#chapter one excerpt

Excerpt from Chapter 1: Hands

I love his hands. The scars on his knuckles tell stories that only I know. The callouses on his palms have shown me over and over what true tenderness is.

The fog is so thick it’s swallowing the headlights whole. The night around us dark and eerily quiet for the sound of the tires on broken blacktop, leaves occasionally lifting with a slight breeze outside the open windows. The purr of the engine barely a whisper as the ’67 Camaro moves like an apparition with us inside it.

Jacy’s hands are on the wheel, illuminated by the glow of the dashboard lights. I know those hands, I’ve known them on every surface of my body. I know what every touch means and where every scar came from.

He’s unmoving aside from the occasional small breaths. Deliberate, careful breaths like he’s afraid to break something with the simple expansion and contraction of his lungs. Maybe it’s already broken.

“Jacy,” I whisper to get his attention. To stomp out the silence that’s enveloped us. My voice ripples across my vocal cords, I feel it move in my throat and flit across my tongue, pass my lips where it dies in the air outside of me. He doesn’t hear it.

My cheek is pressed against the headrest, it’s damp. Have I been crying? Is that why my voice is rough and inaudible? All I want is to ask him why his brows are dipped in concern, why his jaw is clamped down tight, why his knuckles keep going white on the wheel. I want to ask him why he’s not looking at me. Where we’re going in this fog. I want to know why he looks so terrified.

Rating: Mature, Explicit

Pairings: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Fic on Ao3:

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The face that looked at him so tenderly now, hands cold and warm, trying to relax his nerves by sheer contact with his small but steady touch.

“It does you no good to keep silent on matters that bother you; you look so fretful I’d think you’d fall apart in front of me.”

“Oh, I just might,” Izuku replied, finally squeezing the hands in his. “You’d sooner have me die by a heart attack pulling stunts like that. What in gods name got into your head?”

“Your name, my dear,” the Prince replied, a slight smirk playing across his lips.

“That is not what I meant, you dodo, and you know it.” Izuku chided but fell into a smile nonetheless.

“What else would you expect of me? It was the best way to assure you stay by my side, no matter what else my father attempts. It would go against his very law to deny me my therapon. My sweetest, my Philtatos. Who else could I have possibly chosen?”

Izuku clicked his tongue, “I should have never read you that story. As hopeless of a romantic as you are, look what trouble it has gotten you into.”

The Prince pressed closer to him. He closed all distance, framing Izuku’s body openly against a window in the hall. He was always risky. Regardless of how often Izuku warned without fear they could be caught and reprimanded or how much he complained with no real annoyance, Shouto Todoroki would always mesmerize and dull his usually sharp thoughts.

The proximity was on purpose, coming as close as he could to scenting Izuku without actually attempting to. It’s what they had been reduced to doing for at least a few years. Ever since the Prince quite literally swept him off his feet, Izuku could never have denied him anything of his afterward. Not after the compassion, the loyalty, the endless promises, and the proof of those promises.

They were, and ever would be, endlessly infatuated, interlaced together like the wonder of the moon and the sea.

So, of course, Izuku had found the story of the greatest greek soldier, whose mother was a sea nymph, and his lover, a companion since they were young; a follower. He read the story to the Prince for over a fortnight, and since then, he has referred to Izuku as such.

His scent cascaded around his frame, teasing Izuku’s nose, barely whispering against his neck. Mint, but sweeter, fresh like a cool breeze over an open meadow. Then, cedarwood, burning low in embers of a darkened fireplace. The mixture was like different fogs after pleasant weather, whether the mist that rests on grass strands at midnight or the rolling haze over a lapping lake in sunlight.

Izuku relaxed entirely against the glass, eyes mustering to close when the Prince pressed his face against his chest like he wanted to hear how soothing he was from the ease of pace heartbeat within his chest.

“Look at what you do to me,” Izuku mumbled into his evenly split hair, of snow and red mud, ice and fire, the pull and push of waves of water, of smoke.

“My therapon, my Philtatos, my Izuku,” His breath was both soft and desperate, out of air and too full of it. “This is what you do to me.”

The tone of his voice pulled reactions from Izuku, whose body was more than moldable in the Prince’s hands. He must have known what he was doing to him as his hands slipped away and held firmly onto the sides of his waist.

This is dangerous, he thought.

But what has ever stopped them before?

“Shouto, your room, not the hall,” Izuku managed to breathe over his ear, trying to keep it from turning too breathless.

