#the last one was about the kidnapping of Seph

[thingsphoenix21]

Zeus: We could have get killed Hades.

Hades: Worse, or Hestia could give us a another lecture about responsabily, I'm still recovering from the last one.

[peachesofteal]

The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends. 

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone. 

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera- 

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.  

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along? 

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this? 

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo. 

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.  

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

 “I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold. 

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods. 

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.  

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.  

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not- 

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.  

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment. 

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone. 

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand. 

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day. 

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core. 

Ungovernable Persephone. 

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.” 

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison. 

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still… 

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling. 

My darling… 

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.  

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort? 

No. 

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself. 

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away? 

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack. 

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?  

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth. 

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld. 

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try. 

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them? 

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you. 

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool. 

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What? 

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck. 

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from. 

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic. 

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town? 

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have? 

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway? 

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them? 

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose? 

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I’m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.  

Fuck. 

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool. 

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always. 

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him? 

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods. 

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough. 

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more. 

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are. 

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

[original-character-championship]

Bracket F Round 1

Poll 27

Izulda & Seph (@cizzle-freezy) vs. Liam & Charlie (@distortedsoup & @zacdrawsstuff)

373. Izulda Roshan & Seph Nightshade (@cizzle-freezy)

She/Her and He/They   

Izulda has never gotten along too well with others. She's rude, rough around the edges, and can pack a punch, but has a soft and sensitive side. However, that's not the reason why people keep her distance: it is because, unlike her fellow fae with blood that can cure wounds, her blood is a numbing poison. Don't get her wrong, she doesn't WANT to hurt people-- it happens on accident! ... Well, most of the time.

Seph on the other hand, is the last of his family. Cursed by a Moon Goddess, Glacia. Has even lived through death and undeath. Despite his timid nature, he wants to prove to everyone that he's strong enough to protect his loved ones. Perhaps even follow in his mother's footsteps, and become an exorcist. The duo met by chance, and after an adventure to save their worlds, they have become near-inseparable since.

Izulda: 5ft0in in height, almost-neon green eyes and fairy wings (with a scar on her right upper wing), and darker green hair, often dresses in purples, or aquas. Her body is shaped in a style similar to 2000s-era cartoons.

Seph: 5ft2in in height, ice blonde hair, body littered with snow white scars. His eyes are blue and orange. He's often found not caring about how he dresses, as long as it is colorful enough, but he's rarely seen without his aqua-colored coat. (The "sunandmoonWM.png" file should have their most recent appearances together, but other refs have been included just in case.)

374. Liam - full name William Trianle & Charlie  (@distortedsoup & @zacdrawsstuff

Liam: he/him | Charlie: any

In Zac's words, the original creator of Liam, he "was basically a single dad to several pain-in-the-ass kids, gay, ace, has a fun alter ego and a boyfriend, plant dad, archivist, gentle parent, protective parent." So. Essentially the ideal Tumblr Babygirl.

Liam is an incredibly prominent character in a role-play we have been running for almost three years now (more information about its lore and what the terms I'll be using here:

He started out working in a section of the memory archives, where he met Charlie - his assistant at the time, after he accidentally scared off his first one by talking too firmly. They soon became incredibly close, and by the time they get considered to leave the archives they are both painfully in love.

Through a mix of methodical work ethic and making sure quite a few people owed him favors (things like that are taken very seriously in their world), Liam was very quickly offered an upgrade from archivist to head supervisor, which is an incredibly coveted position. He would have taken the role gladly, if not for the fact he thought that Charlie was interested in one of the other head supervisors and wanted to give them a better shot at getting to know her. So Charlie ended up getting a role that he was frankly woefully unprepared for, and Liam became a regular old supervisor.

Around this point they lost contact with each other for a long time other than letters and such, because Charlie had no idea where Liam was located, and Liam was so caught up in his work he never got a chance to let them know/didn't want to rekindle the feelings he had worked so hard to ignore for them. What did end up happening, instead of trying to find his partner, Liam started taking in some kids (protectors, facets, whatever) and teaching them the ropes. Skip a couple decades and he has a lovely little family going with his funky little kids who are relatively pyramid-scheme free, and he has a pretty good schtick.

Through (kidnapping) coming across one of these kids Charlie gets back into contact with Liam, who in turn regretfully lets them stay - those feelings from the archives sadly didn't go away overnight.

Skipping over some fights, pouting, and bribing (Charlie) and negotiating, protecting, and attempting to get the other to leave (Liam) the pair ended up settling down with a compromise. Charlie could stay and bother Liam as much as xey like, but they are not allowed in proximity of any of his protectors without being supervised (Charlie traumatised two of Liam's protectors already, out of nine, so they don't have a good streak in that regard).

With that in mind they end up warming up to each other again, Liam letting himself take breaks and Charlie's forcing of those breaks becoming less and less- well, forceful. And, at some point, they fall back in love. Of course without an archive or a boss to stop them, Liam upgrades yet again - from a single dad of nine to a taken dad of nine + an idiot.

A lovely idiot though, and as their story progresses Charlie figures out how to adapt to Liam's parenting style with his kids, and Liam grows to trust them and learn to take a step back, allowing his protectors to learn alone sometimes. Even if it leads to more accidents than learning - it's the experience that counts.

Charlie is a tall person with no skin, rather muscle. The muscle is a wide variety of colors, like it was tie-dyed, and a splattering of eyes. Her arms stop just above the elbows and its hands float around it rather than remaining attached to the body. His hair is colorful like their body and can be changed at will to a wide variety of styles and textures, and she usually wears a white flowing skirt and no shirt.

Liam is also tall, with brown skin and loose dark curly hair and a bit of a scruffy beard. He is a bit gangly and thin, and the fact that he wears baggy clothes a tad bit too big for him only adds to that effect. His favorite shirt is a cream colored sweater with splotches of brown and black, reminiscent of the belly of a spot-bellied eagle owl (yes that's a real animal). His pants are grey slacks. He has brown eyes, though they can turn a bright orange. He also has reading glasses (but don't tell him you know that).

Control shares Liam's body and looks just about the same physically, though he likes to sport a black suit with orange highlights and sometimes takes an almost shadowy form.

[darkh3llscap3]

Twisted Love (part two)

Yandere! Harry Styles x Reader

F/N- Friends Name

R/C- Random Color

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs (weed), mentions of public makeout, slight NSFW (dry humping), kidnapping, stealing, and mentions of past cheating.

Summary: When you go to a party the least thing you expect is to run into your ex.

General Masterlist

H.S Masterlist

<<<Part 1

Part 3>>>

Today was New Year's, F/N had begged me to come to this party because the boy she liked was coming. I'm honestly not one for partying, but anything to get my mind off everything. My friends told me it was changed into a pool party, which might make it more chaotic, but I'm not complaining. I quickly got dressed into one of my bathing suits and put on a dress that hung loosely from the top and was flowy at the bottom.

I checked the time and noticed I was a few minutes over the time we were supposed to be there. "Shit we're late already." My hands went to my phone waiting for Seph to pick up my call, but it went straight to voicemail.

I heard a loud honk outside my window making me jump and go over to my window and open the blinds so I could take a lookout. I see a pink mustang with its headlights on and immediately recognized her car. I get my stuff and jog outside to the car and get in.

"It's about time you came," I said playfully as she starts to drive to the party's location.

"I'm sorry you know I'm not trying to be lonely on New years." I didn't know what to reply since that's exactly what I'm doing so I just stayed silent. I'm guessing she caught on with the way her eyes went wide and she stumbled out her next sentence.

"Not that's it bad to be alone on New Yea- I mean being alone is a choice-Not that you wanted to be" She started rambling on continuously starting a new sentence to rephrase her last one.

"F/N it's okay I don't mind being alone it's nice. Plus, when I don't I'll always have you to go to." I smiled at her and I was able to see her grin as she continued to drive. She was wearing an R/C two-piece that barely covered her breast and a fishnet dress that looked really good on her. F/N was beautiful and always made men and women fall at her feet for as long as I've known her. She turned on the radio and a popular song started playing the melody filling the car. Her hand goes to turn it up and we jam out till we reached the party.

Once we get there the air reaks of beer and weed, a smell I've grown uncomfortly familiar with. I've been going to these college parties ever since the beginning of the year. I have been attending parties like this nonstop with F/N trying to get my mind off of the worries of the world. People are all over the place half wet mostly making out or drinking. It looks like an erotic scene from a tv show. We walk through the crowd and start making our way through. I feel a hand graze my ass making me look behind me only to see everyone distracted with dancing. I turn back around only to see F/N is gone and probably went somewhere without knowing I wasn't following her anymore. I look around to try and find her and then I see her talking to some blonde boy. So much for not being alone on New Year, but at least one of us is getting some.

I go in the direction of the liquor and down a couple of shots with some of the guests. Once I get past my tipsy state I decide to get some air to shake off the burning feeling taking over my chest. The cool air on my skin leads to goosebumps rising on my back and I sigh out. I get this feeling of being watched which isn't surprising at a party, but it makes my skin tingle so I turn around. I observe that nobody's attentions on me making me feel humbled for sure, but also gets me to mentally try to shake the feeling.

I turn back around to walk around a bit however, I'm stopped by my face hitting a hard chest and almost making me spill my drink. I look up and see beautiful green eyes staring back at me. "Harry," I whisper I haven't seen him since we broke up. My mind starts traveling to our relationship and how I miss him.

"Hey baby, I haven't seen you for almost a year now." I nod feeling awkward and try to cover it up with a smile. I remember how he hurt me and how I wasn't the same after, but I'm better now and I'm mature enough to have a conversation with my ex.

