#which idk Mischief may be one of the next ones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirahuyooo · 2 years ago

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Stranded (III) | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

word count: 17,476 (PART III) contents: FluFF, skinny dipping (no spicy times tho lmao), deep talks, uncovering trauma, daddy issues, ANGSTY ANGST, y/n discovers the truth behind her abandonment, Theseus, getting drunk, violence (not really graphic), not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, long explanation & historical refs at to be followed if you're interested, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

A/N: LAST PART, PEEPS!!! LET'S GOOO!! i hope y'all buLLETPROOF for this about to HURT right in the middle 😭😭😭 I'm so glad to have finally put this piece out here T-T it's truly a fav 💖 i hope y'all enjoy this!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ | END.

It was fortunate that winters don’t last long in Greece, because soon enough, the coldness thaws and spring comes to Naxos. Each day is still wound with the shenaniganry that is Hoseok, and today, he brings you back to the pool where you first met the nymphs.

The two of you had spent the day helping the nymphs with their home and making sure the trees they lived in wouldn't be disturbed by travelers or beasts alike. You, too, would have to prepare your home for the seasonal change soon, perhaps as one of Hoseok's followers to help you with renovations, so you wouldn't have to inconvenience Silenus next winter.

Before settling for the day, Hoseok invited you to come along with him to the pool to end the day relaxed, he says.

“What in the world are you doing?!"

You gasp as you see him unravel his clothes, spinning yourself away from him in an instant. Hoseok only laughs upon your averted gaze, mischief in every note of it.

His shamelessness, you find, has known no bounds the more you let yourself be dragged to his tomfoolery. He has changed, indeed. "I say we have a little dip, hm?" he muses, his words later on followed by a splash of water.

Willing yourself to not look past what the water allows you, you steal a glance and see him resurface with a grin inviting you to join him. His dark curls were swiped back by his hands, which soon led your eyes to his naked chest and carved collarbones. The setting sun dims the light within the cave, leaving the rest of him to your unhelpful imagination.

Gods help you. "I'm not bathing with you!" you squeal, scandalized by the mere thought of it (but admittedly tempted).

The expression on his face tells you just how much Hoseok was enjoying toying with you. "You dare defy the request of a god, princess?" he teasingly lilts, leisurely swimming back so as to not tear his eyes away from you.

"Don’t say it like that," you grumble, eyes still bouncing off everywhere else in the cavern but him for too long. He may be your friend, but if anyone else might hear of thi—

"I kid, (Y/N)," Hoseok assures upon noticing your furrowed brows and pout. The moment you regain your thoughts and look at him, he smiles. "But," he then muses, "some company is nice for a little swim, do you think not?"

Chewing at your lip, you mull over his words. It has been a hot time indeed, attested by the nymphs' whines and lament you've been hearing for the past few days. Has something happened to Yoongi?

You haven't been faring well with the heat either—even now—especially when the activities of the day had left you sore and sweaty. Really, you haven't much else to kill your time with either.

"I'll withhold from any funny business, I swear," Hoseok further invitingly promises, chuckling as he swims in little laps before you. "You don't have to strip either," he then muses, but then thinks to himself for a moment. "Though you would lack a spare for change."

Perhaps it was because you were bored, or because you wanted the upper hand over him for once, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but you found yourself making a rather bold move.

"Never the matter, I can—"

"Turn around…"

Hoseok's eyebrows rose sky high at your words, a fiery blush spreading across his cheeks—one that (fortunately for him) you were too embarrassed to notice. Your words came out rather quiet and weak, but it was enough for him to freeze. “I beg your pardon?” he gawked, the most shocked you've ever seen him—and you almost feel victorious. Almost.

Awkwardly, you stood there, hand reaching where your dress was held together by a pin and idly playing with it as you found the courage to speak aloud once more. "I said turn around,” you tell him, staring firmly at him into doing your bidding.

Hoseok does as you ask, still taken aback.

After leaving your dress and undergarments in a pile by a large rock, you quickly part your hair over your shoulders and drape them over your decolletage. "Don't you dare look!" you warn once more, watching him closely.

His smugness seems to have caught up with him, seeing as he was quick to go back to his teasing after hearing you say those words. "Yes, dear," he playfully sings, "come on in."

Practically envisioning the wolfish grin on his face, you resist chucking a pebble at him. You focus on the present moment, and, finally, set yourself ankle deep into the pool, hands covering your delicate parts. The water ripples at your arrival, and as you go deeper, your hair begins to float around you until you gather them back to cover your upper half.

The moment the water reaches your chin, you realize it's deeper than you initially thought, even back when you were with the nymphs. Perhaps, it's even deeper along where Hoseok is, likely leading further down and somewhere into the sea. And so, heart thrumming against your chest, you idly stay where you were, near the edge.

Hoseok's head twitches to turn around but he catches himself. "Comfortable?" He asks first, turning his head just a little—only to catch a glimpse of you holding onto one of the edges and dipping your head into the seawater to fully submerge yourself, eyes closed shut and lungs holding in as much air as you could.

Immediately, he whips his head away upon noticing you were about to resurface. "Hm?" you ask him in the midst of soothing your hair away from your face, not catching what he said.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks again, swimming a little closer with his back still towards you. "I was about to say you needn't strip but…"

It's dark enough, you decide, for him to not see what he shouldn't, so you manage a little smile. "I'll be fine," you tell him, smiling a little once he turns around. Too late to cower back now anyways.

There were still traces of the wine god's flustered shock, but he does well to steer the conversation away from awkward tension. "Feels nice, does it not?" he says as the two of you languidly circle in the shallow area of the pool. (Hoseok, you notice, doesn't go back to the deeper end. Has he taken note of your inability to swim?)

The thought brings butterflies to your stomach, but you refuse to let it distract you any further. You agreeably hum, looking up to see the sky over the overhead fissure and see the night sky coming in with its twinkling stars. A soft smile makes it to your face as you savor the serenity of the moment, sore muscles easing as you turn back to the wine god, whose eyes seem so fixated on you.

"It is relaxing, actually," you finally admit aloud, sighing blissfully as you watch the water ripple around you. "Though it'd be better to be much more prepared next time."

The wine god breathlessly chuckles, nodding along as the notion of a next time excites him. "No more surprises next time, I swear," he says, his hands raised in mock surrender, though you roll your eyes (affectionately) and know well that won't stop his future nonsense next time.

What you also know is that, at the moment, Hoseok is somber, stealing thoughtful glances your way—the two of you sharing an innocent moment in spite of the bold circumstances. In truth, you had expected a water fight by now. "What is it?" you softly ask, lingering just a little closer as your eyes fully meet.

There's a look of profound pride and joy in his eyes as he gazes down at you. "You've changed, princess," he tells you, voice soft yet it still strikes you hard enough to take your breath away.

"In a good way, I hope?" you manage to jest, dipping yourself a little lower into the seawater as if it'd do well to hide your flustered face—or do anything with the funny feeling in your belly. By now, you're side by side, shoulders and arms mere centimeters apart.

The wine god nods, turning to face you with a wistful smile. "You look happier," he gently notes, tucking a hair behind your ear as he does. "Very much a good way."

While the blush on your cheeks continue to spread like wildfire at his touch, his words plunge you into the memories of your murky past—of being that princess chained to a cruel life—and as you drown in it, you're reminded of what Hoseok actually said—of your change, your happiness that he very much was mostly the architect of. The wine god has broken a hole into the depths that drown you—given you a way out to take if you so please while he waits for you to truly leave it all behind.

You are happier—much lighter, much freer—and that brings a smile to your face. "I suppose I am," you muse, practically glowing in the wine god's eyes, "and I have you and the others to thank for it."

The warmth in Hoseok’s chest is undeniable of his utter reverence for you. "Wouldn't have done it without your trust in my shenanigans, princess," he cheekily claims in spite of his giddy heart. For his sake, he swims back and bit away from you, the two of you beginning to idly swim around until…

SPLASH!

The wine god’s boisterous laughter resonates throughout the cave as you gasp at his betrayal. "Hoseok!" you shriek, retaliating with your own beat of the water towards his direction. With the sweet, innocent moment now gone, the two of you began chasing one another around the pool.

You knew that water fight was bound to come soon.

Eventually, the swim must come to an end before you both end up like raisins, and Hoseok summons Agrios, the large cat seemingly knowing well to bring some towels for the both of you to dry yourselves with. You offer the beast lots of pats and rubs as drape the linen over your shoulders. "Thank you very much," you coo, as you sit by the little fire pit Hoseok conjures.

"I was the one who summoned him," the wine god whines, finally taking a seat next to you two. "How come I don't receive any thanks or pats?"

