before watching as you grab a bar of soap and run it under the water.

"I can take care of myself. You can go now." You say, the gentle tone gone as you lather the soap off the bar and gently work it into your face. Your fingers are so bruised he worries they hurt. 

He stands, replacing the stool to its rightful spot and moving towards the door, stopping at the threshold. "Your room is down the corridor to the left. You are the only other person in the temple, so you will have to work with me if you want to stay here. I hope that's understood." He doesn't give you a chance to reply before closing the bathroom door behind him, almost slamming it as he walks away. He walks to his kitchen, dragging a tub of beeswax his previous pupil had collected carefully over the course of her time in his temple. She tended to his gardens, before sending her on her way back to her village with a new skill to use for profit.

He can hear you clamber about, but chooses to focus on his task. He's carefully melting the beeswax in a pot, when he hears you walking around the temple. He doesn't move except to gather his ingredients – peppermint oil, calendula infused oil, olive oil. It would help your fingers, and hopefully you wouldn't be so stuck in your ways this time that you end up hurting yourself trying to be the best.

Something he has yet to learn how to stop doing – but if he admits to imperfection, if he admits to flaws, is he a god? You're pacing around the temple and taking everything in, he can practically hear you murmuring to yourself as you wander into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the dining table.You catch yourself, and he continues to watch you out of the corner of his eye as you pick through the fruit in the bowl. You pull an apple, rubbing the skin against his chiton. 

Your teeth sink into the flesh of the fruit, the crunch satisfying to his ears as you inch closer to him. You're peering over his shoulder, when he finally speaks.

"Do you always just make yourself at home?" He asks, and you're so close to him he can practically feel the shrug of your shoulders. 

"This is home, isn't it? I'm here for a while, maybe the rest of my measly, mortal life. Might as well be a nuisance to you, oh wise one"

You're teasing him, provoking him. He knows he shouldn't buy into it, that's what landed you back here in the first place. "Watch it." He snaps, and you giggle behind him.

"Whatever you say." Your words are drawn out as you prance out of the room, a hum from your throat as you do so. He grumbles to himself as he measures out everything perfectly, heating everything just right so it will help your fingers in the best way possible. He should be freaking out. He should be storming the Underworld right now, demanding Jeonghan take you back to whatever hell you were in before he sent you to him. He should be angry that you're in his presence, your ego so hard to swallow even when now you've only been sent back as a way for Seungkwan to right his wrongs. Or so he thinks.

However, just as you are vain and you are prideful, Seungkwan is selfish and Seungkwan is intolerant of your disrespect. It could very well be a challenge not only sent by Jeonghan but by Seungcheol, to prove his worthiness and show that he can be perfect, too.

Not that any of the gods were perfect by any means.

He sighs, carefully pouring the mixture into a tin, where it'll slightly solidify and you'll be able to use it as a salve for your tired hands. And eventually, your tired feet, because you certainly won't have any downtime.

He carefully walks back towards his bedroom, the hot tin in his hand as he does so. Your head of curls is seen ducking into the room, and he tries to hold back his annoyance as he turns into the room as well.

"What are you doing here?" He announces as you throw open his shutters, the moonlight illuminating the room and your frame as you stare out the window at the rolling hills of his backyard. You don't look back at him as you take another bite of your apple, crossing your arms and leaning on the windowsill before responding around your food.

"I told you, this is my home now, too." He doesn't respond, choosing to slide the hot tin onto his vanity before carefully slipping his shirt over his head, the worn wool tossed into a woven basket by the door. You're not looking at him, but he's hoping you'll get the hint and get out as he disappears into his closet. He removes the rest of his attire, grabbing his robe and tying it around himself before exiting the closet to see you now draped across his reading chair, a lit candle in your hand as you skimmed his open books.

"You have books in your room," he calls, and your eyes twinkle with something he can't place as you blow out the candle. He watches as you replace it gently, and push off his chair. 

"Goodnight, wisest one." You blow him a kiss as you skip out of his room, and he feels like he might be stuck in a constant state of déjà vu. He shakes his head, grabbing a towel before heading towards the bathroom. He sees your clothes still gathered on the floor, struggling not to roll his eyes as he drapes his towel over the rack, carefully picking your clothes up and placing them inside a wooden basket by the door. He turns the water on, and is about to take his robe off when he hears you knock at the door.

"Kwannie? Can I call you Kwannie?" You call, and he tongues his cheek in annoyance as he flings open the door. 

"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?" You shrug, "I don't like my bed. Can I have yours?" He scoffs out a laugh, before seeing you blink up at him owlishly. "You're not being serious." "But I am, Kwannie! I'm a guest, you wouldn't let your guest sleep on that horrible bed, would you? You're a gracious host." Your hands are holding onto the fabric of his robe, your thumbs circling it before his hands are on your wrists, pulling them off him.

"You take what you're given, threadling." His voice is stern, and he's about to close the door when he sees the pout on your lips, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before sighs. "Fine, take the bed." "Really!?" You squeal, making him shut the door in your face. 

"Don't. Just go to bed."

Seungkwan couldn't stop thinking after that. He quietly slipped into his bedroom after his bath, seeing you sound asleep with his pillow covered in your mess of curls. Your lips were slightly parted, slivers of your teeth illuminated by the moonlight. He took the moment to look closely at your face, a few surface-level scars scattered across your skin. Your eyes were thickly lashed and you had deep bags from lack of rest.

You left the other side of the bed with the covers pulled back, almost inviting him to slide in with you. He eyes it, taking the pillow and tucking it under his arm.

He sat at his desk, watching your even breathing as he slid the pillow against his lower back. He wonders who else you challenged and why they sent you back. He wonders why they gave you so many chances as a mere mortal, and why Seungcheol didn't strike you down the moment your insults gained wind.

"Stop staring at me."

Your voice rang through the room, and Seungkwan just tilted his head.

"No." Your head moves up slightly, and you sigh. "Whatever." You roll onto your side, facing away from the open window. The moonlight now shines on your back and legs, and he notes the way your feet peek out from under the wool blanket. Your toenails are painted in a chipped carmine, and he simply sighs to himself as he crosses his arms over his chest and attempts to get comfortable in the wooden rocking chair.

"You'd be much more comfortable on the bed." You call, and he hums in response. His head rests against the wooden rest, crossing his legs at the ankles as you sit up. "Seungkwan." "Yes, threadling?" His eyes are closed, hands folded in his lap as he responds. He shows no interest in what you could possibly have to say. You're just another chore to him, another mission he must complete to prove himself. He'd be a fool to fall for your charms, or your deceptions. You could flirt all you want, you could challenge him all you want – but he won't give in to you.

Not again.

THREE.

The night had continued without another word from either of you, and you were not in bed when he woke up. He heard the soft running of water and assumed you decided to bathe once more. Seungkwan's back was incredibly sore, but he rose with the sun anyway. He stretched on his patio, before retreating into the kitchen to make breakfast – spotting you tinkering in there already.

You're not wearing what he gave you yesterday – instead, a red, glittering sash from his collection bunched and pinned, tied around your waist like a skirt. It dropped to your mid-thigh, and your chest was covered by a pinned piece of white linen you'd likely found in his closet, something he didn't have use for.

You really knew how to make something out of almost nothing.

You stood in front of his stone oven, holding the wooden peel as a staff and tapping your bare foot against the marble floor. He peers over your shoulder to see a dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt above the flame. Your eyes are illuminated by the fire baking it, and your shoulders jump when you hear him speak behind you.

"What are you doing?" "Making bread. We should really go to the market, you've run out of fish." You respond, gesturing to the table. He looks over his shoulder, seeing an array of fresh fruit and goat cheese neatly placed on plates from his cupboard. There is a pile of juiced oranges and a few carrot peels in his compost bin, and the juice sits in a pitcher next to the jar of honey.

"I left a salve for you on the vanity. Did you put it on?" He asks, not moving from behind you. You nod, holding up your free hand. Your fingers are freshly bandaged, this time in strips of linen. The salve was carefully spread around your fingertips.

"Why are you being so nice to me? You killed me off eight years ago, what makes now any different?" Your question catches him a bit off guard. His head whips up to look at you, and sees you already staring down at home. The flame in your eyes is just as intense, if not more, than the one in the oven. It's like you resent him.

"I'm not a human. I don't have to admit or explain anything to you, we're not the same." He speaks with confidence, and it only makes your brow furrow deeper.

"You don't have to be human to admit your wrongdoings. You killed me off because I made you look bad, Seungkwan." He scoffs, adjusting his pajama shirt. "I sent you to the Underworld because your ego was absolutely suffocating. I don't understand how anyone within a ten-foot radius wasn't crushed by the sheer weight of your hubris."

"Isn't this my land, too? Isn't this where I can express my feelings and my rights, where I can–" His hand comes up, cutting you off just like he did the day you left.

"You are a human. You can train to be the best, you can try to do whatever you desire in this world. You will never be perfect, therefore you cannot compare where you don't compete." He can tell the words hurt you as your eyes glaze over slowly, but you refuse to back down.

"I may not be perfect, but you're also far from it." You grumble, turning away from him to take the bread out of the oven. "Being a god means nothing. You're just like me, all you've got is something fancy to show for it. Something that proves that there are favorites in this world. Without your so-called wisdom, without your so-called perfect presentation, you'd be just like me." He doesn't speak, feeling a bit of fury pool in his stomach.

You carefully pull the bread out of the oven, sliding it onto the cooling rack you left on the counter. You adjust the wooden peel against the wall, before turning to him with one last slip of your tongue.

"You may be a god. You may be good at what you represent, you may be rich in wealth and you may be handsome. Your fellow gods boast your compassion, but you've shown me none. You are nothing but a frail shadow of a man playing pretend, nothing but someone who lacks what life is truly rich with – love." His eyes scan your face.

"What would you even know about love?" He doesn't like the way you smile at him.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you? You'd want me to tell you all my secrets, to show you what it's like to be normal and not have to live up to anyone's unrealistic expectations." You're stepping closer, a finger to his chest as you speak. "You'd love to know what the touch of a woman feels like, what it's like to be coddled and kissed and touched until you can't think anymore." You're so close that your lips are brushing the shell of his ear now, and he can feel your lips curl into a smirk as you whisper.

"You want to be forgiven for your sins, but you know if you ever so much as think of telling anyone how much of a screw-up you really are, you'll be seen as less than. Less than your peers, and a disappointment to your elders. You want to be loved, but to be loved is to be known. I don't think you're ready for that."

He feels you brush past him, and his face heats in embarrassment as he hears your feet patter away, and the door of your bedroom shut tightly.

He ignores the tear that slips down his face, letting it drip onto the floor as he scans the array of breakfast once more. He's not hungry. He hates that you've chipped a bit away at his façade, he hates that you're able to read him so easily. It only means he has to try harder to dominate this relationship.

The rest of the day was filled with nothing but silence and tension. 

After your encounter in the kitchen early that morning, it seemed you had no interest in interacting with Seungkwan. He didn't really care, taking the time instead to make the trip to the market. He'd heard you rustling about in your bedroom before he made his leave, and assumed you were trying to make yourself comfortable.

It'd begun raining after he left, making him agitated as he watched vendors put up their tarps in the market. He carefully roamed through the market, picking the best produce amongst the selections. He even stopped by a textile tent and picked out a few fabrics for you, assuming you'd need more clothing. He packed everything and made his way home, parasol over his shoulder as he arrived.

Only to enter the temple and see the oven aflame again, but you are nowhere near it. A loud roll of thunder sounds overhead, and he hears a soft sigh from the gardens. He leaves the items he got on the table, quickly making his way towards the garden doors to see you standing with your hands clasped behind your back, your clothing clinging to your skin as you let the rain drench you.

"You're going to get sick." He calls from the threshold, and you only peer over your shoulder at him. Shrugging, you turn back to look over the flower field he'd carefully curated, and he sees a few sprigs of lavender tucked over your ear. Your hair has been long soaked, sticking to your shoulders and back as he groans inwardly.

"Y/N, come inside."

"No." You turn to face him. "I like the way it feels." "The rain? It's cold and you're wet, your clothes are ruined." He says pointedly, and you shrug once more, looking up at the sky. 

"We were born naked, we will die naked. Who cares?" "You're being existential and it's freaking me out, come inside." He rolls his eyes, and you tilt your head at him. 

"Why don't you come out here? Have you ever danced in the rain?" "I don't dance, Y/N. Now, come on. I won't ask again." You seemingly oblige, slowly strolling back to the limestone and stopping a few feet in front of him. He steps to the side, assuming you'll walk inside. You shake your hand, holding your hand out. "Dance with me." He rubs his temples, a grimace on his face. "Didn't you say Jeonghan told you to be on your best behavior? This doesn't seem like very good behavior." "He said best behavior when you're bossing me around, not when I get to simply exist. It won't kill you to indulge me, aren't you supposed to be warm and welcoming?" You argue, your hand not dropping from where you've extended it.

"I'm supposed to guide you so you don't do something stupid, and you're here so I can ensure that your life can bring you something of fruit. Now, come inside, before I bring you in here myself." He's stern, but he can't help and notice the way your eyes flash as you take a step back.

"You're going to have to catch me, then." You're shrugging dramatically, and Seungkwan groans. 

"Y/N, don't do this." "I like it when you beg." You smirk, taking yet another step back. His jaw ticks and he sees you sprint off the limestone patio and into the flower field. He crosses his arms, letting you get as far as the marigolds before he sighs inwardly, stepping out into the rain and walking towards the field. "Gotta be faster than that, Seungkwan!"

He scowls at your teasing, feeling his stomach churn as he breaks into a jog, watching as you twirl into the zinnias. He doesn't like this, feeling like he's following your lead because you refuse to respect him as a god. He doesn't like the fact that he feels his shoulders less tense at the idea of it, and his mind has only the goal of dragging you inside before you get sick.

"Missed me, missed me!" You call, even making a show of doing a curtsy into the tulips. He's close enough to grab you, but waits. Your back is turned to him when he grabs your arm, pulling you to him. 

"Y/N, this is not a game." He mutters as you let him tug you close, a smile on your lips proving your enjoyment at making him work to catch you.  

"Yet, you played along." You reply coyly, before he rolls his eyes, and you nearly scream as he single-handedly throws you over his shoulder. 

"No more of this. You're going to have a bath and we're going to eat and go to bed. The real work starts tomorrow." You're silent as he walks the two of you back to the temple, feeling your cheeks hot at the placement of his ringed fingers around your thigh. You don't really like Seungkwan, because, well – you resent him for having sent you to the Underworld over friendly competition. But, you're still just a woman, and the feeling of his warm fingers gripping your skin was proof of carnal desire's existence within you.

He sets you down in the threshold, his nimble fingers making quick work of the pins in the makeshift skirt you'd wrapped yourself in earlier that morning. This seemed normal for him, gathering the pins between plump lips as he nearly ripped your top off. You weren't complaining, his knuckles brushing against your skin gently. "Go. Bathe. You'll get sick."

"Seems like an excuse just to see me naked, Seungkwan." "Go." His voice holds a bite before he gathers your hair in his hand, carefully wringing the water out just outside the doorway. A soft push of his damp hand on your shoulder makes you move forward, and you make your way to the hallway, peering over your shoulder to see the god grimacing as he peels his own top off, a low whistle from your lips before you disappear down the hall.

You can hear him groan as he walks around, likely cold from the rain. "Would you like to join me?" You call, and hear a scoff from the kitchen.

He doesn't respond, and you hear the trickle of water into the sink. You assume he's wringing your clothes out, and you shrug as you draw yourself a bath once more. You scour his shampoo jars carefully, this time grabbing the citrus one. The bathroom quickly fills with soft basil and grapefruit notes, and you sink yourself into the warmth of the water.

You don't know how much time has passed when you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door, and Seungkwan clearing his throat before asking if he can come in. You hum in approval, choosing to keep your eyes closed as he opens the door. You wear the soft brush of his robe against the door, and you ignore the disappointment settling in your stomach.

"I got you these at the market. I figured we'd be able to make something of them." He holds up a few pieces of linen, different patterns catching your eyes as you peel them open. You nod excitedly, leaning over the edge of the tub to look closer. "I have pins and sewing needles somewhere around here, we can get some measurements done when you're out." He says pointedly, giving you a quick once over before he holds up a towel and places it on the rack. "Be quick." "Don't you also need a bath?" You ask, leaning your cheek on your palm. 

He gives you a quizzical look. "Did you expect me to take it with you?" "Would that kill you? To be enticed by a human?" Your smile is sly, but he rolls his eyes. 

"Mortals and gods are meant to interact, Y/N." "Have you ever slept with one?" 

His brow furrows, before he scoffs. "Do you always ask such personal questions?" Shrugging, you lean back into the water. "Just wanted to know. I know some humans like sleeping with gods, it makes them feel important or whatever." You roll your eyes, and he just waves you off.

"I've no need to sleep with a mortal. There's a certain insatiability to humans that I simply don't have time for." He states, and you look up at him with squinted eyes. 

"You mean…?"

Sighing, he leans against the doorway of the bathroom. "Once you start messing around with humans like that, you can't stop. It's like…you feed off their mortality. You become addicted to how they feel, how they taste, how…vulnerable, they are." He looks a little disgusted as he says this, but shakes it off as he looks at the linens in his hands. "It would make me an unjust god to involve myself that way. My job isn't to bring you…sexual gratification." "Is that why Seungcheol is the way he is?" You ask, and you don't miss the way Seungkwan's eyes trail the way your legs peek over the soapy water. Shifting, his eyes snap back to yours, "No, Seungcheol is the way he is because he likes attention. He needs it to function." Rolling your eyes, "He's the god of the sky, everyone practically worships him." "Everyone but you, it seems." He says, and you smile at him. 

"Am I supposed to?" "My job is to guide you, but I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do, you're a mortal. You've got free will." He clicks his tongue, before his fingers toy with the doorknob. "I'll be in my bedroom." "Get pretty while you wait for me." You wink, and he scowls. 

"You're such a brat." The door closes before you can say anything, only a laugh from your chest as you unplug the drain, watching the water slide down. You rinse off with the running water, carefully squeezing your hair of excess as you step out of the tub, gingerly wrapping the towel around yourself and tucking the corner in. 

Opening the door, you carefully walk down the hall to Seungkwan's room, hearing him rustle around before you knock. A muffled come in is heard, and you open the door to see him holding a few pins in his mouth as he drags a step stool to the center of the room. His eyes glance up at you, before he beckons you forward. You walk in, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him get situated.

"What's all this?" You peer at the materials he's laid out, seeing a pair of scissors oddly reminiscent of Wonwoo's style. 

"I can't have you working under me without proper attire. So, we're going to do some measurements, and I'll have this done by morning." "So I'm expected to be nude for the next few hours?" You scoff out a laugh, and he gives you a raised brow. 

"I have a few robes, if that'll make you feel better? It doesn't bother me either way, it's your body." "And you've never been attracted to a mortal?" You tease, causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. 

"You won't let this go, will you?" "You may be a god, but you're also a man. Forgive me for assuming you think with both heads." You say, perching on the edge of the step stool and crossing one leg over the other. The towel bares your thighs, and he shakes his head.

"Not being intimate with mortals doesn't mean I don't feel lust or desire." He rolls his eyes, and you smirk at him. 

"But you won't give into your desires because it shows you're just as human as any of us, right?" He sighs, beckoning you to stand. "On the stool, please. Careful." He holds his hand out for the towel, and you peel it off slowly before handing it to him. He drapes it over the back of his desk chair as you step onto the flat seat of the stool. 

He analyzes you carefully, walking around your nude body with his fingers tapping his lips. "Do you prefer your clothes loose?" "On the bottom, easier access if I want to execute my free will." You use air quotes, and he snorts. 

"All humans are the same, riddled with their own desire." "I'm just a woman, Seungkwan. I have needs, too." You roll your eyes as he holds a piece of linen to your hip, before his other hand trails your back to meet the two corners of fabric together. He pins it carefully, before you speak again.

"So what do you do? When you're overwhelmed with want?" You make a show of your words, jazz hands around him as he drapes fabric in certain ways for a different flow. 

He shakes his head, "Do I have to answer that?" "What are you if not an honest god, Seungkwan?" Your teasing makes his jaw clench, you notice, but you say nothing as he pins the fabric in another spot. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to drape the fabric yet another way for more dimension. A few more folds and pins later, he steps back and looks at his work. "Pretty?" He asks, turning you to face the mirror behind you, his hands on your hips as he watches your reaction change into a timid smile. 

"Yeah, pretty." "Perfect." He nods, unpinning it at the hip so it can stay together as it falls off and he drapes it across the bed carefully. "I'll sew this for you and it can be your outfit for tomorrow! I think you need sleepwear, right?" He taps his chin as he thinks, scanning the remaining fabrics. "I don't mind sleeping like this, actually. I'd rather have more day clothing." You speak as you step off the stool, and he hums in response.

"Are you sure? It can get quite cold in the bedrooms." He says, reaching for a bright yellow piece of linen. He holds it up to your chest, a quizzical look in his eyes as he gazes at you carefully. 

"You can warm me up if I get too cold, can't you?" "What is it with you and these odd little questions, threadling? Are you attracted to me?" He rolls his eyes, not expecting you to shrug your shoulders. 

"I'm human, not blind. I might not like you, but I can appreciate that you're nice to look at." You worry his eyes might get stuck in his head if he keeps rolling them, but he shakes his head as he pins the yellow linen over your shoulder. "Humans, such odd creatures." "Odd is good though." You say into the air, and he smiles as he raises your arm to pin the fabric against your ribs. 

"Odd is good, you're right. It keeps me entertained." "I'm not going to be your jester, if that's what you're alluding to." You warn, and he actually laughs, for the first time since you'd arrived. 

"Nonsense, I'd never put you in that position." "What about others?" His face is closer than it had ever been as he pins the fabric around your neck, and he lets out a hum. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

You're not satisfied with that answer, but Seungcheol made you good at everything – including luring people into your web of lust and yearning, making them a moth to your flame. Surely, Seungkwan was no different.

"But we could." You murmur, trailing your eyes down the soft curve of his jaw. Sighing, he steps back slightly and you feel his warm breath against your skin as he turns you to face the mirror once more. 

He holds the loose fabric in his fingers, pulling it taut against your torso. "We'd pin this back here. What do you think?" "I think you're avoiding my questions because you're scared of giving in to me." You say pointedly, watching his face in the reflection as he purses his lips. 

"Do you like the draping or not, so we can try something else?" "Yeah, I like it." You roll your eyes, feeling the fabric become loose once more as he lets it go, carefully moving around to unpin you. His fingers linger against your skin, before you're nude in front of the mirror once more. This goes on for a while, different linens being draped across your body in almost an expert manner. Pins are carefully put in and pulled out, and soon his bed is covered in your carefully folded options and set aside to be finished for you. "Here, I'm going to take a quick bath and then we need to eat dinner." He slides a robe over your shoulders, prompting you to slip your arms through the soft silk. 

"So seeing me like this does nothing for you?" You try again, and he just chuckles in disbelief.

"Do you want me to compliment you or something? You realize I've seen plenty of naked bodies in my lifetime, right?" He says, replacing the stool in the corner of the room as you perch on the edge of the bed. 

"Oh, I'm sure this is the norm for you. Just loads of beautiful women throwing themselves at you because they think you have something to offer them." "And yet, they never get anything from me." He nods, not seeing the way your eyes widen. 

"What?" "Exactly what I said. You're not the first human to be in this temple, and you might not be the last. Everyone needs me for one thing or another, and once they've gotten their fill, they think I can offer to fill their carnal desires. I guess they see it as a payment, but it's honestly just a bit insulting." He shrugs, and you hum in response.

"So you've never…slept with a mortal?" You ask, leaning on your hands as he rustles through his closet, conjuring a towel and returning in yet another robe. 

He shakes his head. "I never let it get that far." "But you'll do other things? You'll let them touch you?" You prod, and he shrugs, with a smile. 

"I like the game, not super into the prize. As much of a prize as a mortal can be, I guess. I know they don't really want me for me, so I just play along until they realize I won't be giving them what they want. At least, not fully." "What does that mean, though?" You call as he begins to take his walk down to the bathroom, and he sighs loudly. 

"Why does it matter, angel?"

Your lip twitches at the pet name. You choose not to respond, instead letting the conversation seep into your mind and hopping off the bed, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

Might as well make myself useful, you think.

It doesn't take long to prepare a light dinner. Wine, oiled bread and carefully speared fruit. You're forcing a skewer through lamb chunks when you hear him wander into the kitchen, the top notes of his minty soap slightly overwhelming.

You are just a woman, after all.

"Lamb?" He asks, and you can feel the heat of his body behind you. 

You hold up the skewer, nodding, "I figured it'd be quick and easy. I'd like to get to bed early, you said tomorrow would be my demise." "You're dramatic, that is not what I said." He snorts, moving away from you to get the fire started. The two of you work in unison to get dinner on the flame, opting to sit on the same side of the table and sip your wine as you stare at the fire.

"Do you ever feel lonely?" You ask, resting your wine in the dip of your lap. He shakes his head.

"No. I've heard a lot about that, though. Humans feel like they need someone, or something, to fill a void. I think it's just a feeling of emptiness because they've yet to love themselves and choose to fill the hole with material things, or attempt to patch it with someone else."

He sips his wine as you gawk at him, a scoff from your throat.

"That's not at all what that means, Seungkwan."

His head lolls to the side, a smile on his lips. "Isn't it, though? What do you take it to mean?" Okay, maybe he's right. Maybe.

"It means that you…the human emotion is very complex, you know? It means wanting more, it means being satisfied with yourself but wanting companionship. It means–" "It means humans are greedy." He interrupts, and you almost miss the way he inches a little closer. "It means all you do is take, and take, and take. Humans are slaves to the desires they feel, you don't really need anyone to be happy or fulfilled. It's all a human concept."

