#POV Adam Young | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kedsandtubesocks · 1 year

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all of this (& heaven too) - hades!Gojo

He is not what you pictured. You had a painted image in your head of a terrifying immortal, ancient and dreary, who ruled over the dead. Instead you discover the king of the underworld is young, all brilliant wide smiles, and more importantly - dangerously handsome.

You are a goddess of spring torn between two fates, that is until you meet a strange man leaning against a tree…

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

tags & warnings: 18+ only mdni, loose interpretation and altering of the hades & persephone myth, complicated/strained parental relationship (could be read as controlling/manipulative), mentions of kidnapping, brief physical assault, clingy + lovesick Gojo, slight wound licking and finger sucking, allusion to fem!oral receiving, Gojo being Gojo and offering gruesome violence as a form of love… if there is anything I missed pls let me know!!

wc: 14k

a/n: title is from the florence + the machine song of the same name. I already hate myself for wanting to write a companion piece to this from gojo’s pov… okay that’s all please enjoy, thank you for reading! Also biggest thank you to @stellamancer & @willowser who have been my best comrades in Gojo hell

When you were just a young little sapling your mother once asked you what your favorite thing about this world was.

“The great big sky!” You had told her brightly.

“The sky?” Your mother asked, amused. “Not any of the flowers? The rivers? Or the fields, my little sprout?”

“Nope!” You were adamant.

“Then why?” Your mother grinned and so you told her.

“Because it’s so big! Like there’s so much room to grow!”

Then you added. “And it’s so blue, like the sea!”

Your mother had laughed warm, vibrantly loud like the morning rays waking you up.

The sky. You always loved the sky. Even as an immortal crafted from ichor and stardust, the sky made you feel mortal in the best ways, especially now.

Now, as a fully matured celestial being, you are as old as one of the grand redwood trees you loved running alongside when you were a little.

You glance up at the sky while the wind blusters through your fields. Even with looming clouds clustering above signaling the arrival of a storm, you find reassurance there. The storm now actually feels comforting as a similar storm of unrest swirls inside of you. You stomp down from the mountain not even waiting for your mother.

That entire meeting with her, you, and the lord of the skies was pointless. Gakuganji, with his thunderous melodies and even with all his wisdom, made you curse the skies.

“We shall need to discuss terms of the arranged courting rituals soon.” You had almost choked when you heard the old god’s words. He could not be serious.

Even when you yelled confused, even when your mother sent you a sharp glare to keep quiet, Gakuganji never once acknowledged you. It was like you were not even present, just a simple wallflower ignored against the grander of other immortals. Because to them, you would always be a little sapling, your mothers offspring, nothing more.

The thunder booms ahead and you wish the rain would pour down on you. Maybe the rain would help simmer you down.

“Well now, don’t you look just as feral as a chimera?” A voice emerges,a coy playful tone you’ve never heard before.

When you snap your gaze to the side, you discover a man. Clothed in deep obsidian robes, he seems just as tall as the sycamore tree he leans against.

His hair is a startling white and -

His eyes are blindfolded.

Being so close to the sacred grounds tells you this man must be another immortal. But you had never met him before.

Then again, you had happily enjoyed staying unaware among your blooms. You wistfully ignored the problems and squabbles the others had. Even when you came of age centuries ago you did not have any desire to accompany your mother to Olympus. It was only recently that she began dragging you with her. Now you wonder if that decision has caused you to be the fool.

You glare at the mystery man. “I’m just fine, thank you.”

“Mhm, doesn’t look like it.” His taunts lightly and it makes you want to shriek.

“Wanna tell me who’s responsible?” Now his lips form into a soft grin. “I could deal with them for you.”

Even as strange as this man is, there’s some sense of comfort in his casual comment. The tension in your body, even in your face, slowly flutters away.

You sigh. “No it’s fine.”

Looking at his covered eyes, you already wonder what color they are.

Your name is called out sharp before you can ask your mystery man what his name is. Your mother’s voice snaps your spine straight. Quickly whipping around you see her scurrying to you with wide worried eyes.

“Head home, little sprout.” She urges you.

“Wait, why?”

“Head. Home.” Her words echo with the same force as the storm brewing around you.

Your mother’s magic swiftly swirls all around. She is getting ready to sweep you into the wind that helps her run along her wheat fields. You can’t help it. Your eyes fall to the mystery man. His handsome features smirk amused. You mother however stares at him as if he is an abomination from the depths of the underworld.

“Lord Gojo, good day to you.” And when she says his name, you discover this mystery man is not just from the depths of the underworld, but its ruler.

Your heart plummets fast into your stomach. The strangest concoction of emotions swirls in you. Terror and curiosity are not a desirable pair to navigate through.

Then in a wild gust, you are teleported home. You wonder if your mind might have flown out in the whirlwind because you still cannot believe it.

You just met the Lord of the underworld.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

His existence was a simple phrase of his name you were told never to utter.

Lord Gojo.

The strongest of the immortals. The rumors paint him as a mindless monster who slaughtered titans during the Great War. He was a ghastly terror. The only immortal fit to rule over the dreary underworld. You used to paint him in your mind as someone aged like Gakuganji. The lord was carved from myth, ancient and terrifying. So you imagined him more creature than man.

Yet instead he exists a smiling handsome man who appears to you now.

“M-my Lord!” You stammer out frantically.

You had been sitting by the riverside braiding another floral crown to keep your mind at ease. Then, out of the blue, like a strike of lightning, the underworld’s king appears beside you.

“Oh no,” Gojo simply waves. “Please no titles, they disgust me.”

You almost choke on your own confused inhale.

“What are you doing here?” You squawk confused, trying to ignore how rapid your heart races in your chest.

This god was painted to be a terrifying tale. You mother once even told you he would only bring chaos and misfortune to anyone who crosses his path.

Now he lounges beside you under the shade of the trees.

“I came to see if you were alright. You looked so upset before.”

His words knock you breathless. Your mind could not believe this was truly the dreaded god of the underworld. Suddenly said king gasps obnoxiously loud and you almost jump out of your skin.

“What are you making?!” He leans down to point at the flowers in your lap.

“Flower crowns, they’re for the village children nearby.”

You loved to leave them off at the edge of the fields where the children played. Whenever you catch them wearing the bright floral wreaths your heart soars .

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gojo admires, like a loud wind chime. “Can you make one for me then!?”

You wonder if the ground has given out from under you. The man whispered to be pure power, now wears a childish frown with his lip sticking out in a full on pout.

“Please?” He pleads.

Left with no choice, your attention goes back to the flowers bunched lonely in your lap and you furiously return to braiding.

“That one better be for me!” The king of the underworld comments in a song-like tone. A quick temptation rises in you to throw the flowers in the nearby river.

“What are you even doing here?” For some reason, you blurt that out.

The words leave before you can stop yourself and your eyes widen in horror. This is it. Your mind jumps to every awful thing he could probably do to you. And he does the absolute worst.

He laughs.

It colors his cheeks lovely and you hate how it somehow intensifies his handsome features even more.

“I told you! I wanted to check up on you.” Gojo smiles toothy but swiftly the image of a grinning crocodile waiting in the water comes to mind.

“I don’t believe you.” Again, you speak out too fast. Thankfully his lips thin into an amused line.

“You’re a lot more perceptive than you look, I like that.”

His words shake your brain, a fierce little rattle that has you staring at him stunned. Your heart races to find a regular beat.

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “I did have an annoying meeting with the others. But… while I was up here I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing, petals.”

The fond playful name he bestows upon you is done so casually. Yet, it snags your breath.

Petals.

The nickname has your mind reeling until you fully process what he said. The meeting he went to was the same one your mother must have gone to earlier and is still at.

“What was it about?” You ask a bit calmer as you braid simple dandelions to pop against the forget me nots.

Silence softly settles and mixes in with the rush of the river.

“You mean…no one’s told you?”

Gojo’s voice is a soft but stunned whisper that steals your attention back to him. You now are frustrated you can’t see his eyes, can’t see the emotion in them.

“Told me what?” You frown.

The lord of the underworld stays quiet. He tilts his head towards your lap.

“The color of those flowers are lovely.” He says simply and even with a touch of awe.

Indignation rises in you, a heated over spilling boil and you snap. “What did you all discuss!?”

Then it hits you. You just flat out demanded so fiercely to the ruler of the underworld.

“I apologize-”

“No,” Blindfold or not his attention is fully directed towards you now. “Don’t apologize. You deserve to feel frustrated. Believe me I would be too.”

You exhale shakily.

“There's been more talk about your place among the others.” Gojo tells you simply. “Arranged marriage is being thrown around.”

Your heart sinks fast.

“I should have known.” You sigh as you rapidly return back to looking at your flowers. Slowly vines start to grow against your ankles. Your powers react to your emotions, and now the sensation of feeling tired manifests itself.

“Everyone thinks I’m just my mother's offspring,” you snap mainly to yourself. “Or that I’m only here to be someone’s marriage partner, but I’m not.”

The vines start to prickle against your skin. When you glance down so many have already grown across your legs.

“Who are you then? And who do you want to be?” Gojo’s words are so soft, casual and almost friendly.

The question even seems like one of your nymph companions would have asked you. Except Gojo’s directed unflinching attention almost makes you fidget.

“I…” you don’t even know how to answer. Even as you try to gather a reasonable one, the words feel chained in your throat.

You instead sigh and return to braiding.

Eventually the words come out, more of a whisper than anything.

“I’m me…that’s all. And I want to continue just being me.”

It probably made no sense, maybe even sounded awfully simplified at all to the god who watched over the dead. But the words held heavy truth in your heart.

You might not fully know who you truly are, but the choice to figure it out, to grow and simply make decisions for yourself, is all you wanted. You don’t want to be a simplified extension of your mother or a piece to use in a marriage arrangement.

After braiding in another daffodil stem, you notice the king beside you has gone quiet.

When you turn to the side you discover the god of the underworld is gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Something dances in the air, an unknown sensation that tingles and crawls against your skin. It feels like a warning you can’t fully describe.

When you try to press your mother about the meeting she avoids the conversation completely. It causes enough anger to rise so quickly in you that thorned roses pierce your hands. Then, one morning she arrives at your side with the heaviest expression.

“Mother, please tell me, what is happening?” You try asking as earnestly as you can.

Your mother, with her emotional turbulent eyes like a brewing storm, instead walks over to you and tenderly holds you in her arms.

“Know everything I do, I do for you.” Then she vanishes.

You swallow back a frustrated scream and instead furiously stomp away to your spot by the river stream.

Thankfully none of the tree or forest nymphs come near you. They must sense your frustration or see the prickly cacti slowly starting to sprout around you like a safely sharp fortress.

“Did you finish my flower crown, petals?”

A twinkling voice comes swift. It galvanizes your body as you scramble up fast to whip around.

There behind you, with an amused ease, stands the king of the netherworld. At the sight of him, the cacti plants bloom wild and bright buds.

“I like the color of these.” Gojo smriks nudging his face towards them.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper.

“I’m sorry, petals, don’t have much time.” Gojo frowns and then squares up firmly. It stuns you at how broad and striking he looks, a black ink stain against the picaresque forest landscape that has you captivated.

His face is somber, a true image of a composed ruler.

“The others made a decision. You’re going to be married off to another young immortal. But… your mother is coming to get you. She plans to keep you locked away. Made a whole scene about it.”

The words pierce your heart, piece your lungs and maybe your very soul as you choke on an exhale.

Blinking away tears, you stare at the king.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice cracks.

“Because I believed you deserved to know, and that you deserved a choice.” Gojo answers but in its simplicity you find absolute comfort.

“So here are your choices…” Gojo continues and the scenarios flash a vivid picture in your head.

You can let your mother whisk you away and keep you locked by her side forever. Or you can let the lord of the sky decree all powerful and place you in a marriage with someone you don't even know.

“Or…” Gojo’s voice now dances optimistic and light.

“You can come back with me.”

The offer hits you with the force of a landslide. You sputter out nonsense, unable to process what you just heard.

Gojo decides to clarify himself.

“Come back with me.” He beams. “No one will know where you went. You’ll get to lay low for a while, maybe figure out what you want to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“And, best part of all? You get to enjoy as much time as you’d like with me.” Gojo sounds absolutely ecstatic at the idea.

Spending time with him and in the underworld however sounds like a terrifying punishment. Just the thought of the underworld itself draws a haunting dread. Would you be safe there? Could you even last long among the cold dreary depths?

The wind blows fluttering leaves around you. The strange sensation you sensed in the air arrives thicker and now the wind swirls like a warning. This time it urges you of your mother fast approaching with the fate tied with her.

Surprisingly, the lord of the underworld waits so patiently silent. Then, a cocky smirk twitches his lips, a silent challenge almost as if to say he might know your answer.

Your answer comes in three simple steps. Before you are even fully by his side, you blink and disappear from the surface.

In the forest, all that remains of you are the cacti now completely covered in glorious colorful blooms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

The underworld is a crystal dream.

When you first thought of the realm of the dead your mind conjured up a dreary desolate wasteland, one filled with anguish and wailing, dark hallowed hallways lined with skeletons. Instead gem lined caverns greet you wherever you go.

A solemn gloom however faintly hangs in the air and could not be ignored. You spot multiple shades, souls of those who have passed, wandering towards the different rivers or simply fading in and out at the edge of the castle. Death did soak this land. From a distance the looming light of Tartarus solidifies that haunting realization. The blood soaked fire orb flickered a chilling reminder of the dangers this realm posed.

“How long will I be here?” You had asked.

“As long as you want.” Gojo chirped. “You can leave whenever you want. Can take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do.”

It was warm and heartfelt. However…

“There are only two rules I need you to follow.” Gojo had added ominously and shattered the warm welcome. The rules were simple.

Never go to Tartarus.

And never eat anything from this world.

Simple, but the ominous directness sparks your mind to wonder about what terrors really did lurk here. Besides those two warnings, Gojo welcomes you with grand excitement into his grand home.

That first night you arrived he practically bounced with every step as he showed you around the kingdom. You were so worried the sight of this world would scare you. Instead elation and even a tinge of appreciation blooms in you. You had never once imagined in your lifetime that you’d ever see this. A new appreciation emerges for this place that would be housing you until you figured out your path.

Gojo also introduced you to the two other immortals living within the halls of the underworld.

Shoko, the goddess of death, who with her stunning features and dreary eyes smiles so kind whenever she sees you.

Then there was Utahime, the goddess of magic, of spells and the crossroads.

“I hope you will enjoy your time here. The underworld has a special way of… revealing to us our true selves.” She had told you sagely. You enjoy browsing her vast collection of scrolls and you eagerly listen to any tales she shares with you.

Even during the times you spend with her or Shoko, the king of the underworld quickly arrives to your side like a persistent gnat.

You decide to take strolls along the charcoal sand riverside, a familiar tradition you did on the surface. Gojo accompanies you any chance he can.

He’s a curious creature and asks you a range of questions. What do you love most about the surface? What do you dream of? What color do you associate with yourself? You answer them all and then some. You tell him about the nymphs, your friends, about the days you used to grow sunflowers so big they would rival trees.

He snickers, makes playful commentary, but listens with full rapture. His attempt to know you better has you grudgingly slowing easing into his presence.

As much as you enjoy the time spent along the riverside, it doesn’t compare to your favorite place in the entire underworld.

The Elysian Fields stole your breath away the moment you first saw them. You never believed anything organic could grow in a realm meant to harness and hold the dead. Yet the fields stretched before you in wonderful waves of green, of color, of life.

It’s why you spend so much time here.

Among the grass and the trees, your mind can freely wander. Your mother must be upset. You could only imagine the pain she must be going through not knowing where you are. But frustration quickly leaks in remembering if you did return to the surface, what life could you be able to find there?

You dig your feet into the lush grass and try not to let poisonous annoyance overwhelm you.

“You look lost in thought.”

Gojo’s voice flutters in. Then his shadow falls over you. You don’t even have to glance your head up because the king of the underworld casually sits down beside you.

“Haven’t figured anything out yet huh?” He asks and you shake your head a quiet no.

“That’s okay. There’s no need to feel pressured or get upset about it. It’s a big decision, trying to figure out what path you want your life to take.”