"Hey Harry, you're looking really good." I complimented and greeted him in one go making me feel like some kind of smart comedian. Also, it's cool how I practically killed two birds with one stone. I say internally making me physically giggle. Though he really did look good he had some new tattoos on his arms and his hair is shorter now. I close my eyes and try to stop mentally hitting on my cheating ex. Now that I think of it how did I not know that he was a cheater with the way he looks like a hot jock. Then again he was in theater and band in school so maybe it does make sense that I didn't see the signs.

"You look good too, but don't you always?" He smiled a beautifully twisted smile, but I was too drunk to notice. He raised his hand out towards me and then retracted the idea lost on him.

"You are wasted aren't you?" He asked, laughing, his cute dimples showing I just wanted to poke them. I couldn't help but laugh along because I was caught.

"Maybe." I had leaned in close and said it quietly like it was some profound secret. He smiled wide at my behavior and his eyes rank over my face reminding me of the day we broke up. My smile went down as I tried to get into a clearer mindset.

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear causing me to look up while he was leaning down to be my height. "I've missed you so much." I could feel his breath tickling my ear making it hard to breathe. I felt an urge to lean in a feel his lips touch mine.

"I've missed you too." I exhaled and take another breath because I started to feel lightheaded. I knew I shouldn't be talking to him, especially since everything around me was relatively dizzy.

"You do?" His face started to soften and he leaned in a bit making me decide that I have to get away from him because this is too much. "Do you want to get in?" He pointed to the pool that had a few scattered people which was funny considering the pool was the star of the show. I couldn't really see how being in a pool with your ex could be a bad thing. Then again maybe it isn't a good idea to be half naked but I'm probably overthinking this. Either way, I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

He leads me to a nearby table where he takes off his shirt showing off all his tattoos. I look away not wanting to get distracted or even worse, caught. My eyes sneak up and I notice that he did get some new tattoos and they look heavenly on him. It was hard not to miss that he has a big butterfly in the middle of his chest now making me feel like he got it for me. I've always loved butterflies and he knows that but he got it when we broke up I tell myself in a way to convince myself in a coincidence and not everything about me. He noticed me staring and smirking making me look away cursing myself I did the thing I said I wouldn't.

"Do you need help taking that off?" He nodded towards my dress. Oh yeah, I was supposed to be taking my dress off. Shit. I start to nod without thought and he doesn't move to look at something behind me.

"Yeah sure." In all honesty, I knew sober me wouldn't want him 10 feet near me but right now I wanted him closer. God, I hate that he's so beautiful and that I have such good taste minus the cheating thing.

He gets close to me, his hand lowered on my thighs slowly going higher till he reached the hem of my dress and slowly started dragging it up over my head. He looked at me with such focus and leaned in a little bit kissing me behind my ear. Meanwhile, I was standing there in my bathing suit breathing hard with a heartbeat of a cheetah. Jesus, I think I may be wet.

He reached his hand out gesturing for me to take it, I grabbed his rough hands getting into the pool with him. The water's temperature made me sigh in relief there weren't many people in the few scattered here and there. We were planted on the side where no one else could see the water was illuminated by the lights in the pool making a cool baby blue. I go under wetting my hair so it slicks back.

Harry's arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer to his warm body. "Do you remember that time you spent a night at my house and when everybody was sleeping and we went skinny dipping?" Harry looked down at me his gaze intense making me weak under his stare.

I remember that time very vividly. I had stayed at his house because my parents threw me out after they found out I had a boyfriend. I called Harry telling him what happened. He immediately picked me up and let me stay at his house. His mom was so sweet to me and made me feel comfortable. In the middle of the night, we went swimming but I didn't have anything to wear so I got naked leading Harry to strip too.

I giggle a little remembering how that night ended "Your mom caught us having sex in the pool it was so embarrassing she stayed away from that pool till she had it professionally cleaned!" I laugh at his attempt to be seductive.

He smirked at me pulling me closer to him. He grabbed my thigh pulling it on his back, My back hit the wall while he held me up since my other leg couldn't reach the floor. Harry leaned down to my ear "So, you do remember that night?" He whispered sexually in my ear which in turn made it harder to breathe. I decided to play fire with fire and pull his hips closer to me making him let out a low grunt. I know this is such a bad idea but people sleep with their ex all the time, right?

"Yeah I remember that night." His eyes were dark with desire and I was willing to give him what he wanted-what the hell am I thinking I don't want to fuck my ex. Do I? He kept looking down at my lips and finally moved down to catch me in a rough kiss.

My body froze not expecting him to go in for it. I started engaging in the kiss, the temptation too much, he started to grind on my lower part making me let out a little whimper from the feeling. Harry took this as his chance to stick his tongue in my mouth.

I haven't felt like this since he left after we broke up. I didn't get rebounds or one-night stands; it's not how I roll. But being with him has made me addicted and made it almost impossible to stop. His hand goes under my top grabbing my breast. This is enough to make me pull away remembering that we are in public and not in the privacy of a house. I push him away getting on my tiptoes to face him. It turns out something could make me stop.

"What happened?" He asks as he runs his hands through his wet hair looking at me. His eyes look crazy matched with his blushing lips.

"I don't want to have sex with you especially in a swimming pool with random strangers in it." I shrugged my shoulders trying to hide the elephant in the room.

"That's not the only reason is it love?" He asks me to come closer to me causing me to step to the side so he won't trap me against the wall again.

"I mean we did break up for a reason and it feels wrong to reward you by giving you exactly what you want." All the memories came rushing up to me making me regret kissing him. I felt insanely sober right now and my mindset was disappointed in my drunk self. I should really throw out my stash.

"It was a mistake you know that. I was drunk and I missed you!" I felt my tipping point was how can he just x out the fact that he cheated like it was nothing. He had never even explained what happened properly.

"I left because you cheated Harry and you can't even take the blame. You are always making excuses for your behavior and I was done with it. I get making mistakes while you are drunk because this was a mistake, but what you did is unforgivable." Pointing between us and I could see that he looked so angry that I regretted what happened but it was the truth. I was still bitter about him cheating because it made me question my self-worth. He was about to open his mouth to say something else but I cut him off "I'm not going to fight with you in the middle of a pool Harry." I lifted myself out of the pool getting my dress over my head as quickly as possible and noticed my bag missing from where I placed it.

Shit.

I made my way through the raging party trying to find F/N. I check every room and accidentally see a couple having sex. I check the bathrooms and living room outside and find her nowhere. I went out to the front trying to find where her car is parked. I wound up finding an empty parking space.

"Great" I sarcastically say to myself, she left me at a party with a bunch of drunk people including me. To top it off it's a chilly night and I'm wet in a dress that's sticking to my body.

I think it's better to start walking home and not try to ask one of the drunk strangers for a ride home. It's cold seeing I'm only in a flimsy dress and a wet bathing suit. I feel kind of off because I am alone in the middle of the night half wet in an outfit that doesn't really cover with no protection or a phone. I'm going to kill F/N when I see her for leaving me alone at an aprty. I see a car's headlights shine from behind me frighting me a little I turn around to see it slow down. I felt my heart start beating quickly feeling like I was gonna have a panic attack. They pull the window down to reveal a brunette with green eyes.

"Harry." I sigh with relief even though he's one of the last people I wanna see right now. I'm happy it's him and not some psychopath. "Thank god it's you." I finish my sentence.

"Do you need a ride home?"He questions me while looking around I look around only to see empty dark streets and houses with porch lights on.

I could keep walking to my house or I could have Harry, my ex, drive me there. Has much as I didn't want to go anywhere with Harry I didn't want to keep walking in the cold darkness to my house and end up on some true crime channel. I nod reluctantly when he unlocks the car and I notice his hair is still wet. I get an off feeling about Harry but I choose to keep my mind off of it as I settle in. We keep driving and end up on a random road and I realize that he doesn't know where I live because I had moved a while back. "Harry I moved and this isn't close to my house. I'm sorry I should have been giving you directions" I say he looks unbothered and keeps driving the way he's going.

"I know where you live baby but we're not going there." I felt my heart stop and my eyes water. I tried to pull on the handle of the door seeing it locked. We were now on a dirt road and not a single car or person could be seen. I slipped off my shoe using the hard side to try and hit Harry but he stopped the car at the side of the road. He grabs me and tries to manhandle my neck. I hit him with my shoe causing him to get on top of me and take the shoe out of my hand. I try to push him off but instead go for the lock button on the side of the car unlocking the door.

I slip out and start running and take my other shoe off so I'm not limping and run through the dark field. I feel him gaining on me. I see a house close to mine. It's a farm and I see where I can hide in the wheat field. I feel myself being tackled to the ground before I can make it over there. Harry's on top of me weighing me down on the ground his hands go around my neck choking me. He has a sinister smirk on his face as he leans down and kisses my cheek as my body starts to go weak from the lack of oxygen. I decide to scream but it's difficult when I'm gasping for fax air. I continue to struggle underneath him but it's a losing game.

"Baby you're not getting away when I finally have you again." I can't help but start crying but not completely giving up He tightens his grip on my neck and I feel my body grow weak. Tears fall down his cheeks like he's hurting from doing this. I feel my body go limp as my eyes shut closed too weak to do anything and darkness starts to cloud me. I do get to feel him lift me bridal styles carrying me back to the car. He sticks me in the back seat and gets on the driver's side. The last thing I hear is the engine of the car is turned on before I pass out.