Your nose scrunches as you grimace, and he sighs, sliding his cup onto the table. "Humans act like loneliness is…for example, you see the stars." He gestures to the window above the counter, the sky now clear and the moonlight floods into the kitchen.

"Humans want to say that loneliness is the stars in the sky looking wrong. Or, they make up things like speaking to the moon and hoping their lover is somewhere else, looking at that very same moon and doing the same. Humans are experts in yearning, because of that free will you've been granted." He states, and you slide closer to him, your thigh bumping his.

"So you've never yearned for anyone?" You ask, looking slightly down at him as he leans back onto the table. 

He shakes his head, "I've never had anyone be worth enough to pine after. I'm just not the kind of god that needs that fulfillment, like Seungcheol or Wonwoo." "So you don't think any mortal and god love stories could be successful? Or any love stories, in general? Have you got a glacier for a heart?" 

He hums, "I do think it's possible, to love and to be loved. However, let's take Mingyu and Tzuyu, for example. Mingyu fell in love with her after striking himself with one of his own arrows. They've been inseparable since, but that doesn't mean they have a beautiful love story. It started as an honest mistake, and now they've been together for as long as I can remember." "Don't you remember how much Tzuyu fought for him after she betrayed him? How she faced his mother, who wanted her dead, to win him back? You don't think she loves him after all she suffered to earn him, and then Mingyu taking her to Seungcheol to make her into a goddess, moved by her love and dedication for him? You don't think that's far more than just a mistake?" "What, you believe in fate?" He asks lazily, and you scoff. "Yes! I do! I believe they were destined to be together!" You argue, and he smiles. 

"You would believe that, yeah. After all, Tzuyu was a mortal. Maybe you want the same for yourself." Your brows furrow, and you knock his shoulder gently. "I would never want to become a goddess, I'd rather die than fall in love with some god who thinks he's too good for me." "Oh, but isn't that what Mingyu did? Fall in love with a mortal despite being better than her, and bringing her to his world to have her forever?" He raises a brow, and you scowl. 

"Mingyu doesn't think that he's better than Tzuyu, otherwise he would have never asked Seungcheol to turn her into a goddess." Seungkwan sits up, his face now mere inches from yours as he speaks. "She betrayed his trust, after he said he could never see his face. Don't you know why that is?" "Have you ever thought that maybe it was to protect her?!" You tongue your cheek in annoyance, the acknowledgement of knowing maybe you're subtly wrong appearing on your face. He smiles, returning to his original position before sighing.

"You're somewhat right, I guess. But, I get it. I can see why that's a beautiful love story to you, full of forgiveness and dedication for a lover. Even if it did start off wrong, some of the most amazing stories never have very clean beginnings." He nods, before standing to retrieve the now cooked skewers from the fire.

You eat silently, the two of you still staring at the fire as you chew. Seungkwan swipes his napkin across your lip a few times, and you find yourself missing the touch as you clean up. He finishes off his wine, and yours once you offer it, and diligently washes both cups as the cicadas chirp outside the window.

Following behind him as he leads the way, you're hesitant to walk past him to your own bedroom. You'd lied about the bed, it was fine. In fact, you were sure it was better than Seungkwan's. "Something on your mind, angel?" He asks as you stop a few feet from your door, and you can almost hear the smug smirk on his face. You tap your foot, wondering if you should admit to the silly little fear of yours. "Closed mouths don't get fed." He calls again, and you huff, turning on your heel and walking to stand in front of him. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" You mutter, hearing his tongue click and echo around the temple. 

"Why? And it's not that my bed is better than yours, I know that." You scowl, "I don't like sleeping alone. I don't like the dark."

His amused look is hidden by his hand over his mouth, a pout on your own as you cross your arms. "You're such a human." "You're being mean." Mumbling, you push past him and tug the covers off his bed. He watches you silently, your robe sliding off your body and pooling at your feet before you slide into the warm duvet. He bites back a laugh, before stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind him. Walking up to the bed, he picks the robe up and hangs it on the bedpost, before rounding the frame and copying your movements on the opposite side. Your eyes are open, and you watch as he slips in next to you.

"Stay on your side. You can obey that, right?" He says into the air, facing away from you as he pulls the cover over his waist. Your eyes trail his back, shoulders slightly tensed as he gets comfortable. You want to reach out and touch him, but choose to clench your hands under your pillow, before sighing and turning the other way.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan."

"Goodnight, angel."

FOUR.

Somehow, Seungkwan was on the other side of the bed.

You were nestled into his naked torso, your lips pouted against his neck. Your hair was a mess around you, your leg flung over his waist as you slept soundly. He rolls his eyes, wondering how to get out of the position without waking you. It's barely dawn, he likes some time to himself before dealing with the mortals that are honestly the bane of his existence.

He gently wraps his fingers around your knee, moving you off his body with precision. He'd never let any of the other mortals sleep in his bed, much less with him, but he knows it's the guilt from killing you off years ago. Unfortunately, Seungkwan is far too aware of his wrongs. In the past, he'd gotten scolded by several of his peers due to his harsh nature. He and Vernon got drunk over an aged wine a few years after your disappearance and Seungkwan admitted he'd jumped the gun on punishment.

What he didn't know was that Vernon spoke to Seungcheol about it, who then spoke to Jeonghan about it. That's how they came up with sending you back to Seungkwan for your last chance at life, maybe you could right your wrongs with each other. You both struggle with pride and yearn to be perfect, never wanting to admit when you're wrong.

But you were human, you knew you couldn't be perfect. You had a softer heart, not having seen the things Seungkwan had seen or lived the life he'd known. Seungkwan had built his walls up nice and high, and rarely let anyone in to take a peek. You in his bed was something he'd never allow if you were just anyone.

He knows it's also his attraction for you coming to the surface. It didn't take a genius to realize that it was this he'd been looking for in every lover he'd ever tried to have – your witty remarks, your obvious disinterest in him or his skills as a god. You weren't looking at him as some being worth worshiping, but someone who needed to be loved, to be held together and forgiven – despite resenting him.

He knows you can't possibly know how much his past decisions weigh on him, but it is scary to think that you can sense something about him. You know something, something that makes him feel uneasy, and it's what's inside. You know his pain, his truth, his heart.

Sighing, he softly rolls you onto your back, covering your bare frame with the duvet. It's only half true, what he said about your body – he's amazed at every curve and dimple, he wants to run his hands all over you until the end of time. He likes the way your hips swing as you walk, the bounce in your step and how soft your cheeks are. How soft you are.

What kind of god is he if he gives into his desires? If he sinks his teeth into you like a cat catching a mouse, if he lets you teeter him around like a puppet for just a taste of you? What kind of god is he if he lusts after you when he knows getting involved with mortals won't end well for him, especially when he knows the moment you sink your claws into him, he'd be a goner? Not much of a god then, is he? "Don't go." You murmur, eyes still closed and brows scrunched as you touch his wrist. He jolts slightly, but moves to pull away anyway. "I have to. I need to make your clothes." He whispers back, the sun beginning to peek in through the open window. 

Pouting, you pull him closer. "Just a little longer." "The sky's awake, angel. I have to be up." He works your fingers off his wrist, splaying your hand across his pillow. "I'm still in the room, I'm not going anywhere." This seems to be enough for you, as he grabs the robe you wore the night before and shrugs it on. He wipes at his eyes carefully, stretching before he slides off the bed. He tucks the corner of the duvet under the pillow, watching your fingers grasp at the pillowcase.

He moves around quietly, gathering the linens he'd pinned for you the night before. He sits at his desk, opening his drawer to get his glasses out and prepares needle and thread. Glancing up, he sees you pouting still, burying your face into his pillow with a sigh – and feels a twinge in his chest.

Zeroing back in, he quietly sews the linen as the sun rises slowly. You toss and turn, frustrated sounds coming from the direction of his bed enticing him to look over – but he doesn't. It's not until he accidentally pricks his finger with a pin that he notices you've gotten up and are settling on the floor next to his chair. 

"What are you doing, threadling?" He asks, almost as if he doesn't really care what you're doing. 

"Can't sleep." You mutter, reaching your fingers out to touch his ankle as you lay down, wrapping yourself like a burrito in the blanket. He peers down at you, seeing the way your fingers ghost over his skin when he sighs, pushing his chair back carefully.

"Alright, come on. Get up." 

You groan up at him, feeling him move away from your fingertips as you sit up. "What?" He doesn't respond, choosing to walk away from you and sink back into the bed. He huffs a bit, trying to hide the giddy feeling in his stomach as he sees you slowly approach. "Quickly, before I change my mind." You climb onto the bed at that, abandoning the blanket on the floor as you lay next to him, your arm loosely wrapping around his torso as he pulls the duvet over you. "Don't lay on the floor again, okay? Just ask me to come back."

"I did, you left me anyway." You murmur, a sad look etched on your brows before you sigh into his robe. He stops himself from comforting you, his fingers aching to run through your wild hair and biting back his apology. He sits silently, letting you drift back asleep holding his hip.

He doesn't like wasting the day. He knows he should pry himself away, and pull you out of bed too. He just can't bring himself to disturb your peace that way.

He gives in, his fingers gently stroking your hairline, moving stray hairs off your face. You lean into the warmth of his hand as he moves the hair off your neck, thumbing the shell of your ear carefully before clearing his throat.

"We've got a busy day, Y/N. We need to get up."

His fingers graze your neck softly, before his thumb caresses your jaw. You sigh into the air as you open your eyes, looking up at him. "It's so early." "Early bird gets the worm. You've yet to have breakfast and get dressed. Come on." He's speaking softly, his thumb now tracing circles into your soft cheeks. He can't help it, pinching the fat gently before moving away. Thankfully, you don't question his actions, just sluggishly throw the duvet off your body. He holds up the skirt from before, the ruby red material glittering in the light. "This one, yes? And the pink top? Or the white one?" "What is this, dress-up?" You yawn, and Seungkwan frowns. "Be nice, I made this for you." "Sorry, oh wisest one. Dress me like a doll." You stand and stretch your arms up, and he rolls his eyes as he carefully wraps the skirt around you, feeling your hands on his shoulders as he pins it in place. 

"Maybe I'll add a little drawstring so it's more secure, hm?" He's speaking to himself, but you nod anyway. "Arms up." He says, before tugging the soft white shirt over your head, carefully slipping your arms through. "There we go. What do you think? Pretty?" He turns you to face the mirror once more, hands on your hips as you sleepily look at yourself. You nod in silence, and he cards his fingers through your hair gently, pulling it back and pulling a piece of white ribbon out of his pocket. He ties the hair back carefully, the ribbon looped into a bow. "So it won't get in the way. Oh, and I'll get my leathersmith started on some shoes for you sometime this week. You'll just be indoors today, so don't worry about getting hurt."

You're peering at him through the mirror, your hands folded in front of you as you speak. "Why do you ask if I think the outfit is pretty?" He raises a brow, "Why the question?" "You asked if I think I look pretty. Why does it matter? It's just us." You shrug, the flowing material of the skirt flowing smoothly as you turn to face him. "And it's not like you'd tell a mortal she's pretty, would you?" Seungkwan can feel that same guttural guilt he felt earlier slowly begin to slip away. He couldn't figure you out – you could be so sweet, so flirty and pouty, and then you could be this. Defiant, bratty, argumentative.

"Can't I want to know if you feel good in what I'm making for you? Would you rather I make you wear a sack? Or walk around nude for anyone to see you?" He scoffs, seeing you smile inwardly. "Does anyone involve you?" He doesn't respond, shaking his head as he sinks into his closet.

Yeah. Anyone involves him, and probably just him.

The morning was messy.

You and Seungkwan bickered over breakfast, ending with the entire kitchen being covered in flour, spilled milk all over the floor and broken eggs across the counter. He'd pulled a recipe from his collection and said that since this was day one of you officially working under him, you'd have to learn how to cook, clean, tend to the garden, amongst other things. You didn't think a dozen biscuits would make you snap.

He'd watched you carefully the entire time, correcting you every time you were wrong with an almost hawk-like precision. It began to irritate you, so you started to make snide remarks. Something about him looking down on you, something about him not trusting you to make a stupid recipe. He'd given you a hard look and said that measuring was important, prying the wrong measuring spoon out of your hand. It took a bit more of Seungkwan saying that's wrong, wrong measurement…for you to throw an egg at him. You missed just barely, with Seungkwan grimacing as the egg splattered and slid down the wall. You mixed angrily as he watched the egg pool on the floor, before his eyes took in the mess you'd made all over the kitchen – spilling milk from him telling you that you poured too much, flour dusted all over the floor from him telling you to let the dough rest before you molded it.

It resulted in Seungkwan leaving the kitchen to collect himself, before returning to seeing you watching the dough intensely. Your impatience would be the bane of his existence.

Neither of you spoke after the portioned dough went into the oven. Jaws tense, shoulders rigid as you moved around each other to clean up. Or rather, as you cleaned up and he sliced fruit for breakfast.

It seemed that neither of you really wanted to do anything else, either, as you watched Seungkwan tinker around the garden alone. He'd said nothing about needing space, but you figured it was probably what was best – so you dragged the stepstool to his bedroom window and watched as he carefully picked flowers from the garden, your eyes drawn to the decorative patches of daisies. You felt a bit like a prisoner. Nobody had told you whether or not you were allowed to leave, or go beyond the temple. You were sure Seungkwan wouldn't force you to stay here, after all, he'd reminded you quite a bit of your free will. Free will that you can't really act on, because then you'd be invading him. It felt almost like a betrayal, the way your body responded to seeing him again. Like he'd grown more interesting to your brain, something sunken in the back of his gaze that said maybe he liked seeing you, too. It was annoying, how you felt this overwhelming need to be around him, even if you knew you just wanted to bicker and bother and nag him. You wanted him to be sorry, you wanted him to show you he was sorry for what happened between you all those years ago.

Unfortunately, you also know well enough to understand why he did it. Pride, the easiest sin of all, had marked you as its prey. And it's fine. You're fine, you think, because if Seungkwan can sin so can you.

Sighing to yourself, you've seen that the god has vanished from the garden. Your eyes gaze upon the vast garden, searching for him when you hear his light footsteps echoing in the temple. You refuse to look back, hearing him enter the bedroom as you cast your eyes to the windowsill. A butterfly rests carefully, when you hear him clear his throat.

"I'll be going into town. Don't expect me home before nightfall."

You turn quickly, your eyes wide. "Can I go, too? I don't want to be locked away here like some damsel in distress." He shakes his head, "Not tonight. I'm just meeting a friend. You can go wherever you please, but I bought something for you from an old student of mine. I'd like you to be here to receive it." 

He's rolling his sleeves up, and you see now the basket of flowers he'd been gathering placed gingerly on the vanity. "Are the flowers for her?" "Her?" He echoes, and you narrow your eyes. "It's a her, right? The friend you're meeting?"

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, angel." He taunts, before swiping his hair back carefully. "Again, I'll be back before nightfall. Roam the gardens, meet the few neighbors we have, do as you please. Make sure you eat dinner." In a way, you feel like a neglected housewife.

"You're leaving now?" You don't mean to sound so sad, so small. So…needy.

He looks at you over his shoulder, a raised brow. "You don't want me to?"

You don't say anything, flitting your eyes to the flowers on the vanity. He sighs, walking towards you and reaching for the window shutters. He pulls them closed, "Looks like rain, anyway." "No, go. You can go, don't stay because of me." You rush out, standing quickly. He glances at you carefully, eyes narrowed. "It's Mingyu and Tzuyu, they'll understand." "Please, go. It'll do me some good to be alone with my thoughts for a while." You nearly clasp your hands together in prayer, as if begging him to leave. He's hesitant, eyes scanning your features quickly before nodding. "I'll be home soon, okay?" You nod as he inches back towards the doors, and you pull the shutters back open, letting the setting sunlight back in. He takes the basket of flowers gingerly and you retake your seat on the stool quietly, before calling out to him.

"See you later."

Seungkwan can barely hold himself up as he nears the temple. Mingyu and Tzuyu offered to drop him off after their dinner together, but he refused – insisting he needed some time to think.

Tzuyu had asked about his latest pupil – upon hearing that it was you, she nearly choked on her wine. He simply focused on his mushroom soup, insisting he didn't really care.

Mingyu hadn't bought it, and casually dropped you into conversation every chance he got. He waxed poetic about the way a mortal loves, the way they feel, the way they taste. Everything Seungkwan had been told was like a drug – and something he couldn't bring himself to indulge in any more than he already had – despite it not ever doing much for him. He had even told you so – mortal and god relationships weren't for the faint of heart, for eventually, it'd be the god left standing alone.

So, no. He wouldn't indulge – even if the god of love himself was encouraging it. 

Mingyu and Tzuyu were a special case. It wasn't everyday Seungcheol had something pull at his heartstrings, such as the love between the couple had. A love that proved imperfection could be overlooked, that Mingyu's heart sang for Tzuyu as the birds did every morning.

Seungkwan just blinked and drank his wine, keeping quiet as the trio eventually scoured the market.

He had seen a few things he thought you'd like – many a ball of yarn, skirts that wouldn't fall lower than your mid-thigh woven from dyed silk and sparkled with glued rhinestones. But one thing caught his eye most – a gold necklace with a small emerald pendant. Representing growth and renewal, the emerald mocked him. Representing you returning to the Overworld to change, and choosing to change for the better. He bought it, and shoved it in his pocket as Mingyu and Tzuyu perused new linens for their home.

Seungkwan understood that he could desire you. He could, and that it was perfectly okay to get involved with you. It was perfectly okay to explore your body, to become one with you, to let you into his heart and let you make yourself at home in it. His fear wasn't in the commitment or the fact that it was you, someone he'd hurt so long ago – but the fact that your suspicions of his imperfection would ring with truth. He knew he wasn't perfect, he knew that he had his flaws – but what kind of a god was he to admit that to a mortal? At this point, he considers admitting it to himself to be progress.

Sighing, he grabs the pillar of the temple to steady himself. He'd drunk a bit too much to stand up straight, but he was coherent enough to hear you toss and turn as he entered the sacred home. Your groan was evident, as was the thwip of his bedsheets as he quietly walked down the hall.

He tugs his shirt over his head before opening the door softly, watching as you shoot up in bed with the duvet covering your chest. 

"You're home." You breathe out, and he just nods silently, stumbling into the closet and fumbling around as he peels his clothes off. He hears the clatter of the necklace he bought on the marble tile, before looking down and picking it up. He holds it up to the moonlight, before grabbing his robe and shrugging it on, slipping the jewelry into his pocket. 

He doesn't acknowledge you as he walks to the bathroom, beelining for his toothbrush. He could bathe in the morning – he just wants to lie down next to you and breathe you in.

"How was it?" You call as he trudged back, his hands shoved in his pockets as he slightly swayed from side to side. Shrugging, "Ate. Talked to Mingyu and Tzuyu. Got a little drunk, I'm definitely going to feel it in the morning. Sorry." You smile at him, shaking your head before pulling the duvet back as he reaches the side of the bed. You're sitting with your knees to your chest, and he catches a glimpse of the skirt you were wearing earlier hung across the back of his desk chair. "Do you ever wear clothes to bed?" "Just when you make me." You shrug, and he shakes his head, biting back a smile. "I got you something." You quickly tuck your legs under yourself as you sit up, the duvet falling off your body and the moonlight illuminating your skin. He tears his eyes away, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding up the necklace. Your hand floats to your chest, having abandoned your own necklace in the bathroom the day you arrived at the temple. It felt too heavy, then. Too synonymous with your first life.

"It represents growth. You're making a choice to grow as a person, and make better decisions. No matter the reason behind it, you're still attempting to make amends and I think that deserves a small reward." Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, his fingers carefully unclasping it and beckoning you closer. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the bed, wary of him as your knees touch his thighs. "I don't bite, you know. Not unless you want me to."

"Haha, very funny." You roll your eyes, and he raises an eyebrow before his hands ghost over your skin. His fingers carefully hold your hair out of the way as he clasps the necklace around your neck, the pendant sitting low on your chest. He fixes it, twisting it so the gem faces out. "I expect you to treasure this." You blink up at him, before wrapping your arms around him and enveloping him in a soft embrace. "Thank you." You whisper, and he feels himself tense up as you squeeze gently. His hands ghost over your back, before slightly shaky fingers touch the warmth of your skin.

"You're welcome, angel. Did you eat dinner like I said?" He asks, not having the courage to pull away from you, not when your warmth feels so…something. You nod against his chest, your cheek pressed against his skin making him feel a little hot.

"It wasn't much, I didn't like being by myself."

"I'm here now, angel. I'll take you with me next time, I promise." He reassures, feeling his stomach feel with giddiness at the thought of spending time with you around his friends. Okay, that involves admitting Mingyu was right – but he doesn't need to touch base on that just yet.

"Oh, your friend dropped by." You make no move to get out of his grasp, his fingers now subconsciously tracing circles into your lower back. "Mmh? Did you like your gift?" He'd asked Chan to source a loom for you. He knew it was something you liked, and probably something that could fill any free time that he managed to have. He knew it'd remind you of your father, too, and he wanted something to give you a sense of belonging.

"I love it. Thank you." You murmur, and he feels your lips press lightly into his chest. Warmth blooms in his cheeks as he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your body and now resting on your shoulders. "We'll be in the garden tomorrow, so we should get some rest." You nod, laying back onto the bed, inching over to your side (that wasn't really your side, just 'yours' because you refused to sleep in your room.) He hung his robe on the bedpost, and slid under the covers, facing away from you and urging the heat in his body to go away. HIs mind doesn't get to wander much further, though, as your sigh is the last thing he hears before he hears before he feels his eyes heavy with sleep.

He could think about it tomorrow.

FIVE.

Okay. This is normal. This happens to everyone. This happens to everyone.

…He's not everyone.

He's trying to convince himself that your ass pressed against him isn't affecting him in any way, shape or form. He's trying to think of the most disgusting things to make his hardening cock go down so he doesn't wake you so lewdly. He can't even fucking move away from you, because somehow, throughout the night – you managed to get him to spoon you, and now your fingers are interlocked with his over the top of his hand.

He's literally trapped between a rock (hard boner) and a hard place (again…his boner.) He tries not to let his internal panic show as he controls his breathing, carefully trying to pull himself out of your grasp. He feels your grip tighten around his hand, and peers over to see your brows furrowed and lip jutted out in a pout.

"Stay." You murmur, obviously completely oblivious to his predicament.

"I have to get up, angel." He wiggles his fingers under yours, making you sigh discontentedly. "You said you'd stay if I asked." He did. He did say that.

"I know, angel, I know. I'll come back, I promise." He murmurs, and he sees you peel open one of your eyes and gently twist your head to look at him. Your eye scans his face, before you close it and turn back.

"If you want me to help you, I can. It doesn't have to mean anything." He chokes slightly, seeing you snuggle your face further into your pillow.

He wants to. He really, really wants you to touch him, he wants to feel you all over him. He wants to hold you close and feel everything you have to give him, taking everything you want to give him.

He feels your thumb gently stroking his knuckles, the cool metal of your ring startling before you speak softly. "It's just me. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to, or if you do. It's normal." Your reassurance isn't something he expected nor knew he needed. He clears his throat, before the warmth of your hand has moved. You're turning to face him, peering up at him with sleepy eyes. You're so beautiful.

He doesn't realize he's staring at you until he feels your nails gently raking up and down his torso. Your eyes are drinking him in carefully, before they ultimately close again and you nuzzle your nose into his neck without a word. Your fingertips graze the tip of his cock, making his hips jerk involuntarily as a whine rips through him. He hasn't been touched by anyone that isn't himself in years.

And now, it's you. Your hands, your body, you.

"Can I make you feel good? Please?" You press soft kisses into his neck, nipping lightly at his skin. He nods quickly, a muffled yes slipping past his lips as he covers his mouth with his hand. You push him onto his back gently, trailing kisses down his neck and chest as you take his weeping cock in your soft hand. You hold it as your teeth graze at any inch of skin you can reach, before looking up at him.

"I can't kiss you, right?" He can feel his heart ache at the slight…sadness? in your tone, and the way it shows in your eyes as he shakes his head no. "I…" "You what? You're sorry?" You roll your eyes, squeezing his length gently. "Don't be, gorgeous." He doesn't get a chance to respond before your tongue is on him, running carefully along the underside of his cock. He covers his mouth with his hand, a shudder running through his body as you spit in your hand, stroking him slowly and pressing kisses all over his stomach. His free hand grips the duvet, before you slot your fingers in his.

You don't look at him as you take him in your mouth, your tongue licking gently as he groans softly. His fingers squeeze around yours, and you hum to yourself as you sink further down his length, gagging around his tip as his hips buck. A whimper from his throat tears through the air as you stroke what doesn't fit, hollowing your cheeks slightly.

He's holding back noises, the room filling with the wet sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Soft huffs of yeah, murmurs of holy f-fuck only spur you on further, feeling his hand untangle from yours to card through your hair and move your head up and down at his leisure. His grip tightens as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

"Oh my…" He whines, and you tease your tongue down the thick vein. "Oh my…what? Oh my God?"

He scoffs at you, but his words fade on his tongue as you sink down on him again. You gag around him, pulling a throaty moan from his bitten lips as he cants into your mouth. "S-Sorry, I can st–" You groan around him, feeling his tip twitch as it touches the back of your throat again. He whimpers, his release spilling into your mouth. It's a little salty as it coats your tongue, but you slide him out with a pop. Your tongue diligently cleans the mess, overstimulating him as he squirms, pushing your head back.

You trail soft kisses up his torso, nipping at his chest before moving up his neck. You peer down at him, eyes locked with his as he blinks up at you. "All better, right?" You say gently, and feel your chest swell with pride, seeing his cheeks tinge pink as he looks away.

