Work Text:
Life and Death - O N E S H O T
Visuals
Harry Styles
[ but with this sense of style:]
[What a serve that would be, my my]
Louis Tomlinson
[PLEASE. He's such an angel????]
Work Text
The biting cold air caressed Harry's hair gently as he sat propped up on top of the London Eye, watching as the Sun barely peeked from behind the Horizon, while being shrouded in the jarring red of the lights. How ironic, he thought. Groaning, he stood up to stretch himself. His Scythe clicked against the metal frame of the unmoving massive structure as he twisted and turned his body, eyes drooping.
Don't get him wrong, Harry liked the Sunrise, but there are only so many of them you can see before it becomes the usual.
Of course, there were those moments where he read or watched something that gave him a new spark to see things differently, and have a new perspective, but those little sparks too can only stay for so long before they escape his desperate clutches with a sizzle.
...Uh oh.
Overly poetic thoughts with a somberly twist to them?
It looked like Harry needed a good nap. And sugar cookies. And a numbingly sweet chapter of the Manga he was reading at the moment.
A momentary relaxation from the rotting of the brain.
Fingers tipped carefully with the soft pastel shades of Pink and Blue, Harry trailed his hand to grasp his Scythe in his hand. Sterling, the name that he'd given the metal tool of his everyday job (his 'baby'), shrunk down to a pair of stylish, mirrored cat-eye sunglasses that he slipped over his hair.
"That's new," A voice said behind him, and Harry stumbled where he stood, grasping thin air before he found his footing again.
"Shit!"
The perpetrator laughed behind Harry, and the God of Death huffed as he turned to look.
"Very Avante Garde," Commented Zayn Malik, the oldest Messenger of the Chasms (the Underworld, or Hell, if you call it), Harry's adjutant on the go, friend, and quite possibly the peskiest critique when it came to his fashion choices.
"And quite horrendous, Harold. Are those fucking blue cocks on your shirt? On your hot pink silk shirt?"
Harry scoffed, popping a hip with the essence and spirit of the sass he was known for, "Better than your repetitive leather jacket that you haven't moved on from, for the last-- let me see," Harry furrowed his brows mockingly as he counted on his fingers, "Two, four, no. 7 centuries. Atleast I take risks."
Zayn gave him an unimpressed look, pointing to the woollen heart stitched on the front pocket of his patched black leather jacket. "I take risks just fine."
"I stitched that--"
"Exactly my point," Zayn smirked, and Harry rolled his eyes.
Zayn flicked a slender digit into Harry's hair, twirling the glasses precariously on his experienced fingertips. "I have nothing but immaculate taste. Make this baby into a Katana, please."
And Harry did. He knew what Zayn wanted before he'd said.
The Messenger slashed at the air a few times and nodded. "The weight and length are right for my stature this time, thank you."
Harry pursed his lips, "You're going to touch the Soul. It doesn't matter what it weighs."
Zayn shrugged, tucking the weapon onto his back. "You made a bouquet last time. You have no right to tell me that it doesn't matter. Wanker."
Good point. It wasn't a really effective transformation, since it either did not scare the problematic, evil souls, for they made him chase them around with a bloody bouquet, just to touch them, or they gave a false sense of security to those who were to fall to the deepest depths of the Chasms (Harry was definitely referring to the nauseatingly abominable Theodore Bundy). Harry hated that. Which then also usually led to Harry being very annoyed and irate. A feeling he despised, considering how many dark things he was already dealing with.
If he were a human, and had these thoughts, then he would be considered a bloody psychopath but he was an Ancient God. Of Death.
His therapist would faint if she found out.
Of course, Harry found familiarity with darkness, and the agonised screams of tortured souls were just about a smidge away from being mundane (they were still horrible), but the constant looming of his existence felt a lot better if he was back in his apartment, where he could just focus on things that don't make him feel like his job was to write down every detail of a human's death, or reap their souls.
Which, by the way, paperwork sucked.
Harry hated that too.
Back to the topic, "You made Sterling a bloody water gun last time. So your claims are null. Now do my job for me while I take a week long break," Harry shooed Zayn and crossed his arms haughtily.
And maybe sometimes, he had to admit that trying to meet every gruesome standards that evolved about him, was a big nope.