You never expected him to be this comforting.

“Besides, it’s not often I get visitors here. So I’m enjoying your company as long as I can, petals.” A grin spreads across Gojo’s face as wide as a sunrise.

All you can do is yank up some of the grass and playfully throw it at him.

He laughs a bright snicker but you notice something very quickly. The grass never fully hits him. The slight distortion peaks your curiosity and you go to do it again.

“If this is your form of attack then I can only imagine how terrifying you’d be in battle.” Gojo teases but you pay him no mind because the grass again does nothing. It falls short from hitting him as if he’s protected by something.

Completely ignoring his comment, you ask him about the strange occurrence.

You appreciate how comfortable you’ve become here and with the god of the underworld to now ask such questions. The king’s lips twitch.

“What exactly have you heard about me?”

A strange question but one with a layered answer. Simply put, he’s the ruler of the underworld, considered the strongest of all the immortals.

When your mother had told you stories of the titan war, she never failed to mention the power the ruler of the netherworld held. And there is one image tied to him you remembered vividly.

“A helmet, I heard you wrote a helm that gave you immense power.”

The entire time here your mind has thought too much about the helm. You wondered what it looked like. What was more dangerous though was the curiosity, the desire, to see what he would look like wearing it.

Gojo’s face blooms with a toothy smile.

“It’s…not technically a helmet.”

Then the god playfully points at the blindfold across his eyes.

The grand helm has been in front of you this entire time and you didn’t even know. Of course he wore it constantly.

“That’s incredible.” You can’t help but fully admire the black cloth now. To think something as simple as this cloth was so strong to be considered a war helmet, it amazes you.

“I heard it made you invisible though. I remember asking about it!” You blurt out. That was another legend you heard about from a few of the nymphs.

“Oh? So you’ve asked about me, petals?” Gojo smirks slyly and your face heats up. Carnations rapidly blooming start to tickle your ankles and you immediately squish them.

“You know, I’ve always wondered where that rumor came from.” He hums, thoughtfully. “But no. I don’t have powers of invisibility. Instead I have something way more impressive.”

Pride swiftly leaks into his voice and flourishes more when his chest visibly puffs up. The vivid image of a colorful squawking peacock flashes in your mind and you almost snicker until Gojo raises his hand up.

“Hold your hand out for me please.” His voice drops lower and the tone jolts your heart. You wearily lift your hand up.

Gojo presses his hand against yours. Your heart beats faster, rivaling a humming bird’s wings, and you wait for the impact.

It comes. However, Gojo’s hand applies no actual pressure. You don’t touch his skin or brush against his fingers. Instead only liminal space floats between. The barrier can’t be more than a hair width away yet feels as if it’s oceans wide.

“What is it?” You ask breathless and intrigued.

“Infinity.”

Gojo explains how the helm, his powers, rely on the eternal force that is infinity. Everything repeats. Everything can be continued into an unbreakable cycle, the purest form of infinity.

“And what is more infinite than death? Even universes are born and die.” He speaks with an ancient patience. But, you swear you catch an underlying sadness in his voice just out of your reach. Or maybe it is just your own sadness that you were facing as you realized the weight upon Gojo’s shoulders.

He exists as the personified infinity of death’s cycle continuing over and over again and someone must watch over it. He is unable to step free from that cycle because he is it.

“You look so sad, petals. What? Am I boring you?” Suddenly Gojo’s jovial voice shatters your thoughts.

The black cloth hiding his eyes holds more weight than it did moments before.

Then you notice none has pulled their hands away, neither your or him. No one makes an attempt to move even now. You simply sit there with the space of infinity resting solid, unwavering, against you and Gojo just out of reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

In the underworld, monotony can creep in easily. You find even after browsing all of Lady Utahime’s interesting collection of spells and curses, you grow restless.

“If you ever get bored,” Gojo previously told you. “You’re more than welcome to join me in the throne room.”

You had only seen the throne room during the first grand tour Gojo took you on. Now you stare at the throne room’s grand doors petrified to even open them.

“Why don’t you go inside? He would enjoy your company.”

Shoko’s calm sweet voice makes you almost bolt like a skittish deer. Caught red handed and the goddess of death sleepily smiles.

“Oh no. I couldn’t!” You sputter out.

For some reason, the thought of seeing Gojo on his throne, in his role as king of the underworld flickers something hot to boil under your skin. Shoko’s curious gaze burns a hole in the side of your face.

The goddess gives you a soft nod then continues her walk down the hallway.

“You know, there’s a hidden alcove above the throne room that can be accessed from the stairs…just a thought.” Shoko muses aloud glancing over her shoulder with twinkling amused eyes. Then the goddess turns a corner and leaves you alone with her words rattling in your brain.

Were you going to watch Gojo from the shadows?

Before you could even rationalize your thoughts you move quietly up the stairs until you reach your destination.

The alcove is a type of balcony obscured by the columns towering in the throne room. The view from high up grants you a wonderful sight of the entire room composed of marble and crystal. Instead of the imposing grand ruler you imagined sitting regally composed on his throne, the white haired god is sprawled half lying across the large throne. For some reason you’re reminded of a lounging lethargic cat and you bite your cheek from laughing.

Gojo stays reclining for some time. Eventually he does pull a scroll out from beside his throne and glances it over. At first you thought he appeared bored. But now as he sighs and flops to the other side of the throne childishly, you now think -

He looks lonely.

Even among the walls gleaming of the riches soaked in this realm, this incredibly boisterous immortal seems lonely. You even notice a hollow air rests in the room and reminds you of a day in winter when the earth seems frozen.

Then a giggle comes.

You wonder if maybe you misheard it. That is until a child quickly peeks from behind a column. The little girl pops out a bit more before returning to hiding.

Very quickly she scurries to a column closer to the throne.

Your eyes flicker to Gojo who continues overlooking the scroll on his lap.

The girl begins to tip toe closer and closer to the throne. You now wonder how the king will react. She seems gleeful, unafraid of him. Especially as she approaches with the proudest toothy grin on her sweet face.

Then Gojo whips around to her.

“GOT YOU!” He shrieks proudly and even points at her accusingly. She jumps like a scared little rabbit until she hunches over laughing. Her joy fills the throne room with so much warmth you find yourself smiling at the interaction.

“I got closer this time!” The girl stomps pouting and her face puffs up adorably.

“You did! I have to give you credit for that Rika.” Gojo addresses the girl with a delighted friendliness.

“I’ll get you next time!” The girl, Rika, announces sternly as her face furrows determined.

“I believe you.” Gojo nods and you even believe him.

The girl narrows her eyes harder at the king but then she quickly giggles.

“Why don’t you go back and play in the fields, Rika? It's much nicer than playing around here in this boring place. Trust me I don’t even enjoy being here sometimes.”

They both share a giggle and Rika beams up at him so kindly.

A molten smile draws over Gojo’s face and your heart melts. Softness, gentless, looks wonderful, beautiful even, on his handsome features.

“Alright you little pest, head back to the fields you go.” He playfully shoo’s Rika away with a dismissive wave and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Turning on her heels, you watch Rika slowly fade into the air. A sadness settles over you knowing this young girl passed away so young. But, it comforts you seeing how joyous and bubbly she is even in the afterlife.

Then, it slowly dawns on you.

The lord of the underworld is not the terrifying monster whispered to be. He is a silly terror, a bit eccentric, but a kind man.

Your eyes glaze over staring at nothing in particular and you decide to leave as well.

As you rise from your little secret perch a shadow looms across you. Glancing up, the lord of the underworld towers grins down disgustingly victorious.

“Well now, aren’t you just the sneakiest little weed I’ve ever seen!”

His comment pulls an indignant shriek out of you as you scramble up. Your face is on fire and you storm away in fast rapid stomps.

Gojo follows fast behind laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and echoes among the throne room.

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Days come when tears sting your eyes thinking about the surface. You do miss your mother.

You miss the feeling of the sun on your face, the breeze of autumn fluttering in for the change of the season. You can’t even remember how many days have passed since your arrival in the underworld.

But even thinking about returning to the surface terrifies you stiff. It makes your stomach turn because you know your answer to what lies above.

You don’t want to be in an arranged marriage and you don’t want to be locked to your mother’s side. There was no middle way, or other option between these two.

You stay in your room for a few days, wiping away the tears.

Eventually out of your clouded haze a soft knock arrives at your door.

Gojo waits on the other side. You don’t like how effortlessly your heart jumps seeing his tall stature leaning against the door, a striking ink stain with his black robes. His lips are a small but sad crooked grin.

“Can I show you something?”

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. He doesn’t press you about your sudden cloistering. He doesn’t try filling the space with talk. You’re grateful in the silence that he understands.

Through different corridors of the castle this area feels unfamiliar and a spark of curiosity flickers in you. Then Gojo stops.

There in the shade of the hallways, a secluded large square open area is before your eyes. The area seems out of place carved out from the marble and gem walkways

“What is it?” You feel a bit foolish asking.

Gojo grins wide beside you. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

You give him an incredulous and worried look. This could be a playful trick. Utahime had warned you how notorious the lord of the underworld was at playing surprise tricks which included hiding behind corners to scare anyone passing by.

“I promise, you’ll like it.” Gojo however reassures you with a gentle earnestness. So with a sigh you walk and step into the patch.

Beneath you is actual soil. It’s soft, smells of comfort and you can’t help it, a watery laugh escapes you. How long has it been since you felt the earth above?

Even since you visited the Elysian Fields, you discovered an ominous truth about your favorite spot.

“Nothing can grow there.” Utahime told you sadly. “While everything is lush and beautiful and cannot die. However, nothing can grow as well.”

But you remembered the carnations. You knew they bloomed when you were there and you revealed that to Utahime.

Her lovely face scrunched up in wise thought and her eyes became distant.

“Unfortunately it could have just been a simple fluke. The Elysian Fields are meant to be a place of peace. Maybe it was trying to comfort you as well… let you feel some sort of semblance of the surface world.”

The thought was comforting but also carried an ocean abyss of sadness. Understanding nothing could grow here in this world made sense.

But now you sat on solid soil, true soil from above.

You scramble to your knees and can’t help but dig your hands through it. The cushiony familiar texture, the smell that has been with you since you were a sapling. Tears threaten to cloud your vision.

Turning around, Gojo is there leaning against the hallway’s frame and beaming bright like a marigold.

“How?!” You ask breathlessly, unable to still process this.

“I have my ways.” Gojo coyly replies. More questions only rise in you but you quietly set them aside.

“Utahime said nothing could grow here.”

“Hm…that is true. But, why not give it a try?” Curiosity oozes out of him.

So you decide, why not. With your hands in the soil you inhale and the magic in your veins flickers to life.

You clutch the dirt tight in your grasp as if trying to hang on to this last sense of who you are.

Out of the earth. a small green sprout suddenly peeks out.

Absolute excitement and giddiness unfolds in you like a wild hurricane. You can’t help but snap your face back to Gojo in pure joy.

A wide open and even a bit proud smile illuminates his handsome face.

“Well look at you, petals! Nice work. Although I was expecting a tree or something, that little thing is nice I guess!”

You playfully throw a handful of dirt at him. It’s childish but it’s the only way you can fight the fondness growing in you, a festering weed you don’t know if you want to eradicate.

Gojo breaks out in amused cackles. His cheeks puff up and you can almost sense the amusement in his covered eyes.

“I’ll let you enjoy.” He pushes off the hallway frame and is about to turn around when you quickly call to him

“Wait.”

He freezes and glances over his shoulder.

You have to ask. “Why did you do this?”

Now the god of the underworld fully turns his attention back to you.

“Do what?”

You sigh exhausted at his innocently coy reply.

“Why did you do this? Give me this plot of land?”

Gojo’s lips, which you have been alarmingly thinking about more, turn into an eased crooked smile.

“It’s a gift. You’re my guest here and my friend. So why not?” He replies anticlimactic, even shrugs.

The answer is not satisfying and it slightly irritates you. But you’re still grateful. You might not know the true reason why he did this and might not ever know. But Gojo still did this for you all the same.

So gathering that gratitude you smile at him, a true earnest one.

“Whatever the reason is…Thank you, Gojo.”

This is the first time you say his name. Just the taste of it in your mouth leaves a strange tingle.

The ruler of the underworld’s face. It drops so fast that you barely catch it. But it was there. A look of pure surprise, confusion and something else you can not pinpoint. But all of that quickly vanished only to be replaced by a smile radiating artificiality. Then Gojo vanishes.

In this new space, you exhale against the new weight building in your chest. Leaves then begin tickling your hands and you glance down at your new blooms.

Pure confusion strikes because this is actually a brand new bloom.

You’ve never seen this flower before.

Delicate cotton white star-like flowers greet you and you’re afraid to even touch them. So many of them cluster around each other in rather tall stalks. They remind you of lilies in their shape but are smaller and have a fragility to their thin petals.

You stare at the blooms slowly filling out the area around you until you are completely surrounded.

Horror strikes you fast.

The cloudy white petals match the white hair of the lord of the underworld.

Unknown to you, as you sit frozen among your new flowers, wheat fields decay above on the surface.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

As much of a king and ruler he is, boredom plagues Gojo most of the time. It doesn’t surprise you one bit.

He pesters you constantly in your garden now. Currently you threaten to grow Venus fly traps large enough to eat him.

“You know, I’d actually be interested to see that.” He muses light and you hate that the thought of creating such a thing has you curious as well.

Gojo and you exchange a glance. Soon enough a large Venus fly trap stands around the same height as the god.

“It’s huge!” He cries impressively and pride flutters through your chest.

Then the underworld's king sticks his whole head inside the opening mouth of the Venus flytrap and waves his hands with the brightest expression.

You scream in panic and Gojo cackles beyond entertained. He thankfully removes his head. It’s perfect timing as the plant’s prickly mouth snaps itself shut.

You are horrified but Gojo just continues to laugh.

He opens the plant’s mouth and starts moving it. Changing his voice to a high pitched tone, he begins talking as if he’s the plant itself in some sort of bizarre performance.

“I beg your garden?!” He shrieks in an absurd voice.

It’s ridiculous, unbelievable and you can’t help it. You burst into wild giggles that shake your body. You have laughed more in his company than you can even remember. You’re having true fun with him in a way that you can’t even remember experiencing with your old companions.

You remember previously noticing how lonely the god of death looked and it only made you wonder how you’ve also tasted loneliness. Always stuck to your mother’s side, living in her shadow, it grew lonely there.

“Don’t laugh at me! Just wanna have fun, be-leaf me!” Gojo continues in that shrill tone.

Now here you are laughing in pure fun at his antics.

Gojo quickly drops the performance and immediately asks you to make a lotus as small as a clover. It’s tricky but when the flower unfurls a tiny lovely blossom in the palm of your hand, Gojo cheers.

Then you start thinking of jacaranda trees the size of bonsai. With a furrowed concentration you form a beautiful miniature tree. The lovely violet blooms even so small color the area exquisitely.

“You’re incredible.” He breathes out the words and they almost sound in awe.

You try not to get flustered but it is hard with his attention so intently focused on you. Instead you wave your hand out. Playfully a bunch of cherry blossoms nearby rapidly swirl in a whirlwind of petals all around him

Gojo shouts an amused ecstatic cheer, flinging his hands up among the petals. You snicker even more.

It becomes a game. Gojo offers new plant ideas or to grow vegetation he never knew existed. His face genuinely scrunches up at the odd smelling plants you call forth and you snicker pleased at his reactions.

Eventually you take a seat and start to make a few flower crowns. One particularly is for the young girl you saw in the throne room, Rika, and who you’ve caught now a few times peeking at you from around the palace columns.

No surprise but the lord of the underworld takes a seat right by your side.

“A flower crown huh… You know, you never made the one I asked for when we first met.” He comments with the worst pout.

Of course he remembers that. You had even forgotten about that meeting by the riverbank.

You scan around looking for something to use until you spot the perfect crown.

Reaching to a nearby shrub, you break off a bare small twig. You regally place it on top of Gojo’s head.

“Aw!” His deflated reaction, seeing this powerful god with a simple twig on his head, has you snickering. Then you realize Gojo stopped his infinity barrier for you to place it on him.