Shrugging, you brush his hair out of his eyes, kissing his cheeks lightly. You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as he scrunches it. Lowering your head, your teeth tug at his earlobe before you speak softly.

"Always an angel, never a god." You murmur, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you slink off the bed. You stand up straight, stretching your arms over your head with a soft groan.

You don't see his humiliated expression, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you make your way out of the bedroom. You don't see the way he covers himself with the blanket as you turn into the bathroom, or the way he hides his face in his hands and angrily wipes at his eyes.

Always an angel, never a god.

The day went by quietly.

You bathed and made breakfast, and stayed…mostly true to your word. You didn't bring up anything that happened that morning, and Seungkwan didn't say anything about your condescending comment afterwards. He chose to spend his day in the garden, even as the rain started falling.

You watched from the doorway, holding the cloth he'd given you right after breakfast. He'd instructed you to wash the windows around the temple, and you'd done so without a fight. A part of you felt that today wasn't a day to mess with him, but you also figured that what you'd said this morning was enough to knock him off the pedestal he'd put himself on.

You felt a little guilty, but was it not the truth?

What kind of a god is he to fall prey to your temptation? What kind of a god is he to take from you what he's not willing to give, to your knowledge? What kind of god is he, to judge you for being lustful, to judge you for yearning for another's touch, when yours made him come undone?

Not a very good one, that's what. Right?

You watched him as the rain fell, the way his brows furrowed as he continued picking flowers and wrapping herbs with twine. He walked around like the rain did nothing, and you sighed inwardly. You turned on your heel, abandoning the bucket of soapy water and the cloth in lieu of entering the kitchen, rooting around for his kettle. You'd grabbed a towel earlier and draped it over the back of the dining chairs, hoping he'd come in eventually.

He'd want something warm, you think.

You busy yourself with making a warm tea, hearing Seungkwan groan as he slips his wet clothing off at the entrance. You hear the wet plop of the clothing dropping on the floor, and you hear his teeth chatter a bit as you peek your head around the corner.

His chest was blooming with evidence of your teeth on him from earlier. You feel your chest fill with heat as you notice the prominent trail of love bites down to his waist. Your eyes widen as you grab the towel, silently trekking the expanse between you and holding it out to him. He gives you a frown.

"Take it, you'll get sick." You grimace, and he ignores you as he kicks off his shoes, his fingers toying with the buckle of his belt. He pulls it through the loops, tossing it to the side when you huff, shoving the towel into his chest. "You're going to get sick!" "I don't need your help, Y/N." He shoves it back, and you scowl, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"You didn't mind my help this morning. Take the fucking towel." His eyes narrow as he chooses to turn away, shoving his pants down his legs and kicking the soaked material out of his way. "I didn't need it then." "You're such a fucking brat, Seungkwan." You throw the towel on the ground as he pushes past you, heading towards the bathroom. You storm back into the kitchen, your brain telling you to dump out the tea.

Unfortunately, you don't quite listen to your brain very often. You pour the tea into a cup, hearing the rain slow down. Looking out the kitchen window, you see it stop entirely. You start to think the rain is symbolic of every time you have a spat with Seungkwan, and you wouldn't put it past Seungcheol to try and Pavlov that idea into your brain.

Grimacing, you stir in a spoonful of honey. The only water you hear now is that of the running faucet in the bathroom, and you felt your chest heavy as you think of Seungkwan.

How his skin felt under your bruised fingers. The way he tasted. Something soft, balanced. How he reacted and how he forced himself to hold back, how his fingers felt as they squeezed your hand for dear life.

You shake your head, biting down hard on your cheek to ground yourself. This was ridiculous. Today was only the fourth day of him…'mentoring' you. It seems that the two of you had forgotten that that was why you were sent here – to 'develop' your skills, to 'embrace' your mortality, to 'find yourself.'

Quite the contrary – it felt an awful lot like you were losing yourself in this. In him, the comfort of his bed, the warmth of his touch and attention. You weren't complaining – truthfully, it'd been a long time since you felt desired, or any sort of desire bubbling within you. There was that one time with Wonwoo six years ago, and that oddball moment with Jeonghan right after your fourth visit to the Underworld. 

This…felt different.

You felt guilty, you felt like you weren't putting your best foot forward. With Jeonghan and Wonwoo, it was something that happened in the heat of the moment. Something that was for the instantaneous satiation of both parties, and you were never one to shy away from a night of fun with anyone – including mortals. You'd had your fair share in just your first life, why would you stop now? Seungkwan…felt like something just out of your reach, as much as you hated to admit it. He felt like something you had to work towards, someone you had to prove yourself to. He held himself in a high regard, with standards that you weren't so sure you met.

But he looked at you with such an intense mix of disdain…and desire. Something that screamed he didn't want to look at you as anything more than yet another pupil, but he couldn't help his eyes from wandering. He could lie to you all he wanted, but you feel different.

Sighing, you leave the tea on the table, clasping your hands behind your back. You walk silently out of the kitchen and down the hallway, passing the bathroom just as Seungkwan opens the door. He gives you a quizzical look but you continue on anyway, making your way to your bedroom.

The place is barren aside from the bed, the lamp, a pair of nightstands and the loom you were given. The floor is colder here than the rest of the temple, and you don't know if that's on purpose or not. You flop onto the bed with a grunt, your head hitting the pillows and you stare at the ceiling.

What is the point of you being here, anyway? You and Seungkwan hardly speak. He's not teaching you anything you don't already know – even if baking a dozen biscuits isn't your strong suit, you can make a decent batch. You know how to pick pretty flowers, you know how to make tea, you can make clothes and you can certainly weave a damn good tapestry.

Why can't you just keep doing that? Why can't you just keep your word to Seungcheol and Jeonghan and stay out of Seungkwan's way? "It's because we don't trust you." You jolt out of the bed, your head just barely missing the edge of the nightstand as you fall off. You feel your shoulder hit the corner of an open drawer, drawing a loud fuck! from your lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" You groan from the floor, and Jeonghan just chuckles as he hops through the open window, rounding the bed to kneel beside you. You sit up, rubbing furiously at your shoulder in attempts to soothe the shooting pain. "A little bird told me you were being a bad girl, Y/N." "Oh fuck off, I was not!" Whining, you look at the already bruising skin under your shirt. You scoff, peering up at Jeonghan, who smiles down at you. "So what do you call sleeping with the enemy?" "I did not sleep with him! I merely performed a sexual act for him. God forbid I have a little fun." You scowl, and Jeonghan pinches your cheek gently. "Seungcheol is not happy about it, darling. You know the rules." "The rules were I don't challenge anyone. You never said I couldn't go down on the person holding me hostage." You say pointedly, making Jeonghan snort out a laugh. "I mean, I don't care. I get it, and I think I know you better than anyone when I say you're not interested in Seungkwan for what he can offer you, but what you can discover about him…with him." You slump against the wall, a pout on your lips when you hear a knock on the door. Jeonghan's eyes grow wide as Seungkwan edges the door open, worming his arm through and holding a plate out to you.

"Dinner." "You eat alone here?" He asks, and Seungkwan's head pokes through the crack with eyes so wide, you feared they'd pop out. "Jeonghan? What are you doing here?"

"Just reconnecting with my little troublemaker." He shrugs, pinching your cheek as you frown, shoving his hand away. Seungkwan's eyes show his conflicted feelings, and he simply steps in and slides the plate on the nightstand. "Bring the plate back to the kitchen before sundown." He spins on his heel, and leaves. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Jeonghan gives you a knowing look. You give him a sheepish smile in return, but neither of you make a move for the light dinner on the nightstand.

"You eat alone?" "No. I think…ugh." You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into them as you groan. "I fucked up, Jeonghan." "Oh, good! The plan is working!" He cheers, before reaching for the plate on the nightstand. "Here, let's split this lovely dinner. I'm a long way from home, you know." You just groan again, and Jeonghan clicks his tongue at you. "That's the whole point of this, darling. You get knocked down a few pegs, and Seungkwan gets loosened up. Granted, neither Cheollie nor I figured you'd go this route but, whatever works." "Cheollie?" You snort, and Jeonghan shrugs. "That's my best friend, and he pays for all my fish. I can call him whatever I want." You shake your head as Jeonghan offers you a piece of bread, and you bite into it as you lean your head back against the wall. "He hates me." You mutter around the bread, and Jeonghan laughs.

"I'd argue the opposite, my dear. I think that the two of you find each other very intriguing. It's almost like two cats sizing each other up before deciding if the other is a threat. In this case, you're a small cat with a huge ego and he's a big cat with…well, a multitude of problems. You are human enough that you know how to relax, but also annoying enough to figure out what buttons to press to rile him up enough to break." "I don't think calling me annoying is helping your case here, Jeonghan." You smack his thigh, and he laughs gently. "I just think the two of you balance each other well. You're so painfully human, and so open about your flaws. Seungkwan has a hard time admitting aloud that he isn't perfect, because this lavish life we live…it weighs on him. Sometimes, I wonder if Cheollie did the right thing." "What do you mean?" You ask, taking a piece of sliced peach off the plate and peeling the skin off. Jeonghan shrugs, and speaks around a chunk of fig.

"Seungkwan is very loved, don't get me wrong. However, Seungkwan is quite literally Seungcheol's biggest headache. He came about after Cheol had yet another affair with someone aside from his ex-wife. Seungkwan cannot fathom being anything like Seungcheol in regards to his adulterous behavior and incessant need for attention, so he isolates his heart." Jeonghan turns to you, eyeing the furrow in your brow as you chew. "You bring it out of him, you know? The ability to feel more than he allows himself to. The range of emotions is much broader with you around, and we feel like it will be good for him." "You know he said he won't kiss me?" You mumble, and Joenghan leans his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I know, darling. It's addicting, the kiss of a mortal. You should know better, your pretty lips are what gets you in trouble." You scoff, but sigh.

"How does he know? Has he…kissed other mortals?" You don't know you're pouting until you feel Jeonghan's thumb on your lip. "Plenty. I think…maybe there is something different about you to him. Maybe it's the guilt." "Or he's in love with me." You roll your eyes, the phrase feeling foreign on your tongue. You'd never been in love before, and to be honest, you didn't care to be. Jeonghan hums next to you, before looking up. "Maybe." There is a moment of silence before you choke out a laugh. "Yeah, right. The guy hates my guts." "He doesn't hate you, darling. He just doesn't understand you, but that's why you're here." Jeonghan shrugs, before pressing a kiss to your temple. "Be a good girl, okay? He's trying his best, just like you are." "I'll try my best, Jeonghan." You sigh, watching as the god stands, and stretches before he steps in front of the window. "And, Y/N?" "Yes, Jeonghan?" Jeonghan smiles, his maroon eyes flashing with a hint of mirth as he swings his legs over the windowsill. "Don't fall too fast." You scoff as he disappears, and look down to pick at the last piece of fruit on the plate. Half a fig.

Sighing, you pick it up and stand, walking towards the door and opening it. You slip into the hall quietly, noting the moonlight lighting the temple nicely. Walking into the kitchen, you see Seungkwan nursing a glass of wine as he sits in front of the oven.

There's yet another dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt baking before you. The two of you had practically inhaled the first loaf, sneaking bites throughout the last two days. He looks up as he hears you step in, lips pursed before turning back.

You sigh inwardly, shoveling the last fig you picked at into your mouth before leaving the plate in the sink. He says nothing as you slide into the seat next to him, but offers his glass. You take it silently, keeping your gaze forward.

"You don't like skin on peaches?" He asks quietly, and you press your lips into a thin line. "No. My dad always peeled them for me." "Dads…" He nods, and you glance at him. "Yeah. You're…Seungcheol's favorite, right?" "Don't." The wine bottle from behind him is brought to his lips, and you stare at your fingernails. "Don't…what? Isn't he–" "Hardly." Seungkwan mutters, and you don't press further. You know that Seungkwan doesn't resent or dislike Seungcheol, all the gods in this world seemed very close and proved it often. Seungcheol has spoken highly of Seungkwan in all the times you've ever gotten to speak to him, usually in Jeonghan's presence. Typically over a dinner before Jeonghan would send you back with Wonwoo and Cerberus.

Seungkwan sighs beside you, and you resist the urge to reach and touch him. You grip the edge of the bench, forcing yourself to stare at the bread before Seungkwan gets up, taking it out carefully with the wooden peel. He slides it onto the counter, before the fire goes out in front of you.

"It's nightfall. Off to bed." He murmurs, and you nod silently, downing the rest of the wine in the glass he gave you. He takes it, gently placing it into the sink as you stand. "Goodnight, Seungkwan." "You're sleeping in your room tonight?" He asks, eyes expectant. You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks burn as you nod. "Yes. At least, I'll try to." He hums, nodding. "Good luck, threadling. I'll see you in the morning." Pushing past you, you hear him walk briskly down the hallway, his heavy door opening and shutting before you even turn around. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding, running your hand through your hair as you spin on your heels, quickly walking down the hallway.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you breeze past his bedroom, hearing him rustle around. You were good at many things and feared almost nothing – but you held this fear near and dear to your heart. You hated being alone, and you were scared of ending up alone forever.

You're as human as they come.

You skirt into your room, quickly closing the door behind you and closing the open shutters of your window. You light the lamp on one of the nightstands, stripping quickly before ripping your duvet off and wrapping yourself in it. Sitting on the bed, you scoot up all the way until you're practically sitting on your pillows, and bring your knees to your chest.

It's time to learn to be alone.

Seungkwan can't sleep.

He's been laying in his bed for what feels like hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. 

He sighs, knowing that your absence is taking a toll on him. He felt bad about everything that has happened throughout the day, but he can't bring himself to admit that to you. He can't bring himself to say sorry about speaking to you the way he did earlier, or making you eat alone, though it wasn't his intention. He just assumed you'd want to be alone, but his heart sank when he saw the teacup you'd left him, so warm and sweet and everything you were that he couldn't have.

Groaning, he kicks the covers off, grabbing his robe off the bedpost and wrapping it around himself. He slides out of bed, walking to his door and yanks it open, letting it go as he takes the sharp turn down the hall to your bedroom. He can see the glow from the lamp under the door, and he wonders if he should knock.

He decides against it, choosing to open it slowly. He sees you curled up against the wall, your eyes half closed when he clears his throat. You jump, eyes filled with panic when you finally see him. He bites back his laugh as you scowl, walking towards your bed. He kneels on it, tugging the corner of your duvet over your shoulder. 

"How are you holding up here?" He asks, and you frown as you turn away from him, screwing your eyes shut. "I'm fine." "You're sitting on your pillows, angel." He tuts, making you groan. "Go away, Seungkwan." "And to think I was going to ask if you wanted to move to my room." He sighs, and you peel one eye open, looking him up and down. "As if you'd spare me." "Contrary to popular belief, I was going to do so." He says pointedly, and you turn to face him. Your cheek is lined with the rough pattern on the wall, making his heart ache. He felt awful that you were forcing yourself in here, and he clicked his tongue.

"Come on. You're not faring well in here, it seems. It's only just that I spare you this one time." Rolling his eyes, he ignores your small smile. "This one time, he says. What a just and fair god." "Shut up." He stands upright, and he hears you sigh as he turns away. "I'm sorry about earlier, Seungkwan."

He stills, hearing you clear your throat. "I said one thing and did another, that wasn't fair of me. I shouldn't have said anything about what transpired this morning–" "You're a human, Y/N. I'd be foolish to fully trust your word, you know that, right?" He interrupts, and you're silent. He peers over his shoulder, seeing your eyes narrowed as you slip off the bed, keeping the duvet wrapped around you as you shove your way out of the bedroom.

He sighs, putting out your lamp before following suit. You're already in his bedroom by the time he reaches the door, and you're laying on the very edge of the bed. As far as you could be without being on the floor, and as close as you could be to another being so as to not be alone.

He shakes his head, closing the door behind him. Slipping his robe off, he slides into the bed. His stomach is far more at ease having you at arm's length, being able to just barely make out your frame from under your layered duvets.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan." You mutter, and he turns onto his side. "Goodnight, angel."

SIX.

You didn't sleep very well, you weren't going to lie to yourself.

It was like you were on the verge of falling asleep, but it just never happened. You could feel your body more sluggish than you'd felt the past few mornings. However, today, you were once more graced by Seungkwan pressed to your back. The sun wasn't up, the sky gloomy as you turned in his hold. His eyes were closed, but he was so close you could count his eyelashes. You stared at him tiredly, before you heard him speak. "You're staring awfully hard." "I can't sleep." You mutter back, and his eyes remain closed as he nods. "Mmh. Would you like to stay in the bedroom today? It smells like rain."

"You can smell rain?" You ask, and he shrugs. "Some days it's stronger than others, the smell. It's like wet Earth and whatnot." 

You nod, though he can't see you. Sighing, you close your eyes again, hoping you'll fall asleep at the proximity between you two. You weren't going to lie to yourself, he brought you a comfort you couldn't quite place. Like he could judge but he won't, like he could leave, but he won't. 

"Do you need anything to help you sleep? I know humans can be fussy if they don't get enough rest." He murmurs, and you peel open one eye to look at him. His eyes are still closed, as if he's also trying to will himself to sleep. You don't reply, hoping he'll use some stupid godly power to read your mind.

"Y/N, closed mouths don't get fed." He reminds you, and you groan. "Fine, fine. Can you just…hold me?" "Hold you?" He repeats, and you shift next to him. He sighs, before carefully draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer into him. His fingers are cool against your back, tracing circles into your skin as you nestle into the crook of his neck. "Better?" "Mhm." You hum into his skin, before feeling his lips press to your hairline. It's quick, and so light you almost missed it. "What's that for?" "For yesterday." He mumbles back, before settling again. You brush it off, choosing to relax in his embrace as his breathing slows. He's fallen back asleep, presumably only awoken by your movement.

You must've fallen asleep as well at some point, because a crack of thunder startles you awake. Pressing a hand to your chest, you look up to see Seungkwan staring behind you, seemingly lost in thought as his fingers continue to trace shapes into your back. Your leg is now draped over his hip, and he's holding himself up on his elbow.

"Seungkwan?" His eyes dart down to you, before a look of concern takes over. "Hm? Are you okay?" "Yeah." You nod, and he gives you a curt nod back, before returning to his spacing out. You don't have it in you to tell him you're overheating, so you just settle back in. "Are you okay? What are you looking at?" 

"Nothing. I'm just waiting for you." He shrugs, and you tilt your head at him. "For what?" "You ask a lot of questions, threadling."

"You avoid them a lot."

He raises his brow at your quip, before splaying his fingers across your hip, giving it a soft squeeze. "I didn't want to disturb your rest. If I get up, you'll wake up. Then everything after is a domino effect." You stare up at him, your eyes tracing his features. Round eyes, soft lips. Lips that let painful things slip, only to be soothed by other things tumbling out. Eyes that held truths, that held fire and held want. A wanton yearning to be loved.

"You're staring, angel." "You're pretty." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way his ears tinge pink as he sighs. "Well, you're up. Let's get a move on, the day is full of opportunity."

He looks down at you, eyes narrowing as they fall to your shoulder. You hadn't noticed the bruise that bloomed from your fall yesterday, and he moves your hair out of the way gently. His fingers grazed the welted spot, "What happened here?" "Oh, I fell off the bed when Jeonghan appeared yesterday." You look down at it, his brows furrowed. "Does it hurt?" "I'm sure it will if you press on it." You roll your eyes, and he frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Why would I? You were mean to me yesterday." You scoff, making him return the noise of disdain. "You started it!" "Let's not play the blame game. Clearly one of us should be the one who leads here and you're not doing a very good job of it." Shaking your head, you hear him groan above you. 

"Fine. It wasn't my intention to treat you poorly yesterday, and I will try my best to not have it happen again. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You frown at him, your lip jutted out just slightly. "You can't just say sorry?" Your eyes lock with his for a second, scanning each other. He wants to, you can tell, he wants to apologize. He wants to make it up to you, but pride is a far stronger power than any remorse in the air. His hand gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Don't pout, it's not a good look on you." He presses his lips to your forehead, before pulling away and throwing the duvet off the both of you. You huff, watching as he slips out of bed and grabs his robe from the bedpost. He pulls it on swiftly, and you roll onto your back stretching your arms over your head before pushing the duvet further off your body. You're sure it's well past noon at this point.

You hear Seungkwan click his tongue, and you look up to see him standing at the window, leaning on the window sill. He's scanning the vast gardens, likely trying to plan for yet another day of rain. You slide out of bed, crossing your arms over your bare chest as you walk over to look with him.

"Wonder what's got Seungcheol in a mood." You murmur, seeing the flooded pond towards the edge of the garden. A frog hops into the flowers, and Seungkwan shrugs. "Sometimes he just likes to make it rain. Anything to get his name in someone's mouth." You snort, and he smiles inwardly.

"If the rain lets up this week, we can go to the market. I need to find out if my leathersmith can make shoes for you, and I don't think Chan brought the yarn for you, did he?" He peers up at you, and you sigh, shaking your head. "I don't mind waiting, though. I can find something else to do." "Like washing the windows that you forgot about yesterday?" He says pointedly, and you scoff out a laugh. "Way to be subtle." He smiles widely, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. You oblige, allowing him to move you in front of him. "It's pretty, though, isn't it? The rain?" "It's dreary sometimes. I think of it more as a necessary evil." You nod, feeling his chin rest gently on your shoulder. "It brings things to life but it also drowns out any happiness I have for the day. The lack of sunshine makes me depressed." "I heard that, yeah. Something about mortals not faring well during the colder months, because there's no sun." He nods, and you feel his hands wrap around your waist, clasping together over your navel. "I assume it's just that same darkness, right? It's like, desperation." "It just makes me sad. There's a lack of life, in my opinion." You twist to look at him, seeing him close his eyes. "I agree, there's something missing when the days get shorter. I lose a lot of motivation." Your eyes widen at his admission, but you don't get a chance to expand on it before feeling his lips plant a soft kiss on your shoulder. "You should get dressed, we haven't eaten anything yet."

He makes no move to let you go, instead choosing to trail his lips along your skin before reaching the thin gold chain he'd given you a few days earlier. "Seungkwan…" "Mmh?" He tugs at it with his teeth, before nipping at your neck softly. You jolt in his hold, your skin littering with goosebumps at the contact of his teeth. Shivering, you twist further in his hold, feeling his hands move up from where they were clasped. The pads of his fingers ghost over the bottom of your breasts, and you feel your entire face heat as he speaks into your skin. "Face forward."

You huff, but move to look back out the window. Your eyes try to focus on the garden when you feel his thumbs graze your nipples, before his large hands begin palming gently. The cool metal of his jewelry against your hardened nubs makes you shiver, and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.

"Sensitive here?" He breathes against your skin, pinching your nipples gently as you let out a low, choked whine. His teeth tug at your earlobe, making you jolt before you hear him speak again. "Eyes open, angel." "You're horrible." You mutter, feeling his lips curve against the shell of your ear. "I can stop." "No! Don't, please." Your head hangs a bit, burning in humiliation as a soft chuckle sounds behind you. It seems you don't know how to shut your mouth, because the words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Please touch me." "How can I deny you when you're so polite?" He's mocking you, and you feel the warmth of his right hand leave your chest, ghosting down your torso. "Where, angel? Here?" His hand rests on your stomach, making you shake your head frantically, taking his wrist in your hand and guiding him lower.

"Here." You feel almost embarrassed as you feel him rest his forehead against your shoulder, before his fingers slowly glide over your center, his middle landing a teasing tap to your clit. You jerk slightly, making him laugh behind you before he moves further, dragging his fingertips through your wet folds with ease. You feel frustration grow slightly in your belly as he teases you, before he removes his hand completely.

You scoff, about to complain when you see him hold his hand up to the light. His fingers are slick with your arousal, strings of it connecting his knuckles as he separates them.

"Would you look at that?" His tone is one full of mischief, before he brings his hand closer to your face. "Open." His forefinger taps your lip, and you instinctively stick your tongue out, sliding it between his fingers without a word. Your eyes flutter closed as you taste yourself on his skin, the mix something invigorating, your need to be touched by him only fueled by the heat of his eyes on your face.

"Dirty little thing, aren't you?" He murmurs as you run your tongue over one of his rings, before you kiss the metal. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." He doesn't respond, instead choosing to push you slightly against the windowsill, trailing his lips down your back. You lean forward, anticipation brewing in your belly when you feel him kneel behind you, before feeling his teeth sink lightly into your ass. You can't hold your groan in, or hide the way your hips push back. He lets go of the bitten flesh, opting to lick at the marks with a sigh. "So pretty when you're needy." His lips press to your skin in peppered kisses, before he gently spreads your legs a bit more. You oblige, leaning on your forearms across the windowsill and holding the outside edge. His hands circle your upper thighs, and he squeezes them gently as he presses a kiss to your clit. You sigh, trying not to push against him as his tongue darts out, slowly dragging through your folds. He gathers your arousal messily, pulling soft whines from your throat when he finally wraps his pouty lips around your clit, sucking lightly. Your head hangs low as sounds slip from your mouth, your fingertips turning white from how hard you're gripping the windowsill when he begins to shallowly thrust his tongue into your hole, his hand moving from your thigh to thumb at your clit.

A whimper of profanities jumble from your lips, grinding your hips against his face and hand as your thighs begin to tremble. Your knees buck a bit, Seungkwan's arms reflexively moving to wrap around your waist as he buries his tongue deeper into your cunt. He groans into you, arms tightening around you as your hips continue to push back onto him. He grunts, pushing you away from his tongue entirely.

"You know, you're not very nice." He begins, making you groan. "I'm–" You're cut off by the wet sound of his fingers teasing your entrance carefully. You feel his teeth sink into the flesh of your ass again, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly slides his fingers inside you, a low groan from your throat as he speaks. 

"You're what? A brat? A pain in my ass? Sorry, for both of those things, maybe?"