You laugh, taking a spare linen and reaching forth to drape it over his wet tresses. "Oh, what great magnificence, my liege," you dramatically sung your praises, "such fortune has been blessed upon this humble servant!"

Hoseok half-heartedly rolls his eyes, reaching forth to mush your cheeks together. "Only you would dare to treat me like this," he playfully grumbles as you pry his hands off.

"I thought you said this was a very good change," you grin, as you raise a brow up at him. "Would you like me to go back then?"

Fondly, Hoseok's shoulder nudges yours. "Of course not," he scoffs, resting his head on your shoulder with his damp hair tickling your skin. "You know," he then says after a moment passes, "the day I saw you, I was debating on heading here instead, but Agrios was so insistent on the beach."

You find yourself smiling even more, hands brushing through the leopard's mane as he settles to your other side. "Thank Agrios for that then," you softly muse, "and the Fates for bringing us all together."

The greater part of you knows well you would've never thought the loom of fate would weave your life this way. Behind your struggles on the new path you tread, there is solace and tender appreciation for the banter, the surprises, and the menace.

You rest your head atop his as you gaze into the fire, watching the embers that crackle into the darkness of the night. "My life now is a far cry from what I used to live," you all but ponder, eyes beginning to sting as tears pool in them.

Beside you, Hoseok gazes tenderly, his brows starting to furrow and his lips starting to frown. You haven't talked much of your old life, and he knew just the gist of it—terrible father, terrible half-brother, and terrible lover. “Why have you…” he began, mulling over his words, “Why have you not tried to run away before? If it was so suffocating for you, why did you stay in that place?”

Only then does Hoseok realize his question had been insensitive.

"It's not that easy," you say, a sharp edge to your voice that confirms his belated regrets. Whatever responsibilities you were forced to carry had obviously been heavy if it had left you this scarred.

Hoseok gives a gentle squeeze to your hand, apologetically admitting his fault. "I spoke out of line."

For a moment then, you did nothing but stare ahead with a far away look in your eyes. They carry stories he could only hope you tell him yourself. “I…” you began to say, “I felt responsible, you could say. Though I was young when my mother was cursed to do what she had done—”

“Fucking a bull?” Hoseok surmised.

You recoil at his vulgar tongue. “Yes, well…" you clear your throat, "that.”

Eyes shot wide, the wine god immediately reading his words. “Sorry,” he coughed, looking down and wiggling his toes to idle in silence, "I will say a word no longer."

Truly, when he heard of the accursed rumors while he was in Crete, he didn't think the curse was that forward. It wasn't that he found the events disgusting—he had seen and heard worse—just that he came to think of the gods' temperament. The sinner was obviously your father, and yet Poseidon had seen it fit for everyone else in your family and kingdom to also be roped into the consequences of his greed.

“I was the eldest daughter,” Hoseok hears you go on. “I felt responsible to be an exemplary figure for my sisters and for my people. I thought that if I followed what my father says, it would’ve been the best for everyone. My father is a terrifying man, after all.”

Next to him, you scoff at your naïveté. “I couldn’t have been more wrong,” you humorlessly chuckle, your gaze still so haunted and distant. “I still have nightmares of the people sent down there.”

You shiver, and though Hoseok knew it wasn't just from the night's chill breeze, he takes a drier towel and drapes the fabric around your shoulders, as you, whose mind is barely with him in the present, simply let him.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips. “I often think to myself; had father been humble the first time around and apologized to Poseidon, had he raised Asterion humanely at the very least, perhaps things would’ve gone differently,” you confess, eyes shining with unshed tears as a furrow etched itself between your brows in despair. “I always waited for that change in my father’s greedy eyes, but in the end…” you purse your trembling lips where a bitter smile forms. “I had to wait for a sword to end it all.”

At that part of the recollection, you seem to sober up a little. “Father would’ve had me killed without a second thought if I hadn't left,” your eyes flicker towards him for a moment, and Hoseok recognized fear. "I don't think he even loves me enough to spare me a second to explain myself."

In the best way he knows how, the wine god attempts to steer you away from such terrible thoughts. “Your father’s a foul man, indeed,” he agreeably hums before putting on dramatics. “Perhaps I should make him grow horns and a tail if he's so adamant about the minotaur," he goes to mischievously nudge your shoulder, "or maybe I make him think he's a bull himself! What say you, hm?”

You laugh lightly at his suggestions but shake your head, not really thinking he's serious about his words when he's playfully enacting a charging bull with his hands on his head for horns. “No need,” you hush him, “Theseus already did enough damage by killing his prized monster.”

There's a faint falter to his face following your words and it made you falter—made unease simmer in the pit of your belly. "Theseus?" he quips, "the supposed hero of the tale then, I assume?"

Hoseok's change in attitude doesn't elude you, try as he might to keep it at bay. You could only hesitantly nod. “Why such disdain?” you then ask, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips as you try and decipher his expression. He's angry, you think, but why?

He tears away from your troubled stare and faces the campfire, stoking it with a nearby branch. “Some hero he is then," his grumbled words drip with sarcasm so prickly and cold that it makes you wince as though he had directed such poisonous words to you. You've never heard or seen him like this before—jaw clenched, nose flared, and glaring at the fire.

“I beg your pardon?”

Much more to your shock, Hoseok turns to you, nose stubbornly raised high as he crosses his arms. “You heard me,” he said with much more conviction than before. “Even if he slays a dozen Minotaurs, he will never amount to a true hero in my eyes.”

His displeasure towards Theseus somehow makes your heart shatter—makes you feel stupid for some reason, too. “How can you say such things with such sureness?” you huff, defensive, “have you even met the man you are so heartlessly berating?”

Tension rapidly rushes between you both—Hoseok being offended, and so do you. “No,” he grunts, rolling his eyes, “but from what I see, he is definitely so.”

The wine god doesn't let you butt in, instantaneously laying his ground for arguments. “Leaving a young woman—a princess, mind you—alone on a desolate island to fend for herself isn’t such a heroic feat, is it?” he gritted through his teeth. “Not to mention the possibility that he must've feigned his adoration towards you in order to incite you into helping him kill the Minotaur.”

Your breath hitched, hurt by his insinuations. Theseus didn't really feign his feelings…. did he?

Hands clenching your dress in fists, you glare at your supposed friend. “It was noble of him to bring upon the death of Minotaur,” you sneer, "surely you cannot deny that?"

“Arguably so,” Hoseok scoffs, his piercing gaze pinning you down and making you feel small, “but what of him deserting you here?”

His words were a deadly blow to your heart, quickly killing any of your rebuttals in one fell swoop as that grim day flashes before your eyes all over again—the pounding headache, the empty space beside you, the derelict camp with marks of haste in the sand. The pain you've buried beneath shenaniganry crawls out of its grave to take a ghastly bite out of your aching heart.

You're a fool.

Why are you arguing with him about Theseus? Defending Theseus, no less?

Hoseok's dislike towards Theseus seemed so instant, so easy, that it came to you that maybe you had been blind after all, not seeing the folly of the hero you gave your heart to.

You're still a fool.

You breathlessly laugh with no true mirth that a laugh should have and in that instant Hoseok realizes what consequences letting his emotions get the best of him causes. Your pathetic laughing at your own downfall sends tears down your cheeks that you don't even seem to take note of. “You’re right,” you murmur your words so quietly, so defeatedly that Hoseok almost didn't hear you. “I had not known enough love from a man to have been certain that someone like Theseus would have settled for the likes of me—a princess of such a kingdom.”

You'll always be a fool.

(In truth, Hoseok's heart shatters then and there, guilt seeping in at every crack as he can't find the words to mend what pain he had subjected you to.)

Out of bittersweet reminiscing, you gestured beachwards where a tent of supplies had once been left for you. “At very least, he had the decency to leave a few supplies behind for me,” you poorly attempt to jest, “perhaps, that was enough mercy.”

Alas, the man you knew to be all smiles didn’t budge. Hoseok still gazed over you with a forlorn look on his face. His eyebrows were knitted together, with the ever growing wrinkle between them showing you nothing but frustrations. Why is he still angry?

Realizing then that you had been crying, you quickly wipe your tears away. You've embarrassed yourself. “There’s no need to be so cross with me, Hoseok,” you nudge his side, turning to the fire before you. “If I must admit it to you, I am an idiot to love.”

You feel more of the god’s ire and stare burning onto the side of your face. Was it pity for your circumstances or disdain for your lack of a fighting spirit?

You didn’t know. You didn’t like it.