[reblogthiscrapkay]

Persephone in “Persephone The Grateful” (Goddess Girls)

Here’s a blast from the past for me! I think my first ever Persephone Project post was about the first two Goddess Girls books featuring Persephone, although admittedly, I didn’t do much analysis on those. There’s not much to analyze with these late elementary chapter books but they are fun. The first one, “Persephone The Phony,” was about Persephone and Hades meeting and the second, “Persephone The Daring,” was a retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. 

From the cover of this one I knew it would be about the Minthe myth, but it was actually a combination of both that and the Pirithous myth. Basically, it’s Persephone and Hades both deal with unwanted crushes.

At the very beginning Hades introduces Persephone to Minthe and she gets a vibe that the girl is crushing on her crush. Then we go back to Mount Olympus Academy and find that there is going to be a competition where the kids will have to travel around to four different locations with clues on scrolls. Persephone ends up with Theseus and Pirithous on her team, mortals who are just staying at the academy for a while to visit Theseus’ cousin, Hercules. Pirithous immediately starts flirting with Persephone, and she’s not into it even though she’s cool with him as a person.

The last location in the competition is the River Cocytus where Minthe appears angry to hear Seph dissing her smelly river and starts talking about how she’s better and prettier than her. Seph’s team mate, Antheia, jumps to Seph’s defense with a savage take down and Minthe retaliates by trying to drag her into the river. To save Antheia, Persephone turns Minthe into mint. She also spends a little time agonizing over whether she did it purely to save her friend or because she was jealous.

Meanwhile, Theseus and Pirithous have fully ignored the warnings about mortals not entering the Underworld and have gotten themselves glued to the Chair of Forgetfulness, which in this case is a bench by the River Lethe. Hades lets Hercules (who has arrived with his team) come in and pull them off while he and Seph go to restore Minthe. Seph at this point has learned a lesson about trying to see things from other’s perspectives and feeling bad for Minthe, asks her where she would rather live. Minthe picks the fountain at the Academy and the book wraps up with her getting a reciprocated crush on one of the bully characters. Also, Pirithous was cheating during the competition so screw that guy.

Overall, this is a pretty good attempt at smoothing over the non-kid friendly aspects of the two myths. Ultimately, the Pirithous myth is not much changed in spirit. Instead of going into the Underworld to try to kidnap Persephone, he still has a crush on her but is a bad dude for other reasons. The changes to the Minthe myth definitely cast Seph in a more forgiving light by motivating her with more than just jealousy, but it also sheds light on the fact that she might have overreacted because of jealousy.

Good work, people! Although shame to the editor(s) of this book. I found like six errors and I wasn’t trying to.

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

Prompto corners his friend after their daily wedding speculation. Nothing's been set in stone yet, but in the meantime the gang's having a lot of fun kicking ideas around.

"Zack? You've been kinda quiet. Everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah Spike! I'm fine. Just kind of bummed out my dad won't get to attend, y'know? The wedding'll be loads better outside the Citadel, but Dad's a good dad. Would be nice if he could come without crashing the whole thing."

Cloud's Must-Un-Distress-Friend impulses activate, and half an hour later he calls up Titus. 

"Sephiroth." (Seph braces himself, Prompto using THAT name in THAT tone means this is very serious.) "I need a favor."

He texts Titus a date, location, and two sentences.

A week later, Titus kidnaps the king.

~o0o~

An hour after the King and his Shield were last seen (an hour is long enough, Titus thinks. Right?) a pair of frazzled Glaives report in at the underground parking garage.

"Sir!"

"I've received a tipoff on the probable location of the king in two days time." Titus debriefs curtly. He jerks his head at the nearest car. "Get in."

"Two days?!" One of the men splutters, while the other obediently cracks the back door open. "Sir, his Majesty is-"

"What the fuck?!" The other Glaive cries. Titus glances into the car's backseat. Yes, Regis and Clarus are still out cold; no changes. "Captain, they're-"

"Glaive Ulric." Titus interrupts. He looks the man in the eye. "The tip," he repeats himself slowly, "is for where the King will make an appearance in two days time." 

Glaive Ulric opens and closes his mouth, stunned speechless. Sephiroth takes a quiet pleasure in that, considering how many headaches this particular soldier likes to cause. Just to make himself explicitly clear, he goes on, "This mission is twofold. After arriving at the specified location and securing His Majesty, you will be assigned to the security detail of the wedding of his Highness Prince Noctis and the Lady Lunafreya. Understood?"

The two blink slowly. Sephiroth stifles a smirk.

"Now. Get. In."

~o0o~

Regis, upon awakening, is an Emotion. Actually, he is MANY Emotions.

Bc on one hand, that's his SON. His baby boy, getting married already, he's SO. PROUD. but also where did the time go? Has it really been twenty years??

On the other hand. ON THE OTHER HAND. 

Since his awakening, approximately half a dozen people of varying ages, nationalities, and politeness have felt the need to give him and Clarus modified shovel-talks regarding the sanctity of their friends' wedding and how he should definitely make sure it goes happily, or else. Up to and including the rulers of Niflheim, Regis has- absolutely no clue why they're here? He knows Lunafreya and Ravus have remained in contact with the two, and the Empress seemed to have taken an odd shine to Prompto at the peace treaty signing, but that doesn't explain why the twins are HERE explaining to him why it would be a bad idea to ruin HIS OWN SON'S WEDDING.

(Regis is also very offended by these people, did he mention that? SO offended.)

So when Ardyn fucking Izunia himself saunters in to lecture him about his "sweetest little Luna, would so hate to see her upset," Regis is a little fed up and a lot more hostile than is strictly polite.

"You're part of this too?"

Ardyn blinks, feigning surprise. "Why, my dear king," he purrs, "I'm the priest."

~o0o~

(This would be an excellent point to get Nyx and Yuffie together, btw. Would certainly make the afterparty, ah, a wedding to remember.)

(Also the punch was totally spiked and everyone BUT the King and his Shield got antidotes, so Titus hauls them onto Aranea's ship in the aftermath and hitches a ride back to Insomnia, allowing the travelling group to make their escape clean.

Titus is in Such Deep Shit when they get back.)

@secret-engima

[mimymomo]

Orphydice Weathering With You Part 3

This is way too long and really angsty so...

Here you go!

...

One last job. That’s all that was left. From the message request, it was for a husband to have a day in a large public garden with his wife for their anniversary. The day was simple in theory: get this job done, and surprise Orpheus with his present. 

The only problem is...Eurydice is 64% sure that he’s gonna hate. She fiddles with the velvet box that barely fits in her jacket pocket. She spent hours deciding what to get even with Hermes' help and even more hours getting it together. But it’s here, burning a hole in her pocket and head. 

Then their client shows up. 

She takes back her previous statement. There are actually two problems she has to deal with...

“I can't believe it!” Eurydice screams exasperatedly. “You sent this request Hades? I bet you did this on purpose to taunt me.”

“I did no such thing,” Hades rolled his eyes, sitting idly on the bench beside Eurydice. Orpheus sat on her other side. “You just wanted to surprise Aunt Seph right?” Orpheus said with a hesitant smile. “She does love that garden. You two used to take me there all the time as a kid.” 

“For real?” Eurydice asks. Orpheus nods. It was a long time ago. Seph had left a few minutes prior. She had to “grab something” and would “be right back.” She comes back holding a large box wrapped in obnoxiously festive ‘happy anniversary’ paper. And trailing her is...Mr. Hermes? 

“Why are you here Hermes?” Hades growls. “Aye brother, what’s with the attitude?” Hermes asks with a smirk. “My dear sister here needed me to help with that gift of yours. She couldn’t get it here on that motorcycle she rides.” Seph pushes the box into Hades’ lap, it barely fits. “Open it!”

It’s a small, gray Cane Corso puppy. His eyes are a dusty pale blue. He has a patch of white fur on his chest and floppy ears. 

“So what are you doing here Hermes?” Eurydice asks. “I’m the one who brought that puppy here! My sis here had me go get him.” “Since you watched over this puppy, can I get a puppy too then, Mr. Hermes?” Orpheus begs. “No.”

Hades isn’t paying attention to the conversation, he keeps himself busy with the new puppy his wife and gifted him. Hades acted like the small dog was a burden yet hadn’t taken his hands or eyes off of him since Seph graciously sat him down in his lap. The puppy nips at Hades' fingers, and Hades ignores the few strands of fur that linger on his coat. 

He names the puppy Cerberus. 

“I didn’t know you loved dogs so much Hades,” Eurydice teases. “Oh for sure! I catch this softy watching animal planet and dog videos on his laptop when he thinks no one is watching,” Persephone laughs. Eurydice laughs hard, who woulda thought. “Girl…” Hades growls. 

Eurydice gets up and sprints, the puppy jumping off his owner's laps and following her. Hades and Hermes go and try to catch the roaming dog. Orpheus gets up to join them but Seph pulls him back. 

“Orpheus...did you, can you...actually change the weather?” Orpheus tilts his head and nods, “um, yeah.” Persephone lowers her shoulders, “I have something important to tell you.”

...

The rest of the afternoon floats by and the clouds roll back in but Eurydice’s still in a wreck. The groups pack up and begin to head their separate ways. “Well, we gotta take this little guy back home,” Persephone says, holding the sleeping pup in her arms. “You heading back to the bar Eurydice?” She winks at the teenage girl which causes Eurydice to blush. 

Hermes must’ve been on the same wavelength as his sister because he adds, “I gotta make a few errands before I head back. You two should walk back together. For safety reasons.” Now both teens are blushing. “You two have fun, but not too much fun!” “Oh, shut up Seph!” Eurydice cries. 