You huff at his words, "I'm sorry." He hums into your skin, his eyes trained on the way your gummy walls swallow his fingers with ease, curling them as you squirm. "Sorry for what?"

His fingers brush the spongy spot, making you jolt with a high-pitched moan. "Sorry for what, angel?" He coos, carefully keeping his slow pace as he stands, lips pressed to the skin of your neck and shoulders. 

"E-Everything." You sigh, your forehead pressed against your forearm, clenching around his fingers as he bullies them into you. "Everything, she says. What's this everything, hm?" He kisses your shoulder gently, peering over your shoulder to see your eyes screwed shut. Smiling to himself, he stills his movements, hearing you groan and peel your eyes open. "What are you sorry for?" You breathe out shakily, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as he slowly starts again. "I-I'm sorry for being a brat." "Oh, are you?" He nods, watching your hips push against his hand with a smirk. "Are you sorry for being a pain in my ass, too?" "No." You blurt, shaking your head as he snorts. "At least you're honest." "I keep you on your toes, you can't punish me f-for that." Your voice is no higher than a whisper as he moves his free hand to your face, carefully swiping away the stray hair sticking to your skin. "For the record, I don't hate you." You shake your head, eyes clouded with lust as you peer at him. "You do, though." 

He doesn't reply, opting to move his hand, now rubbing soft circles into your clit. Your legs tremble slightly at the added stimulation, whines from your throat as he begins to speak. "I don't. How could I?" He knows you'll probably forget this later, so why hold back? He presses his lips to your neck, peppering kisses there as he feels your pussy start to clamp around his fingers. 

"How could I, Y/N? I think about you all the time, you know? Fuck, you're so pretty." His teeth nip at the skin, and he feels you struggle to hold yourself up as your orgasm approaches. "Could never hate you, gorgeous. So good for me, right? Just for me." You shudder as the words hit your ears, and Seungkwan takes this as an incentive to keep going. "Wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? My pretty angel, all mine? Hm?" 

Your bitten lips part in a silent sob as you nod, your orgasm coating his fingers as your head hangs low. Seungkwan's eyes close as he presses his lips to your warm skin, unintelligible whispers slipping as he carefully withdraws his hand from between your legs. You remain silent as he slips away, before feeling a warm towel between your thighs.

"Take a bath. I'll make breakfast…or lunch, I guess now." He murmurs, tossing the towel aside and gently pulling your bruised elbows from the windowsill. You nod silently as he plants a soft kiss to your temple, before quietly guiding you to the bathroom. You feel your cheeks flush as his hand brushes your hip, pulling you close when you stumble. "Sorry." You mutter, but he only shakes his head as he pushes the bathroom door open, the sun now shining through the open window as he reaches for the faucet. He turns it on, running his fingers under the water until he deems it warm enough to help you climb into the tub.

"Any particular scent?" He asks as you settle into the cold tub, and you shake your head silently. No words are exchanged as he picks out his scent, the basil leaf in the jar mocking you as he slides it onto the rim of the tub. "Call me if you need anything, alright?" Nodding, you press your lips into a thin line as he carefully swipes your hair out of your eyes. His own are conflicted, but he nods curtly and takes his leave. 

You sigh shakily, your fingers reaching for your tense thighs as you think about his words. He'd come across the past few days as someone who didn't feel the need to prove anything to you – you were a human, someone who was virtually just a speck of dust in his universe.

Your eyes burn lightly, the tears of shame slipping down your cheeks as you groan inwardly. You certainly hadn't expected him to show you any of his feelings that way, but you weren't mad at all. You just felt…a pit of despair settle into your stomach.

Feeling like Seungkwan was out of your reach…that gap should be bridged now, right? He showed you his desire, he spoke about it. So why does he feel so much further away now?

SEVEN.

The next week and a half were the most mind-boggling thing you think you've ever experienced.

The two of you did not speak of the prior events – opting to both drown them out and keep repeating the same mistakes by enticing each other. If he wasn't waking you up with his tongue circling your clit, he was grinding his clothed cock against you in the kitchen and telling you how badly you got on his nerves. If you chose to run your mouth, he'd put it to better use – whether that meant he shoved a piece of bread into it or his cock was up for whatever the stars aligned with that day.

The past two days had been touch-free; the god was bent over his desk as you got ready to leave the temple. He'd promised you a visit to the market for new shoes as well as yarn for your loom, but he was everything but ready. He didn't move as he heard you standing in the doorway of his bedroom, your wine red skirt low on your hips as you leaned on the frame.

"Seungkwan?"

"Mmh?" He hummed, not looking up as he flipped a pen through his fingers. He heard you sigh, walking up to his desk and plucking it from his fingers. "You said we'd leave by noon. It's past that." "I did say that." He nods, reaching for his pen as you hold it out of reach. "Seungkwan."

He sighs, before finally looking up at you. His eyes widen slightly, and you look at him expectantly as he stares in silence. "Are you having a stroke?" "What?" He blinks, before shaking his head. You snort, before setting the pen on the desk. "Are you having a stroke? You've been odd all day."

Has he? He thinks back – bath, breakfast, a bit of time in the garden with you while he tried to teach you how to prune the marigolds…emphasis on tried.

"No. I'm fine. You look…nice. Ready?" He clears his throat, watching as you carefully slip your hair over your shoulder. You look exactly the same as you have since you arrived, but…something feels different. You feel different.

Could explain the absolute heat in his chest when he woke up to your face these past few days. And why he couldn't bear to look at you any longer than a simple conversation, he notes, as his eyes divert back to the philosophy book on his desk.

"Well…come on? I'm hungry and the walk is long." You smile, before turning on your heel. Seungkwan takes a deep breath, before standing and trailing after you. Neither of you stop to gather any bites for the road, but he can't unglue his eyes from the soft swing of your hips. 

Get it together. He shakes it off, opting to look away as you trek down the steps of the temple. "We can get new shoes for you today, I know I said we'd touch base on that." "We did!" You stretch in the afternoon sun, the light hitting your supple skin perfectly. Skin he longs to run his fingers down, sink his teeth into, kiss raw–

"Do you think they'll have yarn like my father's?" You ask, waiting for him to catch up to you. You link your arms once he does, ignoring the way he stiffens slightly as you slip your fingers in his. "I really liked the dyed yarns we'd get from Olympus. Lydia was always very barren for wool and such." He listens to you talk about your father for a while, as he subconsciously guides the two of you through the two-hour walk to the market. Why hasn't he gotten a horse? Why is he making you walk two hours, when you could be rambling about your memories upon a noble steed? He makes it a mental note as the twinkling lights of the market come into view. You stop talking and gasp lightly, your fingers squeezing his as you look over the treetops to the gaggle of tents and life. You smile inwardly, excitedly pulling him closer as you walk quickly. His cheeks burn as you finally reach the entrance of the market, a few bystanders looking at you as your eyes widen.

"Wow. It's beautiful here." You murmur, your eyes scanning the glittering of gold jewelry at the green tent he'd bought your necklace at. He lets you pull him carefully through the sweaty bodies, your eyes wide as you take in all the colors and glitters and the way you instinctively float over to a pair of slender shoulders hunched over a tent of yarns and wool.

The vendor looked up quickly, her smile bright as she saw you scour everything excitedly. You pulled your fingers out of Seungkwan's hand, leaving the god to stand a distance behind you as you ran the pads of your fingers across all the wool she had displayed. There were beautifully dyed yarns – from deep, earthy greens to royal purples, you carefully collected a few as the vendor showed you sample after sample.

"What do you think of this one?" Your voice brought Seungkwan back to Earth, his eyes landing on a soft, ocean blue yarn dyed lightly with indigo. You bounced the material in your palms, rattling off ideas of what you could weave with it when Seungkwan interrupts you.

"Get whatever you want, threadling. I've got it." Seungkwan pats his pouch, thankful he remembered to snag it off the desk before the two of you left the temple. In the glowing twinkle lights of the market, Seungkwan can almost make out a blush on your cheeks as you quickly whip around to look back at the vendor with a shy smile.

It wasn't long before you held a bag full of yarn, Seungkwan silently digging into his pouch for gold coins to give to the vendor. He took the bag gingerly, before you absently looped your arm with his as you bid the vendor a good evening. Your fingertips were cool against his, but he welcomed it as he squeezed them gently.

Seungkwan couldn't help but admire you under the twinkling lights and low sun. Your skin glowed slightly, the bruise on your shoulder from Jeonghan's visit now yellow with time. Your white top wrapped tightly across your chest, worn sandals guiding you through the people who began to gather around the jewelry tents.

His chest feels tight at the idea of falling in love with you under this romanticized perspective.

"Did you ever come here with your father?" Seungkwan asks softly, and you frown slightly, shaking your head. "My father was much too old to make the journey here. Our markets were further south, but it was mostly fish and fruit. I often went alone to gather our weekly rations. My mother…she was good friends with Taeyeon. I'm sure you know her, right? The goddess of harvest?" Seungkwan nods, "I do. She ventures into these parts every so often."

Smiling, you slow down and lean your head on his shoulder as you walk through the dusty market. Your gaze falls upon tasty treats and wide-eyed children holding sugared apples, and you find yourself leading Seungkwan over. "Are you hungry?" "I'm alright. Would you like something?" Seungkwan shifts in your hold, watching the vendor carefully peel an orange off its pith. You nod, pointing at the scrawled menu. "Have you ever had candied orange peel?" "Have you?" He snorts, looking at the jarred delicacy. He watched as your hands ghosted over a custard sitting on a bed of ice, before the vendor stood quickly, orange in hand as she pushed her partner away from the boiling sugar above the fire. "No, but I've also never really had desserts. My father was very strict about sweet things at night." Seungkwan nods as he watches the vendor shakily shove the slices onto a wooden skewer, before carefully coating them in the hot sugar. His fingers squeeze yours as she dips them into a bucket of ice water, the sizzle of the sugar making the water pop over the edge. She holds it up and out to you, a pointed look in her eyes.

"Take it." Seungkwan encourages, and you shyly reach out for it. She gives you a napkin, before mumbling to wait a bit to eat it. Seungkwan offers her money, but she shakes her head. "I haven't seen a pair of lovers in a while, just enjoy it." Seungkwan hates the way his entire body heats at the idea of being your lover, but you're not faring much better – your smile is shy as you nod, letting your hair fall into your eyes as you look away. The tips of your ears are flushed as you ask her for a jar of the candied peels, which she simply shoves into your hand. "On the house. Or on the tent, I guess." You pull Seungkwan away with yet another thank you from your lips, when Seungkwan's eyes catch the leathersmith beginning to set up shop. "Wait, you need new shoes. Let's go this way." You oblige, allowing the god to tug you carefully. The leathersmith was an older man who had his son along as an apprentice, aiming to have the younger man take over the shop once he passed on. Seungkwan had quite the hearty relationship with the older gentleman, but often found a small taste of disdain in his mouth after speaking to his son. He was young and a bit snobby, ungrateful – a few of the traits Seungkwan deemed unattractive.

"Oh, Seungkwan! I haven't seen you in quite a while. How are you? And who is this beautiful young woman? I'm Mr. Kim." The leathersmith took his hat off quickly, offering his hand for you to shake. You did so cheerily, as the older man smiled at you.

"I'm Y/N. I'm a…pupil of Seungkwan's." You say with a bit of hesitance, but Seungkwan's fingers squeeze yours in confirmation. You were, after all…just a pupil. Someone he's not supposed to have feelings for, he reminds himself.

Mr. Kim quickly gestures to his son, who is setting up the machinery. His hands are coated in oil from it, and Seungkwan feels his stomach turn at the idea of his fingers smearing it over your skin when they measure you. He'll have to wash your feet for you when you arrive home–

No? He won't?

"This is my son, you remember him, right? Jisung, say hello." The son glances up with a look of discernment, before Seungkwan notices his eyes land on you. You've begun to nibble onto the candied orange slices, licking your lips of bits of sugar. Seungwan instinctively pulls you closer, before the leathersmith looks at the god as he speaks. "Yes, I do. How're you, Jisung? Taking well after your father, I assume?" The younger man barely acknowledges him, his eyes still on you as you glance around all the leather scraps. There are a few different patterns on the soles of pre-cut shoes, and Seungkwan feels you pull away to run your fingers through the intricate designs. Stars, small waves, dainty paisley. There is a pair with flowers that stop at the arch of the shoe, and you hold it up.

"These?" Your eyes are a little brighter as you hold the candied oranges in your teeth, tracing the pattern with your bruised fingertips. Seungkwan smiles, starting to speak when Jisung cuts him off. "You have to get fitted and come back, we can't just give you pre-made soles." Seungkwan feels his lips tug down as Jisung takes the sole from you, and you nod carefully. "You could be nicer about it, you know. I'm sure your father wouldn't appreciate you treating his prospective clients with this attitude." Mr. Kim's eyes widen as his son scoffs, a quick flush overtaking his cheeks and ears as Jisung tosses the pre-made soles back into the bucket. He clears his throat as you turn away from Jisung with a frown full of disdain, before speaking up. "I assume you are here for shoes, right? What soles did you want?"

You shake your head and shrug. "Whatever you can make for me, I'll take it. I would hate to cause you any trouble, Mr. Kim."

It's clearly a jab at his son, but if he notices, he says nothing. The older gentleman rounds the chair he's had set up and fishes through the bucket for the soles you'd had in your hand. "These, right? They're marigolds." He taps the sole with his knuckle, before patting the chair with his hand.

"Sit, I'll fit them for you. They're pre-made for a reason, emergencies. Your straps are about to fall apart, dear." He grimaces at your sandals, and you feel a soft blush coat your cheeks. "Well, they've been through a lot with me." Seungkwan watches as you carefully take Mr. Kim's hand to sit atop the lifted chair, and as he carefully takes your sandals off. Your feet are slightly swollen from the walk to the market, and he nearly misses the way Jisung takes Mr. Kim's spot in front of you. He spreads his thighs over the edge of the stool, his hand grabbing your ankle out of the stirrup and examining your foot. He grimaces as he runs his fingers over the carmine-covered toenails, carefully tugging on your toes to make your joints pop.

It all felt too intimate for Seungkwan's taste, but he tongues his cheek as Mr. Kim starts digging through his bucket of leather straps.

"Do you want braided straps? I have a few of those, I think they'd suit you." Mr. Kim speaks as Jisung runs a wet sponge down the arch of your foot, making Seungkwan grimace inwardly. Your eyes flutter closed at the cool water dripping along your skin, Jisung's hands carefully massaging the sore arch. You don't respond, so Seungkwan nods in Mr. Kim's direction with a forced smile.

"Feel good?" Jisung's voice breaks through the air, and Seungkwan doesn't like the way his stomach tightens as your nose scrunches, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot. "Feels nice, yeah. We walked the entire way here." "Did you, now?" Jisung glances over his shoulder, and it's as if the shared horse for the father-son duo picks up on his commentary, whinnying behind the tent. Seungkwan frowns, "She asked to." "So you just do whatever she wants?" Jisung asks lowly, and Mr. Kim holds up a matching pair of fishtailed straps. "Aha!" Jisung gives Seungkwan a sour look as he carefully wipes your foot of excess water and dirt, leaving the god to cross his arms over his chest while holding your bag of yarn. You're trying to focus on the candied oranges in your hand, carefully biting at the sweet flesh when Jisung swipes the wet sponge across your other foot, holding it up to his face as he examines your toes. "Walk barefoot a lot?" "Well–" "Pretty girls like you shouldn't be doing that." He tugs at your toes, popping the joints in this foot as well before squeezing gently. "What kind of a god are you, letting her walk around in old shoes? Don't you care?"

Your eyes are wide as he speaks directly to Seungkwan, who only scowls. "Isn't it inappropriate to compliment your clients? Just do what you're here to do, I can take care of her on my own." "Seems like you can't, if she's walking here and wearing old shoes." Jisung barks back, and you shift uncomfortably. Seungkwan can tell you're starting to pick up on his disdain for the younger man, who only digs his fingers into the flesh of your calf. Seungkwan doesn't respond, opting to move over to Mr. Kim, who is hunched over his workbench. He's carefully piercing the leather with a thick needle, his fingers covered in makeshift thimbles as he holds the leather in shaky hands. Seungkwan doesn't let your conversation with Jisung leave his mind as he eavesdrops, Jisung asking you where you're from and if you're single. You just answer with a disinterested tone, something that makes Seungkwan smile inwardly as Mr. Kim holds the shoe up. 

"Think they'll fit?" He asks, needle tucked between his lips as Seungkwan examines it, nodding carefully. "If they're a little big it's fine too, she's on her feet a lot." No you weren't. You hadn't done anything in the temple but lay in his bed with him and prune flowers. He stopped making you step into the kitchen, last week allowing you to simply exist within the temple and the gardens. You enjoyed dipping your feet into the pond, and grabbing the frogs in your palms as they croaked quietly.

There hadn't been a single drop of rain since he had you against the windowsill in his bedroom. Almost as though Seungcheol was listening, and eerily enough, maybe even watching. 

Seungkwan took the time to tend the garden when he wasn't riling you up in whatever form he could. He hated that he was starting to enjoy the way you poked at him, wanting to elicit a reaction out of him, yearning for the way his hands would grip you firmly if he was pushing you against any surface he could manage.

Yet, your lips still have yet to graze in the way you beg for constantly. He'll kiss you anywhere you ask, anywhere you want – but your lips remain untouched, bitten by your own teeth, glossed by your own spit and calling his name out wantonly. 

How he yearns to shut you up that way sometimes.

"How is it, having a new pupil? You haven't had one in a while." Mr. Kim asks as Seungkwan's eyes trailed the way Jisung's hands go up a little too high on your knee. You frown a bit, your lips pursed as you push it down. He apologizes swiftly, a twitch in his lip as you cross your legs at the ankle. You both continue the odd conversation, with Jisung questioning your attire. You answer that Seungkwan made it for you, and isn't it so pretty?

Jisung glances over his shoulder before scoffing out a yeah.

"It's fine. She's very smart and quick witted, and keeps me on my toes." Seungkwan nods, watching you and Jisung out of the corner of his eye. Jisung is now massaging your feet with a salve, likely one from the apothecary two tents down. It smells of eucalyptus, a scent Seungkwan noticed you avoided in the shampoo shelf – the citrus basil disappearing much faster. Your nose scrunched once more as he wrapped your feet in warm towels from a basket, before your eyes met Seungkwan's.

You blink at him, tilting your head towards Jisung before making a face of annoyance. He huffs out a small laugh, earning a smile from you as you return your attention to the younger man in front of you. You ask Jisung if he always does this for his customers, and he snorts in response as he tucks the towel corner under your ankle with a resounding no.

"She's very pretty, Seungkwan." Mr. Kim pipes up from his workbench, and Seungkwan's eyes dart to the older man. He's giving the god a pointed look, watching as Seungkwan shifts silently before letting out a sigh. "I'm not ready, Mr. Kim." "We never are, when the right one comes along." He murmurs, and he looks up to ensure you can't hear him before he proceeds. "What's stopping you? The fact that she's a human?" "Somewhat." He shrugs, opting to leave out the extensive story of your past – how he sent you to the Underworld within hours of meeting you, how you made him feel vulnerable in a way he hated. How you made him feel like putty with your hands, your mouth, your words of praise and reassurance as you trailed your lips anywhere he'd let you. 

He remembers telling you how greedy you were as he nipped at your neck three nights ago, your incessant whining for a kiss on the lips only making him slow the rut of his hips against your clothed core. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, mouthing at his jaw with whimpers from your throat as he palmed at your body beneath him. "So, so greedy. Can never just take what I give you, hm? Always want more."

"What else?" Mr. Kim asks, and Seungkwan rubs his neck lightly, a worried smile on his lips as he admits defeat. "I just know that it won't work. She's a mortal, it won't be good for either of us. One day, she'll be gone and I'll still be left here." "Isn't the purpose of life to find something that fulfills you?" Mr. Kim objects, raising his brows at the god before him. "If she makes you feel happy, and you feel fulfilled making her feel loved, cherished, whatever the case may be – shouldn't that be enough for you to take it and run like the wind? Love is something so fickle, something so hard to find yet so easy to ruin. Don't let your doubts ruin what you and Miss Y/N have. You yearn for her, Seungkwan." "I do not." He scoffs, glancing at you as Jisung removes the now cool towels, your eyes closed as he wipes away the salve that went unabsorbed. Mr. Kim only smiles in response as he hands Seungkwan the shoes, the leather warm against his fingertips. "Just think about it, Seungkwan. It can't do any harm." Except it can, he thinks.

Seungkwan is selfish. He'd always been that way – wanting only the best for himself, opting to choose the better routes, the better classes, the better books. Carefully selecting anyone and everyone he allowed into his hermit-like life, his secretive ways.

He only wanted the best, and he fears that if he doesn't figure himself out soon, you'll be the only best he sees slip through his fingers. He knows that you're good – he knows that your heart is so painfully fragile, wrapped in layers of hurt from losing your father and missing out on the last years of his life. He knows that you're trying so hard to keep up the same facade that he is – that you're stronger than you let on, that you're braver, that you're better.

He's only a god because Seungcheol said so, he's no different than you are.

He figured that a few nights ago, watching you sleep against his chest. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder, your lips glistening with a bit of drool. He wanted to kiss you so deeply then, his fingers carefully carding through your tangled hair and tugging at the necklace he'd given you. You'd stirred slightly, barely opening your eyes to peer up at him. He smiled silently, making you grunt softly before snuggling back into his skin.

It's odd, he realizes. How easily just a taste of you, just one moment of his walls being down, led from angry, bitter words to playful banter and dirty phrases whispered into sweaty skin. How in just a few days, you carefully removed layers from his guarded heart, desperately wanting to earn a spot in it. And…he just let you. He just let you call him pretty, he just let you kiss his worries away. He let you toe the line of the boundaries he'd set in place, your lips just barely hovering over his when he'd let you take the lead, your skirt bunched around your hips as you both relished in the wet sound of your cunt dragging against his bare thighs.

He just let you prove to him, over the course of a few nights, that you desired him…but deeper than anyone ever had. You cared nothing about his presence as a god, in fact, you challenged it – you poked and prodded, you pissed him off with your carefully chosen words and you mended him back together just as quickly. You jerked his emotions around, riling him up by touching him inappropriately for a pupil, but he gave in so fast. He loved it, he loved how you felt against him, he loved you.

And it pains him inside.

"Let me see the shoes." Jisung breaks Seungkwan out of his thoughts, and he reluctantly hands them over to the younger man. Seungkwan fishes in his pouch for money, placing fifteen gold coins in Mr. Kim's change cup. Ten more than the leathersmith often charged, but Seungkwan paid him no mind as he watched Jisung carefully slide the sandals over your feet. 

Too. Intimate.

He carefully wrapped the straps around your ankle, the pads of his fingers lingering before Seungkwan cleared his throat loudly. Your eyes dart to the god, who has a frown on his lips as he offers his hand for you to step off the chair. The sun was slightly lower now, meaning it would be time to start heading home soon. You take Seungkwan's hand gingerly, carefully stepping down as your other hand presses against his chest for extra support.

"How d'you feel, Miss?" Mr. Kim asks as you bounce on your toes, and you seem content as you give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. You seem happy with them, but Seungkwan doesn't miss the way your eyes trail to the worn sandals you'd previously donned. They held history, they'd taken you wherever you'd been and seen everything you had. Seungkwan understands as he gathers them in his hand carefully, holding them out to Mr. Kim. "Can you refresh these? Is that possible?" 

Your eyes grow wide before they're squished by the fat of your cheeks as you smile, now wrapping your arms around Seungkwan's as Mr. Kim nods eagerly. "Return within a fortnight, I'll have them as good as new." Seungkwan nods, before pouring a few more coins into the change cup and bidding his goodbye. Mr. Kim gives him yet another pointed look, before looking at you. His eyes speak volumes – volumes of kiss her, of hold her, of love her.

Seungkwan nods curtly, before spinning on his heel and pulling you away.

"It'll be chilly soon. Would you like to get a blanket for the walk back?" He asks quietly, and you nod eagerly. "Maybe also, something else to eat? The candied orange was good but…I'm not full yet." Seungkwan glances over at you, seeing a bit of sugar crystals gathered at the corners of your lips. He smiles to himself, wiping his thumb against the skin carefully. You look at him as he licks the sugar off the pad of his finger, an amused look in your eyes as you shake your head. "If you wanted some of it, you could've said so." Seungkwan only smiles to himself, holding you close as he pulls you behind a tent. Your eyes scan his face as he carefully moves your hair away from your face. "I'm sure you still have some left, right?" "I finished it. See?" You hold up the empty skewer, your eyes innocently scouring him as he feels his chest warm. He takes it out of your hand, tossing it into a tent's garbage bin. "But you can give me a taste anyhow, can't you?" Your eyes cast confusion until his lips ghost over yours. "Didn't like how he was touching you." He murmurs, just barely touching your skin. "M'sorry." You mumble back, nuzzling your nose against his. 

"Are you?" He asks, pulling away slightly. Your cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment under his hands, his thumbs carefully pinching the fat. Your hands rest on his chest as he carefully takes your jaw in his large hand, the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin making you jolt. "Didn't like it. Only want you to touch me like that." You admit softly, your hands bunching the fabric of his chiton under them. He smiles, "Only me?" "Only you." You nod, and he hums in response. His thumb moves to pull at your plump lower lip, and he sighs as he moves back. "Well, we should start heading back. We can make it back before sundown, and it won't be as chilly." You look disappointed as he pulls back, your hands still holding onto his chiton as he does so. Your lip is jutted out into a pout, "Come on, Seungkwan." He bites back a laugh, opting to act dumb as he turns back to you. "Come on, what, Y/N?" "Kiss me." You frown, tugging his shirt gently until he's lowered enough to touch your nose to his. He lets you pull at him, his hands snaking around your waist. "Hm? Not sure you've earned that, angel." "You're so mean." You pout, your lower lip brushing his. He nips at it quickly, tugging it between his teeth as your eyes shutter closed. "Mean? You think so?"