Half of them were not even about him, and what was it with humans and burning in fire?
He's much more creative than that.
Watching the faint silhouette of Zayn's wings as he disappeared from view, Harry jumped down from above, landing straight onto his welcome mat with a blink of his eyes.
He wasn't really in the mood for public transit at the moment.
Loud music blared from the door beside his, and Harry shook his head with a sigh. Walking over, Harry banged on the door.
A few moments had him rethinking whether he should just walk in, but then the lock clicked open.
Rolling his eyes, Harry opened the door, scowling at the horrendous volume inside the messy apartment that reeked of weed.
"LOUEH!!" Harry yelled when he didn't see the small, fiery cracker who owned the less-than-shabby living space. Marching into the living room and shutting off the blaring system, Harry shook his head at the disgusting bowls of half-eaten soggy cereal, empty pizza boxes, liquor bottles, weed baggies and dear mother of all Chasms Niall's bloody dildo.
"That is absolutely fucking disgusting Louis, what the fuck?" Harry jetted out of the offending crime scene like he'd never seen worse, and walked down the hallway towards said Louis' bedroom.
And there he was. The culprit. Layering a perfect stroke of eyeliner and chewing peppermint gum, stood Louis Tomlinson, A God of... Basically every living thing. And by relation, every living moment? Maybe terming him as the God of Life was quite supercilious, but it was what it was.
And Louis did strut around calling himself the Angel of Life.
He could be quite up there if you know what Harry meant.
But he guessed that every century that passed would always see something change in them.
And now, Louis seemed to be really grabbing Life by its balls.
Clad in a black leather corset-and-jacket fit, the God hopped around as he slipped on his combat boots. Gold painted nails glitter against the material of the tight vinyl pants as Louis stood back up. "Don't look at me like that," Louis huffed as he raided around his room looking for, Harry expected, his biker gloves, while making the messy room messier.
"Look at you like what?" Harry drawled, unimpressed, licking his bottom lip when Louis bent down.
"Like you just saw my living room, and don't really know whether finding me hot right now is appropriate."
Harry snorted, shaking his head, "Well, that's one way to put it. Where's Blade?"
Just then, the familiar clicking and dragging of bones, and the patterned greeting that only a skeletal snake could manage, was heard.
"Ah, there you are," Harry cooed as the pet curled and creeped up the pant of his left leg, around his torso, and up to his neck. A full body rattle brought about a tinkling sound in a particular pattern, and Harry recognised it, "Hello to you too, Blade."
He absentmindedly walked out behind a fluttering Louis who smacked around for his helmet and motorcycle keys. "It's in the living room beside the empty pizza box stack," Harry rolled his eyes as he got ready to head to his own flat, "This place is trash, I'm heading back to mine with Blade."
Louis scoffed but pressed a swift kiss to Harry's cheek when he found the keys. "I get it cleaned everyday, and whatever."
Harry gasped like they'd never had this conversation before, "Really? I didn't know, is that why it looks like Trump took a dump in here?"
Louis laughed out loud, and hip checked Harry out of his apartment. "I pay too much for housekeeping for you to say such things," Louis stuck his tongue out, "I'm hurt."
"Ha," Harry petted Blade as he clicked his lock open, And I say that they are underpaid."
Louis pinched Harry's butt in answer, giggling, "Mean. Come with me today," Louis turned Harry around and pressed him against the closed door. "I'm up on the ramp today. Zayn said he'd teach me some tricks. Which means I'll teach you," He pouted exaggeratedly, and Harry gripped his slender waist in his hands. "Mm, nice try but I don't want to face death," He snickered, and Louis twisted his nipple for the horrible pun. "I'm over my biker phase, Lou," Harry cackled and Louis slapped his chest, "Go have at it. It's fun, but too many people die at the ramps you're off to," Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm taking a break, not come there to inadvertently do my job."
"You're so boring," Louis sighed as though he had a Herculean weight upon his shoulders, "Live life to the fullest!"
Harry snorted and pressed a fleeting kiss to Louis' forehead, "Nice try, but I'm Death personified," Harry stuck his tongue out, and Louis pinched his nipple again.