The Prince pulled away quickly, glancing to either side of the hall, checking they were not being watched before pulling Izuku along after him. When the Prince’s door was found just a few short paces past a corner, Izuku wondered faintly if he had planned the close destination all along.

His words cemented his answer, “I wish to celebrate you, my dear. Allow me the night to go over your promotion and what it entails?”

“Such a professional way to say you wish to bed me. But go on, let’s have that talk.”

He was whisked inside, the door comfortably locked and double-checked while he made his own way to the bed.

It had been the centerpiece of the large room since its redesign, nothing short of lavish, but remained naturally beautiful and homely—a deep royal blue bed fit for a future king.

Memories of how their scents have mingled in the past, between sheets and long hours of the night, of sweat and screams and incomprehensible whispers.

A shock of skin against his back held him fast, heavy breath pulling chills from his neck down to his spine. His clothing was respectfully removed, minding the buttons and elaborate sleeves. At the same time, a mouth wondered, pulling noises from his throat as a tongue danced over a covered gland, becoming more sensitive by the second.

When his shoulders were finally exposed, every piece of cloth was dropped. A reverberating, positively possessive growl drummed from the Prince’s throat, fangs that could have belonged to a great beast just barely trailed between gland and bone. Izuku was trembling with want, pressing his back against the body that perfectly fit him.

He knew better. Despite the excitement and gratification it could bring, it was far too dangerous to bond in this way. No matter how badly he wanted to be seized by those teeth, feel the blood trail, see the bruise and the mark, he could not have it. His omega would have to live without it for many days to come. Not if he wanted to be safe from the King and keep the real paradise that was these moments with the Prince.

His bare skin was alight with craving, hands traveled at the speed of desire mixed with savor, though there was no sign of hesitation. His sides, his stomach, the swells of his chest, and the dips between his pelvis and thighs. The friction of his palms exploring was enough to drive Izuku mad, his voice reduced to pleasing groans.

One hand reached up to thumb at the dressing over his gland, lathered with a suppressant salve. All Omegas within the castle wore them, not to interfere or bother the Alphas. Shouto hated him wearing them but never forced him to change anything he didn’t want to. The tender touch was softly asking a question, if Izuku would let him have a taste.

“You will behave yourself?” Izuku asked.

“I have quite the tendency to be naughty with you, but I would never do anything against your wishes, especially if it brought harm or unsafety.” The Prince promised, taking Izuku’s chin and turning him so he could see the honesty in his eyes.

Izuku wiggled against him, testing the Alpha’s resolve as he shamelessly provided slicked friction against the hard and swelled cock between his ass. Shouto pressed his forehead against Izuku’s, pupils growing round with pleasure, but he didn’t waver, didn’t lose himself or immediately try to take control from him.

“Good boy,” Izuku whispered against his lips. “You can take them off.”

The Prince was careful but efficient, taking great satisfaction in removing the obstacles between him and Izuku’s omegan scent. It wasn’t common enough for his scent to be caught, always covered, to a point where there were times Izuku himself would forget what he smelled like. It happens when you are taught since birth that your second gender is perceived as too sexual just to be natural.

The Prince soon resumed his act as an addict, breathing in his neck like he was sole the producer of air in a dying world. His mouth completely covered over it, sucking and licking and barely teething until Izuku was moaning.

Soon enough, he could smell himself; vanilla, pleasantly warm and sweet, and then neroli, citrus but floral, green. It was quickly clouded and mixed with Shouto’s scents, creating a heavy aromatic atmosphere, enough he could drown pleasurably in. His knees were close to giving up with all the stimulation.

“Ah, Shouto, bed- please,” Izuku begged, trying to straighten his posture before he completely fell.

A short hum of confirmation before he was assisted to the bed to lie on his stomach, knees to his sides and bent so his ass could be presented in the air.

“Gods, every inch of you is so beautiful, Izuku,” Shouto said above him, hands running up and down back while the bed shifted with his weight, “I swear, you have captured me completely.”

“Even with all my dirt?” Izuku asked, a vulnerable moment of self-doubt passing his mind.

It was often described as dirt, hundreds of darkened spots across every inch of skin as if he laid in a rain of mud or ash. He had no fair unblemished skin like most omegas were prized for having. Another permanent wrong he had the misfortune of being born with.

“Your freckles are not dirt,” Shouto corrected him. “They are simply marks that help me keep track of everywhere I love to kiss you. A reminder that you will never be able to count how many times I have uttered I love you and proved it. An earthly pattern, all over, to show me just how special and completely irreplaceable you are.”