You don’t even want to linger on that thought. So violently shoving it away, you continue braiding the flowers. You concentrate hard, even scrunch your face as you weave in lily stems.

A delicate but soft crawling sensation suddenly dances across your leg. The culprit is a branch from a leatherleaf fern Gojo has plucked. You wiggle away in a panic.

He again drags the delicate green leaves to playfully tickle you and try squirming away from him as much as you can. An urge to even hiss at him rises.

“What?! Are you ticklish, petals!?” Gojo beams with excitement.

“No, you’re just annoying!” You reply sharply trying to stay calm.

The king however is patient and stubborn. Instead of relenting he wiggles the fern’s large leaves firmer across your arms then to your shoulder where it meets your neck.

You squeal, laughing so unattractive as you wiggle away with all your might to flee from his playful torment. You can’t even chide him to stop, too caught up in the wild infectious giddiness taking over.

Your body buckles under the ministrations very slowly until your back rests on the solid soil ground. Your eyes snap open.

There, the god of the underworld leans over you.

Gojo is handsome. You knew that from the first moment you saw him. But now you take in how wide his shoulders are, how celestially white his hair glows, and how compromising, as well as dangerous, this position is.

Your mind had started drifting more and more towards deeply temptatious thoughts of him. Thinking of how your hands would grasp his broad shoulders, wondering how his body without any barriers would feel pressed over you.

A dizzying fire licks through your veins. Gojo finally stops his tickling bombardment and now stares down at you. Even without seeing his eyes they pierce you with a hypnotic pull.

A moment passes or maybe a millennial has. Time ticks by too molten to process.

You want him. You hate how badly you want this infuriating man. You hate thinking about how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. As tempting as that idea is, how much it consumes you, you remember a heavy truth. If your lips leaned up to kiss him you would only find infinity.

Before anything else can be said or done you rapidly spring up from the soil like a new bud. You say nothing. Neither does Gojo. Quickly you return to braiding your poor discarded flower crown. He remains quiet long enough you wonder if maybe he left your side quietly.

Until the ground shifts besides you as Gojo moves to stand.

“Don’t let the plants eat you, petals. You wouldn’t make good fertilizer.”

You can’t even find a quick retort to shoot back at him.

When you reach for a few roses to add their lovely color to the floral wreath, you wince. A sharp prickling sensation stabs your fingers.

Drawing your hand back you see your golden blood, the ichor of an immortal, dripping down your fingers.

Suddenly an image flashes wild and frantic in your mind.

Gojo appearing before you suddenly. He inspects your wounded hand. Instead of applying a wrap or even allowing you to heal with time as all immortals can, he delicately places your bleeding fingers into his mouth. He sucks on them gently and fierce. His tongue swipes against your wound, against the blood. He moans, loud, debauched, and it mixes with the wet slurps. He sucks and sucks without any desire to stop. His tongue fondly runs up again along your fingers. The pressure of his mouth, the warmth of it, letting yourself bravely trace his teeth, then feeling him playfully bite your skin…

You scramble out of your thoughts as a slick liquid heat pools between your legs. Grabbing your flower crown, you storm off to your room praying to flee from the god of the underworld haunting you.

But you know it is hard, almost impossible, to outrun and hide from a god.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

“I have to leave for a few days.” Gojo explains as he sits besides you in the garden.

The garden has now become a lush oasis for you. Various ferns happily grow to one side. A few fruit trees already take root and grow steadily. So many flowers sprinkle beautiful clusters of colors all across the space.

Of course your new white flowers continue to bloom patiently and delicately. Wherever you turn, so many seem to pop up. It's to the point even Gojo made a comment upon seeing the new florals.

“Oh? These look new.” You ignored his curious comment.

Now you ask about his trip with the same curiosity.

“Leaving? What for?”

A pause comes.

“Unfortunately there’s been a recent increase in the amount of newcomers arriving in our realm.”

You don’t miss the way your heart jumps hearing him say “our realm.” The main issue at hand however has you concerned.

“Do you think it’s a sudden war? Or a natural catastrophe?” Your heart twists thinking about either terrible possibility.

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m heading up to figure it out.” Gojo sighs.

You nod understandingly and sympathetically to Gojo. Even with his eyes covered, his gaze seems to stare somewhere far away. Then he quickly averts his attention to the budding trees you’re tending to.

“This one seems to be doing great here.” Gojo notes curiously. He leans closer to you, a pressure softly pushing against you. Any giddiness of having him so close is quieted by the truth that it’s infinity against you.

“It is.” You agree happily. “Pomegranate trees are resilient. They just need the right soil and can bloom with much worry. They even can handle different types of pests.”

Gojo hums a curious thing.

“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” He comments but his voice is deep, low. Hearing his tone this way sparks a dangerous desire to life and it drags its claws down your spine.

“Familiar how?” You hesitantly ask.

Something gentle, barely with the lightest of pressures, runs across the back of your hand. You think it might be his fingertips. Your body reacts, galvanized in a frenzy. But when you whip your head to the side, the king is gone.

As you sit alone in your garden, you almost scream.

When the time comes to bid Gojo farewell, you now wonder how you’ll handle truly being alone without him.

“Don’t miss me too much, petals.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

“Please, I’m going to enjoy having this place all to myself.” You scoff.

Gojo grins like a cat that’s caught a canary and then, he leaves without another word.

In his absence you find, at first, you do enjoy the peaceful solitude. But that gets old quickly because stars above you do end up missing him.

You didn’t realize how much your existence here has now become so entrenched with Gojo’s. You miss the strolls you and him take. You miss his questions about the new blossoms growing. You even miss the way he playfully throws figs at you at dinner while you sit not eating a single bite. It has become not just a friendship with the underworld’s god but a true deep bond with him.

“Can you stop with the wistful sighing please?” Utahime sternly asks as you lounge in her study.

“I’m not wistfully sighing!” You stammer out embarassed.

“Uh huh.” She does not seem convinced but also does not press the subject further. The goddess of magic instead stays completely focused on her piles of scrolls scattering her area.

The underworld seemed to be slowly constricting around itself. A tension tightened the air. Everyone, even Shoko, seemed scarce and occupied. Whatever was occurring above on the surface was greatly impacting this world.

You decide to leave Utahime to her devices and slip away quietly.

Now you wander the edge of the royal grounds. Your eyes scan the realm stretching out before you. There, like a lantern among the darkness, the fluttering flickering red light of Tartarus shines unwavering.

It is the last place that you have yet explored.

You remember Gojo’s rule, his warning about not going to it

However, a small twinkle inside you even feels as if it’s being drawn there by a soft gentle pull.

You could just walk and see it from the outside, not even enter its gates. No harm would come from just inspecting the grand prison from a closer distance right?

Before you can stop yourself your feet guide you across the river’s path to the other side.

The atmosphere distorts into something sinister like the way the air hollows out before a terrifying storm.

Soon the crystalized rocks become jagged spikes. A smell of sulfur fills your senses and a wave of heat begins to tickle your skin. Soon the glowing red is now a vibrant bleeding sun before your eyes.

You dare not step any closer.

Terror slowly claws over your body. This is as close as you will get and will ever get. You turn around to walk back.

“…Little flower…” a soft raspy voice sends a horrifying chill up your back.

Your head snaps to the side. A creature unravels from the bottom of a rock and stares up at you with tree branches like eyes.

A cursed soul.

Something now besides the creature wiggles from the ground. It morphs and shifts from a clay like structure to take the shape of man. He reminds you of a patch quilt and his body screams that he too is another cursed soul.

“You are far away from home, little goddess.” The curse coos.

You can’t even speak as fear chokes your throat.

Move, you have to move! Something inside you screams. It sounds almost like Gojo.

Before you can move, hands, or maybe branches of some sorts, suddenly snap around your legs and yank you back. A scream escapes you or maybe you believe you hear a scream.

Everything happens fast. Your body is dragged and pulled closer to the prison. Laughter cackles sinisterly all around you and you thrash as much as you can. Tears clog your eyes. You wonder if this is it, if this will be how your end greets you. You swat at anything you can reach, but the panic is rising more and more.

Then a blinding heat sears under your palms.

You can’t help it, your eyes squeeze shut and your hands feel as if they have exploded.

Then the pressure is gone from across your body. Your eyes, water soaked with tears,

Your eyes open and you find you are free. No more decayed limbs and branches on your body.

You scramble up as best as you can. Your legs however give out from the amount of wounds sliced across you. You try to heal as quickly as you can but being around such sinister evil for so long has drained you.

Suddenly something rushes besides you and you are too late to react. The patchwork creature jumps on you. With a gleeful monstrous smile he morphs into like a cage claw against your body and has you in his grasp.

You scream but you can’t even hear it over the horrifying laughter. You thrash, try to free yourself again, but your body grows too exhausted to even move. Your vision begins blurring.

Then another scream of anguish comes but you can’t even process what or who it is.

Your body is released. You pitch forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Then someone catches you.

“Petals.” Gojo’s voice rings panicked in your ears. You wonder if he is a figment of your imagination. Before you can even focus, your vision gives out and you fade into oblivion.

The next thing you know, you wake up in the comfort of the softest sheets and a place that is not your quarters.

When you come into consciousness and see the grandness of the room, the dark shade of the walls, you piece together quickly this is Gojo’s bedchamber.

A new type of panic grips your heart and you scramble up.

“Careful, careful!” Suddenly the man himself reprimands you in a quick panic. Gojo sits up from his chair beside the bed. Whatever emotion lies in your eyes freezes him from approaching you.

“What happened?” You ask in a small whisper. You wonder if it was all a nightmare, a terror fueled fever dream.

“I found you in Tartarus.” Gojo replies. This is the first time his voice has sounded this upset. His face darts away from you.

“What were you thinking? What were you even doing there?” His voice is sharp as a blade’s edge and it cuts you swiftly.

Your reason now sounds so childish.

There have been multiple times when you rolled your eyes at Gojo’s antics. You believed him to be a fool, a childish king who has not grown up, a result of being alone for so long here in this realm. But now you wonder if you are the foolish one.

You croak out an apology that rips your heart open. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to stop the tears from coming but it’s no use.

“I just…I just wanted to see. It was…it was something you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. A poisonous frustration and anger at yourself for being so foolish fills you. If you had only listened.

Suddenly a hand rests gently on top of yours. No barrier, no infinity. Just Gojo’s soft larger hand enfolding yours. It’s warmer than you expected.

Gojo does not yell, doesn’t even say anything else. He simply sits besides you staring so concerned but understandingly. You squeeze his hand and more tears form rivers down your face.

The underworld’s king stays by your side the entire time.

Right before you fall asleep, still in the king’s bedchamber, you swear the most delicate and tender touch runs across your face.

Once you are healed Gojo, holding your hand, takes you back to Tartarus.

“I should have showed this place before.” He explains quietly. “I could have only imagined your curiosity.”

You try to focus on his voice but it is hard when you try to process what lies before you.

“Wait…Are you sure we’re at Tartarus?”

“Uh…yes?” Gojo replies a bit confused but you are more confused than he is. Because there is no possible way this could be the same place.

The same burning furious fiery glow is now a simple flicker of a flame like a dwindling candle. All the rocks and sharp spikes have been crushed and leveled into debris cluttering the whole area. The air even holds a haunting stillness. This reminds you of a forest after a fire, a quiet entombment that spoke of a tremendous fury. Did he do this?

You realize as much as you want to know, you want to leave even more.

A squeeze of your hand is all you have to say before Gojo squeezes back. In a blink you and him are back at the palace’s main atrium. But a quest stands there waiting.

“Ijichi!” Gojo cries bright and happily.

Your eyes go wide.

The messenger of the gods. You had seen him in passing and even then you found him to be an uptight god. Now his face is hardened and upset. His keen eyes spot you and his mouth drops.

Ijichi cries your name and something inside you falls.

“What brings you here Ijichi?” Gojo asks with a twinkling curiosity.

“You know exactly why I’m here Gojo!” The messenger snaps and a part of you wants to shrink away. But, another piece of you knows you can’t run anymore.

You know why the messenger is here.

“I need to speak with you.” Ijichi urges with pleading eyes staring so intensely at you.

Reality weighs you down. You have to address this. You cannot keep hiding anymore.

So you let go of Gojo’s hand and you and Ijichi move to a private room.

You sit down ready to hear about your mother, about the urgency that you need to return to the surface world and face your fate.

But what comes to you instead plummets your entire soul. With a gentle but stern kindness tells you all that is happening.

Horror, dread, and all of their friends, fill your body.

The surface world is dying. Famine plagued the fields. Livestock is suffering. People are suffering.

All because of your actions.

Ijichi, bless him, is not accusatory, does not shame you or put blame.

“You need to return home with me. I’m sorry.” The messenger urges but sympathy seeps out.

You don’t hesitate to nod yes as tears come in tidal waves.

There is not much to take with you. You say farewell to your garden, to the beautiful palace, to Utahime and Shoko who both hug you incredibly tight.

But when you go to say goodbye to the lord of this world, he is nowhere to be found.

You do not have to search long. He sits in his study. This the most you’ve ever seen him actually use it and look so dashingly studious, regal, at work. He completely ignores your entrance and does not even spare you a glance.

“I’m leaving.” You announce. He stays silent.

You swallow hard and compose yourself.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here for as long as I have. You’ve been a wonderful host.”

A wonderful friend. A wonderful companion, and maybe something even more wonderful, so fond and dangerous, you dare not speak its name.

He stays quiet and you are about to walk out of the door when suddenly Gojo’s hand grabs yours in a rapid grip. Your heart trips over a skipped beat from feeling his true hand clutching yours.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He argues.

“I have to go back. I have to face this.” You urge even though your voice wavers waterlogged.

“You don’t have to. We can figure this out.”

He does not want you to go.

You even accept you don’t want to either. Not just because you fear the truth awaiting you, but because you’ve become terribly attached to this place, attached to him.

At first you wanted to laugh it off as simply being stuck here and left with no choice but to just tolerate the god of the underworld. Instead you found you sought Gojo on your own more and more. You wanted to know him, not as a ruler of the eternal realm of death but as the man you learned hates pickled radish and loves any type of sweet treat.

You swallow hard and shake your head.

“I can’t keep running away.” You even surprise yourself at how firm, how solid and unwavering, your voice resonates.

Gojo’s hand releases yours. The air brews tense and thick. Then the god of the underworld lifts his blindfold up.

Your heart stops.

Beautiful ocean blue eyes stare at you. Of course his eyes would be luminous pools.

You can’t speak, don’t know what to say.

“Satoru…” he instead speaks first. “That's my true and first name... Thought you should know it before you leave.”

The gift he is presenting to you is immense. No mortals know the true name of your kind. Even you are addressed by a secondary name so tightly tied with your mothers.

Now he is giving you this pure full piece of himself. His eyes, his name, his heart, all are pieces you tenderly lock away in your heart. They hold more precious value than any of the gems buried in this land.

Before you can even reply Gojo leans forward.

With the most delicate of pressure, he kisses your forehead. Your eyes water but now for another emotion too grand to process while you drown in its waves.

He whispers out and says your name, your pure true name. He’s never said it before.

Then he disappears.

You swallow back a deep sob and return back to the atrium.

Gojo is nowhere to be seen even when you head to the stairs that lead back to the surface.

Before you leave, Utahime gives you one final hug then discreetly slips something into your hand. It’s a simple cloth with a sigil on it. You had seen her work on these types of spells many times and knew they all had various uses.

“Should you ever need us again or want to return, just use this.” She whispers low in your ear.

You clutch it tight, like a lifeline. When you go to give one final glance back to the underworld, the king is missing. You can’t find him anywhere and heartache clogs your throat. So you turn your back to the darkness and step into the light of the surface.

The smell of the air hits you first. The crisp scent of the dying leaves arrives in the brisk breeze. A barren earth stretches out before you and you walk into the desolation to meet your fate.

The sky above is a clouded muted gray.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Your mother is furious, absolutely in a rage that would rival a tsunami. But thankfully with your return the earth flourishes overnight as if by a miracle. The lush green should be a comfort to you. The smell of the sunlight should elevate your spirit warm but instead you ache for the soft glow of the gemstone walls.

“You have two choices.” She tells you sternly. “Either marry the immortal chosen for you or stay here with me.”