Two begin the walk back home. Eurydice fidgets with the box in her pocket, the nerves returning full force and kicking hard. They walk to the bar in deafening silence, the only sounds are the tapping of the rain. They make it to the alleyway and Eurydice stops. Orpheus takes a few steps forward then stops as well. 

“Orpheus!” “Eurydice!”

“You go first.” “I’m sorry, you go first.”

“Orpheus you go first,” Eurydice says. Orpheus gives Eurydice a weak, half-smile, “Eurydice, I-”

In the blink of an eye, Orpheus is gone. Disappearing right from in front of her. Eurydice stands in shock, what...just happened? “Orpheus? Orpheus! Orpheus where are you?!” 

“Eurydice!”

Eurydice glances up and there, in the sky, is Orpheus. He squirms, flailing about as if he’s swimming. “Eurydice!” “Orpheus!” Eurydice reaches out and pulls the boy out of the sky. Her fingers go straight through his hands and she pulls back. Orpheus falls to the ground. Areas of his skin translucent and...watery? “Or-Orpheus?” 

Suddenly, his skin goes back to normal, as he pants heavily under the falling rain. The boy glances sadly up at the girl, a halfhearted grin on his face. He’s trying to be brave for her. 

When they walk inside they don’t say a thing. The air is heavy and tense but no words can seem to come out. 

Orpheus breaks the silence, “I think I remember the day I first got my ability to control the weather. It was a few years back and it was raining really bad. Mr. Hermes was outta town so I was staying with aunt Seph and Hades. But this was back when they were nearing a divorce. They were so...bitter to each other. Aunt Seph drank all day and Hades spent all his time in his office. I thought they were getting better at the time, they hadn’t argued with each other for a few weeks and they actually promised to take me to that public garden we hadn't visited in years again. But it was raining and the two began to bicker. Bickering turned into arguing, arguing to shouting, shouting to an all-out war. I couldn’t take it Seph and Hades were the closest thing I had to a normal husband and wife relationship to look up to, they were kinda like a surrogate mom and dad like Mr. Hermes. So to see them like that...I just couldn’t take it. I left the house and I saw this beam of sunlight in the distance. The only ray of sun in the dark cloudy sky. So I ran. I ran all the way to where it shined, an abandoned train station. I walked down underground, the sun shined through a glass window over a single train car. I walked to the car and tried to get in but the door was locked. So I climbed on top and right where the sun shined, was an open hatch. 

I hopped through the hatch and suddenly I was falling in the sky, being swept around by the breeze and rain. In the distance I could see green on top of a cloud, it looked like a meadow or field. A whole another world, Eurydice. All around me I kept hearing this song, it was beautiful. I fell and fell, the song still ringing loud around me and before I knew it, I blinked and I was back inside the train car. The rain had completely stopped. From that day on, I could tell something was different about me. I still had that song in my head, and I realized every time I sang it, the rain would stop.”

Orpheus finishes his story, pulling out two towels and brings Eurydice a change of clothes. Eurydice heads to the bathroom without a word. She doesn’t know what to say. What happened out there? Why did Orpheus disappear and turn up in the sky? What was up with his skin? It must have something to do with his powers. 

A knock at the door. “Eurydice doesn’t think much of it and continues in the bathroom. 

“Oh, the POLICE!” Orpheus yells, obviously trying to warn Eurydice. Eurydice’s eyes widen, what were the police doing here?

“Hello kid, I’m officer Atropos. May we ask you a few questions regarding a case? Do you recognize this girl in this video here?”

“N-no, no sorry.” “You sure? So this isn’t you in this video?”

Eurydice presses her ear to the door, she tries to listen in but they’re too far and too quiet. “No!” She hears Orpheus yell. She wants to tear out this door but she knows she can’t. A few more minutes pass and Eurydice hears the door slams. Eurydice opens the door and steps into the room. Orpheus stares at the closed door, tears silently drip down his face. “Orpheus?”

“He...he’s at the hospital. Mr. Hermes, he…” “Orpheus, what happened to Hermes?” “He fainted, in the street. They raced him to the hospital. His temperature was extremely high and...he’s not doing well, Eurydice. They don’t know how long they will have to keep him in the hospital. I might have to enter foster care.” 

Foster care...Orpheus in foster care. “Can’t you move in with Seph and Hades?” Eurydice questions. “I don’t know…” “Well, I’ll go back to Seph and Hades’ house and talk them into it!” Orpheus, still out of it, nods his head. “Orpheus pack a bag and be ready for us when we come back!”

Eurydice races out the bar and there on the street, it’s Hades' car. Eurydice figures he must’ve heard the news and came to get them. She runs to the car and hops in the front seat, “Hades! Have you heard about Hermes?” “Yes, girl I have,” Hades says shortly. He stares out the window, glasses over his eyes. “Then we have to go,” Eurydice says. “Orpheus is inside and they said something about foster care and-”

“Seph and I will handle that. She is at the hospital. We’ll pick him up later tonight and then take him to see Hermes first thing in the morning. Visiting hours are over for today.” Eurydice stares at him, “am I not going tomorrow?”

“No.” Eurydice stares at the man in shock. “After Seph left, the police came. Your parents filed a missing child report. They threatened us with child kidnapping.” Hades pulls Eurydice’s bags out from the back seat, “I can’t allow you to stay in our house anymore. I won’t let your childish foolishness ruin mine or my wife’s hard work. ” 

He hands her an envelope, “take that has you final allowance and severance pay. I can’t drive you to the station but your ticket is in there and paid for, my wife told me where you boarded from.” He turns to face Eurydice, meeting her eye to eye, “go home Eurydice. Don’t continue to cause trouble for everyone.” 

Eurydice silently steps out of the car, her face hardened. Hades drives away and she’s left in the rain, it’s falling harder than before. The air was getting colder. She walks slowly back to the bar. She was at a loss, she couldn't go home, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t let herself be dragged back there ever again. But she knew Hades was right, if she stayed, she would just be causing trouble for him and Seph and especially Orpheus. She would leave, but not without saying goodbye first. 

Orpheus is finishing up his packing when she walks back inside the closed bar. “Eurydice, you’re back already? What’s wrong?” He notices her tears before she does. “I... I have to go.” “Go? Go where Eurydice?” “I don’t know! All I know is that I can’t stay here. I have to get far away from here.”

“Then let’s go.”

Eurydice is stunned, “what do you mean let's go?” “I’m going with you, Eurydice.” Eurydice shakes her head, “no you can’t. You need to be here for Hermes.” “I need to make sure you’re okay!” He counters. He grabs Eurydice’s hands, “at least for tonight, stay here.”

“I can’t stay here Orpheus. Hades and Seph are on their way back here. If they catch me here…”“Then let me come with you. I need to know that you find a place to stay.”

Eurydice felt her stomach drop. ‘You can’t continue to be a burden…say no. Say no right now!’

She agrees. 

The two set out to find a cheap place to stay for the night. The weather gets worse and worse as the night goes on. The air is frigid, and the wind bites at any and all exposed skin. The streets are icy and the rain has turned into snow. Snow in July. The storm gets so bad that roads are closed down, leaving people stranded all over. The two walk to multiple hotels and motels around the city but no dice (reasons spanning from no vacancies to not enough money). 

They pass the abandoned train station and Orpheus asks to take a detour there. While underground Eurydice pulls out the gun she had been carrying all this time, she had forgotten all about it and that horrible incident that almost got someone killed. She dropped the gun, she couldn’t bear to keep it anymore. Orpheus comes back with a wad of cash. “I’ve been hoarding money here for safekeeping for years now!”

After a few more stops, they’re walking down a busy street when Eurydice gets stopped by a random cop and his partner. “Excuse Miss, but aren’t you a little young to be out here by yourself especially with this storm going on?” he asks. “Ooh, we were just walking back home.” The officer in back starts to talk into his walkie talkie, “I believe we might have found the missing girl. We’ll take her back to the station.” The two begin to corner and guide Eurydice in the direction of the station but she quickly screams at Orpheus to run and sprints away. 

Her attempt is futile as the officers quickly catch her. They try to handcuff her but Orpheus tackles the officer before he can. They fight and squirm until Orpheus screams a ‘la’ and a sudden bolt of lightning strikes down on a truck parked across the street, setting it ablaze. 

They're all stunned. The cops forget the children and run to handle the fire. Eurydice is the first to recover and she gets up and drags Orpheus in the opposite direction. 

Finally, they find a place with an open and affordable room. They fall to the floor after shutting and locking the motel door. They look and each other and begin to laugh, mostly from shock and craziness of it all. 

They take turns showering and changing, Eurydice going first. While Orpheus is taking his turn, Eurydice sneaks out and raids the vending machine outside their room and discovers there’s a convenience store nearby so she stops there too. Eurydice splurges quick a bit, it’s her last day with Orpheus and besides Hades did get her severance pay, she could go a tiny bit beyond her usual spending. 

When she returns Orpheus is sitting on the one bed (they couldn’t afford a double!) They dine on junk food and watch trashy TV movies, just enjoying each other’s company. They don’t acknowledge that this is their last day together, they both don’t wanna ruin the moment. As the night goes on, they avoid watching the news, scared to see the damage of the storm that’s happening right outside their door. 

They lie in bed backs to each other, a good chunk of space between them. Neither able to sleep. 

“Hey, Orpheus ?” The girl turns and sees Orpheus already facing her. “Huh?” 

“It’s midnight so,” she grabs the box that’s been bothering her all day and sets it between the two. “Happy birthday.”