The loving bathing kisses he was given were to solidify his statement, Izuku feeling every soft press of lips and manifestation of the word adoration. At other times he would cry from such overwhelming feelings of love, but he hadn’t the chance to start before the kisses wandered elsewhere.

He gasped and twitched upon contact with his inner thighs, cold and warm hands grasping the plump flesh and parting them even more aside. Warm breath puffed over his folds, inducing inner throbs and a whimper when slick wanted to fall past the lips of his slit.

“May I taste of your nectar, my spirited Vixen?” The Prince asked.

“You would be horrible not to devour what’s in front of you,” Izuku replied. “It’s the least you are required to do for such a promotion.”

The Prince smiled against his skin before his tongue's velvet tool pulled erogenous noises from deep in his throat. He lapped between lips where the tip of his tongue tortuously teased the bare edge of his clit. Izuku had to grip the duvet with both hands and brace his chest against the soft bed cover, nearly turning his face down into the bed to moan as lewdly as acceptable.

He has been touch starved all his life save for when the Prince indulged his needs on special occasions. The hot and wet attention over his groin could have had him finished if he wasn’t so used to endless teasing so close over his own edge.

Like a man dying of thirst, when Izuku’s slick eagerly poured through enough to get over his thighs, Shouto drank everything his tongue could catch, pushing further into Izuku’s cunt where he dissolved into moans and grinding backward onto his face.

His legs and hips shook with pleasure as the stimulation brought him to finish, gasping and twitching when Shouto’s tongue swept over his clit as he rode it out.

He pulled away to allow Izuku’s body to settle, softly rubbing up his sides to provide comfort.

“You’re so lovely to see this way, Izuku. Your darling aftershocks make me want to do this many more times. May I? May I give you so much pleasure you cum over and over against me? That you cry from so much friction, you can’t see anymore? That you beg me senseless for every release?”

Izuku met the starving gaze of the Prince, his scents like a wall around them so heavy with lust and desire. His inner Omega howled with an agreement, rolling from his chest and stomach, internally begging Izuku to let them have this.

“Gods Shouto if you start, you better not stop fucking me until dawn light bathes us,” Izuku commanded.

The Alpha dived for him.

Throughout the night, Izuku’s cries and moans bounced off the walls as his body was ravaged and brought to orgasm through hours of pleasure and embrace. There were moments when he thought surely they would lose their minds and accidentally knot, but just as he’s always been able to, the trust he put in the Prince was not broken.

Shouto worked like a worshipper to a god, seemingly barely paying attention to his own completion and release when he had Izuku in front of him, writhing and crying out his name. He stayed true to his yearning; Izuku had gone blind from rapture. The only thing his senses could hold onto was that of the Prince.

His warmth, his freeze, the taste of sweat, the smell of mint and cedar wood. Tongue, fingers, fangs, endlessly, he could only feel the other as his mind clouded in bliss.

Eventually, he recognized the sensations had stopped when his body buzzed and hummed with fading adrenaline, and he felt heavier than a sunken rock at sea. He couldn’t recall when his eyes had decided to stay closed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t guess what was around them.

“Damn that wretched sunlight,” The Price’s voice was rough and hoarse, almost sounding deeper, but most definitely layered with both disappointment and extreme gratification from their activities.

Izuku barely moved, or rather he didn’t have to, when the Prince lifted him from the bed with gentle ease. He managed a very short and curious hum to signal he wished to know what they were doing now, still as limp as before.

A soft kiss was placed on his temple, “We’ll bathe now, and later I will feed you a feast fit for a prized therapon. Rest now; I’ll attend to everything.”

Izuku sighed, pressing his nose to the Prince’s neck before comfortably drifting off.

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Interestingly enough, when Nyx originally wrote this fic, Shouto and Izuku had never even kissed yet. The boys have come a long way 😌

This excerpt is from chapter one of the prologue. Thought I’d share a bit of what’s going on and give you all a taste of what’s to come. Not sure how long the prologue will be chapter-wise. I’m at three chapters and I’m almost done setting up for Endymion to come into play. From there I have to figure out what parts of Endymion’s life I wish to highlight. I have a few in mind that I think are key moments so those will be worked in, but I’m probably not going to do a lot with Serenity since we already know what his time with her looks like. Anyway, hope you enjoy this tidbit!