Hands make themselves at home over your cheeks. Your eyes meet and you see a storm brewing in them—a part of you wanted to revel in it, while the other wanted to run for shelter.

“(Y/N)...” Hoseok began, soft yet firm, taking you aback from one of the few times he’s called you by your name. “You were wronged,” he tells you, “when will you truly tell yourself that?”

His words struck your heart, like lightning would a tree. His eyebrows were furrowed deeper, the upset frown on his face looking so misplaced. This was the storm—Hoseok’s rage for the bastard who broke you to the point where a part of you still felt at fault.

"He should be grovelling," he said with such fury, "rue the day he left you here."

Hearing such words was a validation and a painful reminder put into one. Hoseok’s words were enough to help you slay the little bitch in you that held back your fury, held you back using the tight upbringings of your father.

All this time, if not avoiding the topic overall, you would blame yourself—be it your careless trust in the prince, or your foolish assumptions of being loved by the likes of him and his people.

Your entire life has been nothing but a force of people telling you it was your fault, when it wasn’t. It wasn’t your fault your mother was cursed to consummate with the bull your father double crossed Poseidon with. It wasn’t your fault a monster was born from such a union, and your father only used it further for his greed. It wasn’t your fault Theseus didn’t keep his word and left you here to rot.

You find courage in your heart to free yourself of your shackles for the second time—(yet another set of chains that bind you, just a bit more and you're free)—and to shout into the storm instigated by Hoseok’s anger.

Then and there, sobs rack through your whole being from the hurt dawning onto you all at once. "I know," you cried, shaking fists clenching the fabric of your dress yet again. You were wronged. You were wronged. You were wronged.

Arms wrapped around you tight, resisting the initial protest you gave them. “I apologize for starting such nonsense talk,” Hoseok sighs, hands rubbing circles on the expanse of your back. "I lost control over my anger and I spoke carelessly yet again," he grits through his teeth, partly disappointed in himself, "forgive this fool and his senseless mouth."

The wine god spends a good second looking at the heartache in your face, and feels his own heart suffer. He didn't want to see you like this again and yet he had failed miserably. “Cry all you want,” he then urges you, wiping at the cheeks of your snivelling self. “Let out your pain and I’ll lend you my shoulder, hm?”

You find yourself surrendering to the comfort, starved for the warmth you’ve never been given. Head tucked in the crook of his neck, you let yourself sob in Hoseok’s arms. You have nothing but the comfort of his embrace—nothing but him.

Things don’t quite settle the same after that night.

Hoseok’s eyes have been more keen on watching you—how your smile doesn’t reach its fullest, how you’ve become absentminded, or how you’ve excused yourself from most of the gatherings he invited you to. Your heart is in pieces and you cut yourself in the shards without care. The wine god, in spite of not really being one to gently console, has gone through a lot trying to hold it back together.

Here Hoseok was, leisurely laying against the trunk of a tree as the both of you sat under the canopy of the forest well into the afternoon. Beside him sat you idly weaving together a basket—or at least trying to. Time and time again, you cast him a fleeting glance that he makes no comment of.

Eventually, you decide to break the silence yourself. “You needn’t stay here with me,” you sigh, setting your craft on hold upon your lap as your eyes set a doubtful gaze on him. “I can tell how much this bores you.”

He cocks an eyebrow, his lips tugging upwards just a smidge. “I’m not bored,” he contends, though you still look unconvinced, brows furrowed and lips held in the ghost of a frown. “Truly, I am not,” he softly insists, “I, too, can enjoy some peace and quiet.”

You watch as he lays his head onto your thigh, sharing it with the basket-to-be you now couldn’t care less about. Nonetheless, you pick the weavework up to let the wine god make himself comfortable. "Shouldn't you be spreading your influence or something of the sort?" you huff as you once again busy yourself with the basket in your hands.

Surely, you thought, a promising god making his way up the pantheon such as him would prioritize that instead of a measly mortal like you, would he not?

Instead, the deity remains content on your lap in the midst of a quaint forest like it's the throne he belongs to. "They're fine," Hoseok shrugs with careless abandon as he usually does. "My cult won't crumble so easily."

Deep in thought, his dauntless eyes are piercing as they peek up at you even when they don't mean to—the doing of his intimidating, divine presence you suppose. “Enough about me. How are you truly faring, princess?” it was his turn to ask, placing a gentle hand on your shaking ones and stopping your poor weaving when you used it to hide your face from him. “Tell me.”

Whether it was the tenderness in his voice, the ounce of authority he puts in his words, or something else entirely, you sigh and forgo the thought of lying to him. Hoseok has now sat up before you, eyes awaiting any other sign he could take from your expression alone. You know you can deny or avoid the nature of your mind no longer—how it yearns for sweet release from your past yet becomes ensnared by the scornful chains of your contempt and the many questions left unattended to. “I want to put my past behind me, I truly do,” you confess, a bittersweet smile encapsulated on your lips, “but as much I crave for that, I, too, crave for answers, for justice.”

You would do just about anything else than to endure the silence that followed, eyes unable to look at him in fear of bursting the tears you were keeping at bay.

"What do you intend to do after receiving those answers?" Hoseok says after a good minute, sending you into a silence of thinking.

Lips parting, you try to formulate words, to show that you had some resolve over this, but none came out to your need. "I…" your voice cracks as you stammer an admission, "I don't know."

All but another bittersweet smile forms at your lips, your confession leaving you helpless. "But it'd be nice to know of the truth, would it not?" you weakly muse and pathetically steal a glance at the god beside you, only to see him stare off into the trees, his mind lost to thinking of something else.

Another while passes, the wine god beside you seems to be lost in his own thoughts before he decidedly nods to himself. "Alright then," Hoseok finally turns to look at you with a smile soft and comforting, as though telling you everything will turn out alright in the end.

You stare at him, incredulous. "What?"

Wordlessly, the god stood to his feet before you. “Do you trust me, princess?” Hoseok instead asked, offering no other explanation.

You look at his inviting hand—almost glaring.

The last time someone asked you that, you took the very hand that killed the monster of your kingdom, and jumped aboard a ship to flee the treason you both committed. The last time you trusted someone, you woke up an abandoned fool.

But this was Hoseok.

Hoseok, who may have been all shits and giggles, but always looked out over your wellbeing.

Hoseok, who was a god that took you in—freed you from shackles with him and his madness.

Hoseok, who was warmth in a different way than Theseus—a hearth rather than a torch, a home rather than a beacon.

You find yourself taking his hand before you could realize it, Hoseok’s tight, comforting grip causing you to meet with his eyes. His smile softens your resolve, ultimately leading you to surrender to his grasp. “I’ll trust you,” you tell him and something shifted as you said those words—his eyes sparkled more, his smile grew wider, his expression almost fonder than before.

The sky approaching sunset bathes you both in an orange and golden light, but it almost seems to make him glow. “What an honor,” he tenderly muses, taking the hand you gave him and tucking it on his arm as he begins to lead you elsewhere.

Something in you felt like he meant the words he said so jokingly—and you like it.

"Hoseok…"

The wine god has a lot of surprises up his sleeve, you should've known better than to be shocked when he brought you to a chariot pulled by Agrios and other leopards—let alone to be flying across the sky on it. You don't know what you expected the wine god to do when you took his hand, but it certainly wasn't this.

Around you now are pristine white buildings towering over you both, and in the distance is a statue of the goddess of wisdom you had heard so much about. So late into the evening, there are few people around, and yet you bask in it anyway, wondering how lively the streets become in the daylight when everything exudes such decorum.

Athens is as beautiful as you envisioned it—a marvel to take in and a heartbreak all the same.

Whether it was the cold breeze of the night or Hoseok's touch brushing across your skin as he reaches to catch your buckling form stepping down the chariot, you shiver. The wine god, nonetheless, catches your attention, seeing much of the worry and hesitation in swimming in the pools of your eyes. “You deserve your answers, princess,” he urges as he nods towards the palace, “and I’ll make sure he pays for it.”

And so, the two of you slip to and fro around the palace halls, his powers only getting him so far since he’s never one to visit Athens long—they’re too uptight and rational, he says. The night, fortunately, aids the both of you with the time, having fewer people around to stumble across. Hoseok, all the while, uses his divinity to drive away any guards or servants who become too close to discovering your presence. Your endeavors eventually lead you both to two big oak doors, its golden handles tempting you to open them forth.

This is the king's quarters.

"Go on," Hoseok's hush voice urged from behind you as he set down a now unconscious guard that tried to halt the both of you.

Still, you stood dumbly before the doors, unsure and with no courage to be found. Are you ready to see that face again? What will you say? What will you do?