You stay quiet and she snaps out your name, a part of you wants to laugh because it sounds like a curse.

“Answer me!” Your mother demands and you break.

“I dont want neither!” You cry back. “Can’t you see?! The reason I ran away to the actual place of death is because I cannot pick either! Because I don’t want to!”

“Could you truly be so selfish?!” Your mother accuses you with a seething venom.

Selfish. Were you being selfish?

You once discussed this with Gojo because you had wondered many times if you were simply being a selfish brat running away from your problems.

“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it selfish of you mother to want to keep you beside her forever? Besides, if you are being selfish then who cares. Nobody realizes it’s actually okay to be somewhat selfish every once in a while, especially when you’re deciding what direction your life is going to take.”

His voice becomes a soothing balm to your frustration.

So you bare your soul and heart before your mother. You could never be happy being forced to wed another. Nor would you ever be satisfied staying stitched to your mother’s side. You need your freedom. You wanted and deserved to have your own choice away from those options.

Her eyes flicker a kaleidoscope of emotions. She thankfully lets you speak the entire time without interruptions. When you are done, she gently walks forward and embraces you. You squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry, my little sprout.” She comforts you.

You exhale, relieved.

“That damn monster of the underworld,” she says with a steady anger. “He filled your brain with nonsense.”

She pulls away and your face falls in horror.

“Don’t worry. I already plan to discuss with Gakuganji a meaningful punishment for him.”

You cry out a plea to her. But she simply smiles and pats your cheek.

“You won’t have to worry about him or anything else ever again.” She affirms confidently

Your frustrated scream falls on an empty room as she leaves in the breeze of the wheat fields. Emotions bubble up in you so wildly that your head begins to throb.

The panic clouds your vision. What will happen to Gojo? Why couldn’t your mother listen to you? Then an idea quietly emerges among the chaos.

You remember the slip of cloth tucked away in the private corner of your chambers.

Before your mother could come back, before you can even fully think, you race to grab it. You trace your finger along the intricate ink and then close your eyes.

When you open them, you are in the underworld, back in your garden.

It is as lush and beautiful as the day you left it except now the trees have grown in beautifully. Their shady leaves flourish against the marble and crystal. Your eyes land on the lone tree standing so firmly among the others.

The pomegranate tree flowers happily in full bloom filled with a fruitful harvest.

You remember the discussion you had with Gojo over these trees. You spoke of how resilient they were, and he quietly offered how familiar that sounded. The beautiful reddish violet fruit you now pluck so effortlessly from the branches you recognize is you.

You grew and flourished, gained a new sense of yourself. You carved out an existence here and bloomed into a new life.

You act fast. With all your strength you smack the fruit against the bark of the tree. Thankfully it cracks open to reveal the glistening seeds inside.

A conversation you had with Gojo has been playing in your mind since you returned to the surface.

“Why can’t I eat anything here?” You asked the first time you joined him for dinner.

“As tempting as these cakes are,” he grins, taking a large bite out of the sugary sweet.

“Eating anything from here means…you’re pretty much stuck here forever, petals. And I don’t think a pretty bud yourself could handle that now could you?”

Those words echo more than ever as the pomegranate seeds stain your fingers.

You could handle it. In fact you want to embrace it. A life here, with Gojo. You knew the consequences awaiting you. A part of you even screams to stop.

But you instead scoop out a handful of seeds and swallow them swiftly.

Their juicy delightful nectar fills your mouth. If this is being selfish, you think it has never tasted sweeter. You wait thinking there would be a reaction to doing this, to stealing yourself to this world. The only thing that comes is someone breathing out your name.

You snap your face to the side. There Gojo stands completely frozen.

His blindfold is missing. The ruler of the underworld now stares at you with his bare wide cerulean eyes that rival a field of bluebonnets.

“Petals…” Confliction strangles his voice and his eyes flicker to the pomegranate in your hand.

“What are you doing here? What did you do?” You don’t think you have ever heard him sound this confused and panicked.

“Satoru.”

His name, it’s all you can say. It’s a prayer so beautiful you never want to stop saying it.

You blink and the king vanishes. Then he is before you. His hand clutches your face firm and he swoops down to kiss you.

You can’t help but whimper as your breath gets stolen from your lungs. You clutch onto the god tighter, desperate to get as close to him as you can.

Under your touch infinity disappears.

Satoru’s tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth and explores with a chaotic mess. You taste the same desperation he has mirroring your own.

He lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and it makes you squeak. Then, the two of you are whisked away.

When you arrive in his chambers a frantic edge is set ablaze as Satoru presses you against the cool wall of his room. He effortlessly grinds against you and another whimper leaves you to get caught against his lips.

You are drunk on the taste of him. You don’t even care how loud you pant because you are too afraid this moment could end at any moment.

Satoru starts to kiss the corner of your lips. He quirky nips sharp bites against your skin and your eyes close in bliss.

He kisses across your cheek, down your neck, alternating between kissing and softly biting.

Then cool air tickles your bare kiss soaked neck and your eyes wearily open.

Satoru is now on his knees.

His hands reverently run against your delicate robes. A meditative but possessive gleam darkens his eyes making them look like deep trenches.

He kisses your exposed thigh and you tug at his soft white hair. His rich cobalt eyes now flicker up to you.

You sigh out his name with a slight whine as you miss his lips against yours.

“Shh...” he urges softly as he bites at your skin again harder. Your hips rise on their own accord. He chuckles deep and thick.

“Let me worship you.” He whispers with reverence with eyes drenched in delicious lust. It’s the last thing he says before his tongue suddenly licks an intent path up your thigh straight to your sex and you see stars.

Eventually he carries you to his grand bed where you now lie against him.

Love drunk in the afterglow you can’t stop giggling at how Satoru continues to kiss any inch of your body.

“You really are the terror of the underworld.” You snicker playfully.

“Oh of course. Can’t let you forget my reputation.” He beams proud as he kisses your fingertips once again.

His chest is solid and warm under you as you rest against him. His heart beats like a beautiful strong drum you can rest your ear against and hear now. Instead you slide up higher to burrow your face against his neck. All of this is intoxicating and a gift you cherish.

But even in the afterglow, the weight of this union settles over a grim cloud.

“My mother is going to set the world on fire.” You mutter soft and pained.

“No,” Satoru kisses the top of your head. “The old geezer upstairs won’t let her.”

A comforting in his own Gojo way and you snort amused for a moment. Against his warm solid neck Satoru only draws you closer to him. The two of you stay in bed for what feels like a millennia but still not enough.

You are about to slide out of the bed when the god of the underworld whines grabbing you back like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy.

“I need to get ready.” You softly say as you run your fingers through his cloud white hair.

“No.” He pouts. “You’re stuck here with me forever now, petals.”

That is true.

“I am, but you know I can’t avoid this.”

As you go to slip on the new beautiful robe that of course Satoru had ready for you, he blurts out-

“Marry me.”

Your knees almost give out.

You screech out a confused noise and whip your attention back to him.

“Are you serious!?”

“As serious are you were when you banged that poor pomegranate against a tree!” He fires back.

In a blink Satoru is suddenly holding you in one of his arms while the other cradles your face in his hands.

“Marry me.” He repeats again but this time his voice leans sincerity. “Let me annoy you for the rest of eternity by your side as your husband.”

You don’t hesitate. You pull his face towards you and kiss him desperate. The poor robe you slipped on is hastily yanked off and you are returned back to the cooling bed sheets.

“You know,” Satoru muses playfully as you rest again tangled up in his arms. “I never heard you say an official yes or no.”

You lift your head up and give him an incredulous glare.

“You can’t be serious, Satoru.”

“You’re right.” He softly beams down to you. “The amount of times I heard you screaming ‘Yes Satoru! Yes my love!’ was the best answer.”

You grab the nearest discarded pillow and smack him with it. It fully collides against his too gorgeous face and he laughs at the collision. The tables turn when he swiftly snags the pillow from your hands and playfully retaliates. Your laughter and his bounce together so brightly in the room. It fills you with enough strength to finally face whatever fate awaits you.

Your beloved headache of a fiancé reassures you with one soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before you can even step out of the palace, the surface world’s entrance cracks open. From the shadows you see your mother and then beside her is the god of the skies himself.

“Oh ho! Well now…this is going to be fun!” Satoru cackles with excitement.

“Hey, my darling soon to be wife,” he turns to ask you. Even with his eyes covered again you know glee shines in them. “You want the old man’s head on a platter as an early wedding gift?!”

You almost choke on air. Of course you’re not the only one outraged at what he said.

Your mothers voice cracks the air with destructive anger

“You’re engaged to this monster?!” Her eyes are blistering fires threatening to scorch you where you stand. You reply a solid yes without hesitation.

“Aw! I didn’t realize you liked me so much already, my dear mother in law!” Satoru coos. Your mother flat out ignores him as do you.

“This is prosperous! Outrageous!” The lord of the skies, Gakuganji, thunders in an outrage rivaling your mothers.

“She ate food from this world, and is so bound here.” Shoko explains with a steadied ease.

“There is now way you will survive here any longer!” She seethes at you. “You are not meant for this world!”

“Actually…” Suddenly the poised voice of the goddess of magic herself flutters into the room. With a steeled conviction, Utahime steps forward. She explains how she has been watching you ever since your arrival and noticed changes happening.

“Growth, new life has emerged here. We have all witnessed it. On top of that, I think being here has unlocked new abilities I don’t think we even thought were possible.”

Powers?

“When you momentarily stopped those curses from Tartarus.” Gojo explains patiently as if he read your mind. Faintly you hear the horrified voice of your mother screaming Tartarus?!

“I did that?” You ask stunned.

“Yup, you did.” Satoru beams, prouder than ever.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Gakuganji demands.

“It means she can survive here. If anything it maybe even suggests she might have even been destined to be here.” Utahime replies steady.

Destined to be here.

You think of the words she once told you, about how the underworld revealed truths about one’s self.

“Even with that possibility, you stay here and there will be no peace.” Gakuganji urges.

You know the suffering that could come. Your mother is a stubborn creature who would never relent.

For some reason, you think of the bleeding heart flower. You think of their stems and how distinctly the flower seems to be two parts blended together beautifully. Some of the petals even have to curl open for it to grow. So you decide to split your existence in half.

“For half the year I will be here, in the underworld with my husband.” The word rolls effortlessly off your tongue and it feels right, feels as if you have always said it. “And the other half will be on the surface. Equal time to each place.”

Gakuganji hums a moment to consider.

“You cannot allow this!” Your mother pleads to the grand elder god.

“No one can undo what has been done. The fruit has been eaten and she’s tied to this world.” Shoko clarifies simply.

Satoru hums a playfully amused noise that makes you want to smack him upside the head. Instead you ask for the room to speak with your mother. Now it’s just you and her, as it has been for so many centuries. Except a canyon now stretches between you and her. She waits on the other side of it a vengeful fury.

“Did you do this to spite me?” Your mother asks pained. Exhaling exhausted, you shake your head.

“I did this because it’s my choice, and because I love him.” You tell her with a patience that even surprises you.

“And that’s all I’ve wanted. Not to choose between what you wanted me to pick but instead make my own decision.”

“You…you cannot love the lord of the underworld.” She croaks with so many emotions tangled in her voice.

Your lips tug as if Satoru himself pinches your cheeks into a smile.

“I’m sorry, but I can and I do.” Might be one of the hardest tasks you ever faced, but you would do it for all of infinity.

Your mothers eyes scan over your face. The emotions in them seem endless, a bottomless well that you can’t even swim in.

“You’ve grown, my little sprout.” Her voice wistfully comments. The two of you simply stare at each other.

After that she barely looks at you even after the others return.

The decision is made rather simply compared to the riotous calamity that preceded it. Six months with your mother and six months here. But of course, your mother declares your time on the surface begins now. Gakuganji agrees and your spirit pops.

Any moment of celebration, any hope of wanting to enjoy being here, decomposes in your chest. You gather yourself as best as you can.

“Can I at least say goodbye to my husband?” You ask.

“You are not even married yet.” Gakuganji sneers.

“We aren’t. But you could wed us right now and change that if you’d like, old man!” Satoru offers. The old god’s face crumbles up so disgusted you have to hold back a laugh.

Thankfully you’re allowed a moment of solitude with Satoru in his chambers. You embrace his tall frame and he holds you tight.

“My offer still stands. Just say the word and I’ll throw the old man in the one of rivers.”

“Satoru please.” You sigh.

“What?! All I am saying is there is still time, I could easily throw him in. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

A small snicker does leave you as you shake your head no.

“Fine.” Your soon to be husband sighs disappointed.

“So much for an engagement announcement.” Gojo teases trying to soothe the moment with humor but a question about your sudden engagement has been weighing on your mind. You need to ask him before you leave.

Holding Satoru’s hand you gently lead him to the beautiful carved out window nook. When he sits completely flush besides you, you reach over to draw his blindfold away.

His eyes are oceans you never wish to leave. But you will have to. Every six months you will be away from this man who has burrowed a hole in your heart and made it his home.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You ask.

His eyes scrunch up slightly curious but also as if he doesn’t understand your question.

“Because you’re my other half.”

That’s beautiful, but it’s not enough. You’re thankful Satoru senses that’s not the answer you wanted and he sighs dreamily.

“That first time I saw you, do you remember?” He begins.

At Olympus, that seems like centuries ago now.

“You had so many petals and leaves stuck in your hair. Yet, your face was so angry…like you could’ve ripped apart the mountain in half.” He explains fondly. “Now I have no doubt you could if you smack a fruit against it.”

“Hey,” you playfully laugh but it’s watery, soaked in disbelieving love.

“But you were incredible, this hilarious creature of both fury and flowers. I had never seen someone so beautiful.” Satoru adds

His hands now have moved to encompass yours.

“Do you think we’re rushing into this?” You question.

“Do you think we are?” He mirrors it back to you.

A piece of you agreed this is rushed. But then the ache inside of you already dreading leaving this man speaks louder than your doubt.

“Look,” he speaks first. “My life has been the same for so long. Like I got stuck in my own infinity and then you came stomping in… ”

Satoru’s cerulean eyes fiercely flicker up to you and he stares unwavering.

“I’d tear apart the skies for you.” He says simply “You make my life brighter. You and your scrunched up annoyed face you always give me. Your laugh. The way you talk to all your planets like they can speak back-“

“Plants respond better to hearing voices.” you croak interrupting him.

“It helps them grow faster, yes I know.” He finishes for you so cheekily and your heart is about to float out of your body.

“So you really want to marry me?”

Satoru rolls his eyes at your question.

“Petals, I wanted to marry you the moment you threatened to shove me in the River Styx during one of our morning strolls.”

You bark a watery laugh. “Don’t tempt me. I’d still do it.”

The god of the underworld suddenly breathes out your name.

Tenderly Satoru leans forward and kisses you. You don’t care that your mother is waiting for you. You simply want to enjoy this slice of eternity for as long as you can.

“I love you.” You whisper the words, a holy sigh, against his lips.

“That’s nice.” He muses. He’s lucky no throw cushions are nearby or else you would have smacked him.

It dawns on you that this is the closest to a wedding you will get until you return. So you pull away from his lips and vow yourself to him.

You vow to always roll your eyes and snap at him when he says something ridiculous. You vow to always now take the biggest bite out of his confectioneries even if he complains. You vow to be by his side until the cosmos collapses and even beyond that. But mainly, you vow-

“That you never feel lonely for too long ever again, Satoru.”

His eyes go wide, shimmering almost in awe. The king rushes forward and kisses you with a dizzying passion.

“We would make terrible marriage officiants.” He mutters against your lips.

“Who cares.” You scoff.

“Hm seems I’m rubbing off on you in many other ways, petals.”

You chide him for being crude and he snickers, your ridiculous husband.

“What a cute new queen you are.”

Queen. By marriage, by love, you are a queen now.

“Your crown is going to be a twig, like the one you placed on me that one time.” Satoru grins playfully.

“As long as you match with me.”

He laughs so freely and it’s beautiful.

The thought of being a ruler, a monarch, for some reason does not scare you. You thought it would. Instead it only comforts you knowing the king who would be beside you is Satoru.