Inside is a necklace. A silver pendant wrapped around a red guitar pick. Engraved one side of the pick is the letters ‘O + E’ and on the other side is the words ‘My Rainbow After The Storm.’

“Sorry, it’s nothing fancy or anything.” “I love it,” Orpheus says with no hesitation. He lifts his head, “thank you Eurydice.” 

The two stars at each other and before she realizes it, Eurydice leans over places a peck on Orpheus’ lips. One peck turns to two, then four then they lose count. They pull each other close, desperate to take this moment and each other in as much as possible. 

Orpheus pulls away, “Eurydice, would you like the weather to go back to normal?”

Eurydice squints her eyebrows, “I mean of course I do, but it’s kinda impossible. Your powers only work for a few hours.”

Orpheus frowns, pulling further away, curling in on himself. “Orpheus?” Eurydice calls. “I’m a human sacrifice,” Orpheus says bluntly, still facing away from Eurydice. “Aunt Persephone told me earlier, she learned the truth behind my powers. I’m supposed to die in order to set the weather back into balance. Maybe not die per se, but I won’t be here anymore.”

“No, that’s...that’s not funny Orpheus,” Eurydice shakes her head, refusing to accept this. “It’s not true!” Orpheus lifts up his shirt and drops it on the floor, ⅗ of the skin on his body is translucent, bubbles of what looks like pockets of water swim across his chest and, collarbone, shoulders, and ribs. The light from the lamp causes the bubbles of water to reflect, rainbow colors in fact. “I used so much of my power already, I’m disappearing. If I sing the song one more time... if I fix this mess then…”

“No! I won’t let you do that!” “Eurydice you’re leaving anyway, if I do this then everything will be fixed, the weather will go back to normal.” “But you won’t be here!” She screams, “what’ll be the point of me leaving and not being a burden to you if you disappear?”

Quiet, the words premeditates in the room. “You’re not a burden to me Eurydice,” Orpheus says firmly. Eurydice hugs the boy, “don’t do it. Stay here, I’ll stay too if that’s what it takes. We’ll stay here together.” She knows she’s just making empty promises in the dead of night but at the moment neither of them cares. The cry in the dark of the poorly lit room, passing out after an undisclosed amount of time. 

Orpheus is the first to wake up, Eurydice tucked close to his side. He brushes a strand of hair away from her eye. “I’m sorry Eurydice.” He stands, putting his forgotten shirt back on again. He stuffs the necklace in his pocket, closes his eyes, then...he sings. 

When he opens his eyes he’s lying in a bed of grass. It’s soft, too soft to be regular ole grass. It’s bright, the sun shining in his eyes. The sky is perfect crystal color, the clouds fluffy, tall and white. Flying around him are tiny beads of water, all in long groups that remind Orpheus of little fish swimming in a pond. 

He's seen this place before, but that time, he didn't reach it. He’s in that other place in the sky. 

He’s gone. He’s alone. 

Orpheus fishes for the necklace in his pocket, needing something to ground him. The silver chain twinkles in the sunlight. Suddenly a rush of water droplets come swimming in his direction, brushing against and sometimes through his body. Orpheus feels himself ripple, like a pond that just got a stone slipped across it. The ripple starts from his chest then moves to his arms, hands, then fingertips. 

The ripple causes the necklace to slip through his fingers, falling down and disappearing from the cloud.

“No!” Orpheus tried to save it, pushing and pulling it’s of cloud grass, but it’s no use. 

It’s gone. 

Orpheus sobs. He sobs for his family, Hermes, Persephone, and even Hades. But he mostly sobs for Eurydice, for the promises he broke. How he would never see her again. He would be all alone. Forever.

As he weeps, he prays Eurydice will never see another storm in her life. 

...

“It’s a mess out there!” Persephone yells, rushing inside the quiet house. She walks into the dining room and sees her husband nursing a glass of whiskey, the bottle half empty. Cerberus lay asleep near his feet. “They closed most of the roads, I barely made it back. Hermes is doing fine, they’re treating him for a fever. I called the bar to tell Orpheus but he didn’t answer. Must be busy with Eurydice.” She grabs herself a glass and sits next to her silent husband. “Speaking of the girl, where is Eurydice?”

Hades doesn’t say a thing.

Seph immediately knows something is up.

“Hades. Where is Eurydice?”

“I sent her away.”

“You did what!?” Seph is pissed.

“The police came, she’s a runaway, Persephone. Her parents filed a missing child’s case on her. She’s 16! Do you know how much trouble we would be in if they found out we were harboring a minor?”

Seph knows her husband is right, but that doesn’t mean she ain’t pissed about it. “It’s a fucking mess out there Hades! You should’ve let her stay here the night!” Speh finishes her drink then marches to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go find her Hades!”

“The roads are closed, Seph. You will just get in a bigger mess.”

Seph stews silently before turning away from the door, snatching the bottle from Hades and walking to their room. “Don’t talk to me. Sleep on the couch, drive a separate car, just...don't come near me.”

Hades ignores her, “you going to ruin your sobriety over a runaway?”

Persephone flips her husband off and heads to their room, slamming the bedroom door shut. He deserves that. He knows.

...

Yay angst!

One more part to go (hopefully...)

[huntershowl]

drabble 001: rotting city

 some people find refuge in the embrace of another. a parent, a brother, a lover. some people find refuge in courage. some find it in habits, healthy or unhealthy or somewhere in that sloshy gray area in between. some people don’t find refuge at all.

PERSEPHONE AISA used to believe she found her refuge in family. not a complete one by any means. a voidblooded child on the streets of a city corrupted by the clawing hands of moral decay would not be safe on her own. but she wasn’t on her own. she had her twin: LETO AISA, quiet and sensitive with a creative soul. they took new names when they left home. new names to symbolize new lives. new names for a fresh start, away from their barbed-wire parents, their gilded-cage life. leto was not good at standing up for himself. he was empathetic, his words falling flat when he tried to sound tough. he didn’t want tofight – he wanted to draw, paint, create beauty out of duskwall’s dust and grime, make something within its crackling lightning wall that was beautiful rather than bloody… but the two needed to eat. they needed somewhere to sleep when it rained. they needed to stay alive in the midst of gang wars and hungry eyes searching for voidblooded children like them to traffic who-knows-where. so persephone picked up the slack. they’d shared a womb, but they didn’t share everything: she had all the fire. quick to temper and slow to forgive, persephone did whatever she had to in order to keep her and leto safe: steal, con, hurt people, a spirited little anklebiter with a cunning mind and fast hands. she was the first to pick up a knife. she was the first to draw blood. but that didn’t mean she was ruthless. persephone did her best to solve problems nonviolently. she wasn’t good at words, but like leto, she was empathetic; it was easy to see when hurting someone wasn’t an appropriate solution, when they were more hurt than she was already. an exchange of money or information was a better use of both her and the antagonist’s time. logic, already primitive in a child’s mind, was frequently overruled by the pair’s emotions. and when the two hit aroadblock, they chose an option that would change their lives for the worse, forever. duskwall was already ruled by a handful of factions: gangs, mostly, peppered with a few secret societies and larger crime syndicates. none of these were more insidious than THE UNSEEN. if the name didn’t reveal enough, the unseen was of a debatable size – no one knew how many people were in it, who was and who wasn’t on their side, in their pocket, on their payroll. they were rumored to have people in the government, influencing the lord governorship; people in ironhook prison, controlling who was and wasn’t put away; people in the bluecoat police force, the imperial military, the goddamn factories. despite its apparently insidious size, there had never been an information leak. now, that wasn’t to say everyone in the unseen was – well – unseen. its leader, SANYA TRISKEL, was comparatively very fucking seen. they lived in the largest mansion in the city. bigger than the lord governor’s, bigger than the suite the emperor stayed in when he came to visit duskwall. they were a public figure who wined and dined with duskwall’s finest, attended nearly every opera, and installed gramophones in their most frequented establishments so that they could listen to jazz whenever they wanted to. they weren’t from duskwall’s mother continent, the imperialist country akoros. they had been born in iruvia, a continent southwest of akoros whom the imperial military had not gotten their colonizer fingers on yet. sanya immigrated to duskwall at an unknown time and somehow managed to become the most powerful person in the world. one arm was made from an unfamiliar white metal, something light and strong that glowed with yellow light. their eyes, an amber-gold hue, split into two irises when they were angry ( so the rumors went. only an unlucky few had ever seen them angry and lived to tell the tale. ) they ruled the unseen from the public eye, their fingers wrapped around puppet strings attached to every continent in the known world. duskwall was certainly under the unseen’s heel. knowing all of that, persephone and leto decided to try and ask for the unseen’s help when they finally ran out of scraps of luck. no more benevolent bakers. no more unguarded awnings to sleep under. no more money, no more water. there was only one direction to turn. the contracts were short and uninvolved, at first. eavesdrop on this conversation. report to this messenger. pickpocket this man’s mailbox key. run this message to that client. their orders came from different people every time, as that was how the unseen worked; no one knew each other’s names or faces, only the right thing to say. as time went on, though, their jobs became increasingly more precarious. persephone broke her arm trying to escape a client angry with the news she brought him. leto was reduced to tears over and over again, and they had no one to tell that it was too much. they couldn’t ask for help from colleagues whose names, faces, and locations they didn’t know. nobody talked to sanya, of course – such a huge organization meant that very few members of the unseen interacted with them directly. the twins were teenagers – thirteen or fourteen, she couldn’t remember anymore – when they finally decided to escape. the unseen had proved too dangerous to stay in while planning a future for themselves. persephone spent days charming the booth worker at the floating city’s airship docks enough to get herself and leto tickets off of the continent altogether. no more duskwall, no more akoros, no more unseen. besides, other people had left the gang before. some had retired, some had quit, all without much fuss from the gang at large. the twins had no belongings other than a few keepsakes from home: a small framed painting for leto; a mostly-empty bottle of cologne for persephone that smelled like a pine forest; the clothes on their backs; each other. leto, with his nubby black horns, persephone with her smoking hair. the night before their departure, they sat in their assigned room in an unseen safehouse and drank clean water from a shared pitcher. ❛ where d’you think we’ll end up? ❜ leto asked, scratching at the base of one of his horns. his skin was drying out now that it was getting colder, and the horns area itched like crazy. one of his paintings sat drying next to them, its corners weighed down by rocks. duskwall, but with a sky lit by brighter colors than the shattered sun would normally allow. ❛ i don’t know. ❜ persephone was still having trouble hiding her ritzy brightstone accent. it was the quickest way to peg someone for a runaway kid, the quickest way to get yourself kidnapped for ransom and thrown back home. she had to speak slowly, if she talked at all. ❛ maybe … mm. severos? ❜ ❛ you just want to pet the horses, seph. ❜ ❛ i also wanna eat all the fruit. ❜ ❛ all of it? ❜ ❛ well – i mean – yes. but they can grow more after that. ❜ leto smiled, covering his mouth with a hand to hide the grin. persephone hated that the world had made her brother so self-conscious. she cracked a smile back with an involuntary little chuckle. this … this was the happiest she’d felt since before they’d joined the unseen. it was her and leto. nothing could stop them. the last thing persephone remembered from that morning was the cool breeze of a hopeful dawn, before she and her brother were dragged away with sacks pulled tightly over their heads.