Selene = Serenity’s mother Amphictyon = Endymion’s father

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Amphictyon guides her back to the chamber and watches her disappear behind the door. Slowly, he makes his way back to the palace. There was a lot he didn’t know about the Lunarians or the Silver Crystal. The Lunarians seemed pretty human except for the new knowledge that they live to be over hundreds of years old. However, that Silver Crystal seems powerful. To awaken a whole solar system to new powers and to create life…Amphictyon is relieved the crystal will be under Selene’s control. Its power wouldn’t be abused with her reigning. However, that much power will invite trouble. And the fact that the surge happened recently within Selene’s time told him the crystal felt the universe needed more protection. Everything Selene has told him about the crystal seemed to make it…alive. Like it had a mind of its own and worked hand in hand with its user instead of just being used.

Here’s something I started in April, and have not really planned at all. I have an idea of what I want to do, but it’s not a priority right now. Here’s the initial confusion from being reincarnated.

Title: Fleeting Violet Eyes

Summary: Being thrust into the arms of Yoruichi’s whims wasn’t what I had in mind when I first woke up to find myself in Soul Society. Well, at least Kisuke’s in this with me, right? Right. [OC/Self Insert.]

Warnings: Coarse Language (I don’t like to think I swear too much, but after writing some of this, it seems I do; not even creative swears at that LOL), OC/Self Insert, eventual OC/Kisuke (may or may not be one sided)

Helpful Information: Although it’s not stated in canon, I believe that Kisuke’s generation is younger than Hirako’s. In order of eldest to youngest (for possible characters to appear): Hirako, Aizen, Kaien, Tessai, Yoruichi/Kuukaku, Kisuke, Lisa, Hiyori, Tousen, Gin.

Inspired by: Dual Pendulums by StrangerInAStrangeWorld (AO3), and Vixen Tail's SI!OC Fics (fanfiction.net/AO3).

Chapter One Excerpt #1

There were just some things in the world that were meant to be taken on a purely theoretical level: time travel, human cloning and artificial emotional intelligence, to name a few. I had never really considered things beyond that level, at any rate; they were all vaguely impossible, if not borderline science fiction - that is to say,absurd. But, still, they were equal parts fascinating as they were unsettling.

I guess, you could say, that was the main appeal of fan fiction for me - no matter how much some of my ‘purist’ (cue obligatory eye roll here) friends thought otherwise - it was mostly the appeal of reading others’ takes of characters that I loved. Theories of how some particular canon universe worked, reflecting on others’ headcanons, and of appreciating characters I might have once hated before but gave another chance once they were fleshed out. Especially when it came to some shounen manga (or anime, depending) characters - let me tell you, no matter how much action you shoehorn into that, I am there for the characters and if they piss me off, I am a stretch away from discarding the manga from my brain forever. Who cares what happens, after all, if the protagonist had no compelling aspect to their character?

Hell, with fan fiction, I’m not afraid to admit that I learned more about tolerance, morality and the human condition through it than I did at high school -- I went to a Catholic school and that place was at least waist deep about all three -- but I also immersed myself with more fiction than actual fact, too. It was interesting, though, world building or expanding, and adding another scope of reasoning to an established universe.

That, though, didn't really help me much in my early twenties.

Later, when I went to University, I found out how unprepared I was for the ‘big’ world out there. I was sheltered before: I only knew of a small but diverse community of people, barely threaded by the common thread known as school. I guess, really, it was more of a reluctance to make time for others than anything else. I was never a social butterfly, but I did have a group of friends with common interests; I was lucky to not have the typical peer-pressure aspects in my youth. Outwardly, if you had asked me, I would have blamed my parents for letting me be an only child and spoiling me - inwardly, though, I’d admit to myself that I cringe whenever I was with anyone I’d call a friend because I always felt like I was continually being obnoxious, mostly deadpan, sarcastic and joy-killing. And while, at the time, I wouldn’t think so, after - once I could retract into myself again - it made me crawl into some form of self loathing for being so utterly negative all the time.

Ah, and I monologue and over think to myself way too much; like right now -- I’ve missed the point of what I wanted to say because, if I didn’t, I would be freaking out right now.

Oh, wait, I am freaking out right now.