This joyous bubble however deflates as you return to your mother. This would be it. This is your goodbye until six months from now. But even among the heartbreak, a wave of reassurance washes over you. Because it is just six months. Compared to a lifetime without Satoru, six months is a simple breeze.

Once again you bid goodbye to Utahime, to Shoko, both embrace you tighter than ever. After all, you are one of their own now. And your husband, your poor Satoru, now wears the most obnoxious teary face that makes you want to flat out walk away from him.

But of course you embrace and kiss your king softly.

“You better not kill my garden.” You warn against his tender lips.

“No promises.” He smiles.

As you’re about to start your journey, Satoru wails dramatically.

“One last kiss to remember me by!” Then making a horrendous kissing-like sound, he rushes to your side. You effortlessly hold your hand out to stop his face from reaching you. He weeps horrified while Shoko and Utahime kneel over laughing in unison.

You’re amused at his antics but among the hilarity, Satoru leans into your palm. Gently he tilts his face and leaves a soft kiss on the palm of your hand.

It grants you tremendous strength to start your journey.

As you reach the edge of the stairs, so close you can almost taste the sunlight, you turn around. The last time you did this, Satoru was nowhere to be found. Now he stands at the very edge of the bottom of the walkway.

A moment passes. It is just you and him staring at each other. You’re tempted to run back to him one final time. But you can’t. You inhale a deep resolve and Gojo looks on proudly as he nods.

“I’ll see you soon, petals.” His voice is low but you hear it, clear as day, even from the top step. You nod back, not trusting your own voice to reply.

His words give you the push to reach the surface.

The morning breeze tenderly greets you first. Your legs feel like they can give out from all the emotions rushing through your body. So you look down to focus on where you step.

There among the lush green grass your white underworld flowers already sprout below you. Your lips twitch trying to hold back a tearful laugh.

Glancing up you see the grandest blue sky stretching far and wide.

You’ve always loved the sky.

Except now your breath hitches at the sight.

Because the color above is the same captured and crystallized in your husband’s eyes.

In the endless blue you find a new reassurance about the growth waiting for you in this new life. You also think of Satoru waiting for you as well. With the open sky now a welcoming blessing, you walk confidently into this new life.

With every step you leave behind delicate cloud-white underworld flowers blooming beautifully among the grass.

#I’m so nervous and petrified about posting this but knowing like me & three other angels will read this is all that matters #anyway I hate Gojo and here I am writing a 14k epic for him LMAOO peak clown behavior HONK HONK 🤡#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #Gojo x reader #Gojo 🩵

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foreficfandom · 4 months

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POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (1/2)

(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader)

Overlords are common sinners that boast many indentured servants to their name. Some also focus on physical territory. Some, like Alastor, don't bother. After all, radio knows little physical limitations.

Every Overlord had their own method of gaining prowess. Know one knows how Alastor became so dangerous. The strongest of the lords. Possibly stronger than some goetia royalty.

You weren't sure, either, but you had an inkling.

Because unbeknownst to anyone, you weren't some common sinner soul.

You were unique. A being originating far from this Christian realm of Heaven and Hell. You were undying, or a reincarnation, or a demigod. But you kept on the down low, 'cause attention would have meant trouble.

You could feel that Alastor's magic was a dark, bloody thing, nestled deep in his chest and hooked tightly like barbed wire. It tasted like sacrifices. It smelled like ultraviolet. And you knew it was borrowed, almost seeing the leash around his neck out of the corner of your eye.

Through a shared interest in the Hazbin Hotel, you and Alastor became acquaintances. Months later, you were proper friends. You could tell that Alastor valued the kind and pure of heart, even if he also believed them pitiful. Because they reminded him of a pleasant, happier life. A hidden part of him wanted to believe in their hope and love.

He thought you were just another sinner soul, and you didn't give him a reason to know any better. You had a job as part of the hotel staff. Their accountant, or security, or maintenance. Or their head concierge, guest service agent, auditor, what have you. Something vital to the business, but nothing glamorous. Labor has always been your most successful mask.

He was growing to love again. His mortal self might have been more recipient of affections and bonds, but decades living in hell has twisted him, and you could see him despair over the lump in his throat. His defeat at the hands of Adam proved his limits. You felt him writhe for weeks afterwards, and you let him reap what he sowed.

Curious, you sneaked away one evening and drew from your well of power to step through the fabric of time, finding yourself on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to watch a young Alastor drink the blood from a bloody corpse, and spitting it over his shoulder. Some loa watched this bastardized libation from across the crossroads, but what answered was far more malevolent.

Alastor agreed to a very dangerous exchange. He now had hold over magic impressive enough for a mortal, but you knew it to be a relatively bum deal compared to true power. He would hunger constantly for flesh just to feed its energy, which was a cleverly hidden clause to curse him further through devilish consumption. His shadow sprouted antlers and a maw of sharp teeth.

For two decades, Alastor hunted and ate. Always male victims, usually white men, individuals some might damn as monsters themselves - the abusers, the genociders, the murderously entitled. What was once a scared young man grew hollow and fat on the power.

You've seen enough. Stepping through once more, you joined Alastor in cooking an orzo for shrove Tuesday. Sharpening your gaze, you watched his reflection on the shiny metal surface of a pot, and saw the stitches embedded in his face, pulling tight and vicious.

You nonchalantly asked, "How did you become so proficient at the kitchen knife?"

"Well, I was taught that one could eat, or they could eat well," he replied in a sing-song voice. "And practice makes perfect! Hunger is truly the best teacher."

The meat he was pairing was pork, but you knew he's served human flesh for dinner at least once before. You didn't say anything, because they'd grow suspicious at how you could possibly know from just the smell.

Alastor allowed only you to join him in cooking, partly because he favored you so much more, also because you were a right hand at making a meal. You didn't mention that millennia of existence made one a right hand at any skill.

And tonight, he would begin to see it.

Leaving the broth to simmer, you grabbed a small pairing knife and one of the tomatoes. Instead of simply coring and slicing, you inserted 0.013'' of carbon, chromium, and manganese right between where the molecular cells of epidermis ended at the pericarp. In a single momentum of both your knife and the tomato, the skin was perfectly peeled within two rotations.

Alastor wasn't even looking at you. But he froze over the cutting board, rictus smile sharp.

You haven't even used magic yet.

Both the tomato epidermis and its flayed flesh were completely free of any trace of the other, so in one hand, you ignited the skin to transmogrify into a tiny figurine made out of its glycerin wax. In the other, the tomato was sacrificed in a hole of light-bending void for its animal equivalent - the tiny heart of some small animal, possibly a bird or an amphibian, beating calmly as if alive.

Alastor slowly turned his head to watch as a miniature wax replica of himself held the heart in both shaking hands, before doubling over to devour it whole, its relative size and gore very reminiscent of a large, juicy tomato.

A picture perfect snapshot of his fifth or sixth murder while alive. Some world war veteran that still longed for the battlefield and had exercised his frustration upon his mother and younger siblings. The man might have been rotten, but his warrior's blood had burned hot and nourished Alastor's gaping void particularly well.

(NEXT)

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel imagines

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queerbuckleys · 5 days

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LONG MAY YOU ROAR [bucktommy | soft & gentle | 1k] a/n: hi uhh so this randomly popped into my head, and it's the first time i have ever really written in tommy's pov so it's far from perfect but it doesn't really make sense to tell it from another so i tried something new weee. there's some bonus sweet buckley siblings implications <3 title barely has anything to do with the fic/i do not want to be too sad about it, i just love robin from ttpd and it's about childhood so it fit... well enough. tw for mentions of canonical childhood cancer and death of a child

Tommy stands in his boyfriend’s living room, beer in one hand and he takes in the decor. He’s seen it all before but he's still getting to know the man that’s fussing over dinner in the kitchen. And there is something new, resting on the tv stand, is a photo of a boy riding a bicycle, his back toward the camera. It’s the first time Tommy has noticed it. He had never seen any pictures of a young Evan before, it never struck him as strange, not very many people kept baby pictures around their adult home – that’s why this one felt somewhat strange. There were the photo booth strips, Polaroids, and school pictures of Chris and Jee on the fridge or placed in a drawer around the loft, but no other kids were present in this space. Nothing else is so formal. He figures it has to be Evan, and it was special for some reason. So he picks it up and turns to his boyfriend who is smiling and making his way over to him, finally satisfied with letting the lasagna finish baking.

“Who is this handsome young man?” he asks, a gentle teasing lilt in his voice.

And Evan’s demeanor shifts, he’s still smiling, but it turns sad and bittersweet. His whole body sags ever so slightly. Tommy watches as his Adam's apple bobs, he takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and steps closer. He traces the edge of the frame, his eyes transfixed on the back of the bike. “This is my brother. Daniel.” Evan swallows again.

“You’ve never mentioned…Could he not make it to the wedding?” He asks, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him that there is more to the story.

“You could say that,” Evan responds with a dry hough of a barely there laugh. “He, he um, he died when I was little. Leukemia. I never really knew him. Our parents–” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to. It’s just, that I haven’t told the story so far removed from finding out. I told the 118 right away, while I was still numb. And the very messy deep personal feelings version to my therapist, but I’m still working through a lot. So, I don’t know. It might be hard for me to explain it all.”

“Well we can sit down to start,” He says gently with a smile. Taking Evan’s hand, running a soothing thumb over his knuckles. Evan nods and follows his lead to the couch.

“I just, it’s hard to know where to start,” Evan sighs.

“What about why you only now have this picture up?”

Evan smiles a little. “Maddie gave it to me for his birthday last week.” he clears his throat, “So, basically I didn’t even know that I had a brother until just before Jee was born.” Evan looks over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He lets the words flow over him, and his brow scrunches, tilting his head in confusion.

“My parents kept several secrets from me, forced Maddie to keep them too, for thirty years. They all came to light when I stumbled across that picture in Maddie’s baby box. The past few years since then have been busy, and she found it again after her move and everything and had a copy made for me and had it framed. He has the right for his life to be remembered and celebrated after being a secret for so long.”

“Why was it a secret?” He lets the question slip out, “If you want to share that.”

“Well, um,” Buck ducks his head a little, “Have you ever seen My Sister's Keeper?” he asks, looking back at him with a questioning look on his face. It isn’t what Tommy is expecting in the slightest. But Tommy has seen the movie in question, and the dots slowly begin to connect. And Evan has this look in his eyes that tells him he’s right.

“Oh, Evan.”

“It just never worked for him though. Sometimes I still feel like I failed him somehow.” Evan rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was always treated like a disappointment by my parents and didn’t know why until I was thirty years old, I was never going to be absolved of a sin I didn’t even know I had committed. Maddie though, she raised me. She always treated me like any kid would want to be treated. So, now we celebrate his birthday when we can and Maddie tells me about him. She always comes up with new stuff she remembers after keeping it tucked away for so long. Or how I remind her of him and stuff. It’s good for her to talk about him, and for me to hear it.”

Tommy smiles at him at that, “I have never been under the impression that your relationship with her isn’t very special. Thank you for telling me about this part of your family.”

“Well, you knew most of all the other members of my family before me, as Chimney likes to remind me.” Evan laughs and relaxes back into his arms, tucking his face into Tommy’s neck. “Thank you for listening.” he runs his fingers over his hands, “I wanted to tell you. I just never knew how to bring it up, or what base talking about a dead brother was.” He can feel Evan’s small smile against his neck, and he laughs gently too.

“Someday soon I’ll tell you about my family too.” He twists his fingers in Evan’s curls.

“Whenever you are ready. I’ll wait.” Evan places a light kiss on his jaw.

The oven beeps declaring the lasagna to be finished and Evan groans, ungluing himself from his side. Once Evan is back in the kitchen, Tommy lifts the photo up again from the coffee table and gently returns it to its home.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #911fic #bucktommy #911 #*aj writes stuff

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storydays · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel: Episode 1 p1

Overture

@avatar_lover

(3rd POV)

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil. Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation. But he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven.

For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways. From the dust of Earth, they created Adam and Lilith. Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Adam demanded control and Lilith refused.

Drawn in by her fierce independence, Lucifer found her and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love. Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam’s new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

But this gift came with a curse.

For with this single gift, evil finally found its way to Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin, and the order Heaven worked hard to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he created, never allowing him to see the good that came from Humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream.

But Lilith thrived, empowering a demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision, that every year, they would send down an army: an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

But Lilth’s hope remained. And her dream was passed down to their precious children, the Prince and Princess of Hell.”

A pale hand closed the story book, as a young woman held a key close to her, looking downcast. “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll make you proud.” She whispered, gazing out the window, listening to the screams outside.

“Charlie?” a voice called startling the young woman. “Augh!” she yelped, as her key turned into a cat, who ran away to hide. Charlie winced before turning to the other woman, “Vaggie! Did you hear all that?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. I was standing right there.” smiled the woman, pointing at the door. “Sorry, I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. The story helps.” Charlie frowned, staring at the book. “I know, don’t worry. I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Vaggie asked, sitting next to the blonde demoness. “I’m fine, just–ya know thinking about family stuff.” “DId you hear your from your mom yet?” Charlie shook her head sadly.

“Oof, how long has it been now?”

“Not that long…only…..seven….years. Off doing something important, I’m sure.” Together the women stood up, to look outside the window. “But this kingdom was something she really cared about; something I care about.” Charlie hugged herself, smiling wistfully.

“Well, at least you’re not alone.” Vaggie soothed, holding Charlie’s hands.”I just hope that what I’m trying to do here will work.” Charlie admitted. “It will. I have faith in you.” the white haired woman smiled, cupping Charlie’s cheek.

“All right, come on. Alastor says he’s got something he wants to show us.” Vaggie walked out of the room, Charlie going to follow her, before hearing the church bell ring outside. She turned to look out at the clock as it rang, signaling the end of the extermination. Charlie sighed before heading downstairs.

*Downstairs*

“Well, hello there, you wayward sinner!” A cheery voice, on the television, called out to a demon currently stabbing another on the street, making the two look around confusedly. “Do you like blood, violence and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do, that’s why you’re in Hell! But what would you say if there was a place that had none of that?” questioned the voice as more sinners popped up, varying emotions from annoyance to confusion. The camera then zoomed to reveal the hotel.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! A misguided path to redemption!” the camera then pushed into Charlie’s personal space as she was mid conversation, before she noticed the camera and she smiled and waved nervously. A spider demon appeared behind her, using all four of his hands to give the demoness bunny ears behind her head and on the side. “Founded 5 days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your faith in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!”

The television showed a picture of Lucifer facing away from Charile as she hugged herself, tears in her eyes. Then it showed Charlie attempting to convince sinners to join.

“Here we offer fun things! Such as somewhat functional staff.” The camera showed a grumpy cat demon who was clearly drunk as he face planted into the bar. A little cyclops woman scurried around him, chasing a bug with a giant needle in her arm, with a maniacal grin on her face, as she attempted to stab the bug.

“24 hour pest control! Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlor!” The camera panned out to show a piece of wood falling near the spider demon from earlier who was lounging on a couch, clearly bored as he examined his finger nails. “Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident.”

The spider sent the camera a middle finger, making an effect of the word Wow appear on screen, changing to show a crudely drawing of the hotel with different notes and smiley faces with a large toothy grin. “Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel. Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!” On the screen, appeared: “Call now or don’t! I don’t care! We still don’t have a working phone!”

The TV shut off as the audience in the room sat around, emotions varying from anger, shock, and disbelief. “So, what’d ya think?”asked a grinning deer demon, dressed head to toe in red and black.

“I’m sorry, what the FUCK was that?” scowled Vaggie, arms crossed. “Uh, yeah, one note. Alastor…” Charlie started, ignoring how the demon’s smile tightened. “I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this, seriously, amazing, but um..” Charlie played with her fingers as she tried to explain her thoughts, “The tone was maybe a bit..off?” Alastor tilted his head as she continued.

“We want people to WANT to come here. This makes it look–um..” “Bad. The word you’re looking for is bad.” Vaggie snarled, crossing her arms.

“Funny, I was going for hilarious!” Alastor laughed. “It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons, which is the whole fucking point!”