––––––––––– HELLHOUND, THE HUNTER doesn’t find refuge in much of anything. once persephone became a sleeper, anger and grief arose in her place to form the shape of a woman fed by liquor and fury and unhealthy loyalty. she and leto haven’t talked in almost three years. it’s better that way, to hellhound; if leto hates her, he won’t share the cloud of shit-hits-the-fan bad luck that seems to follow her everywhere she goes like a hungry stray. he does not know what has happened to turn persephone into hellhound. if he knew, he would be killed. it’s as simple as that.  attachment is weakness, as far as hellhound is concerned. the deeper a bond becomes, the more vulnerable both parties become to demons and prying eyes; if you care about no one and no one cares about you, then the only person your enemies can go after is yourself. yes, hellhound has a brother. i heard she doesn’t give a damn about him, though. they haven’t even spoken once in three years.  better that way, she repeats when the longing threatens to eat her alive. better that way, better that way.

[cboogie96]

Seph Namono

Side character #2

Seph Namono

Birthday:March 15th

Sex: Male

Gender: androgynous slightly more feminine

Race, ethnicity,culture: Sumerian

Sumer is a smaller landmass that was conquered by Avalon and forced to abandon their cultures and heritages because the royal king felt it was heresy and disrespectful to his reign over them

Height: 5'8

Body type:

He isn't muscular at all, he doesn't care for them so where as he does have cuts he refuses to build mass. But despite his slender frame he's very strong and ofcourse fast. Has unusually soft skin for a warrior

Appearance: has black long hair that he keeps braided in a crown simply cause it suits him.

Has lines in the middle of his brows due to scowling so much a small nose, really light skin that tans easily, a small mouth with medium sized pink lips. He always has a shit eating grin on his face.

Where is he from? He's from a small village in Sumer and despite it being small was fairly prosperous and he was the next in line to be the big chief of the village but was kidnapped and forced into slavery.

Category #2: Relationships

Family: before he left, Seph lived with his mother father and 3 sisters they grew up being trained in the ways of covert killing his father was particulary harsh on him because he was the only boy, one of his sisters was leagues better than him at handling knives bows daggers and every other discreet way of killing. And also because he's not mainly in appearance so he got the brunt of most punishments.

Friends: Sephs first and only friends are J Dreya rain and dom. And he's particularly fond of Doms mom Kaya. He was the last to join the group and thus was last to earn their trust and respect but through his guts and gal proved to be J's trusted right hand. He was a lone assassin for hire and failed horribly to kill J, he laid down his weapons and asked to join the group and learn the ways of a blade, he chose the naginata.

Category #3: the sexy stuff

Sexual orientation: heterosexual

What is he attracted to? He likes someone thats dedicated to whatever goal they set and for them to have the determination to finish that goal hates a pushover cause it's boring and he'll definitely walk all over you. Physically he likes slender woman, just a bit of a butt but not too much and not too little, same with tits.

Sexual experience:

A lot he's a big romantic and likes to who girls just to say he had sex with them, he's kind of misogynistic.

Romantic experience:

A lot he likes romance and making woman smile in that sense.

Category #4 skills:

Good at all forms of covert killings can poison, use sleight of hand to stab you or spike a drink/food. Grab you to some unkown place knock you out etc.

Occupation/schooling: was taught to read and write by his father, further learned more things from various ppl as he traveled in Avalon. Occupation is a assassin for hire.

Hobbies: he likes to braid hair

Category #5: introvert or extrovert

He's an introvert, he only likes to talk when he has the choice. Due to his abusive father doesn't find it easy to talk to guys because of his androgynous apperance. But can open up to ppl once he's comfortable

Right brained or left brained?

Likes to think deeply and get creative with the angles and way to kill his targets, very intuitive and introsoective.

Strengths: he's VERY swift. He's actually the second fastest out of the horsemen and is constantly training to keep himself in peak shape. He's really smart and can strategize a good kill seconds before committing it. Very nimble and hard to grab/catch. And despite how he looks he's really strong and stubborn.

Weaknesses: He isn't use to fighting head on so his swordsmanship could use a lot of work and He's pretty arrogant. He's not durable so if he's punched or slammed or cut really bad he's done for.

Goals/dreams/aspirations:

He just wants to be rich and rid his village of the kings control. So he's gonna try and kill the king he believes he's the reason for being kidnapped and sold into slavery

Beliefs/affiliations: his people believes that the earth,sun,and moon will grant them eternal blessings aslong as they worship them in mind and spirit. Seph lingers in a thin line cause he feels if the gods were on their side they wouldn't have let the royal king conquer the land. Buuut he has a decent living and isn't doing to bad for himself so he also gives credits to the gods for that.

Fears: he fears dieing without achieving his goals and helping his family or leaving a large amount of money behind for them.

Insecurities: he's insecure about his looks and the men around him since he's never had any good experience with men besides becoming friends with J.

What would he die for? His family

[ookamikasumi-fanfics]

Diabolic 15 - End

Summary: Vincent Valentine is kidnapped by the ghost of Sephiroth for a very personal mission. 

(S/VV- After AC) COMPLETE

All characters property of Square Enix. This story was written for the intent of Personal enjoyment. No money was made from this work.

Warning! Rated NC-17: hard-core Yaoi content, adult language, mild violence, non-con seduction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fifteen ~ End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vincent stepped from the elevator onto the unmarked twenty-fourth floor and blew out a breath. Even after six months, he still wasn’t used to being at ShinRa Power and Electric as one the dark suited Turks.

It still felt strange wearing ordinary clothes, though his dress shirts, vests, and suit jackets had all been carefully tailored to conceal his non-visible wings. He’d also been given a long trench coat with carefully disguised and strategically placed open side seams.

It had taken him weeks to remember how to knot his red tie properly.

He was somewhat used to having his long black hair combed back and neatly trimmed. Short hair would not have hidden his pointed ears. The typical ShinRa dark sunglasses disguised his scarlet eyes rather well. He still wore a red cloth around his brow, but it was a far slimmer and neater version that was worn under his hair, rather than over it. His armored glove was back at his apartment. It wouldn’t fit under his suit. He’d had to settle for simple black leather.

The whole ensemble wasn’t actually uncomfortable, but it was galling to be so…exposed. His tailor knew exactly what his body looked like. He had an apartment, a bank account, bills… He’d been forced to join society at large. He even had a car, a modest sedan.

He was far less noticeable among the general public, the average person barely looked his way. However, every single one of the Turks not only knew what he was, but pretty much everything he was capable of.

Oddly, his differences hadn’t made him an outcast, though absolutely no one liked being assigned as his partner. He was far too good at what he did. They simply could not compete on his skill level.

Tseng, his immediate superior, was positively thrilled with his ability to infiltrate just about any place he cared to send Vincent. Not to mention that he was invaluable during interrogations. All he had to do was remove his glasses to show his scarlet eyes, and smile showing his long teeth, and whoever they had in the chair would start spilling everything they knew.

The only thing Vincent had real problems with was working the day shift. He was a night creature by nature. Unfortunately he didn’t have a choice. Rufus worked days, not nights. When he went outside during daylight hours, he’d been forced to wear a fairly broad-brimmed black fedora hat to keep his neck from getting sun-burned in seconds.

To Tseng’s complete chagrin, sitting still, whether it was in a car or at a desk, would put him to sleep in a matter of minutes. He’d been forced to voice-record any reports that couldn’t wait until after sunset.

Rufus was still a total and complete bastard to work under, but apparently he’d meant what he said to Cloud almost a year ago; about ShinRa Corp. making up for very nearly causing the world’s destruction. There was no mistaking that he was out for profit, but the wars he fought were in boardrooms with lawyers, not on battlefields with monsters.

The SOLDIER program no longer existed. Instead, there was a veritable army of Turks.

Vincent sighed. He still hadn’t told Cloud he was working for ShinRa. Thank the powers that he was known for his long disappearances, so Cloud hadn’t come looking for him. According to Seph, he should be done cohabitating with Rufus sometime very soon, so perhaps Vincent wouldn’t have to.