He doesn't let you reply, pressing his lips against yours gently. He feels you sigh into his mouth, your hands moving up to his neck, arms gingerly wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands hold your hips, squeezing them softly as he pulls you closer to him. His tongue gently eases into your mouth, tasting the sweet tang of the orange against your teeth. Your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, licking into his mouth with precision, trying to hide your desperation as you claw at him. He pulls away carefully, his tongue swiping across his lips as your eyes open.

"Why'd you stop?" You whine, only prompting him to press one, two, three chaste kisses to your open mouth. "Because we're in public, and if you want more, we have to get home, angel." "You'll give me more?" "I'll give you whatever you want." He nods, his forehead touching yours. "Promise?" Your voice is small, but he smiles, pulling you into his chest. "I promise, angel."

The trip home was full of soft touches and his fingers pinching any skin he could manage. He pressed his lips against yours more than twice on the way there, the thick blanket he'd bought you draped carefully over your shoulders as he held your bag of yarn and candied orange peels. Your hand held a small bag of roasted chickpeas, the only other snack you bothered to pick out after Seungkwan kissed you. You suddenly weren't hungry for food, only the white-hot feeling of his lips against yours. You didn't talk as you walked home tiredly, only looked at the sky and at the straps of your new sandals.

"Let me run you a bath, angel." He offers as the temple comes into view, and you look up hesitantly. "Join me for it."

"Hmm. Maybe." He shrugs, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and carefully wrapping around it. It's comforting, the weight of his warmth against your skin as he pulls you closer to him. You allow it, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you reach the steps of the temple. The wind-down is easy. It's simple, he strips you of your clothing in his bedroom as he kisses you gently, his lips sweet against yours. Soft hums of approval as he felt your hands touch him as much as he'd allow, before guiding you down to the bathroom. He lets you tug off his chiton, his pants following as he holds you flush to him as he runs his fingers under the running water. 

And, he promptly joined you in the tub. Your back was nestled closely against his chest, his fingers wrapped around your hand and lips peppering kisses to your knuckles. Your hair had long been cleaned, his shampoo wafting off you as the warm suds surrounded your naked bodies. This…you'd read about this. Lovers, so close together. Lovers, holding each other dear, cherishing each other, worshiping each other.

Seungkwan's lips against your shoulders tear you from your thoughts, making you twist your head to peer at him. You wonder what's changed between the two of you. You know Seungkwan has kissed other mortals, done things he's done with you with other mortals. Why are you any different? Why is the taste of you any different, anything more than what he's had before?

And most of all, why does it weigh on you? Who cares about the other girls, as long as you get the guy?

You huff inwardly, toying with the suds at the edge of the tub.

"Closed mouths don't get fed, Y/N." His voice rings in your ears, the low rumble startling you slightly. He gives you a pointed look, his eyes sharp as he scans your features. "Sorry. Just thinking." "About?" He questions, his arms moving to wrap around your waist beneath the water. You shake your head lightly, leaning against his clavicle with a sigh. "Just everything and nothing, all at once." He doesn't press the issue. If he senses something is wrong, he says nothing. He instead runs his hands up your torso, pads of his fingers tickling your skin. "I really enjoyed spending time with you, today." He admits softly. You feel your cheeks heat as you look back at him again.

"Really?" "Really. I know we were late, we can go back another time and go as early as you'd like." He nods, and you smile widely as you nod in excitement. He smiles, his thumb moving to stroke your cheeks gently. "Let me take you to bed, yeah? It's late, we have a lot to do tomorrow." "You always say that, then you leave me wrapped in the duvet all morning and hand-feed me breakfast." You roll your eyes, making Seungkwan snort. "I can make life a lot harder, if you'd like." 

"No, don't do that." You feign a pout as you twist in his hold, opting to straddle his lap under the warm water. He looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs. "Tread lightly, angel." "I'm not doing anything." You smile down at him, opting to run your hands through his damp hair. He tongues his cheek. "You're always up to no good." "Just miss you." You murmur, pressing your forehead against his. He hums in response, pressing yet another chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. "Let me take you to bed." He repeats, voice raspier than before. You nod, before planting your lips against his without second thought. He allows it, kissing you back slowly as his arms wrap around your waist. 

"Come on." Once more, the night is smooth. You notice a few clouds gathering in the distance as Seungkwan wraps you carefully in a towel, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as the two of you trek to his bedroom. You hadn't slept in your own since that one night, with Seungkwan guiding you himself so as to not lose you in the dark.

You hated the way your stomach turned as you reached the bedroom and the clouds seemed closer, hoping it meant nothing. Hoping that you'd get to have this soft side of Seungkwan for longer, hoping that Seungcheol's mind games were just his own problems seeping through in the form of rolling thunder and bright lightning.

"Smells like rain." Seungkwan murmured as he dried your hair carefully with another towel, your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. "It does." Neither of you say anything else as you close the window tightly, placing towels on the ground should the forthcoming rain leak through. You slide under the covers as Seungkwan lights a lamp on his desk, burning slowly before he slides in next to you. He holds you close this time, instead of leaving you at arm's length.

"Goodnight, angel." "Goodnight, Seungkwan."

You try to ignore the clap of thunder in the sky as you snuggle into his chest, your cheek once more squished against his shoulder as he presses a soft kiss to your hairline. His own heart is thundering against his chest, and you can only hope it's because he fears the same thing you do.

Fighting once the night has passed, and the rain continues to pelt the wet Earth – and your blooming relationship alongside it.

EIGHT.

It has been six days since you and Seungkwan have been intimate at all, and there has been endless rain. He hasn't spoken much to you as it is, instead finding his way outside or busying himself in his bedroom – with his door closed. Your cheeks burn in humiliation when he closes the door behind him before bed, leaving you to burn the lamps in your bedroom through all the oil they've got while you curl yourself against the sheets. He doesn't spare you these nights, leaving you to feel your eyes heavy in the mornings, often retreating back during the bright afternoons to nap.

He feels relieved when you're not around.

Your lingering touches earn his hand pushing you away, the confusion in your eyes remaining unanswered as he pushes past you in the mornings. He won't look at you, he won't kiss you, he won't speak unless you speak first. He'll slide breakfast onto your nightstand and disappear for hours once you've awoken, his shoulders hidden behind bushes of flowers and tall trees in his garden. He silently washes the dishes, bakes countless focaccia loaves, pours your wine and runs your bath water.

He didn't join you again. You bit your tongue, hoping maybe it was just some odd rut of his. He seemed lost in thought as he rearranged flowers in clay pots left behind by former pupils as gifts, but you didn't miss the way he stiffened as he heard you behind him.

"Everything okay, Seungkwan?" You questioned softly, a gentle look on your face as you peered over his shoulder. He nods quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes. Lunch is soon, so why don't you spend some time in the bedroom? Or outside? I'll–" "Come outside with me." You suggest, before scanning his posture. "You've seemed really out of it for the last few days. It's starting to worry me." "Don't worry about me. I'm just in my head about things, I've got a lot to do." He lies like a dog, and you frown inwardly before stepping forward to stand next to him. "Come with me, Seungkwan." I miss you, lingers on your tongue, but he sighs frustratedly before his hands find your bare shoulders, turning you quickly and pushing you towards the garden doors. You try not to melt into the heat of his fingers, instead shaking them off quickly as you reach the beginning of the garden. The oak trees lining the garden tower over you, and you frown as the sky turns slightly grey at your presence. The clouds begin to roll in gently, covering the sunlight as you sigh.

"Are you upset with me?" You blurt, turning to face a rather unconfident Seungkwan. His eyes widen as he shakes his head. "Not at all. Come, we can prune the tulips–" "Seungkwan, be honest with me. I don't like this." Your confession makes his eyes dart away from your face, his hands folding in front of him as he loses purpose for them. He doesn't respond, instead tilting his head in the direction of the tulips. You tongue your cheek, before you step closer to him. His breath hitches in his throat, and you don't think you'd ever seen him look this unsteady.

"What is going on?" You murmur, your hands carefully rising to hold his face. He frowns, quickly capturing your wrists as your palms cover his cheeks. "Nothing is going on, Y/N." "Where have you gone?" Your whisper is slightly broken, your eyes full of concern for the equally ruined god in front of you. His eyes tear away from yours, nibbling his lip as you raise onto your tiptoes, moving him to face you. "I thought we were making progress here." "I don't need you to make progress in anything." He says, almost too quickly for you to believe him. Definitely too quickly for you to believe him, "You don't mean that." "I do. I do mean it, Y/N. Whatever was happening here, it can't continue. I know it must've been confusing, trust me–" You frown, cutting him off abruptly. "How can I? How can I trust you, when you've done all of this? You give me everything you've got, expressing nothing short of desire for me. You touch me in ways I haven't been since my first life, even by those I've slept with in the past. You kiss me like it means something and then you abandon me, you make me sleep alone like a dog and you don't speak to me. What twisted game are you playing? Is this the just and fair god you claim to be?"

Your anger bounces right off him, his cheeks flaming red as he sighs. 

"Y/N, this is a dangerous game. It's got nothing to do with you, or how I could or could not feel about you." His hands take yours off his face, holding your wrists tightly as if he needs them to ground him. Your eyes meet as your back hits the oak tree marking the end of the marigolds – you can see him holding back feelings of desire, and you're sure yours scream the same as the words slip from your lips.

"Then kiss me like you mean it." He groans, his grip on your wrists loosening as he pulls away. "You know I can't do that, Y/N. It's not right."

"Why? Because I'm some mortal? Because I'll never satisfy you?" You wrestle your wrists out of his grasp, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest. "Y/N–"

"Why won't you let me show you that you're just like me? Because you want to keep up this façade that you're perfect? Huh? Is that it?" You push his chest lightly, watching as the sky rolls with dark clouds in the distance and water begins to pelt the two of you. "Why won't you let me in?"

"Because." His jaw is tight as he turns away, and you grab his arm so he doesn't walk away from you, his shoulders tensing at your touch. "Because what, Seungkwan? Aren't you always spewing that you're a just and fair god? Aren't you always telling me that it's your job to guide? Well, I need some guidance here! Give me something to follow! Let me help you!" He huffs inwardly, turning back sharply and pulling you to him by your shirt, his other hand pushing your now wet hair out of your face. His eyes trail your face, and he speaks quietly.

"I can't, because you won't be here someday. I'll be left to yearn for you for the rest of my miserable eternity and I can't do that to myself. I could beg and plead with anybody who'll listen to let me have you forever, but I'd be disrupting the natural order of life. I can't kiss you, now or ever again, because you'll suffer. And I think you've had enough suffering for yet another lifetime."

Your brows furrow as you lean in closer to him, feeling his fingers quickly card through your hair and pull you back, your lips just missing his. Your eyes close at the tug, the way you know his rings will snag and you'll like it. 

"You can't tell me when I've had enough." You murmur, and he folds.

His lips slot against yours in a fiery kiss, pushing you against the tree and pulling a whimper from your throat as his teeth nip at your lips. You try to keep up, his hands choosing to roam your body, grabbing at any exposed skin they can before finding the slit of your skirt. His fingers circle your thighs carefully, bearing your weight against the rough trunk of the tree and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

"This is hard for me, too." He pulls away, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. "It doesn't have to be. Just let me in, I can help you." You plead with him, his shaky breath against your lips.

"I can't." His eyes close, his fingers tight around your thighs as your red skirt bunches higher. Your hands reach for his face again, thumbs carefully rubbing his cheeks as his eyes open to stare into yours. "Just trust me, Seungkwan." "It's not right, Y/N." He shakes his head, only for your words to come out with a bite. "You're selfish."

He huffs, nodding. "So what? I am, I am selfish. I can't imagine a fucking life without you tugging on my sleeve, is that what you want to hear? That I'd rather die an honest death than let you help me figure out something I should know on my own? I'm a god, for fuck's sake. I don't need your help, now or ever!"

"Then what the fuck are we doing? Why can't you just mentor me the way you were supposed to, huh? Why did you…" You trail off as you push him away from you, your lips pursed tightly as you fight off tears. Things are happening way too fast – but they started fast, anyway. Impatience usually makes things crumble like sand at your fingertips.

"Just…leave me alone. You don't need me, so I don't need you." You pinch the bridge of your nose, before pushing your wet hair off your face. "Don't walk away from me, we're not done here." His hand shoots out to wrap around your arm, his cool rings digging into your skin as you twist away from him. "Aren't we? You hurt me, Seungkwan. You're actively hurting me, by pushing me away. You don't care about anyone except yourself, because if you did, you would've never kissed me in the first place. You would've told Jeonghan no when he sent me here, you wouldn't have taken me in. You…you're selfish. You're selfish and you're a liar. And I hate that. I hate you!" You spit, angry tears streaming down your cheeks as you turn away from him.

"I'm not like you, Seungkwan. I can't just hide how I feel, not when I wear my heart on my sleeve. You can pretend all you'd like, fake it until you make it, do whatever you please." You mumble to yourself, sniffling deeply before meeting his eyes. Eyes that have glossed over with tears he won't dare let slip, but you only sigh.

"I deserve better than this." Your lip quivers as you push past him, the rain quickly drenching your top. You shiver as you walk away, wrapping your arms around yourself to create your own warmth as you hear a roll of thunder over your head. "I fucking heard you, Seungcheol. I got it." You mutter inwardly, feeling relief as the rain stops pelting your shoulders the moment you duck into the temple.

You silently walk to the bathroom, turning the faucet on for warm water to run out as you strip off your wet clothing. Your fingers fumble with the pins, holding them between your lips as you ease yourself into the filling tub, not bothering to grab for soap. You sigh as the warmth engulfs your limbs, shivering as you sink further.

Who were you kidding, really? You knew things between a god and a mortal weren't made to last. He'd said it, you'd agreed to it, you even admitted you'd rather die than become a goddess to live alongside a god who deems himself better than you. 

But, it doesn't mean you don't know that Seungkwan is far greater than you'd be, potentially ever. He held a power you'd never know anything about, this weight on his shoulders that he admitted himself to. You knew of gods who didn't care for their particular talents, gods who boasted nothing of their importance and gods who simply lacked interest in who or what they represented. You knew of gods who loved endlessly and deeply – Wonwoo and Mingyu. You knew of gods who admitted their wrongdoings – Jeonghan, Woozi, and Vernon.

You knew of gods who willingly did wrong, who willingly admitted it, who still searched and aimed for better – Seungcheol. If the god of the sky could openly spew his own faults, if the god of the sky could do as he pleases without so much as a second thought, why can't Seungkwan? Why can't you be the reason behind his loss of control, why can't he see you as something more than a mortal he's got to hold together? You're not broken, you're not ruined by anything but the way his skin feels against yours, his lips slotted perfectly into yours, him showing you that he wants nothing more but to melt into you and never stop being one.

So why suddenly switch up his act? Why stop kissing you when he's been all over you for longer than he hasn't, why pretend you're not someone he desires to hold near and dear to his heart when you both know that you were slowly, surely, chipping away at him? Because he'd be admitting imperfection.

And god forbid Boo Seungkwan admit he's not perfect.

You felt a sob in your throat, but pushed it down as you thumbed at the necklace he'd given you. Emerald, for growth. Scoffing to yourself, you peel it off, leaving it to dangle from the faucet handle as you turn away from it. The rain has stopped now, the sound of nature being overtaken by a few birds chirping in the trees and the occasional frog croaking beneath the windowsill.

The next three days were quieter than ever. 

You were locked in your bedroom, ignoring any of Seungkwan's attempts to speak to you. You let breakfast go uneaten, only sneaking out of your room when you'd see him hunched over in the garden from your window. You hid yourself away, opting to weave your fingers numb with the new yarn you hadn't used since you brought it home. 

He hadn't been home since last night, either. You didn't question anything, didn't care to. If he'd cared for you to know, he would have told you. After all, he is a just and fair god, is he not?

It's laughable.

All you could do was weave depictions of what you and Seungkwan could have been, or what you were. A large owl wearing an olive branch, a single spider perched carefully on the predator's shoulder. Unassuming, maybe hoping for the best despite expecting the worst from the bird. A twist of the neck, a bite off the head – and you'd be dead. "Would it be a painful death, at hands so soft?" You murmur to yourself, untangling the yarn from your fingers. The ocean blue was your background, the owl beige and brown with eyes of gold, the spider black with a single patch of gold on its chest. Representing what? Growth? A bruise of pain? A change of heart? You roll your shoulders back carefully, the soreness digging deep into your left cuff as you stretch. Sighing, you thread your fingers through the loom once more, your tired eyes drooping as you gingerly pull the yarn through. You felt alone, and yes, lonely alongside it all. You hadn't expected the god to weigh so heavily on you. You reminded yourself he chose that, though – he told you that he didn't need you. He doesn't need you to teach him anything. He doesn't need you at all.

Scoffing to yourself, you hear the creek of the window shutters behind you. You don't look over, only hearing the oh-so-familiar click of Jeonghan's boots on the marble tile. "Y/N." "Tsk, don't remind me that I've been a bad girl this time. Just tell me how I fucked up, yeah?" You respond with practised ease, not bothering to acknowledge him further. Jeonghan sighs, squatting next to your bent form in front of the loom. His fingers ghost over your hunched back, before they touch your skin. His fingertips are nothing like Seungkwan's – ice cold, even a bit callused. You move away.

"You never listen, do you?" He clicks his tongue, and you nibble at your lip without response. Shrugging, you try to act nonchalant when you feel his cold fingers swipe at your cheeks carefully. You look at him with a sigh, earning a pitiful look. "Don't pity me, Jeonghan." "I don't. I think you're an idiot, but I'd never pity you. You don't deserve that." He shrugs, before sighing. "Nice tapestry." "Thanks." You look at your fingers, when Jeonghan's hand moves to rest on your shoulder. "How's the shoulder doing? Still gets painful after you bury yourself in work?" He's referring to your constant whining of shoulder pain from the first time he met you. Something must've happened when you landed, because you'd been groaning about the pain for a few hours until he shoved you in front of a loom and asked you to weave it out – his way of asking you to shut the hell up. You'd woven something for him before he let you leave the Underworld, but like always – lost yourself in the task. You wove beautiful tales of fruit and love, and the tapestry hung proudly behind Jeonghan's throne. You hadn't seen it move since the second time you'd been dropped in.

"It's fine. Haven't had a chance to make myself a salve, Seungkwan won't let me fucking be. He's been gone for a night, though, so I might sneak out if he's not in upon nightfall." You mutter, thrumming your fingertips against the taut yarn. Jeonghan smiles, "Maybe you should let him make you the salve, Y/N. Let him take care of you." "I'd rather die than take his help." You scowl, crossing your arms with a wince of pain. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, resting his forehead against your bicep. "Darling, don't you think you're being too hard on him? You haven't spoken in three days." "He chose that. He basically told me I was just a game to him. How the fuck do you know that, anyway?" You move away from his touch again, only for the god's maroon eyes to swirl something dark. "Are we forgetting I assigned you here? I know everything that happens – every branch that snaps, every frog that croaks, every pretty little moan from that throat of yours. I see it all." "Creep." You stick your tongue out at him, making him stifle a grin. "He talks about you a lot when you're not in earshot. Mostly to himself, but you know." Jeonghan gestures to the air, insinuating he sees all, hears all. Every thought Seungkwan's had of you outside of his own head, Jeonghan knows about.

Meaning Seungcheol also probably knows about it.

You shrug again. "I don't care. He said what he said in front of me, and that negates anything he could've ever said behind my back. He kissed me, Jeonghan." 

"Didn't you beg him to?" He taunts, pinching your thigh playfully. You tongue your cheek, an embarrassed blush coating your skin as you nod. "I did…but I guess I got ahead of myself. No…god would ever fall in love with a mortal. Not the way a mortal would a god." Jeonghan's eyes widen at your words, taking your hands in his quickly. He squeezes them gently, "Don't say that." "Isn't it the truth? No god just falls in love with a mortal, Jeonghan. A god would be a fool to do that, even Mingyu did it by accident. He struck himself with an arrow, that love is nothing but purely coincidental. It's just held together by that, strings of coincidence." You scoff, and Jeonghan's brows furrow incredulously.

"Are you hearing yourself, darling? This isn't you." He shakes head at you, his bangs falling from the crown of Gladiolus flowers he wore religiously. You snort, tucking the stray hair under the petals quickly before sighing. "It's the truth, Jeonghan. Whether I want to believe it or not, whether I felt something for someone like Seungkwan at some point, it's the truth. It's not meant to be, so as soon as you say I can leave this place…I'm going." Your words pierce something within him, you can tell as he frowns deeply. His jaw ticks, as he mutters under his breath. You tilt your head at him, leaning closer, to hear the words spill from his lips. "You're the fool, Y/N." You frown inwardly, as Jeonghan groans in frustration. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. The two of you were on a good path. You were figuring things out, even if it was by exploring each other the way you chose to. You were intimate in ways Seungkwan hasn't been with anyone else before – he kissed you, he was letting you in. What happened?" Jeonghan paces in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked around. His lip tucked between his teeth as he nibbled lightly, your own voice tearing through the air as if to cut through any building tension.

"He just regrets it. It happens." You shrug, earning a scoff from the god in front of you. "Regrets it? Y/N, the guy was practically falling in love with you! You're smart, you're charming, you're the biggest brat I've ever met! How could he regret you, darling?" I don't know, you want to say. But a part of you doesn't want to know, either. Your eyes sting as you look away, but you close them only as you speak once more. "You're right, either way. I am the fool, Jeonghan, as are you." "Me!? I was trying to help you!" He balks, a look of incredulity in his eyes as a strong wind blows your shutters open. You jump in your seat, the tension in your shoulder making you groan as you dig your fingers into it carefully. "I know, and I appreciate it. It's just a shame it went to waste, I guess. He doesn't need me, and soon, I won't need him."

Jeonghan's jaw is tense as he stands upright, towering over you as you awkwardly adjust yourself on your stool. "Fine." "What?" You glance up at him, your hands now folded in your lap. "You can go. Whenever you're ready, you can leave the temple without another word." Jeonghan's words are anything but comforting, something you weren't used to from him. His eyes are darker than normal as he rubs at his temples, his tongue running over his lip as he sighs. "I expect you to return to Lydia and find Wonwoo. You'll room with him while you get back on your feet. I can get you an escort by tomorrow morning, if you choose to stay the night here. It smells like rain." Your brows raise at the phrase, something Jeonghan doesn't care to acknowledge. "I expect you to be on your best behavior, because we meant what we said, Y/N. No more second chances."

You blink at the god before you, who only shakes his head. "You can never say I didn't try."

Jeonghan ruffles the tendrils of your hair, carding his fingers through it before pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline. He sighs, "Good luck. You know where to find me." He spins on his heel, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble once more as he treks the room. "Finish that tapestry before you leave. It'd do you well to leave Seungkwan a parting gift."

You don't respond as Jeonghan hops out of the window, pulling the shutters closed as he lands on the ground. 

Was it really that easy? You just get to say you're done? It's never been that easy before. Jeonghan has never let you off the hook so smoothly, much less when it's something that benefits him just as much (if not more) than it benefits you. 

You turn back to the unfinished tapestry, the yarn now tangled at your feet. You bend at the waist to pick it up, feeling your shoulder tense up as you begin undoing the knots. Soon, it's all just strings of blue and beige and brown, and your eyes feel tired as you weave into gloomy sunset.

No rain yet.

"It's certainly a pleasure to see you, Seungkwan." The younger god squirms under Seungcheol's gaze, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. He rarely visited, and if he did, it was never without good reason. Like you, he too loved to do shit he wasn't supposed to. It often landed him here, whereas most mortals landed with Jeonghan – call it father-son privileges.

"Likewise." He replies curtly, clearing his throat as he lowers himself to the chair one of the angels has brought forth for him. He sits silently, with Seungcheol simply arching his brow at him in curiosity. "What brings you here? Trouble in paradise?" Seungkwan chokes as Seungcheol smiles into his teacup. "What?" "Before there was you, there was me." Seungcheol gestures at their surroundings with his bejeweled hands, setting the teacup down before him. "You've come to ask for redemption." "I have not!" Seungkwan scoffs as the servants place a plate of sliced fruit and warmed bread in front of him, the honey wand still inside his teacup as they slide it down. Seungkwan's ears burn in embarrassment as Seungcheol folds his hands, his eyes holding the same kind of mischief they've always shown. Seungkwan grimaces at the spread of food before him, his stomach churning at the idea of you sneaking out of your bedroom tonight as well, hoping he won't be in the kitchen as you steal bites of focaccia and cheese, pieces of salmon and lamb disappearing from the counter. Pieces he's left out for you, hoping you'll take them. Even if you don't accept the silent apology behind them.

"Being a god weighs on you heavier than I've ever seen before." Seungcheol speaks softly, earning a wistful look from Seungkwan. He doesn't respond, Seungcheol running his hand through his hair as he sighs. "You know I can't do anything for you up here, right?" "I was just hoping you'd give me some peace of mind." Seungkwan's eyes flutter closed, and Seungcheol scoffs out a soft, humorless laugh. "Me? Of all people?" "Believe it or not, I do admire your insane strength sometimes. I'm sure it'd drive me mad to be in charge of everything and everyone. I can barely handle one person." Seungkwan admits quietly, making the older man smile sadly. "I wasn't always like this." "I know." Seungkwan nods, his hand moving to take the honey wand out of his cup. "I think it was you who told me that I can't be good at everything right away. I have to learn my way." "And was I wrong? Have you not become better at things?" Seungcheol's voice holds a tilted tone, strong brows pointing Seungkwan in the direction of what's needed to be said. He sighs, nodding as he brings the teacup to his lips.