“Vaggie is right, Alastor. The commercial was to let sinners know we are trying to save them.” called a smooth voice from another armchair. The male was sitting on the chair, his legs over the arm of the chair, and the cat from earlier purring in his arms, as he stroked her back. This was the Prince of Hell, Heir to the Throne, and Charlie’s big brother, (Y/N).

“Well, my dear (Y/N), I haven’t been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show. The proper way to express oneself!” Alastor turned to the TV with a clear disdain written over his ever grinning face.

“But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement. So I had a little fun with it.” “Oh fun, you had a little fun?” Vaggie snapped, before standing. “Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here, a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us. Nobody’s going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time.” Vaggie hissed before the 4 noticed a red hand waving in the air.

“What?” snapped Vaggie as (Y/N) started to walk towards the bar.

“If’n you’re filimin’ a commercial, can I suggest you take advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?” The spider demon from earlier, sat up lazily, grabbing the bottle of alcohol with him, and winked at the people, gesturing to himself.

“Angel, you’re a porn star.” Vaggie deadpanned.

“A famous porn star.” Corrected Angel, as (Y/N) came back and sat next to the spider, with a strawberry Daiquiri in his hand.

“I’ll have the horniest sinners knockin’ down these walls to get in.” The white furred spider grinned smugly, before swinging his legs over (Y/N)’s lap, clearly comfortable. “We are not shooting a porn as a commerical.” Vaggie said firmly.

“Why not? Sex sells, don’t it?” Angel winked. “I swear, if you film me going at it with Sexy Princey or Mr FancyTalk Creep Voice here, you’d be rollin’ in participants to stay at this tacky hotel.”. Alastor laughed loudly before deadpanning. “Haha! Never going to happen.”

The bespectacled prince cleared his throat nervously, cheeks a slight red as he tried to compose himself. “A-Angel, we appreciate you wanting to use your ‘special skills’ to, um, attract folks to the hotel. But I–WE, meant to say WE don’t want to exploit you in that way.”

(Y/N) smiled at the spider demon who grinned, leaning into the prince’s space, close to his ear, and purred, “But what if I want you to exploit me……..Daddy?” “HAHA! OKAY!”

(Y/N) yelped, before using his wings to quickly fly up and over by the bar, startling Angel who then smirked knowingly at the demon.

Turning towards the girls, Angel continued to talk, “This body was made to be exploited, baby. I’ve got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity. Oh, oh! I have the legs, the gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits..” Charlie laughed uncomfortably as Angel continued talking.

(Y/N)’s phone started ringing, making the prince roll his eyes and walk away, answering his phone. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned the corner, and grinned deviously as he answered the phone, “What up, bitch!”

*Back with the others*

“Hey, I have a question. If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?” Angel asked suddenly, pointing at Alastor.

“Oh trust me, I can.” Alastor grinned darkly, briefly showing his horns.

“Why do you think I’m here?” A gruff voice called from the bar, making everyone turn to the bar, towards the grumpy cat from earlier.

“You think I’d be cleaning bottles and listen to you fucks’ bitch and moan, if he wasn’t forcing me.” The bartender hissed as the little cyclops appeared next to him, grinning.

“I like being forced.” She giggled.

“Keep that to yourself, Niff.” grimaced the cat demon.

“What, you don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?” Angel mocked, making a kissy face.

“Call me whiskers again, and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat.” the cat threatened.

“Kinky! C’mon, keep talking dirty.” grinned Angel, narrowing his eyes at the cat.

“Angel, let Husk do his job. And no, we can’t force people to stay here; they need to choose to.” Vaggie stated.

“I’m choosing to be here, and I think it’s all stupid. We’re in Hell, toots.” Angel shrugged, “That’s kind of the end of the line, ain’t it?”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be.” Charlie smiled. “Just because no one’s ever made it out, doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

Angel placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he leaned down to her height. “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashing here rent free.” The women shot him a deadpanned look, and he scowled. “Crack is expensive.”

(Y/N) quickly came and grabbed Charlie by the arm, grinning excitedly. “Char, come with me!” Charlie yelped as her brother pulled her around the corner.

“Woah, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

“So the leader of the Angel Army wants to meet…and I managed to convince Dad to let me send you to talk to them instead.”

Charlie tilted her head. “Why me? You usually take care of stuff like that.”

“Because, Char, you are the princess of Hell,and I think you’re old enough to start partaking in stuff like this. And.. you can use this as an opportunity to try to convince Heaven to give your Hotel a chance. “ (Y/N) prompted.

“Ooh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Charlie hugged her brother before rushing to tell Vaggie. (Y/N) going to lean on the couch, as Vaggie questioned Charlie. “But the extermination just happened. What could they want this soon after?”

Charlie started singing and twirled Vaggie who replied dizzily, “Okay but just don’t sing to them.”

“That bitch is half way down the street.” (Y/N) and Angel laughed, with the others looking out the door, watching the princess sing.

“Is she–?” Vaggie asked, worriedly.

“Oh, she’s dancin’.” Angel tossed his head back, drinking the bottle in his hands, ignoring Vaggie’s groan.

youtube

#Spotify #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #viziepop #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin niffty

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magnetothemagnificent · 9 months

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My full thoughts on 'You Are So Not Invited To My Bat Mitzvah':

So first off, going into it, I didn't think I would like it. I don't really watch the tween-angst genre of movies, and the promotional material for the movie made it look like it was just gonna be a movie about Jews having an extravagant and expensive party, which is obviously problematic.

But the movie.....it blew me away. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Things I loved:

-The typical Jewish stereotypes you see in every movie about Jews weren't present. I really expected Adam Sandler's character to be another nebbish pushover Jewish dad stereotype, but he wasn't. He was goofy and soft but also he was strong and passionate about Judaism and his family. When he got really, truly angry at Stacy, I almost cheered. Of course all the characters in the movie are on the upper middle class end, but upon reflection, that's just the genre of movies. There's a genre of tween and teen movies about extravagant birthday parties where the characters live in a world free from poverty, and well, it's nice to have a movie in that genre for ourselves. It's escapism.

-The characters all loved Judaism and being Jewish. Jewish religious practice and belief wasn't treated as a joke or an afterthought. The kids would actually look forward to Hebrew school, and Hebrew school wasn't depicted as boring and stuffy. The religious aspect of a Bat Mitzvah was front and center- it drove the whole story, from Stacy practicing her Maftir (not "Haftarah" as the movie got wrong) as she comes up with her worst mistake, to Stacy working on her Mitzvah project.

-Because the majority of the story occured at the characters' homes and in Hebrew School and Temple, antisemitism wasn't a player in the story, and I liked that. We have so many movies about Jewish pain and suffering, and it's nice to have a light-hearted movie. It doesn't pretend antisemitism doesn't exist, but it's just not relevant to the story.

-Even though it was a movie about a tween girl and all her struggles and insecurities, she was never once insecure about her Jewish features. They could have very easily slipped into the old "Jewish girl hates her nose" but it didn't. And I hope that if Sunny Sandler gets serious about acting as she grows up, she won't feel pressured to get a nose job like so many other Jewish young women do.

-It doesn't pander to goyim and take time to explain every single Jewish word and reference like Hallmark Hanukkah specials do. It's a movie made by Jews for Jews, and it doesn't edit itself to be more palatable to goyim. And I loved that.

Some critiques:

-My biggest criticism is the portrayal of Jewish tween boys. I get that the movie is from Stacy's POV, so as a tween girl she might see all boys her age as gross and as assholes, but I find it problematic that all the Jewish boys were depicted as nasty, while the only boy depicted as nice and polite was not Jewish. I think it plays into stereotypes of Jewish boys and sends a harmful message.

-I loved Rabbi Rebecca, but I think that at times her character went from endearingly awkward to just gross and inappropriate, such as when she talked about her yeast infection in front of her students. I think just a bit of editorial tweaking would have been beneficial for her character.

Overall rating: 9/10, would definitely recommend it to my Jewish friends. Goyim, you might enjoy it, but it really isn't made for you so you might be lost at times. Just accept you're not the target audience.

#jumblr #you are so not invited to my bat mitzvah #movie review #movie recommendation #jewish movie #my thoughts

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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𝙄’𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

(Javi Peña x plus sized f!reader)

A/N: this by far has been the most intimidating piece I have ever written. I received this request awhile back and I wanted to make sure I throughly thought it through before writing. I have to thank my besties, @chaotic-mystery and @peterhollandkait for helping me along the way. Every body type deserves to be loved and appreciated, and I hope this sheds some positive light on all my plus sized babes out there. Thank you for entrusting me with writing this. ♡

~Word count: 3.7k~

Summary: A night out dancing with your friends in Colombia leads you to meet the man of your dreams, Javi Peña. He is the one man in your life who truly loves and appreciates all of you.

Warnings: established relationship, body positivity, brief societal bullshit in the beginning, Javi is a passionate lover, reader is plus sized, smut, oral (female receiving) face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, huge fucking praise kink, teasing, banter, fluff mixed in between, swearing, NSFW, (+18) minors dni!

Songs used:

“pov” by Ariana Grande

“TiO” by Zayn

“PILLOWTALK” by Zayn

“Tuyo” by Rodrigo Amarante

Your boyfriend Javi never failed to make you feel like you were the most beautiful woman in the room. It didn’t matter where the two of you were, he didn’t hesitate to show the world that you were all his. He worshipped the ground you walked on. Your past lovers never loved you the way that Javi actively would. The ex men in your life never truly appreciated you for who you were. It was always superficial, and focused around your body. You realized at a young age that society valued women for their looks, and not what was on the inside. You didn’t fit in the category of the ‘ideal’ body type. You weren’t a stick thin model. You weren’t short and petite. You were boxed into a category that society deemed as ‘ugly.’ You were taught that all bodies were beautiful and women were more than just their skin. If only the men in your life would understand, and see things from your point of view. That was, until you met Javi Peña.

You have been dating Javi for a little over a year now. You met the DEA agent while you were out dancing with your friends one hot summer evening in Colombia. He was captivated by you, and the way your body moved. He was practically begging to take you home. You told him that he’d have to properly treat you first and for once, you didn’t see a man hesitate to take you out for a good meal. Javi knew all the best late night food joints in Bogotá, and for the rest of the late night, you enjoyed tapas together. Drinking, laughing, enjoying one’s company. He was adamant on making sure you made it home safely. You couldn’t help but invite him in for a nightcap, and next thing you knew, he had you pressed against the back of your door, hands roaming your body like a man starved. He stole the air from your lungs as he kissed you. Your mind was dizzy, captivated with this man who made you weak in the knees. Javi didn’t pressure you of course, and everything was taken at your own pace. You did end up having that nightcap together after a passionate makeout.

A year later, and your life is fully enveloped around agent Peña. You have a shared apartment now and the sparks continue to fly.

It’s Sunday morning, and you’ve always been an early riser. Your boyfriend? Well..he’s the complete opposite. You’re always understanding of course. You know just how much his job takes a toll on him. Mornings like these are your favorite because it’s just you in the kitchen, radio humming in the back as you cook you and your lover breakfast. You’re wearing one of his many shirts. This one is particularly your favorite simply for the fact that it’s an ‘unconventional’ color for a man to wear. The shirt is pink and you swear your boyfriend sprayed extra cologne on the cotton fabric just because he knows how much you love it.

You don’t even hear your lover's presence in the kitchen as you’re completely in your own world. Your hips sensually sway to the beat of the song playing through the radio as you hum along.

Javi loves the way that his shirts never cover your butt completely. He loves the way the fabric hugs your hips and thighs. He loves the way he can grip onto your hips and pull you against his chest. He loves the way that when you straddle him, your thighs take up the entire expanse of his. What society views as ugly, he views as beauty. You’re beautiful, sexy, in every way imaginable to him. Here in his kitchen, dressed in his shirt, sunlight peeking in through the stained glass windows. If only fools fall in love, then Javi was the president of the club.

You felt his presence behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. Your boyfriend is wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs when you feel his lips press a soft kiss to the side of your neck, his mustache tickles your skin as you let out a soft giggle. “Buenos días hermosa. ¿Cómo durmió mi niña?”(good morning beautiful. How did my girl sleep?) He hummed against your skin, giving your hips a firm, loving squeeze as he continued to pepper kisses down the expanse of your neck.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached your hand back and threaded your fingers through his soft bead head, giving his hair a soft tug. “Buenos días mi amor, dormí bien. ¿Y tú?”(good morning my love, I slept good. How about you?) Your lover had taught you a thing or two about speaking Spanish. It was one of the many things that you and Javi did together, and It never failed to surprise him, and melt his heart when you would actively speak his native tongue.

“Getting better, cariño. That’s my girl.” He lifted his chin up slightly so he could steal a quick kiss, or two before he gently flipped you around so you were facing him. Your arms draped around his neck as he pressed you into the cool countertop. His shirt rode higher up your thighs from the movement, revealing more of your delicious skin to his adoration filled eyes. “Whatever you’re cooking there smells delicious, querida but my appetites are specific this morning. Can I eat you instead?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he grasped onto the back of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the edge of the counter top.

“Only for you, Jav.” You giggled as he lifted you up onto the counter top. Your thighs jiggled from the movement as they covered the expanse of the counter top. You wrapped them around his waist, yanking him towards you with a playful gleam in your eyes. Your boyfriend's vulgarity never surprised you and you knew how to match his energy beautifully. “You’ll spoil your breakfast if you eat me baby.”

“Don’t care. You’re looking too damn delicious for me not to. You know what you do to me when you’re wearing one of my shirts? Jesus fucking Christ woman, you know how to drive a man absolutely up a fucking wall.” He let out a low growl as he was already diving in for another kiss. “You look so fucking sexy in my shirt it’s unreal baby. Un-fucking-real how lucky I am. Luckiest fucking man alive.” He mumbled into your lips, swiping his sinful tongue across your plump lower lip before he took it between his teeth.

Finishing up preparing breakfast was no longer on your mind as your lover kissed you like a man starved. You wasted no time to pull him down on top of you, kissing him back with the same amount of passion that he exuded. A moan slipped past your lips when his teeth sunk into your skin. He had your head spinning already. “You want to devour me right here, right now?”

He tugged your lower lip out with his teeth before he released it. “I’ll get down on my knees for you right now cariño. You don’t even have to ask.” He purred as he pressed kisses all over your face now, playfully nibbling on your soft cheeks and cute nose. “I’ll eat your pussy here first, and then move you to the bed where you can sit on my face, and suffocate me with those gorgeous thighs. How’s that sound to you hermosa?”

You scrunched your nose up when his teeth playfully nibbled on it. How could your man be so sweet, and yet so filthy at the same goddamn time? “Get on your knees for me, Agent Peña.” Your voice dipped down an octave. Tone sultry, yet playful.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled as he stole one more kiss from your pretty lips. His tongue enveloped around yours, drinking in your soft breaths with your teeth clashing in a heated kiss. His skilled fingers were already moving up his shirt that you were wearing. The buttons were nearly about to burst open and your breasts pushed against the tight fabric was enough for him to rip the shirt open ferociously. The buttons clattered to the floor as you let out a gasp, swatting at his chest.

“JAV! Your shirt! You’ve gone and—oh fuck.” Your words were cut off when his mouth wrapped around your peeked nipple, his lashes fluttering up to your gaze as his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin before sucking harshly. His hand that wasn’t gripped on your thigh was now wrapped around the expanse of your breast. He kneaded the plush skin with his fingers, tugging on your nipple with his thumb and forefinger. He provided the same amount of lustrous attention to both of your breasts. His breath was heavy as he nipped and licked at every inch of your skin that he could get to. His movements were ravenous as you watched him sink to his knees below you.

“It’s just a shirt, cariño. I have plenty of them.” You felt him grin into the warm expanse of your inner thigh. Javi was a biter, and he prided himself on it. His lips and teeth were biting and kissing your plush skin. He was a fucking tease too as he ghosted his lips across where you craved him most. Your hand found purchase in his hair, threading your fingers through the soft strands as you tugged on them, fingers scraping his scalp. “Don’t you dare make me beg you right now Javi. Don’t you dare.”

“Paciencia cariño. Let me take my sweet sweet time with you and your pretty pussy. Don’t rush my work.” He tsked as he nipped at your inner thigh once more.