Should you barge the doors open and say 'Hello, Theseus. Why in the world did you forsake me?' or simply stand before him menacingly like the ghost he left you to become?

Should you let your rage take the mantle and scream 'How could you do this to me?!' to your heart's content or be better and steadily interrogate him?

Should you—

"It'd do you well to think twice before doing anything irrational, mortal."

In panic at the unknown presence, you snap out of your frenzied thoughts and wheel around towards the voice that held an edge to the words uttered. A woman stands tall not far from you both, clad in a white and gold with her head held high, glowing almost otherworldly.

The next thing you hear is Hoseok's own voice, dripping with shock as his back straightens. "Athena?"

Your heart drops in an instant, dread filling your veins. The goddess Athena?

The wine god held the goddess’ stare, dauntless and careless as ever. Hoseok slowly pushes you behind him and opens the doors himself with his powers, locking the doors to the bedroom once you make it inside, too. The handles jiggle, a sign of you trying to come out, but it stops soon enough.

A sigh and a shake of the head is what he receives from the goddess before him. If there was any rage, Athena hid it beneath a collected, tame facade. “You’re as troublesome as ever, Dionysus,” she drawls disapprovingly, but makes no other move. “For such a futile cause, too.”

With hands clasped behind his back, Hoseok remains in between her and the doors. “We’re simply here for answers, sister,” he modestly says, offering no harm to her subjects. “Nothing more.”

Athena’s brow quirks, knowing damn well it’s a lie. He would curse Theseus, if the exchange ever goes awry for you in any way. “If you wanted answers, I would’ve given them,” she quips, the moonlight illuminating her in such an intimidating way.

Alas, Hoseok is too brazen, too foolhardy to be intimidated. “I think she’d rather hear it from him instead,” he retorts, thinking it best for your much needed closure to face the one who broke your heart. (Only then can he truly come to lull you to love again.)

“It’ll only break her heart to know he really did abandon her.”

Such words knocked the wine god to a stupor. Athena’s face remains unreadable as she said it, but there was a gut feeling in Hoseok’s stomach that told him she was in league with the betrayal. Eyes narrowing to glare daggers at her, the wine god could feel anger rising within him. “You…” Hoseok growls, “did you have him abandon her?!”

Then and there, emotion flashed in Athena’s eyes—anger matching his own. “Do not raise your voice at me, brother,” she fires back with her own glare. “Know your place.”

Reminded of his station in the pantheon, Hoseok curses under his breath. You cannot manage to wage a war against a deity more powerful and influential than you.

Athena raises her head as she lays down her judgment of you. "She's not fit to be queen," she puts it so simply that it drags the frown on Hoseok’s lips further. "Her actions have marked her as a blood traitor. She cannot rule alongside Theseus, and so, she became an offering to you while on Naxos—a bride, perhaps."

The words render the wine god speechless. It wasn’t uncommon for travelers to give offerings to the deity of a region they stay amidst their journey. The chances of you having the same fate may have crossed his mind as a possibility once, but—

It was then that the prayer from that stormy night resurfaced.

… as told, to you, we leave a maiden of fair beauty and heart. May she make wonderful company.

You are the maiden offering, after all.

Having such a fact be confirmed to him after the two of you had been vulnerable to one another, it brews sickly guilt within him. To envision your tears and know that sorry state had been left for him, you had truly been nothing but a tool passed around—and that breaks him.

Still, looking at the grander scheme, his rage doesn’t ease. "Not fit enough to be the bride of a king, but fit enough to be the bride of a god?" a scoff leaves Hoseok’s lips as his heart beats erratically, still trying to make peace with what he had learned.

Athena only glowers, her silence enough to answer for her. The goddess doesn’t end her piece there, however. “Theseus will never love her in the way she wanted,” she says the truth and it’s cold—would’ve frozen your heart and made it shatter if you had heard them. “The people will never take it well to have their queen be the same princess who made them suffer either. She would’ve spent her life miserable here.”

“Don’t be so furious either, Hoseok,” she soon levels him with eyes knowing the truth in his heart and the meaning in his name. “I know that look,” Athena tells him, a smirk on her lips both mocking, knowing, and pitying. “If she hadn’t been abandoned, you would’ve never gotten to meet and love her yourself, won’t you, brother?”

Hoseok can’t bring himself to say anything else. The both of them knew that even if he were to deny it right here and then, he’ll only be lying to himself.

The goddess of wisdom sees it fit to end the discussion soon. "Leave," she commands the last of her words somewhat both softly and sternly. "Take her with you before the guards are alerted of your trespass."

Just as she came, the goddess vanished out of thin air, leaving Hoseok alone to his muddled thoughts. The doors behind him seem to stare back, daring him to open them to see you.

Alas, he doesn’t have the chance to ponder any longer. His heart drops when he hears shouting from inside.

The moment you realized Hoseok had sealed you within the room, you were nearly paralyzed where you stood, hands stuck on the handles as you tried to steady your breathing. Go on, (Y/N). You’ve gotten this far. Get your answers.

The room around you is grand—almost grander than yours back in Crete—as it should be for a king’s chambers, you suppose. Soon enough, however, you hear voices.

“...ow has your day been?”

Just as you anticipated, someone’s inside—Theseus. Who’s he speaki—

“It’s been alright. Brother’s letter arrived, the search is yet to be fruitful…”

No. No, it can’t be…

Every step you take, it feels as though your heart is being squeezed right before your very eyes. Your body struggles against what your curious mind wants, as if trying to protect you from whatever was taking place.

It doesn’t protect you fast enough.

Standing in the open, your eyes meet two pairs of shocked ones—Theseus and your sister, Phaedra.

The two of them stood by a vanity table, her hand atop the one he comfortably had on her shoulder. "(Y/N)?" Theseus gawks, the first to speak, eyes wide as though he couldn’t believe he would ever see you alive and in front of him ever again. It twists your heart some more.

In that instant, your brain scrambles to pick apart the scene and make sense of it. Amidst the denial desperate to reserve what’s left of the ounce of respect you had for your time together, your rage is quick to burn the last of your affections for him. You’re a fool. You’re a fool. You’re a fool.

"You seem surprised, your highness," you drawl, voice so cold and sharp that it shocks even you. "Had I truly not been in your plans for your reign, after all?"

The young king before you is eventually knocked out of his stupor, his face molding into an indecipherable stare as he steps forth, his body tense as if you were a threat. “Leave,” is all he says to you after all this time.

It's like a sword stabbed through your heart.

You look at the man you once loved—the very same man who swore to make you his and protect you now fulfill his promise to you to someone else. “You want me to leave?” you couldn’t help the bitter scoff that leaves your lips. “Some hero you are then.”

Questioning his deeds seems to be successful in getting a reaction out of him, his lips tugging to a frown and his eyes narrowing into a glare. "I slayed the Minotaur!" Theseus bellowed. "You do not have the right to insult me so."

Why did you even fall in love with this man?

"You may have been the sword that slayed our brother," you spat, body running hot with anger as your voice starts to strain the more you raise your voice, "but if it weren't for me—for my aid—you wouldn't have made it out of that labyrinth alive. You wouldn't be able to revel in the glory you're in now."

Phaedra and Theseus’ mouths gape at the fiery outburst that’s seized you, angry tears blurring your sight yet you continue your outcry. "To abandon me on that island and leave me for death," your chest heaves with pained, struggling breaths. "To go and marry my younger sister, too," you sob harder, seeing your sister avoid your eyes behind him and he shields her. "How low can your betrayal become?"

Your accusation makes Theseus flinch, but he remains thick-faced. "You weren't left for death," he denies yet again, "I was instructed to leave you there by the great goddess Athena. I have no fault in this."

The news leaves you stunned. "What?"

Theseus takes advantage of your faltering rage, readily giving you the answer you came all this way for. "I was told to leave you on Naxos as a sacrifice for Dionysus," he crossed his arms, raising his head to defiantly stare into your eyes and break your heart even more. "I’m simply being a loyal servant to my goddess."

While you had wondered once if being in Naxos with Hoseok was your new purpose in life, it never came to you that it had been the actual reason for your abandonment in the first place. Your trampled heart is thrown down an abyss you have no idea how to escape out of. The possibility of divine intervention never even came to you, always thinking to give Theseus the benefit of the doubt he never deserved.

Seeing his indifference, however, your shock was all too suddenly overcome with rage once more. You didn’t know what sort of answer you expected to hear from him, but you certainly didn’t prepare your heart for this amount of heartache. The absence of warmth from the man you used to think the world of, the discovery of your sister’s involvement, and the truth behind your tragedy—you hadn’t thought it’d be one blow to the heart after the other.