Vincent nodded to Rufus’s secretary and approached the office door.

Rude stood by the office door in his neatly pressed midnight blue suit and usual dark sunglasses. He turned and gave Vincent a slight nod.

Tall, slender, Reno, leaned against the wall on the far side of the doorway with his unruly scarlet hair pulled back into its customary tail. His zipper suit was rumpled with the white shirt hanging out and barely buttoned. There was no trace of a tie. His arms were folded across his narrow chest and he glared at Vincent with pure vitriolic hate.

Vincent gave him a slight smile. Poor Reno… He was not happy with Sephiroth living in his lover’s body. Apparently the deal was, if Rufus played with Reno, Seph was allowed to play too. However, with Rufus and Reno painfully jealous when it came to each other, no one had touched anyone – for the past six months.  

Vincent snorted. Just as well. He had no interest in letting Rufus anywhere near him. He opened the door and walked into Rufus’s spacious black, white, and gray office.

Leaning up against the black ultra-modern desk with his arms crossed was a pale graceful youth in a black turtleneck and black jeans. His eyes were a striking green-gold and his snow-white hair tumbled over his shoulders to very nearly his waist. He was only a head shorter than Vincent and painfully beautiful.

Vincent blinked. He knew that boy. He’d seen him before…somewhere.

The youth stepped forward and smiled. “Well, what do you think?” The voice was surprisingly deep for someone so young and the expression was unmistakable.

Vincent stared. Holy shit! “Seph?”

The boy’s grin broadened. “Yep!” He held out his slender arms and turned all the way around, showing off his willowy form. “How do I look?”

Vincent swallowed hard. “I think you look amazingly…familiar.”

“I should.” The youth smiled. “This is a clone developed from one of Hojo’s early blood samples.”

Vincent felt the small hairs lift on the back of his neck. “Your early blood samples had active Jenova-taint.”

The youthful Sephiroth nodded. “It did, but considerably less than my adult body.”

Rufus stood up from his desk chair setting down his handful of papers. His white silk suit and gold tie shimmered slightly with his movements. “The clone was also subjected to a bath consisting of the water used to cure the geostigma, rendering the Jenova strain inert.” He smiled tightly. “I made sure of it myself.”

Sephiroth smiled tightly. “Uncle Rufus doesn’t want a repeat of my last performance any more than I do.”

Vincent’s brows lifted. “Uncle Rufus?”

Rufus lifted a shoulder and very casually turned to look out the window behind his desk. “Someone has to care for him while he’s young.”

Care for him…? Vincent stared while something twisted in the region of his heart. But…?

But Rufus was right. Someone did have to care for the youthful Sephiroth. Someone had to provide a home, food, clothes…a life. Vincent released a soft breath. He simply…couldn’t. He lived in the small apartment directly below Rufus, but it was merely a place to sleep, shower, and store his suits. He didn’t eat human food. He had no clue how to provide for a…a boy. “I see.”

Sephiroth’s smile slipped into something far chillier and far more determined. “Rufus and I have come to an agreement. I will be his role-model ward, and he’ll see that I have everything I need to be ready for…the future.”

Vincent lifted his gaze toward Rufus. “Then you know?”

“About Jenova haunting the life-stream?” Rufus took in a deep breath and released it. “Actually, I rather wish I didn’t.” A tight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I told Cloud that ShinRa intended to atone for its past transgressions.” He snorted. “However, I didn’t expect to fulfill that statement quite so literally.” He nodded toward Sephiroth.

Vincent’s mouth tightened. ShinRa had once again created Sephiroth. Hopefully this time ShinRa would help him become the world’s hero instead of its villain. “Poetic justice, perhaps?”

Sephiroth smiled tightly. “I’d say it was far closer to divine justice.”

Rufus cleared his throat and nodded toward the silver-haired youth. “So, do you approve of your new body, Seph?”

Sephiroth nodded gravely. “I do. Thank you.”

Vincent tilted his head toward the blond boy. “How did you make a fourteen-year-old clone in six months?” He frowned. “And how did you make the transfer?”

Sephiroth folded his arms and snorted. “The body is seventeen. It merely looks young.” He smiled. “The transfer was a simple kiss.” He shot a narrow glance toward Rufus. “I wasn’t sealed in materia crystal this time, so passing from one body to the other posed no difficulty whatsoever.”

Rufus nodded at Vincent. “The lab I used had one of the newer model cloning tanks, though they’re used for actual medical purposes these days, rather than experimentation.” He smiled at Sephiroth. “And I stopped the clone’s process at sixteen.”  

Sephiroth scowled. “Sixteen…?”

Rufus’s smile sharpened. “You said you wanted to have plenty of time to train, correct? I figured that it couldn’t hurt to improve your social skills at the same time.”

Sephiroth frowned. “My social skills…?”

Rufus turned around and leaned back against the window frame. He crossed his arms. “You need peers, companions, friends. The best way to obtain those is by attending school.”

Sephiroth’s small hands fisted at his sides. “I do not need an education. I was thoroughly tutored!”

Rufus nodded gravely. “Yes, and that tutoring did nothing but isolate you from the rest of humanity.” He lifted his chin and delivered a cool smile. “Three years of high school and a few more of college should do you a world of good.”

Sephiroth was going to go to high school? Vincent’s mind boggled.

Sephiroth’s mouth fell open. “You’re sending me to school?” The pitch of his voice rose. Apparently, his mind was boggled too.

Rufus straightened and folded his hands behind him. “There is no better way to discover the true character of those who will share your future than by observing them in their youth, before they learn to hide it.”

Sephiroth took a deep breath and tucked his chin. “A valid point.”

Rufus nodded. “I think you will make a most excellent addition to the ShinRa corporation.”

Sephiroth snorted. “I should warn you, I truly abhor paperwork.”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Don’t we all?” He smiled. “But then, that’s what secretaries are for.”

Vincent stepped forward, drawing Sephiroth’s attention, and Rufus’s. “You’re going to have to control that temper of yours while you’re around all those children.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. “I suppose I will have to refrain from setting them on fire.”

Rufus’s brows lifted. “You still have magical capability?”

Sephiroth snorted and lifted a graceful brow. “Of course. The talent rides with the soul, but it was also inherent with the body, even before Hojo’s…additions.”

The far door slammed open revealing Reno in the doorway, his eyes wide staring hard at Rufus. “Is it true? Is it over?” He stalked in, striding right past Sephiroth.

Rude, right on his partner’s heels, stopped just inside the doorway staring at Sephiroth. His black brows lifted over his sunglasses.

Rufus focused hotly on Reno and smiled. “Yes, it’s over.”

Reno leaped straight up into the air and whooped. “Hot damn!” He shot a thoroughly lascivious grin at Rufus. “When?”

Rufus moved to his desk and lifted a paper. “As soon as I finish this meeting.” He turned and looked over at Sephiroth.

Reno froze, made a sharp about-face, and stared at the silver-haired youth. His red brows lifted over his moss green eyes, and his Cupid’s bow lips parted. “Oh, the pipsqueak’s already walking around?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth’s smile thinned. “And the pipsqueak’s hearing is in excellent condition.”

The red-head grinned and nodded. “Great! Wow…” He strode all the way around Sephiroth, quite obviously keeping his distance from Vincent. “Damn, you make a cute kid.”

Rufus cleared his throat. “He’s sixteen, Reno. That’s two years too young to play with you.”

Vincent blinked. Sephiroth was a minor. A chuckle bubbled up and escaped.

Sephiroth turned sharply to frown at Vincent.

Reno turned and stuck out his bottom lip at Rufus. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Boss.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t do kids.

Vincent smiled down at Sephiroth and mouthed silently, Neither do I.

Sephiroth curled his lip in a scowl that was absolutely adorable. “We’ll just see about that.”

Vincent snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m currently larger than you and far stronger. If you try anything that I don’t approve of…” He smiled. “I’ll give you a spanking.”

Sephiroth’s hands fisted at his sides and his mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Vincent lifted his chin and his smile broadened showing his long teeth. “Try me.” He lifted his gaze to Rufus. “ShinRa, you have my personal cell phone number, correct?” He looked down at Sephiroth. “Just in case.”

Rufus lifted a hand to cover his mouth. He coughed and his cheeks flagged with red. “Oh, why, yes I do.”

Reno laughed out loud. “Oh damn! Looks like you better be good or Uncle Vincent’s gonna give you a whupping!”

Sephiroth leveled a glare at Reno. “You do realize that since you are not a child, there’s no reason I can’t set you on fire?”

Reno very casually stepped back. “Somebody needs to learn to play nice.”

Rufus coughed again and cleared his throat for good measure. “Seph, please don’t set the employees on fire.” He smiled. “You’re going to need them, at the very least for sparring practice.”

Sephiroth pursed his lips and nodded. “Point taken.”

Reno turned to frown at Rufus. “Huh?”

Rufus strode over to his desk and sat on the corner. “Reno, does have his occasional uses. Try not to break him beyond repair.”

Sephiroth grinned. “I’ll do my best to return him in one piece.”

“Wait a minute…” Reno frowned. “Are you saying that this skinny brat can kick my ass?”

Rude snorted from his position at the doorway. “Yes.”

A rather heated exchange broke out after that.

A smile curving his lips, Vincent stepped back and silently left the office. At the end of the hall he punched the elevator call. Rufus ShinRa was certainly going to have his hands full with his new charge, but it was truly possible that Sephiroth, the great and terrible might actually have a better life this time around, and a better future.