"Why does it come so easily to her?" He whispers against the porcelain, and Seungcheol only shakes his head. "What comes easily to her, comes easily to you. Both good and bad, but you both choose to focus on the things you don't have. You're human that way, you know." Seungkwan's brows raise as he looks up at the older god, who stirs a bit of cream into his tea. "I know I'm not a love expert. I've done it all – adultery, multiple wives, reverse harem at one point." Seungcheol clears his throat, cheeks tinging pink as he continues. "But I know a good woman when I see one. Y/N…she gets you. She fakes you out just enough, but never takes it too far. She knocks you down a few pegs, she makes you loosen up." "I do nothing for her." Seungkwan mumbles, holding the warm tea in his hands. It's only a few shades lighter than the first cup of tea you'd ever made for him. Seungcheol hums, "I'd argue that you do a lot for her. You feed her, bathe her, clothe her." "That's my job." The younger god tries to argue, but Seungcheol shakes his head with a smile. "Your job, Seungkwan, is to guide her. You let guilt take you down a path you would've never taken in the first place, but that guilt has begun to melt away into something much deeper. You peel her peaches. You add tomatoes to the focaccia when you hate tomatoes, you pour her wine, you fit her clothes. You hold her close and you've kissed her, Seungkwan. You've let her get further and deeper than anyone ever has."

Seungkwan sits in silence, feeling his eyes sting with tears as he looks away.

"You love her." Seungcheol whispers, making Seungkwan rest his elbows on the table, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shake lightly. Seungcheol reaches over, running his palm down Seungkwan's back with a gentle sigh. "You have to talk to her, Seungkwan. She figured you out faster than anyone has before. She unwrapped you from the day she got there." Seungkwan wipes at his eyes with frustration, letting a breath slip through his lips as he leans over the plate of food in front of him. He hopes you're eating something by now.

"You have to apologize, and admit your faults. You won't get through this life being so uptight about everything. They know we mess up, mortals are mortal, they're not dumb." Seungcheol rolls his eyes, earning a soft smack from Seungkwan. Wiping the younger's cheek, Seungcheol strokes the side of his head gently. "So you admit, you're looking for redemption?" Seungkwan struggles not to roll his eyes, before reluctantly nodding his head. "We can do that. Shall we?"

Seungkwan follows Seungcheol with his head low, hands clasped behind his back as the two of them make their way down the weaving halls of Seungcheol's paradise. One he'd built brick by brick, with the sweat off his brow and blood of his fingertips – housing over hundreds of gods.

Including Mingyu and his wife, Tzuyu.

Seungcheol knocks on the soft pink door, the gold knob twisting open to reveal a barely dressed Mingyu with hair stuck to his forehead. Seungcheol snorts as he pushes past, seeing Tzuyu sitting at their shared desk with a pile of books draped open in front of her. "No hello?" She calls, and Seungkwan watches as she turns in her seat.

Her outfit of a long gown and glittering sandals screams date night. Mingyu's lack thereof screams night in. A couple's quarrel, Seungkwan can tell, from the tick in her jaw and his sleepy eyes. The flowers from a few weeks ago sit in a jar, still teeming with life despite being brutally murdered by his shears.

"Hello. I've come to deliver something much more interesting than date night." Seungcheol wiggles his brows at the goddess, whose wings twitch with curiosity. "Seungkwan?" "Just trust me." The god of the sky pushes the younger one forward, and Tzuyu's eyes flash something wild as she looks over at her husband, who is now tugging a light beige chiton over his chiseled physique. "I've no reason to trust you, Seungcheol. But…I guess this is better than nothing." "Baby, I already said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you." Mingyu whines as his head gets stuck in the top of his shirt, making Seungkwan roll his eyes as he reaches over to help him. Mingyu's head pops out with a dazed look, before he shakes his head to regain his composure. The goddess before him frowns, but sighs in resignation. "What are we doing?" Seungcheol smiles, grabbing Seungkwan's shoulders and pushing him forward. "Loverboy here needs some guidance."

She quirks a brow in interest, her wings flickering behind her as she stands. The goddess flits around the duo, her manicured hands resting on her chin as her husband sits on her cushioned bench. "What are we guiding, exactly? And take your shoes off!" Seungcheol only smiles as Tzuyu forces Seungkwan to sit down, a worried look in the younger god's eyes as she hums. "This is about that pupil of yours, isn't it? Y/N, the mortal?" He nods silently, picking at his cuticles as Tzuyu gives the other gods a look of mirth. "Young love." She grins, before patting the god's shoulders. "I can fix you." "Don't. I'm fine like this." Seungkwan blurts, making Mingyu's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Can't be perfect all the time, can I?" He shivers as the words slip past his lips, and the surrounding gods only nod in agreement. "Well, let's get started." Tzuyu's voice breaks in once more, and Seungcheol steps back to allow her some more room. Seungkwan's eyes fill slightly with a bit of fear, but they close at Seungcheol's command.

Nothing but warmth can be felt around him, his chest tightening with the thought of you flooding his mind. So this is love.

It's well past nightfall as you massage your shoulder gently, your fingers not going nearly as deep as you need them to but the finished tapestry mocking you in the corner of the room. You groan in frustration, tears gathering in your waterline as you paw at yourself. You didn't manage to leave the room for dinner either, hearing Seungkwan (or…who you assumed to be Seungkwan) stumbling around in the kitchen. Truth be told, you're too much of a wimp to check. 

It didn't matter now, anyway. You'd agreed with yourself to leave the following morning, hoping for no rain. Your tapestry was large and completed, bold blues and soft beige catching the corner of your eye every way you turned. You situated your items into the bag that the yarn vendor gave you, including the blanket Seungkwan had purchased before the walk home. Your clothes were neatly rolled at the bottom, and one singular book of poems tucked under the red glitter sash you'd stolen from the god on your first few days here.

It's an odd feeling, imagining your life continuing without Seungkwan. No one to badger, no one to long for. Wonwoo would be around, but he was more your friend than anything else. Someone who took care of you as you did him, because that's what friends are for.

Jeonghan is just another god who gave you another chance. You've no friends outside the two of them, if you can even consider them to be friends. You don't know why you did it in the first place, but it makes you sick to admit that maybe, for the first time – Seungkwan's words of you not being perfect are starting to seep in deeper.

You hear a soft knock at your door, and you quickly wipe your face of any tears that would give you away as you sit up on your bed. You cross your legs over another, before clearing your throat, "Come in." Seungkwan's tired eyes peer in through the crack of the door, scanning you quickly. "Can we talk?" You don't really want to talk to him. You know that if you do, you might cry. Not that he wasn't good at making you do that anyway, but it's not like he cared. Who knows where they got 'compassionate' from, but you figure that a cruel goodbye is better than no goodbye. Nodding slowly, you watch as he slips into your bedroom, a shaky sigh from his lips as he looks at the silver tin in his hand, paired with wrapping sheets and a towel. His way of apologizing, you noticed, was this. Homemade things that would or could be of use to you, or something you might like. Like the linen he'd gotten you on your second day here with him.

"For your shoulder. It's…it's menthol and peppermint, and a little capsaicin for heat." He opens it, the muted orange salve glistening at you. You shrug, a wince crossing your face as your shoulder ticks with pain. He looks at you, and there's something in his eyes you don't recognize. You didn't really know Seungkwan, you were certain now – but his behavior seemed out of the ordinary.

"Thank you. I'd put it on, but…" You gesture at your clothing, and roll your eyes as your shoulder throbs. "You can just leave–" "I can do it for you, if you'd like." He speaks quickly, fumbling with the lid as you raise a brow at him. You recall the way he barked at you just days before, telling you he'd rather die than ever let a mortal like you help him in a time of need. The fury in his eyes when he said he didn't need you to teach him anything, and his subtle acknowledgement of that meaning he'd be depriving himself of you and your touch, your presence, your love – for the rest of your time on this Earth with him.

You click your tongue, but he rushes to sit on your bed, the wool mattress sinking below him. He adjusts himself to sit behind you, his inner thighs gently pressing against your hips. You don't say anything, simply reach for the pin that holds your top together and take it out, letting the soft cloth slip off your torso.

His hand moves your hair carefully, fingertips brushing your neck as he swoops it over. Your fingers hold it in place as you see the tin appear on his thigh, slender fingers taking a bit. "This'll be cold for a moment." The salve is cool as it touches your skin, the feeling against heat of your pained muscle making you jump. He lets out a muffled sound, his fingers softly working the salve into your skin. "Easy, don't move." He murmurs, feeling the heat of the capsaicin in his fingertips.

He's gentle and focused, and you remain rigid in front of him as thunder rolls ahead. Sighing at the sound, you peer over your injured shoulder. "Almost finished?" His eyes flicker to yours, lips pressed lightly together as he nods. You don't turn back around just yet, watching his face carefully as he continues. His free hand grabs a wrapping sheet, and he presses it firmly to your skin. 

"So it won't get on your clothes." He murmurs, and you nod, before facing out the window again. The clouds are rolling in, and you see a singular lightning bolt light up the sky. You wonder what Seungcheol could be doing now.

He wipes his fingers on a towel, tossing it into the empty dirty clothing basket behind you. Capping the tin, he uses his other hand to move your hair back. He slides the tin onto your night table, before grabbing the pin for your shirt and moving his hands to your front, gathering the fabric in his fingers and pulling it up, his knuckles lightly grazing your bare breasts. You don't react.

Neither does he.

He carefully pins your shirt back into place, adjusting the neck so it's a little loose. He doesn't move, so you speak up. "All done?"

Nothing. You feel his fingers card through your curls gently, tugging slightly. Maybe reminiscing how it felt in his hand when he kissed you in his garden for the first time. It had been just about to rain that day, too…and it did. It poured like a motherfucker. His fingers stop, instead ghosting over the slope of your neck and along the naked skin of your uninjured shoulder. He shifts behind you, and you feel his hand drop from your skin, instead feeling his forehead pressed against your body. His hair tickles, and you sigh.

"What are you doing, Seungkwan?" Your voice is gentle, it's tired. It's confused, as he breathes against you, his arms circling your torso and pulling you closer to him. Your back hits his chest, and you feel his warm lips caress your skin, heat surging your cheeks as he presses them into you. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm sorry."

You tense, his hands clutching the cloth of your shirt for dear life. "What?"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, peering up at you with the most sorrowful eyes you'd ever seen on a man, much less a god. They're glazed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

Here he was. The same god who insisted he'd never admit to anything, any wrong doings, especially not to a mortal. The same god who looked down on you for being so irrevocably human, the same god who watched as you did the most mundane things and wondered aloud if you needed to do those things – and insisted they were weird to him.

"You're…sorry." You repeat, and he nods slowly.

"I've been horrible to you. From the beginning, I was cold and I was indifferent and I should've welcomed you with open arms because that is what a just god would do." His voice is shaky, "I don't want to make you feel like…you're not important to me. You're so important to me and I don't want to live a life where I know I can't find my way back to you, where I have to look for you in every person I try to fill the void shaped by you."

You're silent, and he takes it as a sign to keep going.

"I need to wake up in the mornings not knowing where I start and where you end. I need to know you're not gone from my life forever if I ever wake up alone, but somewhere in this place I call home, a place I need you to call home."

A singular tear rolls down his cheek, meeting your shoulder as you keep staring.

"I need you. I'm sorry I haven't been making it seem that way, I'm sorry I lied about it. I'm sorry that I couldn't admit that I was afraid I wouldn't be enough for you. I feared that your prophecies would ring with truth and you'd leave me behind." He confesses this all in nothing higher than a whisper, tears continuing to roll down his face as he presses his cheek to your skin. You feel your chest ache something awful, before looking away. "I told Jeonghan I'd leave for Lydia in the morning. I'm going to be staying with Wonwoo." You lie easily when you're not facing him, but the weight of it all hangs heavy on your shoulders as he peers over you. "You're leaving?" The silence is deafening as you nod your head, moving away slightly from his hold. His hands fall flat against his thighs, fingers squeezing them as though to ground himself. He shifts behind you, a soft apology tumbling from his lips as he moves to climb off your bed – but you place your hand on his knee, instinctively. You sigh, patting it gently as you twist to look at him. "I'd rather a nice goodbye, Seungkwan. I don't want you to be…this. Sad, I assume." "Then don't leave." He whispers, his hands reaching for your waist. He caresses the sliver of skin softly, "Don't leave me here to miss you." "You left me, first." You shake your head, but his hands only grip onto you tighter. "And I want to prove that I deserve you, that I need you to stay. Please, please don't go." "I don't know if I can trust you to do that, Seungkwan. You…I…" You trail off as he nudges you with his nose, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. 

"I know I don't deserve it, I don't deserve a chance to show you that I am deeply, irrevocably in love with you. I am truly just a man at your disposal. Please don't leave me, not now. Not ever." Your cheeks burn as he presses a chaste kiss to the lobe of your ear. His fingertips move to brush the tops of your knees, exposed by the way your skirt bunches around your thighs. You push down a shiver as he palms at your skin. "I can't get you out of my mind. Every waking moment I have is consumed by you, it's killing me inside. I can't sleep without you in my bed, I don't feel full if we're not eating together. I don't feel satisfied." "That only proves that you're a man. Because you're selfish, to the depth of you. You're a selfish, careless man who hurts people who love you." Your voice is thick with tears, an accusatory finger to his chest as you turn to face him fully. He smiles sadly, before nodding as his hand floats to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. 

"I am. I'm so insanely selfish and I only want you. I could go the rest of my life without my wisdom, my wealth, anything I could ever conjure up with all the words I know." He sighs, his knuckles pinching the fat of your cheek gently. You frown, pushing his hand away, only for his fingers to interlace with yours and pull your hand to his chest. "But you? Angel." You huff, your nose burning as you swallow your tears. "You don't get to just apologize and then we move on, Seungkwan. That's not how that works, that's not life." "Isn't it? Should I grovel at your feet? I'll do it. I'll do anything you ask of me, if it means you stay." He holds your hand tightly, rings digging into your skin as he scans your face. "I miss you, Y/N."

You close your eyes, a soft sob escaping your throat as he pulls your face to his chest. "I'm sorry, my angel. I know I've hurt you. I will never forgive myself if I let you out of my life knowing you don't see yourself how I do." You cry softly into the soft material of his chiton, his voice hushed as he rains gentle praises over the crown of your head, his lips pressing kisses gently against it. His fingers tangle in your hair, carefully undoing the knots like the day you arrived, his fingernails scraping at your skin with precision. You feel his thumb pad at your under eye, pushing your face back to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Let me prove myself to you. You can leave, if I'm not enough. I won't stop you, then and only then." His eyes hold hope as they meet yours, a shaky sigh from your lips as you look away. "What if you're not?" "Then I'll suffer. I'll suffer for the rest of eternity and I'll deal with it, I've made this bed. I'll lay in it." He holds your face carefully, before you stand from his hold. His hands fall to your hips, eyes looking up at you expectantly as you nibble on your lip. "What made you change your mind?"

He doesn't respond, only pushing you back slightly to stand before you. His hands squeeze you with anxiety, "Kissing you for the first time made me feel like I was on fire. It took everything in me not to give myself to you entirely that night. I can't lose control like that, it's terrifying." "Show me. Show me how much you care." You murmur, your fingers clutch at his shirt, "Trust me, Seungkwan." His lips are on yours before another word can slip out. It's messy, it's desperate, it screams I missed you. His arms move to embrace you fully, pulling your body to his as one of his hands snakes up to the nape of your neck. Clashes of teeth and tongue as he spins the two of you around, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as he pushes you back onto it. You peer up at him, watching the way his eyes take you in slowly.

"You're so beautiful." He murmurs, sinking to his knees on the floor. You feel his hands wrap around your ankles, and you brace yourself for him to pull you towards him – only to feel his lips pepper chaste kisses to the skin of your foot. You glance down at him, his eyes closed as he trails his lips and tongue up your calf, sinking his teeth into the soft muscle as you jerk. "Hated seeing his hands all over you. I'm still not over that." "That was over a week ago." You remind him with a soft breath, earning a scoff. "Should've never touched you in the first place. I'll fix it." He shrugs, continuing his ministrations down your plush thighs, nipping and licking with precision as your body jolts against him. He rests his cheek against your inner thigh, arms pulling you closer to his face. "Can't believe I went without you for so long. I'm sorry, my angel." He speaks to himself, bunching your skirt at your hips when you sheepishly reach for the corner, untugging it from its tucked place and tossing it over the side of the bed. 

Your thighs are spread before him, your cunt glistening with your arousal as he sighs shakily, inhaling deeply with a chaste kiss to your clit. It's almost torture, how his tongue fluidly glides through your folds like he was made to please you, to devour you in one go and enjoy it so lavishly. His eyes remain closed as he holds your hips to his face, sucking languidly at your clit as you bite back your moans, your hand holding onto his hair. 

"Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you." He whines, almost unable to detach himself from your sloppy cunt to speak. It's muffled as you pull on his hair, a moan from his throat vibrating against you making it all the more stimulating for your poor mind. 

"Missed you. Missed you so fucking much, my gorgeous girl." He keeps talking into your skin, lips coated in your slick as he buries his tongue impossibly deeper, rings digging into the supple flesh of your ass as you cant against his mouth, chasing the feeling of the end.

Your legs threaten to snap shut around his head as you sob out his name quietly, his hand finding yours and squeezing it as your orgasm seeps through you, coating his lips and tongue messily. "That's it, angel. Fuck, look at that, hm? So pretty for me. Just for me." "S'too m-much–" You gasp as your hips betray you, chasing after his tongue as he smiles into your skin. "Oh, but there's so much more to love, angel. You'll let me, right? You'll let me show you how much I love you, won't you?" "W-want you inside," You pout as he hovers over you, nimble fingers pulling at the pins holding your top shut. "We'll get there, I promise. I just want to kiss you right now." He pulls at the fabric, the white wrapping sheet stark against your skin as he gently removes the top you've wrapped around yourself.

"Kiss you…bite you…worship you. All for me, my girl. My angel." Seungkwan's voice is hushed against your stomach, his teeth biting at any skin you'll allow. Red marks bloom almost instantly as he whispers sweet nothings, his hands carefully holding you hostage against his warm body. "Seungkwan." You groan impatiently, feeling the rut of his hips between yours, a choked moan from his throat as his lips trail up your chest, tongue darting out to land a teasing lick to your pebbled nipple.

"Seungkwan." You sigh, his hand now pinning your unwrapped arm above your head. His tongue laps at your chest like a man starved, your head now nestled between the pillows. You can't move from his grasp, only squirming beneath him before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against your core. "Fuck me already." You wrestle your arm out of his grip, interlacing your fingers as his nose brushes yours.

"I'm nervous." He admits quietly, his eyes scouring your face for any chance of laughter. Something to humiliate him with, something to dangle over his head. Your cheeks flush softly, running your fingers through his hair as you pull him down for a kiss. "Let me help you." "Y/N–" "Please. Trust me." Your lips hardly disconnect from his, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you use your weight to flip him onto his back. He sighs as your lips drag down his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as you tug his earlobe through your teeth.

"Always so tense, hm? Just let go." You murmur, feeling his cock brush against your core. You zero in on his skin, carefully tugging his shirt over his head and reconnecting your lips. Your tongue slips through his lips, licking at his own as his hands hold your hips tightly, scared to let you go. You sigh against his lips as your hips begin to rut against him, feeling his jaw slack at the friction. "Don't worry about anything. I've got you, I promise."

He only nods in response, your hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. "Don't tease me, please." He shudders at your touch, his hips bucking into the warmth of your hand as you coo at him. "I won't, gotta get these off."

You tug his pants down quickly, his leaking cock painfully hard in your hand. He whimpers against you, eyes screwed shut as you press your thumb against his tip lightly, a gasp of please falling from his bitten lips. You throw his pants over the edge of the bed, quickly readjusting yourself over his lap as his hands find your thighs.

"Be gentle." He mumbles, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes as he remains vulnerable, your hands stroking his face softly as you kiss his nose. "I'll take good care of you, okay? We've got the rest of our lives." If you feel the jolt in his chest at your words, you say nothing. You only rock against his hard length carefully, slowly sinking down. You stop as his hands squeeze your thighs with vigor, choked whimpers from his throat as you carefully grind into his lap. "Good?" "S-so good, angel. Fuck," A few tears spill from his eyes, your lips quickly kissing them away as you sink further down, the muscled flesh of his thighs flat against your ass. "Want you to see me, Kwannie. Please." You kiss around his face, his eyes peeling open to reveal absolute floodgates of adoration.

"I love you. Please, please don't leave me." He sobs softly, making you smile against his skin. "Shh. Let me show you, yeah?" You carefully begin a rhythm, his cock stretching you just right, dragging perfectly against your gummy walls. Your noises are caught in your throat, mutters of you feel so good, oh my God…from your lips making his fingers grab at your hips tightly. His eyes are glued to your face, the way your lip is caught between your teeth as you try to hold back. Your fingers are digging into his shoulders as you feel his hands move to your breasts, carefully rolling your nipples through the pads of his fingers as you whimper.

"So beautiful." You call softly, entranced at the movement of your hips and the warmth of his hands on you, his own sight lost at the feeling of you so tight and wet and all for him. "Wanted you for so long, angel. Can never get you off my mind." He whines at your quickening movements, your hands holding his against your chest as your soft sounds fill his ears.

"Want you forever." You whisper, clenching around his length at the guttural moan from his lips. He flushes in embarrassment as you lean to speak in his ear, the wet sounds between you only making everything feel heavier. "Want you only, Seungkwan. Forever."

"I'll be better. I promise, angel, I'll be the best man I can." He nods frantically as you clench around him, a shaky moan from your lips as his thumb snakes between your legs, tracing circles onto your clit as your thighs tremble. "Want you all to myself, please. Please let me have you." You nod nervously, your fingers shaking as you sigh, your orgasm building quickly in your lower belly. "I'll give you everything, for you in return. Promise me. Tell me you're mine just as I am yours." "I promise, angel." He ruts his hips up into yours, matching your pace gently as he brings your face lower, your lips brushing barely as he speaks. "For as long as I live, I promise I'll be nothing but yours. My dying days, my worst moments, I'm yours."

Your lips connect messily, the kiss nothing but bumping of teeth as you come undone around him with a low whine, feeling his skin stick to yours. The flutter of your walls is overwhelming him, high-pitched whimpers from his throat, "B-Baby–" "I know, I know. Please, make me yours." You sob against his lips, your hips desperately canting against his as his cries hit your ears, feeling his cock twitch inside you before he finally lets go. He shudders, pulling you impossibly closer in a bruising kiss.

His hand loosely circles your neck as he holds you close, lips moving in sloppy tandem with yours as he lazily thrusts into you through his orgasm. Ignoring your soft cries of overstimulation, only whispering be mine, please against your spit-covered lips as you shake slightly in his arms.

You force yourself away from him on trembling arms, your thighs locking his hips down as he chases after your mouth. You muster a stern look, your eyes examining the vulnerable god before you — with parted splotchy lips and cheeks, teary eyes glazed over with post-orgasm sleepiness. Brows scrunched at the middle, your thumb instinctively reaching to pad out the wrinkle.

“You think way too much.” You mutter, watching his eyes go wide as his mouth begins to open to speak. You place your hand over his lips, sighing before you speak. “You think entirely too much for one person. You’re a selfish brat, you’re carrying way too much on your shoulders. You can’t save everyone, Seungkwan. Who saves you, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinking up at you quietly. You give him a pointed look, making him look at your chest in defeat. His brows raise, before looking back at your eyes. “You do.”

It’s muffled, but earns a tired laugh from you anyway. “You know I can’t, right? I’m not like you.”

He tugs your hand away from his face, voice hoarse as he tries to sit up gently. He only makes it to his elbows, his fingertips brushing your knees innocently. “Goddess or not, the power you have over me is unfathomable.”

“Big words already? Already back in your head, huh?” You teasingly tap his temple, and he huffs embarrassedly. “You drive me fucking crazy, alright? Up the wall insane. Is that good enough?”

You only smile down at him, your hand cupping his face gently as you pinch his cheek. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

“Love me.” He blurts. “Love me until you can’t anymore. Please, have that mercy upon me.”

“It won’t be easy. This…you and me.” You admit, sighing as your hands splayed across his chest. “You have to give me all of you, not just what you deem fit for my consumption. I’m a mortal, I’m not weak or dazed or whatever you may think of me. I don't care about what you are, god or mortal.”

“I don’t think that of you at all, angel.” He shakes his head quickly, but you just run your hand through his hair to stop him. "We'll get there, okay? I just…I don't know how to do this. The relationship thing, I've spent so long being a pain in Jeonghan's ass."

You earn a snort from him, his fingers tracing light circles into your knee as he shrugs in defeat. "I don't, either. There's a lot of things I don't know how to do, but I'm not worried if I'm learning next to you." He speaks softly, and you roll your eyes. "You're a sap." "You'll stay, right?" His eyes search your face with care, heart picking up its gentle pace in his chest as you smile down at him, pressing your lips to his forehead with a sigh. "Wouldn't dream of leaving."

The two of you jump at the sound of thunder rumbling, your hand flying to your chest as the shutters flew open. Seungkwan steadies you atop him, wincing at the reminder that he'd still sheathed inside you. He doesn't make an effort to move you off, only mumbling. "We're sticky." You snort, "Wanna get stickier?"

EPILOGUE.

Opening his heart to you only opened an unlimited number of doors for Seungkwan.

He noticed more about you — particularly, the way you loved him. Your fingers easily picked the cherry tomatoes off his pieces of focaccia before handing it over, your hands bared the heat of his hot tea as you stirred it. You whispered dirty words in his ears to fluster him, your hands snaking around his body without hesitation. Every surface in your shared home was christened with you in whatever position imaginable, crumbled whines of how much you loved him falling from your lips as he worked tirelessly to please you.