Even if he had simply been doing as he was told, it’s as if it had been a relief to have been told to leave you. Hands clenching the fabric of your dress, you try to still your beating heart—try to keep another outburst at bay. "Is that what you are then?" you say, voice hoarse and hurt, "obedient, but with no heart, no remorse for what you've done?"

Theseus fidgets once more, idly trying to reason. "I left you supplies—”

"I had no knowledge of survival!" you scream once again, words strained by the rough use and the ache. "I was trapped in that palace growing up and you did no better by leaving me helpless on that island!"

Couldn't he at least pretend to be guilty for having left you there? Couldn't he at least feign a broken heart for being forced to leave the woman he swore to love?

Yet, here he was—a prosperous king married to your dear sister.

Your sister, who knew of your fancy to the hero that snuck into your kingdom.

Your sister, who was the one to encourage you to meet him.

Your sister, who now holds the crown and title you were promised.

Another stab was taken to your heart. Two people you've trusted your love and faith to had stomped it so easily. You take yet another glance at your sister, who cowers at every word you shout yet clings onto his arm still. "Had I not been fortunate to have survived," you dare to ask, "had I died then and there, would you have felt anything for me?"

They were both silent, guilt written on their faces in a way that told you they would've likely not, had it not been for you appearing before them, proposing the concept now. "I loved you,” you whimpered, the fabric of your dress nearly ripping from how tightly you gripped them. “I loved both of you!"

Theseus, your first love turned first romantic heartbreak.

Phaedra, your beloved confidant turned treacherous thief.

Heart trampled and filled with rage, you want to charge at them, screaming and hitting to your heart's content, but you’re tired—so, so tired. Your knees give out in no time, rendering you on the ground with nothing to support you. Even your lungs seem to lose faith in you, struggling to supply you with air and leaving you light-headed by the minute as you hyperventilate through your sobs.

In your sorry state, Theseus could still only think of himself and his queen. “That’s enough, (Y/N),” he all but demands, heartless as ever over your fallen frame. “Leave or I’ll call the palace guards.”

For once, you find yourself agreeing to the Athenian king’s words. You’ve got your answers. You can’t bear to be around them any longer. Leave. You want to—

The doors burst open in a fury, capturing everyone’s attention towards the perpetrator—a certain wine god panickingly looking around the room. The moment your eyes meet with Hoseok’s, they soften for a moment before they harden yet again at the sight of your former lover and sister.

Theseus’ eyes are wide as your crestfallen form is wordlessly lifted in the air and towards the stranger who readily carries you in his arms, while you wound your arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder. The Athenian king’s heartbeat began to quicken as he realized just who this man might possibly be—the very god he left you to, Dionysus.

The queen is the only one that seems to be confused. “Theseus?”

A hand reached out to signal her to keep quiet, head humbly bowing down, as with one last glare sending shivers up their spine, the wine god leaves with you just as they had been wanting. There’s a terrible feeling settling in the pit of the king’s stomach.

They’ve incurred the wrath of a god.

Hoseok couldn't cast aside his worry, no matter how hard he tried—couldn't help but cast his worrying gaze behind him where you sat at the edge of his chariot, feet dangling in the air as Agrios and the others dragged the chariot through the air.

The night breeze brushes colder on the shoulder where your tears soaked his tunic and it all but puts more weight onto his heart. As the one manning the whole chariot, his place on it obstructs him from checking on you for too long. Since you two left Athens, he wonders if you’ve stopped crying, if you’re still with no strength in your knees, or if your cruel mind’s been repeating whatever that bastard may have said.

It was a few painful hours of silence traveling back to Naxos, but it was a safe one nonetheless. Quickly taking care of the reins and wordlessly dismissing Agrios and his siblings to rest themselves, the wine god comes to your side, hesitant to pull you from your trance, lest it summons back your tears. "Princess...?" he gingerly calls out, "We have arrived…"

Before he could place a hold on your shoulder, your body moved on its own, still not with him mentally as you nearly trip over tree roots and crash onto the ground had it not been for him catching you last minute. You seem to stop then and there, letting nearly half your weight be carried by the arm that was wrapped around your middle.

The moment Hoseok notices the slight movement of your head towards him, he seized the chance. "About what happened—"

"We shouldn't have ever come there," your hoarse voice cuts his rambling off, glistening eyes soon looking up at him. He looks back at you with furrowed brows, just as crestfallen. "I shouldn't have listened to you,” your head shakes as you try to pull away from him. ”I shouldn't have."

It wasn't a fair accusation. You knew well you asked for answers, and now that the ones you sought have trampled over your poor, unfortunate heart, your addled mind could only deny it's own fault and blame the one who only intended to help you. You're a fool, through and through.

Hoseok gives you a bit of distance, but shifts his hold onto your wrists instead, keeping you from truly running away from him. "I didn't expect the situation to go so aw—"

“Is it true?”

The wine god is interrupted yet again, and it sparks frustration within him. "What is?” he nonetheless asks, confused for a moment, until he becomes terrified at the realization that Theseus may have told you the truth of what had taken place that day.

You kept your head down, staring down at where his hands held you. “Was I…” your voice shakes, but it's so quiet he almost doesn't hear you. ”Was I really left on this island for you?”

It seems you dread hearing the truth once again, but Hoseok doesn't lie—you don't deserve any more of it. One painful truth after the other will leave you with more time to heal.

Hoseok knew he had yet to take a wife for himself, his reputation infamously paved with numerous lovers and flings just like many gods of the pantheon—especially his father, Zeus. Pairing that with his lax management of his godly duties has ended him in this tragic predicament, entangled with the strings of fate that twist your heart in its bounds and knots.

(He doesn't want to hurt you. He would never want to hurt you. He'll sit down and untangle this mess forever if he has to.)

As he swore, Hoseok tells you what he knows. "When we came around the shrine that day," he shakily began, drawing idle figures on the skin of your wrist. "I did discover a prayer about a maiden offering left for me, but I thought it’d be a coincidence for it to be you. You were left so haphazardly on the beach, I thought it was a separate incident, until…"

Hoseok could sense your chest shakingly heave before your breath hitches, bracing yourself for the next of his words.

“Athena confirmed it herself," the wine god tells you, watching as your lungs give out a big outbreath of shock and ruin that doesn’t ease your heavy heart in any way. "She saw it fit to have Theseus sacrifice you here, said you would’ve been miserable in Athens if you were to be queen as he promised.”

The thought of marriage with you in Hoseok's mind becomes bitter now that it's been soiled by such a cruel trick. No amount of wine could ever wash down the ugly mark of it. How can you love him after this?

For the first time since, you raise your head, your eyes glossy yet they seem to have run out of tears to shed. “Did he…" your words fall short of a whisper, "did he really have no protests to such orders? Did it come that easy for him to get rid of me?”

Hoseok's own heart is upset at the notion of you still letting that bastard have power over your heart, but he casts that aside in favor of your vulnerable self. All he can do now is speak his truth. “I do not know.”

You become silent then and there, slowly moving out of his grasp and he, unsure of what else to do, lets you. Hoseok's heart would burst from his chest if it could. He watches closely as you roughly wipe at your damp cheeks and forcibly draw your lips to a smile. It's bitter and, like the rest of you, unstable. “Well, the fates have certainly decided what my purpose in this world is,” you say aloud, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips.

You don’t think you can ever hate Hoseok for this—even if you did try—but in the grand scheme of things, you're a mere mortal subject to the gods, the fates, and their will. Always a pawn to someone else.

There was an obvious look of defeat and despondency in your eyes. Hoseok doesn’t like it—mourns because of it. All the time you spent together—raising your spirits, encouraging you out of your shell, and instilling confidence in you—was now all for naught, and it doesn’t help that he’s involved with the downfall of it all.

“(Y/N)...”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you’re quick to shut down any more of his attempts to comfort you, now sure that you’re bound for this misfortune in life. “I got my answers.”

Look at what it got me.

In the near distance, you see the cave that served as the roof over your head for months now—a far cry from the palace you knew, but it was everything. It was home, and now, you’re not so sure what it is exactly—if you can still think of it as a home knowing the man you found, built, and shared it with turned out to be someone you were offered and abandoned to, like an unknowing pup passed from one owner to another.

In truth, a part of you—deep down, buried under all that grief and hurt—understood Athena's intentions, and perhaps, you'll come across the acceptance for it after all the pain subsided. Alas, for now, your thoughts are becoming too loud—heartache, existential dread, and wallowing in one. Time—you need time to think, and then, perhaps, something to make your mind go numb for a couple of hours.