His mission was done. He was free. All he had left to do was hand Tseng his formal resignation.

The office door slammed open behind him. “Vincent!”

Vincent turned.

The pale youthful Sephiroth marched toward him, his mouth tight and his emerald eyes blazing. “Where are you going?”

Vincent’s brows lifted. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” Sephiroth’s slender body trembled. “Why?” His voice was breathless and a damp shimmer appeared in his eyes.

Vincent shrugged. “You have what you wanted; a new body, and a new life to go with it.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin and crossed his arms. “So?”

Vincent smiled while his pounding heart bled with every beat. “You don’t need me any more.”

Sephiroth scowled ferociously. “Bullshit.” A tear slid down his cheek.

Vincent’s heart twisted hard. “Oh hell…” He strode for the youth and wrapped him in a hug. He winced. The terror of the entire planet felt so damned fragile in his arms.

Sephiroth’s hands fisted in Vincent’s coat. “You can’t leave.”

Vincent pressed a kiss to the top of the youth’s head. “I have no reason to stay.”

Sephiroth sniffed against Vincent’s coat lapel. “Yes you do. You’re my bodyguard.”

Vincent swallowed. “You have all of ShinRa…”

The youth’s hands tightened in his coat, tugging on it. “I want you!”

Vincent’s eyes burned. He was suddenly glad that that Sephiroth’s face was buried in his coat. He took a breath to keep his voice even. “You’ll be busy with school and…other things.” Peers, companions, friends…

“So? That’s only some of the daylight hours. You can work during those hours and spend the rest of your time with me, even if it’s just playing stupid video games.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. Oh gee, thanks… “Seph…”

Sephiroth leaned back and glared up at Vincent. “I can get Rufus to make you stay.”

Vincent’s bared his teeth and backed away. “Don’t…!”

Sephiroth folded his arms across his slender chest and curled his lip. His determined expression was far too mature for his youthful face, and clearly showed the man he would be. “Then don’t make me.”

Vincent scowled down at him. “Haven’t I done enough for him?”

“It’s not for him, it’s for me.” Sephiroth scraped a hand against his damp cheek. “You can’t leave me, Vincent.” His green gaze narrowed to slits. “You belong with me. My body may be new, but how I feel has not changed.” He pointed a slender finger at Vincent. “You will never escape me. Never!”

Vincent groaned. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Sephiroth grabbed onto Vincent’s coat. “Swear to me that you’ll stay.” His voice was deep and determined, but his gaze shifted back and forth with clear uncertainty. “I can’t…” He took a deep breath and then whispered very softly. “I can’t do this without you.”

Vincent’s heart very quietly shattered in his chest. He closed his eyes. His throat was so tight all that came out was a whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Sephiroth sighed deeply. “Good.” He lifted his chin and grinned up at Vincent. “Now, kiss me.”

Vincent sighed then smiled. “I will, in two years.”

Sephiroth’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Vincent set his hands on Sephiroth’s slender shoulders. “In two years you’ll be eighteen and old enough to kiss.”

The youth stomped his foot. “That is not fair!”

Vincent chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Immaturity was catching up to Sephiroth very quickly. “Actually it’s very fair. If you’re going to make me keep working for ShinRa, you’re going to have to wait until you’re no longer a minor before you get a kiss.”

Sephiroth growled, a low liquid rumbling in his chest. “You will pay for that.” He grabbed Vincent around the waist and hugged him.

Vincent snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m already paying for it.” He closed his arms around the slender youth and sighed deeply. Life was certainly going to be interesting with Sephiroth back among the living.

Cloud was going to have a heart-attack.

~ End ~

[up-sideand-down]

Sephiroth is royalty, AGZC are his harem.

Sephiroth was always an isolated child. When he was very young, his mother was killed in a kidnapping attempt and since then he was rarely, if ever, allowed outside of the palace. He was well educated and loved all of the servants around him like family, but he was also a bit naive in many ways. His father, ever distant and cold around him, only really caring about how his military training was going. Outside of how good a fighter he is, the king does not interact much with his son. 

One day, a concubine was given as a gift to the prince. However, they forgot to tell Sephiroth he was a concubine, so for a long time Sephiroth was not sure why he had been given Cloud. After weeks of confusion between the two of them: Sephiroth wondering whey Cloud insisted on sitting close to him, and Cloud wondering why he was treated as a favored concubine when there was no entertainment going on. Cloud was more than agreeable to mend the situation…and make Sephiroth not a virgin anymore

Sephiroth was given another concubine in the shape of a captured enemy. Sephiroth won a decisive battle and was given a prize in the shape of a very angry Genesis. Sephiroth didn’t mind that Genesis wanted nothing to do with him. He had Cloud for cuddles after all. The problem became Genesis’s crush on Cloud. Sephiroth gave his permission though…and Genesis decided Seph might not be so bad after all. 

Angeal sold himself to be a slave in order to pay a debt. What kind of debt, he never would say. He was used as a concubine for a few women, but his reaction (or lack thereof) told them were his tastes really lay. He was given to Sephiroth after that (since the prince had two male concubines of his own). Angeal was confused by their relationship (Cloud being equally loving to Genesis and Sephiroth while the two men were often quite awkward with each other. Angeal soon became an easy medium…and someone all of them men could talk to. He soon was able to smooth out the problems between Genesis and Sephiroth. 

Zack was the last concubine Sephiroth accepted. He was a poor excuse of a gift: he still had bruises healing on him and flinched at the sound of Sephiroth’s voice. All of them pampered Zack quite a bit, Sephiroth especially. Sephiroth had never made any of his harem sleep with him and he wasn’t going to start with Zack. Zack made the first move…with Cloud…but asked the others to watch. 

They cuddles all together for the first time that night. 

[cboogie96]

Seph Namono

 Sex: Male

Gender: androgynous slightly more feminine

Race, ethnicity,culture: Sumerian

Sumer is a smaller landmass that was conquered by Avalon and forced to abandon their cultures and heritages because the royal king felt it was heresy and disrespectful to his reign over them

Height: 5'8

Body type:

He isn't muscular at all, he doesn't care for them so where as he does have cuts he refuses to build mass. But despite his slender frame he's very strong and ofcourse fast. Has unusually soft skin for a warrior

Appearance: has black long hair that he keeps braided in a crown simply cause it suits him.

Has lines in the middle of his brows due to scowling so much a small nose, really light skin that tans easily, a small mouth with medium sized pink lips. He always has a shit eating grin on his face.

Where is he from?He's from a small village in Sumer and despite it being small was fairly prosperous and he was the next in line to be the big chief of the village but was kidnapped and forced into slavery.

Category #2: Relationships

Family: before he left, Seph lived with his mother father and 3 sisters they grew up being trained in the ways of covert killing his father was particulary harsh on him because he was the only boy, one of his sisters was leagues better than him at handling knives bows daggers and every other discreet way of killing. And also because he's not mainly in appearance so he got the brunt of most punishments.

Friends: Sephs first and only friends are J Dreya rain and dom. And he's particularly fond of Doms mom Kaya. He was the last to join the group and thus was last to earn their trust and respect but through his guts and gal proved to be J's trusted right hand. He was a lone assassin for hire and failed horribly to kill J, he laid down his weapons and asked to join the group and learn the ways of a blade, he chose the naginata.

Category #3: the sexy stuff

Sexual orientation: heterosexual

What is he attracted to? He likes someone thats dedicated to whatever goal they set and for them to have the determination to finish that goal hates a pushover cause it's boring and he'll definitely walk all over you. Physically he likes slender woman, just a bit of a butt but not too much and not too little, same with tits.

Sexual experience:

A lot he's a big romantic and likes to who girls just to say he had sex with them, he's kind of misogynistic.

Romantic experience:

A lot he likes romance and making woman smile in that sense.

Category #4 skills:

Good at all forms of covert killings can poison, use sleight of hand to stab you or spike a drink/food. Grab you to some unkown place knock you out etc.

Occupation/schooling: was taught to read and write by his father, further learned more things from various ppl as he traveled in Avalon. Was an assassin for hire for a short period of time.

Hobbies: he likes to braid hair

Category #5: introvert or extrovert

He's an introvert, he only likes to talk when he has the choice. Due to his abusive father doesn't find it easy to talk to guys because of his androgynous apperance. But can open up to ppl once he's comfortable

Right brained or left brained?

Likes to think deeply and get creative with the angles and way to kill his targets, very intuitive and introsoective.

Strengths: he's VERY swift. He's actually the second fastest out of the horsemen and is constantly training to keep himself in peak shape. He's really smart and can strategize a good kill seconds before committing it. Very nimble and hard to grab/catch. And despite how he looks he's really strong and stubborn.

Weaknesses: He isn't use to fighting head on so his swordsmanship could use a lot of work and He's pretty arrogant. He's not durable so if he's punched or slammed or cut really bad he's done for.

Goals/dreams/aspirations:

He just wants to be rich and rid his village of the kings control. So he's gonna try and kill the king he believes he's the reason for being kidnapped and sold into slavery

Beliefs/affliations: his people believes that the earth,sun,and moon will grant them eternal blessings aslong as they worship them in mind and spirit. Seph lingers in a thin line cause he feels if the gods were on their side they wouldn't have let the royal king conquer the land. Buuut he has a decent living and isn't doing to bad for himself so he also gives credits to the gods for that.

Fears: he fears dieing without achieving his goals and helping his family or leaving a large amount of money behind for them.

Insecurities: he's insecure about his looks and the men around him since he's never had any good experience with men besides becoming friends with J.

What would he die for? His family