He noticed the way you’d silently take the lead if something became too overwhelming for him, something he’d yet to figure out on his own. You’d take shears from his hands in the garden, you’d put a pretty spring of lavender over his ear at the slightest sound of a discouraged grunt. You’d kiss his temple, his cheek, his nose, lips with such gentle fervor, he’d feel himself melt away.

Much like he is in this moment, seeing you holding a skewer with candied orange slices. Your lips are slightly coated in sugar crystals, your hand growing weak from gripping the thin stick so tightly. He walks over silently, his fingers prying it from your grasp as you stop talking to Mingyu to acknowledge him with a gentle smile.

“I’ve got it.”

He only takes the skewer, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got you. Just let me.”

“This is a beautiful look on you, Seungkwan. So young and in love.” Mingyu’s voice is full of teasing, earning a scowl from the younger god — one that gets pinched away by your fingers on his cheek. “Stop that.”

Seungkwan’s eyes fall to you, your relaxed shoulders surrounded by everyone you’ve only ever heard of — and stories you’ve only told, never known. You’re covered by the tapestry you’d made for him, the large owl on display across your back as a matching blue hood covers your hair carefully. You’d been far too proud of it to only display it in the temple — and you’d been right to do so, you’d only received compliments since, from gods and mortals alike.

Your posture only proved how little everyone's power affected you. You cared nothing of their advantages, their own hubris, nothing – you spoke to everyone the same way. You smiled mischievously, you nibbled on the inside of your cheek when deep in thought. You nodded along to deeper stories of woe and war, and held your wine glass close to your chest when offered more.

Your eyes would look for him in the crowds of gods, looking for the bright green wreath he donned regularly amongst his peers. He'd meet them every so often, a soft look of concern on his face as you simply smiled and turned back to your conversation. You'd find him for comfort, for strength, for someone to hold your drink if your wrist got tired. You stood in front of everyone with a brave smile, but he knew that deep down, you'd be once more leaving everything you'd known life to be – this time, for him. To be by his side, as an eternal being he can love and worship and tend to. A goddess of his very own, one that no one has to understand but him – and he selfishly hopes no one ever does decipher the intricate ways of your heart, the weaves of your fingers and stories of your mind.

So sure, it might not be the best thing ever. It might be an admittance of imperfection, it might be lack of common sense for a god so skilled to fall straight into the sticky web of a lying, deceiving mortal. A mortal who has pushed and pulled him back and forth, a mortal who has shown him pure and unadulterated appreciation despite knowing that their past is one of the rockiest starts to a love story ever possibly written. A mortal who is now knelt before his fellow gods, Seungcheol's hand hovering over your head as he gently allows yet another disturbance of natural order – yet another mortal, who fell for a god, and a god who lost his first fight to love.

"Hey." You murmur, weaving through a few people to reach him. He looks up, eyes wide as you untuck your hair from the cloak. In your hand is the singular crown of marigolds Seungcheol had given you, something that Seungkwan brought forth when you made the trip to see the god of the sky. Seungcheol welcomed you into his home with a warm smile, giving Seungkwan a wink as the two of you left everyone in awe.

"Hey, you." He nods, setting down his glass of wine on the bar. Your candied orange is still in his other hand, and you happily take it back, sinking your teeth into the crumbly sugar. "Drinking all by yourself, handsome?" "You don't have to keep flirting with me, you know. I'm already a mess." He rolls his eyes, but you only coo at the tinge of pink in his ears. "But I do, my love. It keeps our love alive." You gesture methodically to the air around you, making him laugh.

"How are you feeling? I don't know the mortal-to-goddess route." He snakes his arms around your waist, earning a whistle from Mingyu across the room. He childishly sticks his tongue out at him, making you smile. "Mmh. I feel the same, I think. Just a little bit of pressure." "Comes with the job, I fear." He nods, plucking the marigold crown from your fingers. "You need to wear this, pretty." He jostles it gently, blooming the petals further with his fingertips. You bow your head slightly, and he places it carefully atop your hair.

"I love you." He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of your hair over your ear. You only smile in return, pressing a sugary kiss to the side of his lips. "As endlessly as I love you?" "Probably more. I would die without you." He nods quickly, pressing his lips to your cheek. "Can't have that, can we?"

So much for unforgiven.

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[hotvintagepoll]

Patrick Troughton (Jason and the Argonauts)—He's really good as a man beknighted by harpies whose immediate first reaction to being beknighted by harpies is to stuff as much bread down his shirt as possible. I won't mention his other roles (though im thinking about them. hard) and i just want to say everything about him is just a little guy, a tiny little little man, a man here for hopes and dreams and frivolity (but dont fuckin cross him you will get yoinked!!!!)

Giulietta Masina (La Strada, Fortunella, Nights of Cabiria)—To me, she is the DEFINITION of scrungly little guy, always, but especially in La Strada. She is hilarious, adorable and heartbreaking all in one. She was born in a wet cardboard box all alone. She is the slapstick clown woman of my dreams. She gets called an "ugly artichoke" TWICE in that film (not true, very brutal, but quite funny - she's the wife of the director too, might I add). Her face is so brilliant, no one ever emoted like she did. She is Pierrot Hot, simple as. Gif of the exact moment I fell in love with her upon first seeing this film, if you wanna include it: [link]

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here. Reminder that this is a movie bracket, not a TV bracket, so no TV-related propaganda will be accepted.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Giulietta:

She's Italian, isn't that enough? No? Fine. She also won two Cannes film awards and is best known for her character in La Strada, in which she played a young woman who fell in love with her captor and witnessed the cruelty of humanity, but still never really lost her child-like spirit.

Masina has a wonderful impish, scrungly quality to her that made her perfect for her iconic Sad Clown type roles. She got tons of comparisons to Chaplin (who despite being handsome, certainly *played* scrungles) and goddamn if they aren’t true. Like yes, she’s obviously beautiful when glammed up, but even in promotional photos, Masina always has this weirdo quality to her. I could see her playing a strange little goblin sidekick to Columbo as he solves a murder in Italy. Even in Nights of Cabiria, where she’s ostensibly playing an object of desire, Masina carries herself with a gait usually reserved for old crones and character actors, (which only makes her yearning for happiness more tragic!).

Patrick:

[elliots-hyperfixation-station]

Like. Okay I know most of the arguments over the Harry Potter game rn are over trans rights and how JKR is a terf. Very valid and perfectly reasonable arguments.

But let's not forget it's incredibly antisemitic too

As a disclaimer, I'm not Jewish. I don't claim to hold any knowledge on this topic at all, just whatever one has from being terminally online as escapism. I am a queer, white, ex-christian

However, if hearing all this outcry that you shouldn't buy this game just because she's a terf doesn't dissuade you. If trying to rationalize she had no part in this game is what you're arguing against people wronged and hated by her. If literally seeing that the people who made this game with her NOT involved still upheld her antisemitic views doesn't change your mind? I'm honestly not sure what will

I'm mainly tired of seeing the same arguments. JKR is a terf, her works have always painted the queer community badly, and she is a raging antisemitic. If you interact with her works, she's said you agree with her views

And if you interact with her work actively, please don't interact with me

Also, Greg Ellis, ya know, the guy who literally went off the deep end after he was booted from the dragon age 4 game? Yeah they interact on Twitter. They agree with each other. And I know a lot of y'all hated what he did. So let that sink in

[roachfurby]

cullen from the get-go in inquisition is very clear in his stance on mages. i started with inquisition and it was obvious to me. i sincerely do not understand where ppl come from with the "he's changed 🥺" nonsense

[mythvoiced]

@jeoseungsaja | the GBEP

---

Well, it's not something he'd admit with ease, misplaced pride and all that, but the goblin can't actively lie about it either, the matter of the fact that he is competitive, especially in all manners regarding love.

Maybe even up against the very subject, object, past present of his love, entering his field of vision like petals blown from a peach tree to wash over the profile of a monk sat there beneath it, praying not for salvation or atonement, but in gratitude of the ease of heart he's been granted.

In gratitude for the ease of heart Yeo has granted him, gentle and fiery in his presence, a crackling flame in a fireplace during cold winters and winter nights that were just so-so, his favourite excuse to pretend he likes the outdoors more or the indoors more or wherever it is that Yeo is so he doesn't have to say out loud how every place becomes his favourite if that crown of cinnabar is the silhouette he's following into it.

It'd be an easy concession to make, if he were to allow it to roll of his tongue like a saving grace pressed as a kiss onto a sinner's forehead. But he's the punished here, he's the sinner, and he finds such a confession might be too heavy for a conversation accompanied by the melody of Yeo's smile, the ease of his movements, the flowers appearing in Shin's hand, and the reverberation of the shiver of Shin's everything at the most minute of touches Yeo delivers to his skin.

He kisses him softly and with reverence and Shin has to keep the altars out of his voice, the confessionals out of his eyes as he lets the fox of his heart guide his face.

He goes along the way he'd follow him to the very end of the world and then some, the way he'd break any oath and any vow for him, the way he'd become a monster and than a little bit worse than that if it meant ridding the world of all evil that haunts Yeo, even though he muses Yeo wouldn't appreciate that, having his absolution ripped from him.

But he would.

He would because it's him.

He would because the little shit knows what he's doing.

Shin, terribly and divinely enamoured by the soft petals unfurling beneath his general's fingers when he brushes them over the flower crown, finds a corner of his heart to save the image of it in and then puts it aside, reaches out to the coffee table to place the crown down as gently as though it were made of the most precious crystals this timeline has to offer.

All because he must free his hand to hold something even more valuable.

He reaches out, smooths his hand along Yeo's side, moving along with it to get the necessary stretch past his hip, past his waist, find a spot in his lower back to press into while his other hand grabs Yeo's free hand, pulling him closer, inviting him into his lip where he might admire him better.

"Maybe I am," he answers belatedly, admitting that, well, yeah, maybe he is that competitive, smiling widely enough to kid the world into believing they aren't the pained veterans they are.

He pulls his hand away from Yeo's, finds a line to trace from his cheekbone to his temple, unorthodox in relation to himself and the gentleness he has for Yeo.

"And if I can have that domain too... I'd only be a fool not to take it. And you, my King? Do you know where you reign?"

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[autistichalsin]

So here's a very sad pattern for Halsin: he is used to putting his feelings to the side as well as dealing with everything alone.

If the Rite of Thorns completes, he says "The Rite of Thorns...? No. The grove is lost to me. To everyone. It's useless for me to stay here... there's nothing left to fight for. I will find you at your camp, and help you with your problem. Right now, I... I need to go be alone."

In the cut scenario where the player could interfere with Halsin's portal, collapsing it and dooming the Shadow-Cursed Lands: "Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone" and "there is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone."

There are also lines in the goblin camp, if Kagha or all of the Druids have been killed, where Halsin indicates that he is experienced in compartmentalizing his emotions until he can feel them properly.

If Kagha dies: "Kagha... This is my fault - I was her teacher. I will mourn her when I can. But there are other matters to attend to before that."

If the Druids die and the player explains (as opposed to taunting Halsin): "Then... then it is as you say. They forgot their principles; you had no choice. I will mourn them when I can. But there are other matters to attend to before that."

It says a lot about Halsin, I think, that he is so ready to put off grieving properly when he learns his second in command or all of his Druids have died, and that he is used to the primary way for him to feel pain is alone.

He says it repeatedly, how he lost his confidantes and peers to the Shadow Curse, and they were replaced with unrelenting responsibility. It was so bad, his isolation so total that the Druids let him slip into a very dark place mentally. He mentions having grown overly fond of honey mead and nights alone (processing his grief entirely alone, and also depending on alcohol to do what human connection couldn't), and that he was so stressed he began to look fondly on his past as a sex slave, because it truly felt like a better alternative for him than what he was currently facing. He was miserable and lonely and honestly, likely very unwell mentally- and no one at his Grove intervened, leading to him having an instinctive need to do everything alone by the time you meet him. He doesn't even expect others to help him physically anymore; listen to how shocked he sounds when you save him from Orin. "You came for me... thank you."

He's so used to having to bear everyone's problems and his own too. It just breaks my heart. :(

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There���s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

~

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say. 

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly. 

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

[sakiofwaterdeep]

(lowercase intended - tw: hints to abuse)

majority of the time when astarion gets all sassy and snappy, you ignore his remarks and his words, letting him have his drama and get it out of him. but sometimes, he can go far - too far. "astarion, im sorry i was just trying to help-"

it's evening at camp, and it's been a long day. exploring from where the goblins are you had come across a swamp in which there was a gur. astarion dealt with him of course but he'd been an absolute grump ever since then.

"Oh of course! It's always the same, you trying to help and be some hero - some sort of legendary tale in the making!" he snaps at you, turning to face you as the two of you stood by his tent.

"i'm not trying to upset you Astarion-"

"Oh, hells! give it over already! Acting like you're a saint-"

"im sorry, alright-"

"You're sorry? for what?" he stares you dead in the eye, a look you haven't seen on him yet, his eyes bore into you, almost cowering over you.

"for the monster hunter, i understand-" he's not letting you finish your sentences and it's getting too frustating.

"you understand now do you? You haven't lived for years and years in absolute pure shit - how in the hells could you ever understand?! You are nothing but- but a small pathetic wannabe saviour-" he's breathing heavy, and there's fire in his eyes but the stern look on his face stirs ever so slightly upon seeing the way you're looking at him right now. almost scared of him, tears brimming in your eyes. "you. know. nothing" you spit at him through a whisper before turning hot on your heel and storming away through the camp. all eyes are now on astarion, shadowheart and gale looking up from their books, glaring at astarion having heard everything. lae'zel pretending to not have heard whilst karlach and wyll are both looking a bit worriedly in the direction you left.

astarion just looks down, ignoring everyone and going back into his tent.

a few hours pass and others are asleep, but both you and astarion aren't. he finally gets the courage to find you, to which he does, not far from camp, sitting on the edge of a cliff rock, feet dangling, staring straight ahead - with tear stained cheeks.

"...may i?" your head snaps to astarion, and you quickly look away again, shrugging but moving slightly for him. he gingerly sits down next to you with a sigh, "darling, i-"

"you know i thought about what you said and yes, you lived through so much horror for almost 200 years but that doesn't mean that i didn't suffer" you say quietly with a big breath, eyes staring straight ahead, hands in your laps. the words rolled off your tongue quickly, like you'd been practising what to say for the past few hours.

"i know" astarion replies, pausing for a few moments, looking at you but you still looking away from him, "I think i got scared"

his words cause you to finally look at him, a bit confused, "scared?" you repeat, eyes a little furrowed. astarion can now see your red, almost swollen eyes from crying, you feel a bit embarrassed noticing his eyes flicker.

"yes, scared" he nods slowly and breathes out, his knee up - wavering at little, hands resting behind him resting on the rock, "i haven't had anyone care about me the way you did back there with that wretched gur. no one has stood up for me like that in well...years...maybe not ever. I didn't know how to react and now, i realise that perhaps maybe I didn't react correctly"

you raise your eyebrow at him, making a small face when he mentions 'maybe' but it is a fact that he reacted the way he did.

"okay, I didn't react correctly" he corrects himself, he's silent for a second, looking away and then looking toward you, his face softer than you'd probably ever seen it, "I'm sorry"

not once have you ever heard those two words slip out of his mouth before, you're not sure if he even had the ability to say them but he does, and his eyes repeat the meaning. you pause, nodding slowly, looking away for a few moments, "thank you"

the minute or so of silence that follows is comfortable, until astarion reaches over to the bottle of wine that sits next to you and takes a sip, quickly pulling a face. "gods, this is awful! remind me to never let you chose our drinks ever again"

you let out a small chuckle, "im sorry not all of us have such a refined rich palate. i just drink anything"

"yes, darling, i can tell" astarion replies, still drinking the wine he'd complained about seconds ago, nudging you with his shoulder lightly.

"such a dick" you laugh lightly, obviously joking, causing astarion to look amused in response.

and that's the night astarion goes to bed and realises that you're not like the others, you're not like cazador, you're certainly not out to get him - you actually care. and oh gods, maybe he cares for you in a different way.

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[yolelejiju]

The Longest Walk Home

After a night out partying with Suguru and Satoru, you naively make the choice to let Suguru walk your inebriated self home.

This is an old fic and was posted before on AO3.

TW : NONCON, Somnophilia, Suffocation, minor blood mention (you get a scratch)

CW: dry humping, drinking, public/exhibitionism, situational humiliation, creepy geto

Word Count: 3,890

Disclaimer: I don’t condone noncon acts or taking advantage of people. I just like to write fucked up men.

It’s not that you didn’t like partying, but that you rarely had the time to. So when you finally did get the opportunity, you’d sometimes go a bit overboard.

Tonight, Satoru and Suguru persuaded you to tag along to some random party. Satoru always felt that you were too serious and needed to “take it easy” but he felt that way about everyone and everything. Suguru often sticks up for you when Satoru would tease you. Knowing he would be at the party allowed you to comfortably say yes.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

Checking yourself out in the mirror, you looked back, making sure your dress hugged your curves well. You rarely dressed up, but if you’re going to be seen by dozens of people, you might as well look hot.

You were feeling your outfit and was eager to see if your boys liked it.

You exited the bathroom with an exaggerated model strut. Your anxiety tells you to hit various dramatic poses to make showing off your slightly slutty ensemble less awkward.

Satoru and Suguru both sit on your bed, appreciating your little fashion show.

“So, what do you guys think?” Despite your attempt to hide your nervousness, your voice cracked toward the end of your sentence.

Satoru leaned back into his hands and spread his legs wide with. You could hear his grin stretching across his face. You were expecting a bigger reaction from them, but all you got was… a thumbs up… from Satoru....

That goblin of a man always found a way to get under your skin in a matter of seconds

“A thumbs up? That’s it?!" you blurted out.

“Can you turn around for us real quick?”

You awkwardly followed his order, showing off the back of your dress. You opted to wear a thong so no panty lines would show. You prayed they wouldn’t say anything about it. Your thighs and ass were on the larger side, so too much movement caused the dress to rup up a bit. Despite it's the size, it was like the only piece of “party” clothing you owned.

“I think-" Suguru attempted to break the silence before being interrupted by Satoru

“I love it!”

“As do I” Geto chimed

Making sure this validating moment turned sour quick, of course Satoru followed with

“It makes me want to fuck you”

He doesn’t even flinch as he lets these rancid words tumble from his mouth. Immediately becoming self-conscious by his crude response, you wrapped your arms around your chest and shifted to run back into the bathroom.

You wanted to look nice, but are you sure this is the attention you craved?

Before you get far, you hear Suguru sigh as he stands up.

“You don’t have to change y/n, ignore Satoru” he places his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. He pulls your dress strap into place before giving you a light tap on the side of your face. “Come on, let’s do some shots then head of over”

By the time you got to the party, the shots already had you giggly, annoying, and clingy. Not drunk enough to not be as annoying as Satoru, though.

“Stop being so meaaaan, I’m sorry for earlier,” Gojo whines while pulling you by your waist to his side.

You had been giving him the silent treatment all night. You refuse to acknowledge his antics, so you pull away from him, making your way to the drinks.

You were quick to lose track of how much you drank. What was this? Your third cup? Fourth? Who knows?

All you know is right now, all you want to do is let loose and dance. You squeeze through the crowd and make your way to the dance floor. Moving with no shame, swaying and gyrating your hips in circular motions. It’s when you got lower with your gyrations and you felt a hand press onto the arch of your back.

You immediately stood up straight and got pulled back into the warm embrace of a towering man. You had to crane your neck and arch your back to look up at whose hands were on you. Luckily, you were greeted by none other than your crescent eyed, raven-haired friend Suguru.

“You really seem to be enjoying yourself!” the warmth of his breath tickling your ears.

“Mmmm, I am” your words slurred and your giggles were back. You felt him pull you even closer. He felt so welcoming, and so warm, his arms so strong. He nuzzled the crevice of your neck, letting his hair cascade over your collar bones and his breath tickles you. All the stimulations makes you squirm in his arm and your giggles return.

“Stop tickling me” you whine as he sways your body with his from side to side

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to tickle you” as he squeezes you again and gives your neck a light kiss.

“Let me dance with you,” he whispers into your ear before landing another kiss on your neck.

Your chest rises as you let out a heavy exhale. The reaction of your body tells says to keep going. He peppers the kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. There are marks along your neckline after he sucks. He presses his pelvis against you, feeding into his desperation for any friction. You're barely in control of your dancing. It's him causing your hips to sway.

He’s rolling his hips into you from behind as his hands rub up and down your sides, stopping his hand at your ribs just under your breast. The room feels so much hotter with his hands on your body.

You could feel his erection grow as your dancing progressed. With one hand gripping your waist, he uses the other to tilt your chin. Bringing his face to yours for a deep kiss. His lips smell like alcohol, but taste so sweet.

You let out a small yelp when he harshly bites, then sucks your lower lip. Your responses are pushing to keep going further and further.

One of his hands finally leaves your waist and cups your breast. He massages your breast, squeezing harshly with his entire palm. H just rolling into you anymore, he’s now humping you shamelessly in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

With each thrust, his tent in his pants pushes your dress up further and further. A slight brush burn forming on the skin cheeks from the coarseness of his jeans. He hoicks you away from him and spins your body so that it could press your chest up against his. His hands creep up the back of your thighs and sneakily slide under the curve of your ass his thumbs rubs small circles as he lifts you up to kiss you more easily. You’re on the tips of your toes with your arms wrapped around his neck.

The two of you desperately and shamelessly making out despite the discomfort of the surrounding people. As soon as he felt your tongue enter his mouth, the strings that were preventing him from fucking you on that dance floor were breaking. He knows he’s getting too excited, but that doesn’t stop him from using both his hands to firmly grope, then spread your ass cheeks.

He slides his hand down further, hoping to feel the wetness between your legs. With his palm pressing into the lower part of your ass, his finger glides past your perineum, then slides between your folds.

Before you could fully enjoy the first circle his finger drew on your clit, someone threw you back into reality.

“Your asshole was showing, so I wanted to save whatever decency you had left”

It’s Nanami’s hand.

He looks at you with a face mixed with exhaustion and disdain. Geto releases his grip from your bottom and pulls his face back to make eye contact with Kento, who so rudely just cockblocked him. He cleans off his fingers before giving Nanami his faux apology.

“ Sorry Kento, we’ll be sure not to have too much fun next time”

Nanami rolled his eyes, then disappeared back into the crowd to presumably track down Gojo. His words rock in your mind and you felt an onset of shame and embarrassment.

You felt so ashamed of letting yourself get felt up in front of dozens of people, let alone many of them being your friends. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too much, so you found your way back to the jungle juice and downed some more.

“You alright? You’re gonna get yourself sick” You look into the annoyingly beautiful blue eyes of your lease favorite member of the three blind mice, Satoru Gojo.

A man who seems to be very where.

You let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine” your voice shakes a bit as you tell that lie

“I saw you and Suguru on the dance floor, seemed like the two of you were….getting a frisky”

You don’t even have to turn to look at Gojo to know he has the biggest shit-eating grin.

“Oh, my god, shut up Satoru”

You pivot to look at Satoru you notice that there’s two of him. Your legs aren’t working as hard anymore to keep you up, leaving you in a losing battle with maintaining your balance.

“You seem pretty fucked up, so let’s get you outta here” Gojo can see you’re way too drunk. At this rate, you’re going to end up somewhere drowning in your own vomit.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates you through the crowd. As he guided you through the crowd, he spotted a multiple attractive girls. He was originally planning to hand you off to Nanami but, so he felt so relieved when he spotted Suguru.

“Keep an eye on her, I can’t get my turn with her if she’s dead” Gojo pushes you it Geto's chest before running off to catch the attention of some innocent girls.

You fall into Suguru's warmth once again, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling yourself between his pectorals. A big, childlike smile extends across your face.

“I always wanted to do this”

He can’t get over just how cute you can be. Smiling warmly, he wraps his arms around you.

“Come on y/n let’s get outta here”

……………………………………………………………………………………

Suguru was a strong man, but with both of you under the influence, getting you home was a bitch.

You were far worse off than him. Couldn’t walk straight, let alone stand up on your own. You put almost all of your weight onto him when you clung to his arm.

When he arrives at your apartment complex and realized the elevator was down, he felt so defeated. They warned it would take about 3 hours to fix.

There was no way he was going to walk up 9 flights of stairs this drunk.

Well...

Maybe, maybe if the girl he’s in love with has herself drunk out of her mind, grappling and feeling all over him. Then he would consider. He would do anything for you and maybe even to you.

Three of the nine flights of stairs had you both beat, but it wasn’t like the two of you could sleep outside on some stairs.

It was cold and dark in the stairwell. The cement was unforgiving. The worst best part was there was no surveillance. This had been an ongoing issue. The cameras at your complex worked half the time and there were none in this stairwell.

Geto noticed on the fifth flight of stairs that you were almost completely out of strength. After the first two flights, you went from walking to crawling on all fours like an infant.

He walked behind you as you crept your way up the stairs, unknowingly showcasing your dampened panties and whole ass. Your dress has hiked itself up to your waist and your breast spilled out of your top.

God, you already got him half hard in the club, but the version of you he is seeing right now has him about to cum at any moment.

You looked so slutty with your swollen lip, smudged lipstick, and streaking mascara.

When you tried to stand up again to walk upright, you slipped off the edge of a stair and fell backward into him.

“I’m so-so sorry sir” your slurred apology was adorable.

“It’s fine, just get back up, and let’s keep walking”

He held you against his chest. His arms were both wrapped around your midriff and your back pressed against his chest. He told himself he did this to prevent you from falling forward or backward.

This had nothing to do with the extra friction his dick was getting with every single step, every squirm of yours. From time to time, he’d press his erection into the back of you to see if you would give him any reaction. You never complained, only letting out a small whine.