Harry squawked and pushed Louis away with a slap to his bum, "Motherfu--"
Louis cackled and strutted away, hips swaying as he turned to give a last salute of his two fingers.
Shaking his head, Harry headed into his flat, wincing lightly as Blade's thin bones pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck. The pet snake (?) bristled, rattling and clattering at the overwhelming mewls and purring that came from the four fluffy cats that Harry owned. "Everyone needs to calm down," Harry cooed as he scratched his cats where it felt good, letting Blade slither away into the ornamental dwarf tree he had at his entrance.
One way to put things, was that time was evolving, and so were the Gods and Goddesses.
It wasn't that hard to understand.
Harry remembered being in the Times of the Black Plague. Those were dark times, he was ashamed to remember now, that he excelled and flourished in. Of course, work was over flooded, but Harry had a different perspective then. Louis had been in his depressive state, and had moved away to another continent for a few decades, isolating himself.
Like Harry said, each period brought about a difference, and each persona Harry transformed into blurred at the lines.
He was this and then that, and then Harry was everything, and then he was nothing he wanted to be.
Harry could say that he loved himself, that his existence had meaning, but did they really?
The purpose he was created for did not include a sense of being nor belonging. But with consciousness came choice.
And sometimes Harry took chances.
Just like anyone else.
Louis was now in a state of revelation. That Life wasn't life until lived to the fullest.
And if he was the God of Life and had done nothing, then what was the point?
The past few years saw Louis being as reckless as he possibly wanted. It started out just fine, "I'm trying to find out the meaning of my existence, Harold", he'd said, "The meaning of Life."
And he'd looked so proud, that Harry didn't want to snark back, "Death. Life means Death. Life has no meaning if it doesn't lead to Death."
And that was true.
Partially.
Harry had Life, and Death. He had all the meaning of the world, and nothing at all.
Just the faux facades he liked to play with.
All the world's a stage, innit?
Shaking his head at himself, Harry pottered around, feeding his pet companions, and then let himself undress to take a well needed dip in the bath.
Hair wrapped in a towel and nude, Harry sat down on his yoga mat.
It wasn't a means to take care of his mind, body and soul like the humans claim, but to loosen himself up enough to heighten his senses back up from when he'd let it fall. He hadn't even heard Zayn behind him when on the London Eye, and while he knew he'd recovered from that in a split second, he sat to reminisce like he always did.
Just as Harry let out the calming last dregs of his breath out his lungs, the dull thud of boots clacking against his floorboards were heard. An excited gaggle of movements occurred, where Harry knew Louis had just thrown his things about in his entrance, only to coo at a definitely-sleeping Blade. Rolling up the mat he'd sat on, Harry waited as more clacks were heard, before Louis himself appeared before him on his bedroom threshold, hair fluffed haphazardly, liner smudged, and half of his adornments missing from his body.
One thing stayed the same as he expected.
His eyes.
Glittering blue, sharp, and dilated. Still hopped up on the fresh dose of adrenaline that Louis was quickly becoming more than addicted to.
"I take it that the ramps went good?" Harry mentioned conversationally as he removed the towel knot on his head, rubbing at his damp hair. While Harry was comfortable in his own skin, he was acutely reminded of his nudeness when Louis' dilated, dark eyes swept over his form, tongue taking a quick swipe over his bottom lip. Harry's eyes flickered to where Louis' fingers played at: the leather choker that met at Louis' bobbing Adam's apple with a small silver heart. "So good," Louis murmured dazedly as he pulled at the leather, and Harry chuckled.
It was an unsaid norm between the two.
They've known each other their whole existence; grew together, thrived and failed together. With Life came Death. A common misconception was that they were like Night and Day, never seeing things at the same wavelength; But that remained as false.
No, they were co-dependant.
Of course, they had different perspectives on a lot of things. Especially since they loved the banter that would sprout from it.
But like Harry said, there could only be so many differences, changes, before they all blurred at the edges.
Harry and Louis were 2 halves of one sentence, but then they were also two separate phrases stitched together in a delicate dance of literature.
While Harry sought Louis for the bright hope of Life, the high of the opposite, Louis sought Harry for the deep, dark edges that gave him singular validation; unlike the loss of meaning to his vastly generalised existence.