Decidedly, you march forth, stumbling a little as you leave the wine god where he stood. Though an apology weighs down at the tip of your tongue, all you could do is shamefully excuse yourself, eyes cast down and body fidgeting. “I’ll get myself something to drink...”

When you said those words, Hoseok indulged your need for space, he, himself, thinking it would do good to let some wine soothe the thoughts and emotions overwhelming you. Alas, it’s hours after the exchange, and by the time he entered your abode expecting you to be passed out already, you were still showing no sign of stopping. You’ll drink yourself to death, at this point. “That’s enough drinking, (Y/N),” he tuts, prying the wooden chalice and bottle from your surprisingly stubborn fingers. "You know Yoongi isn't around to give you the remedy for this."

His light jest doesn't do well to deter you. “Nonsense,” you slurred, sputtering some of the wine onto his robes as you tried to chase what he took.

You end up stumbling in his arms, and, in spite of both hands being occupied, Hoseok wound an arm around your waist to hold you up. For a second, he feels your body tense, perhaps mulling over whether to push him away from you or not, but ultimately, you mouthed no protest, too dizzy and too tired to.

The wine god finds himself beginning to understand why the rational, uptight people held great disdain for his masterpiece. Wine and other spirits numb down the drinker, merely delaying the inevitable reality they'll face, and, especially knowing the heavy reason behind your drinking, Hoseok feels upset with himself even more. “You can’t drink the pain away, princess,” he sighs, setting the wine bottle down so his now free hand can brush back the hair that stuck to your sweaty face.

Face scrunching at his touch, you whine and try to lull away from his hand. Through heavy-lidded eyes you peer up at him, almost in a glare. “But I can forget,” you stubbornly insist, a tear sliding down your cheek as your lips quiver. “I don’ know what else to do.”

There’s a frown on his lips, Hoseok could tell, and his brows are furrowed together like yours as he gently wipes his thumb across your cheek. It's easy to want to forget in a fragile time like this, and while wine can make you forget, Hoseok refused to lose you to it. He places the chalice down onto the table, ridding what keeps him from fully embracing you. "He doesn't deserve your tears," he finds himself saying those words through gritted teeth, "or your love."

You don’t seem to be clearly understanding his words, but you’ve let your head fall to his shoulder, burying it there as your hands raise to rest themselves on his chest. (If you had been a bit sober, you would’ve been aware of how fast his heart beats under your touch.)

"M' heart hurts," you all but murmured weakly against his tunic, followed by a sniffle. The words that follow fall from your lips in a dazed and defeated whisper. "Love always eludes me like this."

The wine god’s heart is clenched so tightly by your words that it leaves his face in a pained expression, as if he had actually been stricken with ichor running down his skin. If this was what you’ve come to believe, you’re sorely mistaken, and damn Theseus and everyone else for making you think in such a way. "You are loved, princess," he arduously declares, burying his head into your hair as he hugged you tighter. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

At his words, he feels your head turning to the side where it leaves you listening to his heart. Hoseok wonders if you could tell his heartbeat’s pace is quickening now. Surely, you do, right? It’d be further testament to his proclamation—proof of the things you do to him, a god in his own right.

"I am?"

It was a quiet murmur, yet it spoke volumes of the doubt loudly seizing your head. Hoseok is crushed and you’re none-the-wiser to every crack your sadness compels onto his heart. "Mhm," he hums, pulling away so his hands can take a hold of your face as he lists the people you’ve managed to brighten up with your presence in your short time here. "Agrios, Silenus, Yoongi, Aldora, Alenka…"

Hoseok stares into your glistening eyes, a smile so soft on his lips as he sees you slowly coming back to him. For a moment, the wine god thinks to himself, whether or not to make his love known to you after all this time. I love you, such words dangle on the tip of his tongue. More than I ever thought I could love anyone else.

The faint scent of his wine on you, however, reminds him of your delirious state of mind, of how drunk it is. A waste of an opportunity to confess, he thinks. He'd rather have you fully sober when the time comes. "And me," was all he could say at that moment, but he said it with as much heart and warmth as he could muster. "We all love you very much."

(I love you. I love you. I love you.)

The wine god watches as you soften at his words, sobering a little as you take them in with a faint smile on your lips. He knows not if you’ll remember this exchange in the morning, but Hoseok hopes you can at least remember the feeling of it, and know that, even if the rest of the world shuns you, so long as he lives, Naxos will welcome you with open arms. “You best remember that, hm?” he playfully chides you, "You are loved."

Your hands gingerly snake from his chest and up to his hands where they rest upon your cheeks, replying with a gentle, meak nod. The last of your tears eased along with the spirits in your veins, the clarity of your actions the past hours now washing over a new sense of guilt onto you. "Forgive me," you softly tell him, gathering the strength to look up to meet his eyes as you did. "I was unfair 'n a nuisance," your words fall over one another, drowsiness bleeding into them as a result of exhaustion from everything that has taken place. "None of it was your fault."

The wine god earnestly thinks for a moment, as tingles travel up his arm from where you started unconsciously drawing idle circles on the back of his hand. A part of him hurts still—both of you are. “You have the right to be upset over what you just learned.” he began, one hand freeing itself from your hold only to caress your cheek. “I can only hope you'll be able to heal from it soon.”

A mellow beat of silence follows suit, as your eyes softly stare back, warm, grateful, and lost in thoughts as you mull over his words. “Thank you,” you whisper, simple words running deeper as the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips.

Encouraged by a twinkle of soft endearment in your eyes, the wine god rests his forehead against yours, savoring the moment while you let him. Hoseok doesn’t think you’re even aware of how beautiful you look in the dim moonlight like this. With lips only mere inches apart, too, the wine god thinks he's never faced such temptation ever before in his life. Practicing poise unbecoming of the wild-hearted spirit he once was, he settles for a mere kiss on the crown of your head. His lips linger there for a moment, and though he didn't want to part just yet, he does so in order to guide you towards the bed. “Sleep,” he casually urges, “you need it.”

Exhaustion easily comes to you as soon as you hit the covers, eyelids heavy as you try and keep them open. Your hand keeps its loose hold on his, a slight tug wordlessly inviting him to stay with you. "Don't leave," you tenderly say, eyes pleading with him in such a way that it effectively disarms any semblance of reason in his head.

Indulging you and himself, the wine god takes the space next to you (unlike last time). Once the blankets have been laid out over your bodies, Hoseok finally rests his head on the pillow. You face one another with your hands still interlocked together, in spite of the shy boundary existing in between the rest of your bodies.

“Good night, princess,” he quietly murmurs into the darkness of the night, thumb drawing shapes on your skin as you did his. “I’ll be right here with you.”

The moment you wake up, however, an empty space greets you.

Try as you might, the void in your heart persists as you muster the strength to sit up from the bed, the sleep weighing down your bones slowly dissipating the more your consciousness returns to the real world. The search for warmth—for his presence—was so instant, it was practically instinct.

This wasn’t the first time you woke up alone. Why does his absence bother you so?

Pieces of last night come to your mind. Athens, Athena herself, and the confrontation, make your heart hurt more for a moment, but, at the same time, the sweet words, the tender kiss to the forehead, and the comfort of his hand came to you. Though vague and a bit blurry in between, the feeling of it never escapes you, sending you furiously blushing as you bury your head into your palms.

Gods, get a hold of yourself, (Y/N).

The faint sound of music from outside soon draws your attention—a song sounding so familiar. In an instant, your brows furrow together in confusion.

Ultimately, your mind once again wanders to the wine god you spent the night crying to. You need to talk, especially now that you’re sober and a bit better with reining in your emotions. Your head pounds, a sensation you’re very much familiar with, but by some miracle, you manage to get yourself together, and head out into the world a bit presentable.

“Hoseok?” you tentatively call out, looking around the forest that surrounds your cavern for the music.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, princess.”

Heart nearly leaping from your chest, you immediately turn around towards the source of the voice and the hearty laugh you just heard—the speed of which sends a spike of pain to your head. You see Silenus, the old satyr leaning against a nearby tree with his pan flute in hand and a teasing grin. He must've been the one playing the tune. "I apologize," you stammer, flustered to have been caught in such a way. “What brings you here?”

Silenus' smile turns a bit warmer. "A little bird told me to keep watch while he's away," he knowingly says, making your heart skip a beat then and there.

Hoseok?

In spite of the dulling headache, you hold back the urge to go back inside, sleep, and simply wait till the wine god comes back. Instead, you approach the satyr, gathering strength to converse. "Where did he go?" You ask, bashful still but you waited for answers anyway.