Now that he knew he could get away with that, he wanted to go a step further. He slid one of his hands up your chest and groped your breast, lightly.

You maintained the same reaction. It honestly didn’t seem like you even knew anything was happening.

After some time, he realized you weren’t even trying to walk anymore. He heard a low snore from you before he realized passed out in his arms.

He shook you to see if you’d wake. The most you gave him was your lashes fluttering a bit. He called your name and got no response from you.

He decided he’d let you down east, slowly dropping your body down onto the landing of the eighth floor. Your upper body pressed against the landing whilst your lower body hung off the side lying on top of the stairs.

You were fast asleep. As if your face wasn’t pressed against cold concrete and your body was exposed to the harsh weather.

Kneeling beside your face, he brushed his hand against your cheek, admiring your precious resting features. He leans down and gives a gentle kiss on your temple.

Suguru scans the area once more to be sure there’s no camera around. He shuffles back a few stairs to look at your cunt at the best angle. He presses his face between your legs, taking in your scent and giving kitten licks to your pussy.

He grips your ass cheeks with both hands. Squeezing, spreading, and jiggling the cheeks independently. He pulls back from your body to take care of his painful erection. Pushing his pants just below his balls, letting his heavy dick slap against his stomach. Shifted to put his legs at your sides. Straddling your upper legs. He slid your underwear down. Admiring the string of your arousal connecting your pussy to the gusset.

To be sure you were still sleeping peacefully, he checked again. He looked back.

Going with his first senses, he pressed his tip into your entrance. His dick wouldn’t go in. He would try to push into your pussy just for it to slide up against your anus. He considered, but he’d rather save that for the next time you get shitfaced drunk. Your pretty asshole was seducing him, but he needed to feel the grip of your cunt first.

Hoping to stretch you out, he forced his finger inside of you. Pushing just his middle finger in and out of your hole. Taking his hand out briefly to taste you before shoving both his pointer and middle finger in this time. You let out a low whine and it went straight to his dick.

He didn’t know if this groan was from pleasure or pain, but he knew just your voice could get him off.

Reminiscing on the times you’d call, he’d have himself on mute pretending to listen to your complaints on life when really he was getting off, fantasizing about you using your mouth to suck him off instead of bitching about work. You didn't even care about how short his responses were. You would drone on and on. He would cum all over his abdomen because of your daily rants.

He waited a long to get a taste of your pussy. Pulling out his fingers and pressing his tip against your entrance again. He hesitated just as he watched the mushroom head spread your lips. He thought about the times you’d go out on dates with various guys.

Who else got to use your pussy?

Letting his frustrations boil over, he pulled his hips back and shoved in his full length in one stroke.

You didn’t wake up, but your brows furrowed, your nose scrunched, and a whimper escaped your lips.

You felt so fucking good to him. Your pussy felt like it was made for him as it sucked in his enormous cock.

Had you known how wet your unconscious body got for him, you would’ve been ashamed. Were you truly so desperate to be fucked that your pussy juices were dripping down your legs with basic teasing?

His thrust started slow yet deep. He didn’t want your knees or face to get scraped on the concrete, so he held himself back as long as he could.

He almost forgot that he was fucking you in a public space. He didn’t have time to drag it out. Before anyone could catch him violating a drunk girl's body, he needed to cum.

He l picked up the pace, gripping your waist more tightly with his left hand as he pulled your hips into him. His right hand crawled under your body to grip your right breast. His knuckle scraped along the concrete as he fucked into you from behind. Your body would slide forward with his thrust, but he’d use his grip on your right breast to pull you right back into him.

As he fucked into you, your pussy sang beautifully for him. He’d never forget every squelch it produced, and how the lips spread when he pushed himself in, seeing how your little pussy struggled to accommodate his size.

The brush of his hands gripping your breast and rubbing against the concrete was becoming too much. He snatched his hand back, wiping off some of the blood onto the back of your dress before pushing it up a bit more so he could get a better view of the fat on your back shaking when he fucked into you.

He spread your ass cheek with his right hand. Adoring the sight of your asshole. He shoved his thumb inside, sinking his thumb in when he pulled his hips away from you and pulling his thumb out when he pushed his dick deep inside of you.

You let out low moans after he began playing with your asshole.

He started thrusting faster as your body reacted to the new stimulation. Your pussy started hugging him tighter. The squelches got louder. Anyone who passed by in the halls would hear the slapping of your skin connecting. Part of him almost hoped someone would catch him. So they’d know that he owns your pussy.

Your pussy belonged to Suguru Geto

He forgot about the pain you were enduring from the rubbing of your skin and the concrete until felt your core grip him differently.

The breaking of your flesh on the concrete stairs woke you up. The burn of your lower body and the broken skin was slowly bringing you back to sobriety.

He was too close to stop now, but he couldn’t have you wake up and realize your so-called best friend was fucking you in an apartment stairwell. His thrust slowed when he saw your hands move

Out of panic, he pulled your dress up, locking in your arms and blocking your view. You could only see the darkness of your clothing. Nothing behind or in front of you. You did not know where you were and barely understood what was happening.

Your breast swayed as your body twisted and squirmed as you tried to escape the dress. The scars from your brush burn speckled with blood.

He grabbed the opening of the dress and pulled it back as he would your hair. One hand held the bottom part of your dress that had gathered at your shoulders down and the other pulled on the opening closest to your head. He started fucking so deeply that his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. Taking full advantage of the dress's stretchiness. He yanked it back further and harder, causing your back and neck to arch painfully. Because of the amount of elasticity of the dress and the flexibility of your body, he could hold both ends of the dress in one hand.

Your pussy started squeezing him even tighter as your panic doubled. You couldn’t see, and with the strength he was using to pull back on your dress, you could barely breathe. Every inhale just sucked the cloth into your dry mouth and the band of the dress at the base of your neck was crushing your windpipe.

This is the best pussy he’s ever felt. He just knew you were the one for him. No other cunt gripped, pulsed, sucked, and was wet as yours.

His orgasm was coming sooner than he wanted it to as he heard your moans get louder. He felt your pussy pulse around him and suck him in. Your own body betrayed you when he changed the angle of his hips. Thrusting up into your g-spot. His abuse of the spongy sensitive area sent you over the edge. Your legs elongated and shook as your orgasm shot through you. You felt a burst of liquid shoot out of you as your vision no longer saw the darkness of your dress but the light of your orgasm.

The mix of his now wet abdomen with your moans, coughing and choking sent him over the edge. His last thrust was hard, sending your whole body forward, stealing the last of your wind, arching your back until he heard pops.

He plowed his dick deep into your cunt, emptying his balls. A guttural noise left his throat as he did his last thrust, fucking his seed deep into you.

He felt remorseful and felt even worse when he pushed your head forward, your covered face flat to the ground as he pulled his softening cock out and tucked himself with one hand back into his pants.

Kissing you on the back of your head as the best aftercare he could offer at the moment. Afterward, he knotted the excess cloth off the end of the dress, buying as much time as possible before you could see again.

He knew it would take your wasted ass a decent amount of time to get out, so his anxieties about getting caught subsided.

He took a few steps back to snap a shot of your used cum stuffed pussy. Considering if he should brag about his night to Gojo or keep this all to himself.

Suguru swiftly exited the building, running down two flights of stairs to the hallways of the apartment, just to exit through the now working elevator.

After all that transpired, your body was tired, and you passed back out. At sunrise, you awoke to the rays warming your torso and a scarred-up body.

[my4ththerapist]

*whispers* how are deatheaters supposed to properly represent nazis if; canonically, goblins are supposed to represent Jewish ppl and wearwolves are supposed to represent gay men

edit: never said the deatheaters weren't fascists, didn't think I had too clarify that considering I specifically only mentioned nazism, and all yous were saying the fascist movement isn't specific to nazism.

also didn't think id have to write an essay about every effected group targeted by the nazis, mf pleaseeeee this was a two second Tumblr post, just because I didn't list off every victim, does not mean that I am not aware of them, drawing attention to one inconsistency doesn't mean I am neglecting everything else, such a chronically online take, pls touch grass

[lazycats-stuff]

Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.

Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.

(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.

Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.

He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.

All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.

His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.

But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.

(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.

He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.

Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.

Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.

Match made in hell, so to say.

The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.

His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.

At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!

Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.

" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.

" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.

" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.

" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "

" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.

" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "

(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.

It was the driver's fault.

But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.

He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.

" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.

" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.

" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.

Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.

Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.

Nothing more.

But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.

They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.

He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.

And then you have Gotham.

But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.

He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.

After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.

" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...

Bittersweet beyond belief.

He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.

" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.

And she loved him.

While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.

Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.

They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.

" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.

Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?

" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.

" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.

" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.

They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).

" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?

" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.

" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.

" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.

" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.

" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.

" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.

" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.

(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.

He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.

" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.

" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.

" Yup. "

" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.

(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.

" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.

" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.

" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.

" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.

The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.

If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.

" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "

(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.

" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "

Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.

" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.

They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.

" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.

" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.

He knew it would work out in the end.

[the-flowerwolf]

Let's talk about canonical Sebastian

For some reason Sebastian got a reputation of another dark Slytherin who's obsessed with power. Many added him to ✨the Slytherins✨ list. Although in fact he's nothing like Draco, Snape and especially Voldemort. So let's forget about fanons where he's obsessive and possessive and remember some FACTS about him. All based on his behaviour in the game.

He's a brilliant student. Professor Weasley and Scribner both said it. And teachers don't usually praise you for nothing;

He's the BIGGEST NERD in Hogwarts. "What I do with every book. Read it." Had me. He also mentioned his parents tought him to love books. Dude goes to the restricted section not to become another dark lord, but because curiosity in his nature;

He's loyal and protective. I don't even beed to comment on this one;

He is full of youthful maximalism. Which is completely normal at the age of 15. That's why he thinks he knows better than anyone else and hates ALL the goblins just because one cursed his sister (as he thinks);

He expects everything from his beloved. But just because he would do everything for them too. Like risk his life and soul to safe your life? So he doesn't use people, he just thinks it's normal;

He's understanding and supporting. Yes, part of him saw mc as someone who can save his sister. But he only mentioned it once or twice. Beside of that he saw them as partners. When mc said they can't tell him their secret, he understood. He didn't push or try to trick them into telling him. But when they decided to share he was nothing but supportive (although he didn't understand a thing);

Again, he's like super smart. Reading books isn't enough. He actually taught himself the unforgivables and could decrypt Slytherin's book;

He has a healthy self-esteem. He knows his worth and don't have a need to prove something to someone. You can see it in his reaction when he lost in the duel. He doesn't shout about how cool he is (cough Leander cough);

He knows exactly what he wants from life and does everything to get it. Like a good Slytherin he is;

He's not even violent. You heard him screaming? Me neither (expect this one time with Solomon but oh well). Usually he just says he needs some time to think and calm down. He's very mature (If not for his maximalism, but it'll pass). At least more mature than any grown up I know. He only called mc "arrogant", but never screamed or bit anyone.

That's just a few things I could think of! Sebastian is not only cocky boy, who would kill anyone to protect his family. He's a kind, decent person, who only tried to help. What happened was Solomon's fault and not Sebastian's. He was only a child, after all. It was Solomon's job to protect and support them. And he failed.

[marleyybluu]

Boy, Bye

Spooky x black!fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut central (with plot), flirting, mentions of drinking and drug use (relax it's just weed), smoking and driving (but don't be this stupid), Spooky being a nervous boy at the end, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that bitch up we don't need any more crotch goblins jk), creampie because I'm a sick bitch, Spanish nicknames as usual, probably misspelling bcus I was high as shit writing this. lmk if i missed anything

A/N: This was inspired by Boy, Bye by Ari Lennox, her album age/sex/location is a banger I have rediscovered it and the idea hit me like a brick. I do wanna say I don't mention the readers skin tone or anything but she is a black woman bcus i mentioned a fresh set of braids. and black women should be the only ones wearing box braids, wigs, etc... in case yall forgot :)

Not my gif.

The distinct chatter of club patrons droned out of your ears as a persistent ringing replaced it. You sat at the bar, your back turned to counter and your elbows planted firmly on the surface. Just minding your business. Drinking your rum and coke.

"You look sweet like mangoes." A very hot and unwarranted breath invaded your space and it was a reminder as to why you didn't want to come out in the first place. Men were gross, they ruined everything with catcalls and what they think are sweet pickup lines. You turned your head to look at him, he flashed a drunken smile— his teeth crooked and filled with whatever he'd eaten before he got here. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the crowd.

He wasn't the first to approach you tonight, especially since you dispersed from your group to sit at the bar, your feet killing you from the stupid but cute heels you wore. "Sweet like mangoes huh?" You reiterated. He nodded leaning in closer as you leaned away. "Yeah. I know."

The man chuckled at your lack of a 'thank you.'

"Now why are you acting like that? Hm? A man can't get to know you?"

You wrapped your lips around your straw and sipped obnoxiously but he wasn't budging. "A man whose leftovers aren't in his teeth can get to know me." You bit. The man leaned back in disbelief, your comment seemingly sobering him up. "Well, fuck you then bitch."

You raised your glass. "You wish you could." That added fuel to the fire and he stormed off like a pissed off toddler. You smiled taking the last sip of your drink, turning around to place it on the bar, you needed a bit of time before you ordered another, might be the last before you go home. You hopped off the stool and grabbed your purse heading to the restroom, surprisingly there was no line but a few girls were hogging the vanity reapplying whatever makeup had come off. You shuffled inside the small stall and propped your purse on the hook of the door.

Once you were done handling business the women had disappeared and you had the sink to yourself, you washed your hands and dried them off with the paper towels provided, and you checked yourself out flipping your fresh braids to the side finding that was cuter than just having a middle part. When you were satisfied you headed back out putting a little pop in your hips. On your way back to your spot you noticed a man, a young man maybe about your age, sitting in on the seat next to yours. You shrugged and headed over anyway hopping back up without saying a word.

You pulled out your phone and noticed a notification from the group chat, one of the girls asking if you were okay and where were you. As you typed you remained oblivious to the stranger next to you, unaware of the little glances that he took at you. He tipped his head back as he drank from his Corona, you sighed putting your phone down. "You're good?" He asked, genuinely, to your surprise. You looked over at him and nodded. Your eyes analyzed whatever you could see in the shitty and low lighting. The first thing you noticed was the shaved head, not really your thing but it was cute on him, his bushy eyebrows raised in interest watching you examine him. He sported a small moustache and a goatee, the sides were clean-shaven, his slim and aquiline nose complimented him as well and with a nose like that, you wondered how the rides were on that face.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked breaking the silence, you'd accept it, telling him thanks and allowing him to wave over the bartender. You remembered seeing a whiskey sour on the little drink menu and ordering that while he ordered another Corona. He smiled at you, his cheeks so high it made his eyes squint, and you tugged at your bottom lip. "Don't worry I don't have any corny ass pickup lines like the rest of these putos." He reassured. You playfully dismissed him. "Eh, they aren't so bad." Lies.

He turned himself in the stool, his whole body facing you-- one leg on the footrest of the seat and the other on the floor. Your eyes involuntarily dropped down to his lap and quickly back up to his eyes. "Yeah? So, how come you pushed 'em all away?"

He'd been watching you?

"'Cause none of them bought me a drink." You flirted. "Oooh, so that's why I haven't gotten dissed yet?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"I can respect that."

Your drinks arrived and you thanked the bartender. He raised his bottle. "Salud."

"Salud." You copied. You took a sip and shook your head, damn that really is sour. He snorted at the way your face contorted. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't expect it to be that sour."

"I could get you a different drink."

You passed. "It's okay, I can handle it. Plus I wouldn't want one of your little girlfriends seeing you buy me more than one drink."

He rolled his eyes bringing his drink to his lip, "No girlfriends over here."

"Surprised."

"Why?"

You set your whiskey sour down and boldly stated, "You're way too fine to be alone." He turned his head away from you, a warm feeling spreading across his face but he couldn't let you see it. "Thanks, mamita." He responded turning back to your direction. "You sure your man won't fight me for buying you one? 'Cause I can put up a good fight cariño."

You tilted your head to the side, smitten. "No boyfriend's over here."

"Good to know."

— — Your once drastic and boring night was starting to look upward. Spooky, you found out to be his name, was good conversation. Yeah, he threw a corny line here and there but you actually liked them coming from him, he wasn't trying too hard he was just being playful.

Your eyes landed on the imprint on his neck, a crucifix tilted on its side with the name Santos etched down the middle. "Los Santos... hm are you?"

"Am I what?"

You leaned into him your hand finding its way to the side of his neck and gently dragging your nails on his inked skin. "A saint."

His eyes focused more on your lips. "More of a sinner." He mumbled. You giggled tipsily. "Boy, bye."

The DJ had announced it was the last song of the night, you looked at your phone reading 3 AM, your plans to leave early had been disrupted in the best way. Spooky noticed your attention detour. "Ready to go home?"

You sighed now not wanting the night to end. "Guess so."

"I could drop you home."

Your eyes sharpened, you didn't know him... but, fuck, you liked him enough to almost agree to it. "I don't know if I want a sinner dropping me home."

He put his hand over yours, the contact sparked a warm feeling in your lower belly. He guided your palm to his chest. "I'll be a saint,cielito, don't worry."

You laughed wholeheartedly. "That was so fucking lame."

"Made you laugh though."

It did.

You agreed to take the ride and while he paid for the drinks you texted the group:

Y/n: got a ride home ;) I'll talk to you bitches tomorrow.

They gassed you up for any potential activity tonight and hoped that you'd get home safely. Spooky got off first and held his hand out to help you down, he didn't let go as he led you through the crowd, he met up with the boys you assumed he came with and dapped them up with his free hand, his other one never letting go of yours.

Soon, you two were out the door, you lowkey stumbled through the parking lot, alcohol and heels were never a good combo. He helped you though. And you two arrived in front a Red Impala, your mouth twitched with fascination. "Nice car." You blurted out. "Thanks ma, worked on it myself."

"Damn, he's cute and a mechanic? You sure no one is crazy over you?"

He opened the door for you. "No, just you."

"I'm not crazy, yet." You pointed before sliding inside. He closed your door and headed over to his side. Your body was full of tingles, the feeling reaching your toes but you didn't know if it was the buzz from your drink or if it was him. Either way, you were enjoying this.

Spooky pulled off. You sighed and smiled lazily throwing your head back, you were floating— your body felt like it was flying through space. "You smoke?" He asked, you heard a lighter flicker and you shook your head. "I do, but I can't take anything else right now."

He shrugged and inhaled the THC, he reached for the dial on his stereo and turned up the volume, the music he was playing earlier resuming its beat. Sierra Leone by Frank Ocean serenaded your ears. "I love this song."

You hummed along to the slow tune. Spooky caught you in the corner of his eye, he smiled. He enjoyed the show and the company until he pulled up to your neighbourhood and into your driveway. You groaned, did he really have to go?

You notice him turn the car off. "You're not coming inside you know."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I'm just taking you to the door at least."

You slightly frowned, he left you for a few seconds before your door opened and he offered his hand once again. You successfully landed on your feet, your hand moulded with his and now it was your turn to lead him. Up the steps. You fumbled with your keys until you found the correct one, you felt nervous under his gaze. Those low eyelids undressing you, you just knew it. Your key slid into the slot and turned it unlocking your door. "Thanks... for the ride."

"No problem, ma." You looked up as he towered over you. His energy pulled you in, you were drunk but you weren't that drunk. Maybe he could come in for a little bit.

— — Clothes spread across your bedroom floor, the sheets sliding off the bed like melted cheese. You two were in a tangle of limbs, naked bodies pressed against each other, his nose brushed yours as he planted the softest kiss on your lips. Your hands flew to his flushed cheeks pulling him in with eagerness and at the same time, his slender finger running over your blue panties. You smiled against his lips. His kisses were so warm and passionate. 

He used his fingers to tug at your panties, hauling them to the side. You whined feeling him run them between your wet folds, collecting and salivating your juices. He toyed with your clit, slowly and steadily, your hips bucking up to chase his touch. Ending your short misery a finger entered your heat, you gasped in the middle of your kiss and your eyebrows knitted together, your face reading 'finally.' You smiled hazily against his lips once he pulled it out and plunged back in with an additional finger. "Fuuuuck."

He skillfully curled his fingers up hitting that spongey spot, that sweet spot. You squirmed under him with pleasure and anticipation... desperation, for more. You sat up on your elbows looking down and seeing his fingers work their magic on you, your mouth fell open, pushing your hips forward once again. You just wanted more.

You looked back up at him. "You're so pretty when you make that face, cariño." He complimented. The heel of his hand brushed against your pulsing clit, you clenched around his fingers causing a smirk to appear on his face. "S-shit, please."

"Please what mi amor?"

For once, you were in no mood for foreplay, you were very slick and sticky with arousal. "Just fuck me, please."

He smiled shaking his head at your earnest request, he continued his teasing assault on your sweet spot, his lips connecting to your neck, your eyes rolling at the immense pleasure you were receiving. Your hand on the back of his neck holding him in place. "Yes... oh... yes!" He was pulling your orgasm closer and closer, your hips raised off the mattress. "I thought you just said you wanted me to fuck you?"

"I-I do."

"Doesn't seem like it now." He evilly chuckled. The sound of your pussy juice and your frantic whimpers went straight to his dick, his growing erection poking at your leg. "I'm gonna cum." You wept. Spooky slowly pulled out his fingers leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, you groaned glaring at him. He winked wrapping his lips around the fingers that were just inside you, he licked off your essence until his fingers were clean. You giggled dropping your head on the pillow.

Spooky pulled off his boxers and his dick sprung out with a wet thud once the tip hit his lower abdomen, fuck he was so hard, you drooled at the sight spreading your legs further apart. He wrapped his hand around his girth sliding his tip between your soaked folds before carefully pushing his length inside you. Your voice broke at the feeling of him against your gummy walls, enveloping every inch he had to give you. Your bottom lip finds comfort between your teeth, your head tipped back and your toes curled. His sack hits your ass as he bottomed out. Filled you to the brim.

Spooky held his position, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. His warm hands find solace on the back of your thighs, sliding up to the crook of your knee. You felt as he pushed your legs back, your knees touching your chest. He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward flush against your pelvis his coarse curly hair at the base of his shaft brushing against your clit, an additional sensation. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrists as he rocked into you, giving you strokes you've never felt in your life. Your mouth fell open, breathless whispers leaving your throat, egging him on about how well he stretched you, how full you felt with him inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That feels so-o good." 

Spooky smirked looking down at you, your various love faces so beautiful being contorted with pleasure. He leaned down, your legs now planted on his shoulders, he kissed your nose and then forehead before pressing his against it. There was a mix of sounds-- his grunting, your erotic moans and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls, if you lived in an apartment they'd probably knock on the wall to complain. 

You could feel yourself leaking, dripping, onto the sheets and coating his dick in your desire. "You're so fucking pretty when you're taking me, princesa. Eres muy guapa." He groaned, your head fell back, your high carefully approaching once again. Your nails left crescent shapes on his skin. "Shit! I like being inside you, you're so fucking wet, bebita." 

Your walls constantly fluttered around him. He hissed and you smirked. "I know you feel that, fuck, I'm gonna cum for you." 

His hand slipped between sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit once again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, his teeth nibble at your jaw. "Right there! Uh-huh, right fucking there!" Spooky pounded into you, hard yet maintaining rhythm. Your eyes are glossy with incoming tears, the overstimulation of it all. "Fucking squeeze me, mamita. I got you, cum on this dick." 

His words tip you over and your body tenses up and your eyes fall into the pit of your skull. He felt every pulsation of your orgasm, his tip constantly hitting your spot. He held up his weight, his hands rested on your lower back fingers gripping your ass cheeks. His thrusts became sloppier as he helped your ride out your orgasm and his quickly approaching. "Oh my god," You hazily giggle. "Fuck! Yeah, use me to get yourself off, please. Cum wherever you want, baby, give it to me." 

Spooky pushed in one more time, you faintly smiled at the feeling of his warm spend squirting inside of you. You were both out of breath, Spooky leaned back and sat on his knees with his softening dick still buried inside you. He helped take your legs off his shoulder and you mumbled in pain. "Shit... I mean I didn't expect you to actually fold me." 

He laughed. "I said I was gonna do it." He spoke in reference to his warning earlier when you lured him into your house. He leaned down once again to give you an affectionate kiss. "You feeling okay?" 

"More than okay." You confessed. "Good," He kissed your nose before pulling out, you almost pouted at the loss. "You're okay if I grab some water?" 

You nodded telling him there were bottles in the fridge, he shot you a thumbs up and put on his boxers before he left, once he was out of your sight you let out a big sigh of relief and a very bright smile was sure to follow. You felt so giddy, butterflies were making their home in your nervous system. What the fuck was this feeling? 

Spooky grabbed two bottles and made his way back upstairs, offering you one. You thanked him and sat up as carefully as you could. You caught a prideful smirk on his face. "Don't start." You warned him, he put his hands up in defence. 

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked out of the blue. "Not much, why?" 

"Uh, I'm not one to overstep my boundaries and it's up to you,  really, but do you want to get something to eat?" 

You nodded. "Of course. Any places in mind?" 

"There's a... breakfast bar... downtown." He sounded more nervous with that statement. You blushed. "Breakfast? Oh, so you want to spend the night with me, Spooky?" 

He suddenly felt like an idiot, he was very much a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits person but with you, he kind of wanted to see if this could go somewhere. "If that's cool with you." 

You set your bottle down on the nightstand, you smiled propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You crawl over to him and kiss his temple, you go down to nibble his ear and whisper; "If you keep fucking me like that, I just might have to keep you." 

He shivered, his dick jumped at the thought alone. Quickly the roles were reversed back his fingers intertwined with yours as he put you on your back. 

"I better get to work then."

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