Because, in front of me is Soul fucking Society. It was quite disorientating, really, to suddenly just take in information of the world around you; like you were waking up for the first time and every moment before now was a haze of nondescript shapes, flashes and colour. I was in some kind of stretched alleyway between several Japanese-styled houses, the walls were lined with many small, individual houses that looked old but not in poor condition. Several people - souls? - were going about their day, content to ignore me. If I had to guess, I would say I had lucked out and ended up in one of the lower number districts of Rukongai. Deciding I was relatively safe for now, I finally took in my appearance by glancing at a puddle of water on the dirt floor.

I was wearing slightly a worn, plain purple yukata with a fading crimson obi and accompanied by a traditional pair of geta. My hair was back to its original natural black, though I distinctly remembering to have died it a dark purple when I was still alive, and my bangs were a messy chop in a poor-man’s hime cut. My eyes were a vivid purple - definitely not my normal brown - and shaped similarly to Rukia’s eyes, minus the constant angry-looking tick of her eye brows. I still seemed to be of my unimpressionable height of one hundred and fifty three centimetres (but still three inches taller than Rukia, so I counted that as a win), as well. And, hey, look at that, I’ve lost the weight I’ve always wanted to lose since forever, now, at last. Let it not be said that I’m ungrateful about that, at least.

But, yes, that means I’m dead. How? Well, who knows? Probably a car crash, most likely. There's some fuzzy blankness whenever I think of my last moments, along with a dull ache all over my torso. I'm guessing a common, accidental (or incidental?) kind of death since I wasn’t what you would call ‘cool’ or ‘bad-ass’ (and just thinking those words make me wince, yeash) and the most I did in my days was summed up with internet, classes, eat, sleep and sometimes hitting the gym. On the bright side, if I didn't feel a tinge of hunger anytime soon that means I’d be cannon fodder and would just have to try to live a normal life as a spirit, maybe die and be reborn as a human in this world with no memories of my first life (I use first here liberally, more exactly it’s the first life that I can remember). And if I had some possibility of having enough reiatsu to be somewhat useful? I guess I could attend Shin’ou Academy and interfere with the timeline - or not, I don't want mess with what had worked - but I'd think about that later.

In any case, my panicking seemed to be affecting some of the people around me (some had been oddly still for a while) and working myself up over this development didn't seem like the best idea at the moment. I let myself take a heavy breath of air - and strangely enough I could still feel a sensation akin to a heartbeat, but with a heavier buzz to it - and cautiously employed a deep breathing exercise.

My breath came out uneasy.

It took another minute before I seemed to at least have calmed down enough to not affect others. Some sheepish guilt settled into me for causing trouble for strangers, several of which turned to me in irritation (after recovering) before huffing and stomping away. I gave some of the people who looked my way an apologetic bow and swiftly moved (ran) out of the alleyway, drinking in my surroundings while my thoughts raced a mile a minute.

I wasn't sure where I was but, at the very least, it didn't seem that Rukongai was on a code red (pro), but it always seemed stuck in the same time period so I had no idea when I was (con). On the plus side, I knew I was in one of the four First Districts, the big Seireitei gate was quite the giveaway for that. So, I was somewhere small on lawlessness, and seemed to be in its marketing sector; if I squinted, I could see the signs of a forested area further south. Maybe it was a residential area, didn't Hitsugaya and Momo live in one of the first districts? Hm, food for thought.

Deciding to do some exploring - best start familiarising myself with the neighbourhood (yes, I'm treating this like a moving-out occasion, mental association and all that) - I let my legs trail the dirt road to find some kind-looking stranger to ask for help. Since this was a low district, there probably was some working system going on rather than a haphazard town that allowed people to claim their own haunts like in the 78th District that Rukia came from. I also was pretty sure there was at least some money system in place considering there were markets, and since I no longer had anyone to rely on when it came to work, rent or money, I better get that sorted first.

Basically, I was a jobless, homeless bum, and had little to nothing to work with.

Hopefully, though, I'd find some job - even if it's low paying - to start some savings if I wanted to join the Academy. I know Rukia and Renji had travelled from their beat-up district to the Academy, but I wasn't sure how they did it. Well, it'd be a learning experience, as I often would tell myself in my past life.

I let my feet drag me around the market area, head turning left and right every so often to take in a new building, sound or smell. It was like being back in Kyoto, given without electricity, and just...beautiful. It wasn't blooming in flowers, no, but for what it was, it was calm, inviting and very much lived in.

It's what many would call a safe neighbourhood, a middle class suburban area.

(I didn't want to know what the 80th district looked like.)

The whole district was populated, with both houses and businesses so close together that, from a distance, they looked like a uniform wall.