"Somewhere," the satyr simply shrugs, and you're left with disappointment you cannot voice aloud. You settle for a seat by a protruding tree root not too far from where Silenus sat.

The moment you sat down, the old man wastes no time to strike conversation. “I heard a lot happened last night,” he hums good-naturedly. “What troubles you still, princess?”

Consciously, you think to yourself if the frown and furrowed brows had settled so naturally on your face for him to have noticed. Either way, whether it was because you needed another set of eyes on the situation, or you needed to vent out what's left of your ire, you tell Silenus the events that unfolded last night—Hoseok taking you to Athens, meeting Athena, confronting Theseus and Phaedra, and learning the truth. “I know the fault isn’t his. I just…” you eventually sigh, struggling to put your emotions into words. “I just feel toyed with?"

Life, in the end, is very much like the palace you grew up in—an elaborate game with harsh rules you must follow to survive. Yet another role was thrusted into your hands to play—a sacrifice? a scrap for the taking?

"Some part of me finds it hard to look at him the same way I once did, but at the same time…”

I'm not entirely against it—

No. You can't say that.

Beside you, Silenus nods, taking in the implications of your words in spite of you not knowing exactly what you mean to say. For once, you realize, he looks a bit more serious. "Well, the Fates toy with everyone," he eventually comes to say, "thread mingling with thread, stubborn knots ruining a patch or two, but in the end, when all the threads are cut, the loom displays the grand tapestry that bears all of the fruits of the game we played—be it good or tragic."

The talk of the Fates brings back a frown on your lips. The strands have a life of their own, full of potential and calling to one another as they’re spun, guided, and cut by each of the Fates. "What if I don't want to play the game of looms and threads anymore?" you dared to idly wonder aloud as you pulled your knees closer to you. It was an ugly thought, you know, but you've been left too exhausted to stop them from resurfacing, dreading how long Lachesis intended to pull along the thread meant for you when it’s so frayed with misery—how long you’d have to be weaved into the tapestry of humanity for before your thread finally meets Atropos' shears.

It’s the satyr who frowns this time, setting his pan flute aside. "One may unravel as a stray thread, but it's one without any other color," he wisely tells you, "without life."

You mull the words over, a bitterness coming over you now that the unkind demons got the better of you. Your part of the tapestry will be ugly anyway, it cruelly hisses—a vile comment a bigger part of you agrees with. "I play terribly with the game of life," you cross your arms over your knees as you idly look into the wilderness spanning out before you.

"Then learn to play better,” Silenus chides, meaning well but it slaps you awake all the same. “It depends on who you play with, does it not?"

Threads calling to other threads allow for millions of possibilities to take shape, lingering around one another until an ultimate choice intertwines two or more together in a game of who wins or loses with their experiences. "The Fates can give us an array of colors to entangle with and Hoseok, that silly boy," the satyr grins with a fond shake of his head, "is vibrant—a great thread and playmate to be entangled with, if you ask me."

No truer words have been said, and because it was the truth, you can't deny yours either. "But I don't understand why I can ever be entangled with him in the first place," you counter, still playing along with the thread analogy. "I'm dull compared to him."

The thread of the gods must be glowing and gilded compared to that of mortals. Even at your very best, you don't think you could ever even amount to him.

The satyr sighs, sparking shame from your conscience. "You ask too many questions, princess," he shakes his head and stares down at you. “What if that’s why you were given the chance to be entangled with him, hm?”

You gawk at the old man, preparing for a stern lecture but he maintains a softer, passionate manner. "The two of you compliment one another in many ways," he says so surely, so confidently that it flusters you. "He's wild and you're tame, and so, you teach him how to calm down while he coaxes you out of your shell."

"You both tend to forget yourselves, but look out for the other," he adds, rendering the blush on your face to be worse. "You're practically attached by the hip, too!"

Ultimately, Silenus's words leave themselves ingrained in your head and bring your butterflies to life. "He very much wants to be in your life, and you, in spite of everything else, deprive yourself of him—of all of this."

Is it really depriving?

You think to yourself if your aversion to the divine and your scars from love had indeed led you to this cruel state of mind—of depriving yourself of companionship from someone else. The more you think of it, the more the denial retaliates against the realization. You can't, right? That sort of thing would mean you lo—oh, gods. Do you really?

Seeing your eyes blown wide, lost in arguing thoughts, Silenus knocks down your doubts some more. "Would it really be so bad to play this game of life with him?" he asks, half sincere and half temptingly.

The question begs you to envision it—a life accepting your sacrifice to Naxos and living with Hoseok. When all wounds heal into fading scars and all ache lay buried beneath many happy memories, when your body is spent contently exhausted from gatherings and shenanigans, when you continue to stand at the end of Hoseok's bright, endearing smile for the rest of your life, would it truly be so terrible of a life?

“No,” the word leaves your lips whimsically, a soft smile tempting your lips at the thought of such things. “I don’t suppose it would.”

If Hoseok were to let you leave Naxos—and he undoubtedly would do it for your sake if you so desired it—then, where would you even go? Who else would you run to?

Silenus grins at you seeing the light out of the darkness. “There you have it then,” he concludes, bringing his hands together in a satisfied clap.

In spite of what's left of your emotions still left with questions unanswered, you are, nonetheless, grateful for the time he spent to impart his advice to you. “Thank you, Silenus,” you say, "and I'm sorry."

The old satyr waves it off nonchalantly, picking up his flute once again to play. This leaves you seeking your own peace and quiet to think more things through—especially that question. “I’ll be going then,” you bid him farewell, pushing yourself up from where you sat and dusting off your wrinkled dress.

It was only when Silenus noticed you were walking away from the cave instead of towards it that he spoke again. “Where are you off to?” he calls out, compelling you to turn around with a reassuring smile after recalling him saying he was here under a favor for the wine god.

“The beach,” you tell him, pointing towards a direction you knew all too well. “Just for a walk. You needn't come with me.”

You need time alone to confirm something to yourself—confirm what your true feelings for the wine god are. Silenus seemed to have understood this need for contemplation, as he simply nodded and remained where he was, readily waiting just as he had waited before you woke up.

With barely any effort, the walk to the beach easily becomes a nostalgic one. Under the canopy of towering trees that used to be so terrifying and foreign to you that stormy night, your feet now wander with a mind of its own, already knowing the path by heart. The sound of the waves that soon reach your ears pluck at your heartstrings in a beautiful melody, and the moment your shoes dip onto the sand, a shiver runs down your spine.

Months ago this was merely some island you were marooned on, and now, it’s everything to you. You know well who’s to blame for this sweet, homely feeling—who’s made it easy to fall in love with this place and hard to ever truly hate for what else it had meant.

A sigh follows one deep breath as you look at the shore, envisioning where the camp had once been—where the Fates had led your thread to meet the stranger wine god. In the struggle within your heart, acceptance was beginning to turn the tide.

Yes, this is your reality now. This is ho—

"Halt!"

Once again, the living daylights were scared out of you, and this time, your heart had reason to pound erratically. In the distance were a group of men, armed with bows and armored in leather. At first, you thought them to be hunters, but as they approached you with the arrows drawn and some with hands on the hilt of the swords on their waist, you began to see familiar faces among them.

Soldiers from Crete.

You were torn between the urge to run and the instinct to stay put, knowing well you won't get far with this many people hunting you down. The latter, however, wins as fear aids to paralyze you. You did your best to seem as collected and civilized as you could, whilst their weapons raised menacingly against you. "So you've found me," it was a surprise to you how you manage to say it so steadily and calmly in one fell swoop. Deep down, you're terribly frightened.

A beat of silence passes.

One of them, you notice, gives discreet commands to another of, what you think, a lesser rank. You're as taut as the bows drawn against you, watching intently as the aforementioned soldier leaves the scene—to rally more of their comrades, you realize.

The moment one of them breaks the silence and makes a charge towards you, you finally feel your body move in response, quickly grabbing sand and throwing it to the soldier's face. As he yelps and clutches his face, you try and make a grab for the sword that fell from his hand, but the slightest touch to the bronze blade was thwarted by a powerful force from your side that sends you flying away from it.

Harshly landing on the sand, your whole body feels on fire. Your chest burns from the half scream and half gasp that escapes you, clutching your side as the pain from the kick brings immediate tears to your eyes. No, you refuse to go down like this. Hoseok, Agrios, Silenus —You have to get back to them. You have to.

You muster all the strength to push yourself from the sand, only to be met with more weapons drawn at you. "Surely, I'm not the only one accountable for this," you sneer at them, chest still heaving. "Father better also have sent his crude soldiers to Athens."