You opened your mouth to protest until you felt his tongue flatten against your covered clit. His broad nose pressed against your pubic bone as he tasted you through the fabric of your thin panties. His tongue dragged across your slick folds before gliding back up to your clit. He sucked on the bundle of nerves through the fabric, creating tingling friction from his hot tongue and the fabric rubbing against you.

“Fuck me. I need to feel you completely, baby. Please, Jav. Please don’t tease me.”

Javi used the broad expanse of his shoulders to keep your thighs propped open for him. He continued to lap at your covered pussy while looking up at you. His brow rose sinfully and you could see just how dark his pupils had grown. The sight of him buried between your plush thighs was enough to have your eyes roll back into your skull. “Look at me.” He mumbled against you. “Look at me with those beautiful eyes, hermosa. Look at me while I eat your pussy. Keep them on me.”

You let out a shaky breath as your eyes fluttered open and locked on his. There was never a hotter sight than your boyfriend beneath you.

“Good girl.” He hummed while he hooked his thumb around the thin fabric and pulled it to the side. He wasted no time burying his face into you, sucking in a lungful of air because he wasn’t going to take any breaths till he had you cumming along his tongue. His nose bumped against your clit as he lapped at your slick folds. He loosened his jaw up as he sucked your clit into his mouth and used the tip of his tongue to flick against it. The sounds he made while he ate your pussy were nothing short of filthy. He loved the taste of you on his tongue. Your natural sweet saltiness drove him mad. He wasn’t shy of admitting that he loved eating you out. He’d have his face buried between your thighs everyday if you’d let him.

“F—fuck Javi. Baby—your tongue it’s so—yes, yes right there. Oh fuck. Please don’t stop.” You mewled above him, scraping your nails against his scalp as you elicited a low groan from his chest.

“Taste so fucking sweet baby. All for me. Let me hear those pretty sounds. Your pussy sounds so pretty. You hear how wet she is for me?” He hummed with a mouthful of your cunt.

You let out a slew of profanities mixed in with his name as he continued to lap at you. He switched from slow, long licks to rapid ones as he shook his head back and forth against you. Each time his nose would bump into your clit, you’d jolt forward from the sudden contact.

You could feel him grinning against you as he dropped his tongue down your slick folds, gathering up your arousal before he slipped his tongue into your tight hole, fucking you with it at an agonizing slow pace.

You struggled to keep your eyes locked on him when all you could see was the bridge of his nose. His face was completely buried against you and he loved every second of it. It took him no time to coax your first orgasm of the morning. You ground your hips into his face as you chanted his name out like it was your personal prayer.

His mouth became more ravenous against you when he could tell your orgasm was quickly approaching. He felt your thighs quiver and shake against his head as he licked up every last drop. When the rest of his face was revealed to you finally, his chin, mustache and lips were coated in your slick. He was glistening in your juices while he rested his cheek against your plush thigh, smirking up at you. “How was that for good eating?” He teased.

“You eat pussy like a man starved, Jav.” You dropped your hand down to his face, dragging your thumb across his slick covered lips. He nibbled lightly on the tip of your thumbnail.

“It’s the only way a man should be eating pussy baby. If he’s not, he’s definitely not doing it right. I fucking love it. I’d have my face buried between your thighs every damn day if you’d let me.”

“Well, maybe those ‘men’ should learn a thing or two from you.” You giggled.

He released your thumb from his lips as he turned his head to playfully nip at your thigh once more before he kissed his way up your body, skating his lips across your navel and up between the valley of your breasts. He finally reached your lips, kissing you languidly as you got a taste of yourself on his tongue.

“You need a minute or two to recover cariño? We do have all morning so there’s no rush.”

“You just want me to sit on your face Jav. It’s okay, you can admit it.” You mumbled against his lips. Your thighs were still trembling as you hooked them around his waist pulling him in closer to you.

“Yeah, I want you to suffocate me with your thighs.” He casually stated as his hands found purchase around your outer thighs. “I want my face to be so deep in your pussy that I can’t breathe. You think you can do that for me sweet girl?” His lips detached from yours as he rested his forehead against you, teasingly brushing his upper lip across your lower.

“Is this your way of proposing? Because if so, yes.” You giggled, bringing your hands up to his face as you brushed your fingers across his firm jawline.

“Fuck. I am unprepared for this querida. Let me make it up to you, okay? My apologies hermosa. I should have a ring on deck for situations like this.” He had a tiny grin on his lips that you kissed earnestly.

You let out a faux sigh of disappointment. “That’s okay baby, I know it’ll happen someday.”

“te prometo que lo hará mi amor.” (I promise you it will my love)

Your response was to kiss him, pulling him as close as you physically could as your lips slotted with his. He kissed you like no man ever had. He kissed you with urgency, sincerity and passion. Soon enough, your boyfriend was helping you off the counter on wobbly legs. He was there to keep you steady as you made your way into the bedroom.

You had taken the reins then as you pushed him onto his back, watching as he fell back against the mattress with a smug look on his face. He scooted himself back against the headboard and tapped his chest for you to come take your seat. Once you were close enough, his hands were grabbing you, pulling you onto the expanse of his chest as your thighs settled around him. Your panties were quickly discarded down your ankles and to the floor as he brushed his thumb across your clit languidly. “Don’t be afraid to squeeze me a little, okay cariño? In fact, I’d absolutely love it if you did.” He looked up at you with a grin.

“One skull crusher coming right up, baby.” You giggled as he let out a deep chuckle. The playful edge was gone when he grasped your thighs between his fingers and pulled you down directly onto his face.

His tongue dragged against you once before his teeth were nipping at your meaty inner thighs. His hands slipped around your thighs, settling along your ass as he squeezed and kneaded the plump flesh, driving you further into him.

From the angle you were at, you could barely see his face as his tongue found its way to your clit once more. Your thighs were fully wrapped around his head now as he groaned against you. Tongue lapping away as he brought one of his hands down on your ass, feeling the skin jiggle from the contact before he was gripping it tightly again.

You could only see his eyes, which were blissfully closed as he swirled his tongue around your clit, sucking into his mouth. When he felt your gaze land on him, his eyes snapped open, locking on yours intensely. There was something so erotic watching your man devour you from this angle. To see him enveloped by your pussy and thighs was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

He continued to work your clit against his tongue. He was getting especially sloppy with his mouth when you started to ride his face. He could barely breathe with you clenching in around his head but he fucking loved every second of it.

Your moans were muffled and fuzzy sounding to him as he completely zoned in on making you cum again. He surely was pussy drunk at this point by the way he furiously lapped at you. Did his jaw ever feel sore after? You weren’t even sure at this point.

“C’mon baby. I know you got one more in you sweet girl. Wanna feel you cum on my tongue hermosa. Give me another taste, please.” His filth was muffled by your thighs, but his voice vibrated deliciously against your core as your hips continued to buck into his face. Your hips continually rolled into his tongue as your head dropped between your shoulders.

“Baby—oh fuck. Keep doing that. Whatever you’re doing keep fucking doing it. Don’t stop!” You moaned above him, grinding your hips faster as you chased your impending orgasm.

“Good girl. That’s my good fucking girl. Get off on my face you pretty filthy thing.” He growled against you, digging his fingers into the thick purchase of your ass as he drove you forward.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Javi I can’t—” your hands dropped to your thighs as they began to tremble around his head.

“Yes. Yes you can hermosa. I got you baby, I got you. One more for me, just one more.” He shook his head back and forth, pulling the orgasm right out of you as you screamed out his name.

He continued to praise you, all the way through your post orgasm. His face was still buried between your thighs as he gave your pussy light kitten licks, and a chaste kiss before you were physically yanking his head up.

“Too much? I wasn’t completely finished with you, querida.” His lips were held in a plush pout as he looked up at you. His big, puppy dog brown eyes were melting your heart all over again.

“Jav, baby. I love you but you’re gonna have to give me a few after that one..Jesus fuck.”

“Mmm. That’s okay baby. I can stay right here. I don’t mind at all. Can I give her a kiss? Just a little one.”

“You fucking— fine. Just know, you have completely wrecked me, beautiful boy.”

Javi pressed one more light kiss to your sensitive clit before his hands slid from your ass to rest upon your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into the plush skin.

“I love you cariño. I’m not just saying that cause I’m a little pussy drunk right now. Okay, not a little, a lot actually. I just want to remind you that you are quite literally the most beautiful woman, mi amor. Mi corazón y mi alma son tuyos. (My love, my heart and soul are yours.”

“Javi, this isn’t you trying to sweet talk your way into eating me out again, is it?” You looked down at him with a playful grin, narrowing your eyes when his stuck his tongue out ever so slightly—

“I don’t think I have to do much sweet talking for that pretty girl.” He squeezed your thighs beneath his warm palms. “Just want to remind you how much you mean to me.” he let his one hand that was grasped around your thigh, drop to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled open the drawer before grabbing his box of cigarettes and lighter, placing one of the cigarettes between his lips. He gently scooted your thighs back slightly as you grabbed the lighter and leaned down over him, lighting the tip of the cigarette as he inhaled, looking up at you.

“Well, I love you too, Javi. Mi corazón y mi alma son tuyos.” You softly spoke as he took a deep inhale of his cigarette, while his free hand stayed wrapped around your thigh.

“Siempre, mi amor.” He confirmed, knowing that one day he would marry you, make you his wife. Spend the rest of his days with you by his side, in his arms.

Always, my love.

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teyamsatan · 11 months

Text

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍: 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Memories flood Neteyam's mind as he deals with your accident, making him relieve your history and all the reasons he can't shake you from his life, no matter how hard he tries.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death)

wc: 5.1k words

a/n: I'm actually really nervous about this chapter, because while I love it, it's different than any other Monster in Me chapter so far. This is also the only chapter I've ever written entirely from the MMC's POV, and I hope you enjoy finally finding out why Neteyam's been acting the way he has, and why he's so adamant in his quest for vengeance. As always, thank you for asking to be tagged, I'd love to hear your feedback, your replies and asks and reblogs make my life, so thank you! Thank you to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art, ilysm bestie x and thank you to @draiochtwrites for listening to me talk about my stupid ideas for hours every day, i love you x

na'vi compendium: txepvi - spark, ite - daughter, srane - yes, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, tam-tam - calm, oare - moon, tewng - loincloth, torukspxam - octoshroom, ngaytxoa - I'm sorry, 'itan - son, angtsìk - Hammerhead Titanothere, yarik - herbivore, ftang - stop, tsantu - good guy, tsìltsan 'eve - good girl, kali'weya - arachnoid used in Uniltaron

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

And maybe in another life We fight all day, kiss all night But I don't wanna break your heart You keep yours, I'll keep mine

Neteyam, for the first time in his life, couldn’t have cared less if he tried that there was a battle underway, that there were humans screaming and charging at the Na’vi around him, that the explosions happening every time a helicopter went down in flames deafened his ears - none of it mattered anymore, not as he heard the screech of an ikran he knew all too well, that he loved, that was now lifelessly falling towards the ground, taking the woman of his worst nightmares and biggest fantasies along, not when, with every second passing where he ignored the rest of his surroundings and dove as fast as his own ikran could possibly fly in order to make it to you in time, another memory flashed across his mind, so many memories he thought he left behind, so many memories that would haunt his every waking moment if he wouldn’t catch you, if he was too late.

“Teyam, do you trust me?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re my best friend. Of course I trust you.”

Your mischievous smile, although more devious than Neteyam liked, always had power to put his heart to ease… after all, it was you. You, his best friend, the girl who knew everything about him, that helped him withstand every challenge life threw at him, just a couple 11 year olds who had gone through more than most adults do, who have been forced to grow up a lot faster than any kid their own age should ever do. But Neteyam didn’t mind. Maybe he used to, back when he was young and naive. Back then, he cried a lot, each morning a dreaded reminder of the pain and ache that awaited him each day, all for a purpose he couldn’t quite understand yet, that made no sense in a child’s mind, that had no way of truly understanding the concept of a future littered with war and loss, a future where he would carry the burden of being the next leader of his clan, the eldest son of the mighty, revered Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto, the grandson of brave, respected leaders, the next in line of a ruling dynasty filled with great people he had to follow and to live up to.

Now, he no longer cried, because no matter how hard life got, he was never alone. Because, even though you didn’t have quite the same pressure on your shoulders, you carried your own burdens and a sadness deeper than Neteyam could ever imagine or could ever want to. In his mind, the sting from a few bloodied gashes and the headaches that tried him each night were a small inconvenience compared to the pain that you struggled with and braved every moment since your parents died. When his father told him that you would be joining him for training in the weeks after the accident, Neteyam didn’t know what to expect. But day after day, you managed to blow not only his expectations, but his entire family’s out of the water, each day just another opportunity for you to prove to everyone that your future would be as bright as all the stars in the night combined, that you were special and unique, that you were a talent that only comes once in a few lifetimes.

Now, years later, Neteyam still found it hard to believe how strong you were, how capable and skilled and fearless. Whereas he’s always been more withdrawn and temperate, your fire burned strong and untamed, and you always managed to get both of you in trouble - if he were to be honest with himself, though, he would never mind, not with you.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

You didn’t bother looking behind you as you started sprinting, your flowy top and tewng, always one-of-a-kind, undulating in the wind, making Neteyam’s heart flutter in his chest. You were so beautiful. The most beautiful. A purple flush rising in his cheeks was all that was needed for Neteyam to be grateful for the way you always ran ahead of him, too impatient to wait for a boy that liked to take his time and enjoy the moments few and in between in which life didn’t have to go too fast for his comfort.

"Where are we going, Vi?"

"Shhh, more walking, less talking, 'Teyam. You need to learn to embrace the unknown." you chuckled as you stopped and waited for him to catch up, before taking him by the hand and pulling him until he stumbled softly onto you and you both fell, him on top of you, with a gasp that turned into loud giggles from your side and unflinching groans from his.

"Vi..."

"The mighty warriors have fallen, what will the clan do without us?"

He couldn't help his own exasperated chuckle and the roll of his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't think we're quite there yet."

You shrugged, sure of yourself as always, a trait Neteyam admired and tried to emulate, to little avail most days.

"Soon. Your dad's already talking about the Iknimaya. We're almost ready, Teyam. And if we do it soon, we'll be the youngest Na'vi to ever do it. You and me."

Before he could say anything, you reached for him until your lips made contact with his cheeks, and it didn't help his blush, that was now deep periwinkle and burning his skin from the inside out, like a fire that wanted to escape his body, too powerful to be contained inside it.

"And just like today, if you ever fall, I'll always be there to catch you. You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together."

Those words rang painfully in Neteyam's ears as his ikran dove at full speed towards the ground, as his open, stretched out hand was just outside of your reach, as he watched your body disappear through the trees, where it would inevitably crash, where it might be lost forever.

His heart, that was going as fast as his ikran was, watching your unconscious form collect deep, bleeding scars like Kiri collected pebbles in the woods with every hard branch your body made contact with, stopped racing in his chest as, by the grace of Eywa, your fall was broken by the plush, attenuating force of a torukspxam right before you hit the ground. Despite the fear, so deeply embedded in him, it was impossible to know if he would ever be able to fully detach himself from it again, a seed of hope bloomed in him that maybe he wasn't too late. That maybe, despite not being able to catch you, not now nor for the past 7 years in which he's left built up resentment prevent him from wanting to, maybe he wasn't too late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He didn't wait for Seze to land before he jumped and approached you, pushing with all his might against the drag of his own heavy body that felt like it was experiencing the world in slow motion, until one of his hands found the back of your neck, propping you up gently and his other hand placed two fingers on your pulse point, trying to feel for a heartbeat that would either calm his own or stop it altogether.

"Please, Txepvi. Please..."

When the small, barely-felt flutters registered in him, he let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding and wasted no time in picking you up bridal-style and running back to his beautiful ikran. He had no time to dwell on the cracks deepening in his heart as he watched Seze bumping her snout on the side of Oare's lifeless face, sorrowful trills filling his ears, no time to dwell on the red liquid spilling out from multiple points in your body, dripping down his body and onto the ground, no time to stop yet another memory fighting to come to the forefront of his mind.

Fickle as you are That's exactly why I keep on running back 'Cause I'm brittle at the parts Where I wish I was strong

“I can walk, Teyam.”

