The Old God (God!reader x BNHA harem)

χάος

You stand impatiently, the only brown left in the fire are flicking embers that shoot from the top. Three to four dozen spectral guardians surround the brazier, armed with ancient and modern weaponry, stand poised to strike. Behind you, you have summoned the physical representation of the seal on your power. 

A circle of root and stone, a hundred meters across, holds back the roiling void behind it. It's withered and cracked in some places with only a single flaw in it's hold. A hole, roughly the size of a person, sits at the bottom, revealing a universe that seems stuck on fast-forward. Stars are born and die with minutes, fiery nebulas appear and dissipate only to be replaced when another supernova happens. It's chaos.

As you stew in your thoughts, the last of the impure embers burn out and the pure, verdant flame surges upwards before dissipating into the cosmic ceiling. Left in it's wake is a small bundle of twigs and vines, the image of which lances into your mind.

Through the white-hot of the pain you see a memory. You're holding that same bundle, cradling it like it's the most precious thing in the universe. Confused and bleary eyed, you snap back to reality and watch the small bundle grow.

A baby.

You hold back curiously grasping vines from burning themselves on stars you fashioned into a watching toy.

A toddler.

You corral a swarm of experimental critters as a small girl brings another into being.

A child.

You've begun work on a special star system, carefully crafted to be able to support the life your daughter is so fond of making.

A teenager.

She was ecstatic with her gift and immediately began working on an 'equal'. You weren't entirely comfortable with the idea, but she was a prodigy at creation so you let her, deciding to just keep an eye out.

A young woman. 

Her 'equal', Uranus, wasn't to your liking, but she seemed happy at least. But when she had almost finished her newest creation, you stepped in.

Gaia: I know what I'm doing, dad.

Y/n: You really don't... This is your first civilization capable species, and you've made them incredibly smart at that.

Gaia: Yes, that was the point. I wanted to push myself.

Y/n: Then they need souls. A moral compass, the internal debate of what's right and wrong. To be able to think and question for themselves. Because now that you've bound yourself to this world, with the ruthlessness they'll develop without it, they will destroy you.

Gaia: But, dad-

Y/n: This isn't up for discussion, Gaia. I'm not letting a mistake of inexperience kill you.

So you forced souls into the infant race and hoped it would be enough to safe your daughter.

There's a flash in those memories. A streak of adamantine, pain, resentment and regret.

The headache has worsened to be the worst pain you have ever felt. You look up at the brazier and see the ridiculously voluptuous figure that you know as your grandmother's. But the timeline doesn't match, your daughter should still look almost the exact same as you last saw her, not enough time has passed. 

The headache somehow gets even worse and in the distance you hear the seal spiderweb. You fall to your knees as innumerable cracks form while your memories return to you.