Together they were: Complete.
And right now, while Harry needed Louis to momentarily move on from his dark thoughts, Louis needed Harry to bring him down from the high of shining bright. A mutual release.
Words quiet, Louis continued to remove his clothes to match Harry's nude, save for the black choker that stayed. Harry crooked a finger, and the angel of Life was in his space in a flash.
Lips smashed together, hurting so good with the force of their rushed smacking.
Harry curled his fingers around Louis' throat, chuckling once again when he hooked two fingers under the leather collar tightly. "So good, indeed, then," He teased, an aborted snort slipping out his mouth when Louis pushed him down onto the bed with a 'Shut up'.
Harry let Louis hold him down and grind on his cock for a few moments before he flipped them, fingers pulling sharply at the leather. Louis gasped; his 'Fuck!' cutting off with a choked gag, eyes rolling back with a parted mouth when Harry pushed the pad of his thumb while the collar pressed up close, cutting off air supply.
"So good?" Harry whispered darkly against a blooming love-bite under Louis' unhinged jaw. Louis' nails pressed into Harry's shoulders, head nodded under the constant pressure. Louis twitched when Harry pressed and pulled a tad more tighter, and let out a heaving breath when he let go.
"More," He gasped, and Harry growled softly, thumbs roughly flicking and rubbing his nipples. Louis grunted sharply, flashing forward to trap Harry's bottom lip between his punishing teeth.
"Show me good."
Harry released Louis in a second once the words fell from the God's pinkened lips. "Good? You know I'll show you good," Harry murmured, eyes raking over the flushed form of Louis Tomlinson spread invitingly over his silk sheets, bouncing ever so slightly from his quick release.
"Hands and knees."
"Yes," Louis moaned as he scrambled into position, curvy body a feast on wait.
On wait to be devoured.
"That's it," Harry muttered, giving a cheeky stinging slap to the gorgeous arse presented to him. Louis arched his back in answer, and Harry pinched the soft flesh between his fingers, leaning down to part his cheeks. His fingers tightened over the smarting flesh when his eyes fell upon the loosened puckered skin that clenched around nothing.
Louis groaned softly, wiggling to be let go from Harry's pinch (not really).
"Who was it?" Harry whispered darkly, smirking when Louis giggled victoriously.
"You didn't," The God of Death chortled when Louis burst into laughter under him.
"Ten and a half inches," Louis smirked proudly and Harry whistled lowly.
It had been a running joke for the past year. The newest Messenger was Liam Payne. An incredibly shy, nervous one who was left to teach himself the ropes
(a.k.a. under Zayn's supervision) until Niall took pity on the poor lad (As the Messenger of all Gods-- the humans got that right of course, since the bloody lad was always down here, boasting his stature after a hoard of drinks down his throat). Niall had accidentally described Liam as having a 'larger than Life' personality, and Louis wanted to test just how feasible the statement was, literally.
Although Harry guessed that it wouldn't really take a lot to be larger than Life-- Louis.
At the thought, Harry pressed his fingers closer, making Louis cry out as he prowled forth, "He fucked you good, then?" He chuckled darkly when Louis moaned softly, squirming. He let the pinched flesh go, not missing the way Louis twitched to a relaxed stance, but then spanked stingingly over the same smarting area, making him tense the arch of his back with a louder moan. "Answer me."
Louis panted as the skin stung and numbed, mind hazy for a split second before clearing. "Amateur," Louis gasped out, "You fuck me better," He turned his head back to smolder at Harry through hooded lashes over his shoulder, "For now."
Harry scoffed with a teasing grin, groping Louis' arse cheek punishingly, "We'll see," He goaded, discreetly clicking a bottle of lube open and slicking himself up. Using the slick fingers, he prodded at Louis' loosened hole, making him gasp at the sensation. Leaning over his smaller body, Harry breathed out, "I may be an inch smaller," He teased the tip of his leaking cock against Louis, making sure to catch the head and push in just slightly. He then brought his other hand forward, ghosting and ticklish over Louis' flushed sweat-slick skin to wrap around his throat. "But," He curled his fingers tight, making the cool metal press over Louis' air passage, "You'll always be a slut for my cock."