Neteyam decided to ignore you as he grabbed you by the back of your knees and carried you back to the village, the gash in your leg large enough to have hit a couple veins and stain your thigh red, but not deep enough to make it life-threatening - still, Neteyam wouldn’t take any chances. Taking chances… that was the reason for keeping you so close to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck… that was the only reason.

“Can you, Vi? Isn’t that how this happened in the first place?” He chuckled, yelping a little when your fist made contact with his chest.

“It was an accident, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you have a lot of accidents. And so close to the Iknimaya, too…” the shake of his head was mostly a teasing one, and although he tried to push away the nagging fear eating away at him, the one that told him you might not be able to take it with him, the one that screamed he’d be all alone once more, like he was before you, the one that urged bad memories and ugly scenarios into his mind, the one whose ugly head appeared as though from around the corner, staring intently to see if he’ll allow it to approach or banish it from existence. He couldn't decide yet.

He couldn’t do this without you. He needed you to be his first flight. Like you told him last year, and like it’s been solidified in his soul every day since, you and him were meant to rise and fall together. You were meant to fly together, to soar together. And that couldn’t happen if a tiny accident delayed your progress.

“Aw, it’s sweet you’re worried, although I think it’s mostly selfish and you’re just too scared to do the Iknimaya by yourself.”

The tinge in his cheeks is enough validation for you to start laughing at him, your head thrown so far back, he had to readjust his grip on you, so that you wouldn’t fall out of his arms.

“I knew it! You scaredy-cat. Why would you be scared, Teyam? Out of everyone here, everyone who’s gonna do this next, out of all of us, you are the best. You’ve always been the best.”

“No. You’re the best." As much wasn't up for discussion to him, and never will be. "And you promised.”

Your smile softened taking him in, the little pout he tried his best to conceal, the little scrunch of his nose, the way his ears twitched in slight annoyance and slight embarrassment… he couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought you found it… endearing?

“I know what I promised. And I intend to keep my promise. You don’t have to worry, Teyam. You and I have always been two sides of the same coin. And as long as you want me by your side, nothing could ever pry me away.”

"Just hang on, please. Shit. Please don't die. Please don't die."

And maybe when you need my help I like myself when it's over But later in the light, you go Dark and rogue, and I need closure

“Ma ‘ite, you have to be more careful.” The quiet, teasing admonishments of his grandmother do little do deter you, although you keep your eyes on the ground, slight embarrassment visible in the swish of your tail and the flatness of your ears.

“Srane, ma Tsa’hik. Ngaytxoa.”

The thick cream paste made its way from Mo’at’s fingers to your thigh, where it was spread in a hefty layer until the cut was no longer visible. You winced as it made contact with your skin, but said nothing as you accepted the help, and Neteyam saw his grandmother nod in approval at your bravery and inclination to suffer in silence, to not let anyone know you’re in pain at any point. Strong heart. Him, on the other hand, wished you were a bit more forthcoming, wished you didn’t feel the need to go through suffering alone. With a pat on your head and a soft smile, the Tsa’hik raised from her spot on the floor and turned her back on you both.

“You’re all done. It’s just a scratch, this time. I feel like I always have to have extra healing salve at the ready just for you. Now go, and be careful. Your Iknimaya is soon and my grandson would never forgive you if you missed it.”

“Neteyam, quick, put her on the mat. I need all the help I can get, now! Go get all the healers in training, we don’t have a lot of time.” The barking of orders did little to ease Neteyam’s fear, as he very rarely has ever seen his grandmother this agitated. After sending away the trainees, she turned to her grandson and took a deep breath, to calm herself. As serious her voice was, as rushed and violent the atmosphere around them, she still found the second to put her hand on her grandson’s chest, feeling the erratic, loud, trepidous heartbeat that refused to settle in him.

“Ma ‘itan, she’s very weak. I know you haven’t been close in a long time, but she is your intended mate. I need you to prepare yourself for the worst. Now go back to the battle.”

“No. I’m staying here.”

Neteyam didn’t get scared often. A whole lifetime of being raised like a soldier made his skin as thick as an 'angtsìk’s, and little ever managed to get under it. You did. You had unmatched prowess to make him feel so many things, too many things, all too intense, all too powerful, all too overbearing. When he was young, all of them were good and pure, all exciting and hopeful - love. It was love. Now, he feels anger and resentment, vengeful spite and deep arousal, all of which poison his mind and make him a version of himself he hates. Hate. That’s it. It’s all hate, isn’t it? So if it is… why are his limbs trembling and eyes watering, why is his mind jumbled with all these memories, why has the blood coursing through his veins been irreparably polluted with so much deep, earth-shattering terror and grief at the thought of losing you? Why was there a crater in his chest where his heart usually resided when he imagined his life without you in it?

Maybe it's because, for better or for worse, you were a constant in his life. From the second your presence made its way to him, you never left. There hasn't been a day that he hasn't seen you, that he hasn't been in your vicinity, not a day in which you haven't trained together, side by side, friends before, enemies after, but always together. Your words, that he drowned for years, came back like an undying echo ringing in his ears.

"You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together..."

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah, what's the use?

More and more, it felt like you had been right all along. He didn't think about it for so long, so desperate in his attempts to hurt you like you had hurt him, to sour your life like how you soiled his most precious memories, all of you and him, all of a childhood long left behind, all of fantasies he's harboured at the time that long dissipated from the version of future he used to dream about. Nothing about his life now was how he once envisioned, and that was because of you. He would never forgive you, but he couldn't let you go, either. No matter how the visions differed from his current reality, he couldn't shake you, couldn't let you go. Because despite it all, he couldn't part with the girl that used to be his partner in crime, his training buddy, his best friend, his first flight.

"Are you ready?"

Neteyam watched in awe as you confidently nodded at his father, smiling as if the hardest challenge an Omaticaya Na'vi would ever undertake, one that most people did when they were much, much older, was nothing to you, like it was just another yarik hunt that you've done a thousand times before. You turned to him and the smile you gave him dazzled him, left him breathless, not a good thing for the trek he was about to undertake, but still, not something he would could ever find it in himself to be upset about. You turned your attention momentarily to the bowl of paint in your hands before you brought a finger to his face, completing the pattern that was the same as the one you were adorning, one that he painted on you.

You both took turns saying goodbye to everyone, paying special attention to the little bundle in Neytiri's arms. Neteyam couldn't believe this was his little sister, and couldn't believe how attentive you were with her, how careful and loving. Some of his personality must be rubbing off on you, because to the Sully family's surprise, you didn't drop Tuk once in the year she's been born. In fact, you haven’t dropped anything in the last couple of months, including yourself from high places, which used to be one of your favourite past times, and Neteyam couldn't help blush at the thought that he was the reason you were being a little more careful.

As expected, the climb was the hardest thing Neteyam ever put his body through, and he felt suddenly grateful for all the years of torturous training that now felt like a peaceful breeze of the wind in an otherwise unyielding hurricane. Still, seeing you in front of him, not once complaining, not in front of the multiple 15 to 19 year olds that were also taking their rite of passage today, not in front of your Olo'eyktan, made him push through, too. If you could do it, so could he. Because you would do it, so would he.

The rookery was hidden behind a waterfall, and Neteyam watched as one by one, the few Na'vi joining you both either failed or succeeded, and with each attempt, his fear grew stronger, his mind more restless. Eventually, it was his turn, and with a deep breath, he started walking towards the slippery ledge that would lead him to his fate. A hand on his chest not only stopped him in his tracks, but also stopped his heart momentarily, just momentarily, because before he knew it, it started booming again with enough intensity to dizzy him.

"Ma tsantu... you got this. Remember, you and I, we're meant t-"

"-to fall and rise together, I know." you smile, your fingers smoothing the deep frown that gave Neteyam a headache without even realising and he sighed, trying to calm his mind and soul, focusing on you and only you.

"Exactly. So you can't fall, because if you do, I'll have to follow you... and I don't intend to fall yet, Teyam. Not yet."

"How did this happen?"

"Oare... got shot. She's dead. She... fell. I couldn't catch her." I couldn't catch her...

Neteyam couldn't bear to look at the way his grandmother was ripping you apart, although he knew it was all with the purpose of putting you back together again. Her trainees, all girls he knew, some girls he knew more intimately than others, all flocked around you, with wet cloths and trays of balms and powders, of plants and tinctures, and it all hurt, the guilt of knowing to some extent, to a large extent, this was all his fault. This ongoing war between you, never-ending and harrowing, reached a nadir that resulted in the death of your ikran, in your accident, and indirectly, because of your removal and his from the battlefield, might result in the deaths of good na'vi men and women, all of whom had families and a life, and a future they would be robbed of.

Neteyam couldn't leave you and go back. If he did, he knew that much like you, he wouldn't be able to focus enough to matter, and the thought of his mother, of his father, losing one more loved one was too much to bear. Neteyam couldn't leave you, but he couldn't stay here either. It hurt, being here, watching flashes of the girl he hates intertwined with the girl he loved more than anything else in the world, it hurt, having to deal with feelings he buried deep down and memories that came to him like summer rain, uninterrupted and warm, but powerful enough to flood and leave damage their wake.

With one last look at your unconscious form, Neteyam left the village on the back of his Ikran, knowing there was one thing he needed to do, he had to do. His mind was overcome with agonising sorrow as Seze's mourning was felt through his entire being, and the full weight of what transpired came crashing down on him like a tidal wave he could do little to stop, but had to power through, hoping that by the end there was something left of his heart to go on. Oare, much like Seze, has been in his life every day for the last 7 years, and he loved her. She was playful and sweet, and she always played with him when he snuck out at night to give her pets and treats, refusing to let your declining relationship affect their bond. Oare was Seze's best friend, her companion and life partner, and Neteyam knew her death would affect his ikran for a long time, perhaps forever.

With a squeal that matched the banshee, Neteyam watched from the air, on the back of his new mount, his new friend, his new spirit sister, as you made Tsaheylu, and his heart, that has been barely beating in anxious fear, felt finally awake again.

"Ftang! Tam tam, tsìltsan 'eve." your smile was wide and relieved as your eyes searched the sky until they found his, and he swore he never knew it was possible to love someone so much, to feel so connected to a soul, so much so it felt like he could hear you, your heartbeat and your mind, like tsaheylu would have been redundant because he knew. He just knew.

"I did it, Teyam!"

"Yes, you did, Vi! Come, first flight seals the bond."

That day was Neteyam's happiest day. That memory is still something that he cherishes deeply, that he'll never be able to shake, that haunts him at night, that shakes his resolve whenever he's thinking of a new way to make you pay. That memory is still untarnished in his mind, and it will always remain so, especially today, as he's fastening Oare's lifeless form onto Seze, petting her one last time, allowing the tears he's been stubbornly pushing back this entire day to finally fall from his cheeks onto her face, almost like she was the one crying, one last time.

"I'm sorry, girl. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry that I beat you... again. You're gonna have to do much better than this to beat me, Teyam."

The floating rock you landed on, hours after you finished your Iknimaya, was alit with biofluorescence, the colours reflecting in your eyes and on your shiny skin, covered in a light layer of sweat from the flight.

"Give me a break, Vi. It's my first time doing this."

"Yeah, cause I've been doing it for ages." you say, chuckling and rolling your eyes. You prop your body on your elbows and point to the two banshees playing in the air with each other, a mass of ravelling green and purple, so beautiful, and so, so free.

"I can't take all the credit. She did most of the work. I love her already, Teyam. Do you have a name in mind for yours?"

Neteyam didn't have to think about it too much. Ever since he's first found out about the Iknimaya, a story told to him by his mother consolidated a name in his memory that he's never been able to forget.

"Seze. Like my mother's ikran that bravely gave her life in the war against the Sky People."

"That's pretty. And fitting. She's a beautiful flower."

"What about you?"

"Oare."

"Why?"

"I used to look at the moons every night and think I'm so far away from this, from my destiny, from who I've always known I was meant to be, the Iknimaya might as well have been the moon - unreachable, untouchable, a world away. And now, I'm here, with you, way past curfew, and we're gonna get in so much trouble and I couldn't care less because I did it, I reached the moon. And I did it with the only person I ever wanted to. So.. Oare."

"Thank you, Teyam. I learnt a lot from you in these years. Ever since I met you, I knew you were special. And I think, even without realising, I wanted to be more like you. I've looked up to you for so long, I don't even remember my life before the Sullys took me in. If I'm here today, it's because of you. You helped me become more temperate and understand the weight of my talent and my power, and that I have a responsibility to the clan, that this is bigger than me, and my life."

Neteyam was taken aback at your words. You were never this forthcoming with your feelings normally, but he couldn't say he wasn't happy about it. He was so happy.

"I love you, Vi. I may have made you more responsible, but you made me better. Braver. More creative, more inventive. I almost couldn't finish the Iknimaya today, and then one of your crazy ideas popped in my head, and it worked. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have done this without you, without your influence in my life. Thank you."

You smiled softly, and put your head on his chest, just watching the dance of the banshees, and he prayed that this moment would never end.

"I guess we really are meant to be together then, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess we are."

Neteyam placed Oare in the village, where the elders and Tsa'hik would be able to perform Eywa's funeral rituals, before making his way back to the tent. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped him as he was met with your drowsy, blood-shot eyes, so much sadness in them, it broke him. They were so different then the ones that have haunted Neteyam's mind today, so devoid of the innocence and love he remembered, so filled with anger and spite and hurt, so much like his own, such a bitter reminder that the past was only that, the past, and there was nothing left of you, or of him, of the love you shared and the future he envisioned. With one last memory, Neteyam felt the walls surrounding his heart, thick and unflinching, growing harder with every year since the Iknimaya, fortify yet again, as one last memory emerged uninvited and reminded him of why, despite your history, Neteyam would never look at you the same way again.

And I know whatever this is ain't love So I'm goin' I'm gonna let you go, let you go

"I'm going to go back to my tent. I had too much of a good day to spoil it by Jake yelling at me for 2 hours straight. I'd rather save the pleasure for tomorrow."

"That's so unfair, why do I have to suffer by myself?"

A shrug was all the answer you felt was necessary to give him, and he felt his heart drop at the notion of going to his family's tent so late, so far past curfew, without your much more argumentative presence, that his father could never resist. He walked cautiously, silently, praying that his family would be asleep so he could just sneak in and postpone the yelling until tomorrow. To his surprise, he heard whispered voices coming from right outside the tent, whispers he quickly recognised as his father and grandmother's.

"... that it should be her. She should be the next Olo'eykte. That she is the most deserving of it, has been since she was young. It took a long time to see it for myself, but... I don't know. Maybe he.."

...Olo'eykte? You? Neteyam couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe how quickly his father was willing to replace him, how quickly he considered you better and more worthy of the title than his own son, than the rightful heir. You were both 12, for Eywa's sake. How could a decision be made so early? Neteyam felt tears gather in his eyes, the betrayal's sting more painful than a kali'weya's, and yet, still, a part of him knew this already. A part of him couldn't find it in him to be upset, because you were better. And you deserved to lead, you deserved to fulfil your destiny, that was made for greatness, made for the songs and the ballads, made for history.

"It's Neteyam's birthright, Jakesulli. It wouldn't be right, no matter how worthy the girl is. What about a mateship? They have been inseparable for years anyhow."

"Ah, she would never want to be Tsa'hik. And she wouldn't be good at it anyway. Besides..." the silence felt like it dragged on forever, and he clung on to it, afraid of what was waiting for him at the end of it.

"I mentioned it to her. She said she... doesn't want to mate with Neteyam. That she couldn't ever love him the way a mate would. She was... very adamant about it."

As Neteyam looked into your eyes, those words forever embedded in his psyche, playing in his ears like a cacophony of sounds that rattled him every time he saw you, even so many years later, solidified in him by all the times you continued to hurt him, continued flaunting your relationships and skills to him, your connection and closeness to his own family, that sometimes he felt like he didn't belong in anymore, like he was the adoptive one... he was reminded that every time, it hurt, every day, it broke him further, and those eyes that were once his guidepost and the reason he got up in the morning, were now empty and bleak, and enough to make anger bubble in his soul once more, until it drowned everything else, until it was all that was left.

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah what's the use? I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That I can win this stupid thing called love

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