Louis' raspy moan cut off into a cry when Harry slammed in, hips jerking against each other.
But Harry wasn't finished.
"And why's that?" He grunted as he rocked his hips vigorously from the start, punching out both the frustration of the day, and Louis' breath with each slap of skin.
The duality of primal pleasure.
Harry, admittedly loved it.
Especially when with Louis' lithe body under his.
"Hm?" He heaved out as sweat trickled down his back, skin shuddering with the warmth of the heat surrounding his weeping cock. Louis mumbled something unintelligible, voice faint under the tight hold around his neck. Harry let his hold go and leaned back, putting his foot down on the bed for stability and pushed Louis between his shoulders and into the bed. "I see," He panted, hips grinding into Louis, bruising his inner walls passionately. He knew how Louis' body worked, just like clock-work.
What made him tick. And what didn't.
What made him woozy enough to grasp the dregs of Death's essence, as high-and-mighty as that sounded.
But they'd had an Eternity to test that theory out.
Which, was no theory at all in reality, so to say.
Louis' high gasp was muffled into the sheets as Harry resumed fucking into Louis harshly. "Not in the mood to talk? Let me know that you're living Life to the fullest?" He teased mockingly and smirked mirthfully when Louis glared at him over his shoulder scathingly, lips parted to let out sharp bursts of air. "You still haven't hit my--"
Harry leaned forward to pull Louis' collar back, arching the latter's back and choking his bitterly aroused words to a skidding halt. Other hand bruising Louis' luscious hip, Harry gasped darkly into Louis' ear. "Oh, angel," He grinned salaciously when Louis shivered, eyes rolling to the back, "I know."
And then, he drove it home. Louis gurgled out high shouts as Harry angled his hips just right, the skin on his bouncing arse reddened with the force with which Harry was fucking him into the pillows. "Ha-- mmh!" Louis keened, close, when Harry gripped the end of his cock, hand flush against his tight balls. Louis thrashed, and Harry let Louis fall back onto the bed with a hard rebuttal bounce. He spanked both of Louis' red cheeks, making him moan weakly in between his disgruntled whining. "I wanna sleep," He groaned, panting as he glared at Harry. "Let me come," He complained, gasping when Harry resumed moving his hips, slower this time.
"That's the plan, and. You haven't answered me yet," He laughed cheekily when Louis waved his hand back aggressively to blindly slap at him. His hand fell limp when Harry grinded into his little sensitive bundle of nerves with intent. "Why. Is. That."
"Because you know how to use it," Louis mumbled lowly, giggling tiredly, then groaning loudly. Harry pulled the cheeky little lad back by his throat once again, chest flush with his back. "What was that?" He punctuated with hard swivels of his hips, other hand again taking ahold of Louis' poor flushed prick. Louis growled low, bottom lip white from being bitten hard, nails dragging down Harry's flexing arms, "You-- uh-- insu-- uh-- fferable-- ah fu-- prick!!"
Harry bit into Louis' shoulder harshly as he pumped his hips faster, coming closer, "Can't hear you," He panted, "What was that?"
Louis shouted when he felt Harry's teeth sinking into his skin, "Because you know how to use it!!"
And then Harry was releasing his hold on Louis' cock with a smug grin, the latter coming right as he did-- body slacking, eyes rolling, and knees buckling. "Fuck..." He whimpered lowly when Harry stripped his cock faster into Louis' tender hole, writhing and panting by the time Harry had come with a quiet groan.
"So good," Louis mumbled, a faint smirk splayed across his lips, and Harry pinched Louis' bum in answer. Louis only twitched in answer, already on his way to a calming deep sleep from the effects of adrenaline wearing off. Heaving breaths quieted Harry's mind, and he grinned as he shut his eyes.
The dreary norm of Harry and Louis always having each other fell short when they had such good fun. And maybe Louis or Harry would find someone else to give their affections to in a short while. Seek someone different, a breath of unfamiliar air.
But nothing would beat coming down from it, than... whatever this fuck is called. Harry and Louis have been at it for too long to be just friends, but they weren't exactly lovers either. That required a lot more than what they put into--
Anyways. What Harry meant was...
Nothing would really surpass the familiar push and pull between Life and Death.