A strong hand yanks your hair upwards, eliciting a pained scream from your mouth. "You're but a felon now," the soldier spat as your thrashing was no match for his vice strong grip. "We do not owe you respect."

Among them was a man who you recognize as a captain of the guards. He has his eyes set on you, stepping closer to tell you a news that shocks you to your core. "The king's dead, princess," he says, voice cold, eyes piercing, and hand guiding his sword to your neck as he watches your eyes widen.

Since your abandonment, you didn't really expect to be able to hear of your father's fate, but you suppose his deeds would've eventually caught up to him as he deserved it.

Two soldiers roughly held you up by either arms, caging you as their leader continued. "Shortly after you fled with the Athenian bastard, he was slain while looking for Daedalus and his son," the captain told you, digging the blade to your skin where it draws a thin red rivulet. "We are here to give him justice."

In spite of your body responding to everything with telling signs of fear—trembling frame, streaming tears, and pounding heart—you speak defiantly and just as harsh. "This is no justice!" you grit through your teeth, raising your head high to glare back at the men surrounding you. "Father's greed is to blame for his own downfall—deceiving Poseidon, getting mother cursed, and having the Minotaur ruin the innocent lives of many. They all lead back to him and you're all as blind as bats if you think otherwise!"

(It's also your father's fault that he managed to build a strong army loyal to him, and now, even in death, he makes life difficult for you.)

The captain's glare turned murderous, nose flaring. "How dare you!" He roared, raising his sword in the air as a look of horror flashed in your eyes.

In spite of your best efforts to escape—wriggling around like a madwoman, stepping harshly on their feet—it's futile, your head instinctively looking away as you wait for the blade to come.

This is it.

This is the end of you.

The wine god's eyes eagerly search for the familiar clearing, and, in his haste, the whole chariot shakes at the rough landing he had gotten himself. Hoseok sees Silenus under the tree where he left him, lips parting from the pan flute to grin at the young god. "Will you finally tell me where in the world you snuck off to this time?" The old satyr stands back on his hooves and rests his hands on his hips in a playful scolding.

"Just somewhere," Hoseok simply shrugs, but the smirk on his lips betrays the supposed casualness of his absence. In truth, he visited Aphrodite and Eros for a little favor. After all, by the wine god's rules, one can easily earn themselves just about anything if one offers great wine and drama.

(The goddess of love was surely not happy with what Theseus had done. He won't be getting any luck with love or lust any time soon—or ever.)

Never the matter, that's the least of his priorities now. “Has (Y/N) woken up yet?” Hoseok asks, wordlessly dismissing the leopards to rest from their trip—save for Agrios who decided to linger.

Silenus' smug grin brings heat to the wine god’s cheeks. “Ah, yes,” the old satyr nonetheless answers, “just a while ago. Had a lot of things on her mind, that one.”

The talk, the kiss, Hoseok immediately thinks, anticipation setting his entire being ablaze. “Where is she then?” he’s quick to ask, his eyes set on the first place he could see, the cavern.

Instead of that, however, Hoseok watches as the satyr gestures to a direction he knew all too well. “The beach,” Silenus tells him, “gone for a walk she says. If you hurry along, you two might go for a little swim together, heh?”

Hoseok could only roll his eyes at Silenus' words (though he does give the fantasy a thought or two). He wastes no time to walk forth with Agrios quietly following suit. There’s something in the air that makes his insides twist. Is it his anxiousness over talking with you again? Will you leave? Will you stay?

“I don’t look too much of an idiot as of now, yes?” the wine god jests to his spotted beast for his sake, a nervous chuckle forced past his lips. Agrios, who can’t talk in the first place, does well to give Hoseok an unimpressed look without even trying, walking ahead without being bothered by the pout the wine god gives him.

“A little support would b—”

A growl reached his ears, cutting his whine short as the sight of Agrios’ alert and defensive stance worsens the terrible feeling in his stomach. All too suddenly, the wine god’s face falls serious, realizing the leopard was glaring towards the beach. “What is it?” he whispers to the beast, cautiously approaching the beach with Agrios.

The moment he heard the pained scream and yelling, Hoseok's heart dropped.

The moment he saw a blade levied against you, Hoseok's body leapt into action.

The moment he had you at arm’s length, Hoseok's mind could only ever think of shielding you.

"(Y/N)!"

Hoseok, assured by the sight of Agrios coming to your aid and mauling any soldier who dared to come at you both, is quick to use the time to look over you as your shaken knees make you fall onto the sand. The moment he hears a whimper and sees the tears, the pounding fear in his heart gives way for rage. This allowed him to focus on what’s left of the men that surrounded you, all three currently hesitant with the spotted beast daring them to so much as take another step forward.

Hoseok is terrifying when he wants to.

"You dare come to hurt her?" he drawls, his furious presence easily towering all over them with his piercing eyes seemingly rendering them frozen where they stood. There’s been a change in the air—tense, heavy, and almost suffocating.

Though their swords and bows begin shaking in their grip, the soldiers remain headstrong in arrogance. “Our business isn’t with you,” the captain tries to negotiate, weapon still drawn. “Give us the woman and we’ll leave you be.”

The laughter that falls past Hoseok’s lips sends a shiver down even your spine. “What makes you think I’ll do as you say?” he dares them, taking another step forth.

An arrow is fired.

Whether it was done intently or instinctively by one of the soldiers, it nonetheless managed to graze Hoseok’s exposed arm and narrowly missed your head. There's a look of fear that sets in their eyes, seeing golden ichor instead of crimson blood running down Hoseok's skin from where the arrowtip struck.

In that instant, they come to realize the grave mistake they’ve made.

All of them fall to their knees, their weapons making a pathetic thud on the sand. Their lips quiver, trying to scramble strings of apologies together but they make no comprehensible noise, all as the wine god proceeds to glare down at them. If they're so bent on such filthy violence, Hoseok decided, then he'll give them the carnage they so seek.

One by one, what's left of the men began screaming, pointing at each other with madness and fear in their eyes. Their own thinking and frenzy fuel the work of Hoseok's curse upon them, and they start running around one another with their weapons drawn.

What horrifying feat befalls them at their own hands, you didn't have the chance to know (nor would you ever want to) as a figure kneels down before you. Shaking hands caress your face, gently guiding you to meet eyes with pools of endless worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, chest heaving as he did.

The most you could muster was a numb nod, thoughts still frazzled from everything that went wrong on your supposed peaceful, reflective walk on the beach. Before you was an unconvinced god, remnants of his rage seething like demons and insisting that the curse on the soldiers wasn’t enough.

That’s the least important matter at hand right now, he reminds himself. Gathering you in his arms and calling for Agrios, Hoseok doesn't waste any more time and usher you away from the scene. The moment he makes the journey towards the forest however, he feels your hand squeeze him tighter.

"Don't," you say, eyes finally seeking his, but they’re filled to the brim with fear and urgency.

Immediately concerned, Hoseok stops in his tracks. "Why?" he asks, setting you down with the intent to look over your body more closely. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

Your hands tremble where they came to hold onto his arms. "No," you shake your head, looking towards the forest. "More are coming."

Hoseok dismissed the worry, no doubt ready to argue he can deal with them and so you quickly retorted. "What if they're in the forest?” you pour out the predictions you’ve constructed in your head. “What if they see the cavern and come back with even more soldiers?"

For a moment, the wine god contemplates this. Even if more do come, Olympus would have to fall first before he’d even consider the thought of letting them take you away, but right now, you need assurance and time to calm down. Looking over to the leopard in a wordless conversation, the two of them share a look of agreement and after a gentle brushing against your skirts in a comforting farewell, the big cat heads into the forest without another word.

Before you could wonder where Agrios was going, Hoseok intertwined his fingers with yours, gently tugging you along a different direction—the pool cavern.

The cavern looks as pristine as you remember, and the fond memories effectively ease your nerves. Hoseok walks over to the wooden chest you two brought here a few days around the return of spring, and fishes out a linen cloth to drape over your shoulders. "You can stay here," he tells you, as he brushes your hair back. "I'll see to it that they'll never come back here again."

Chewing at your lips, you mull over what words to say. His protection warms your heart, but the thought of being a nuisance twists it all the same. You let yourself fall forth to embrace him. "Be careful," you murmur against his chest, and he responds with a squeeze—a wordless assurance that he will, for you.

Your sole purpose here in the cavern pool was safety, and yet, you all but feel emptiness the moment the wine god leaves.

Hours passed, the sun settling high in the sky and well into the afternoon. You’ve taken a seat on the edge of the pool, your calves submerged in the water lapped by gentle ripples made by your lightly swinging feet.

It was fortuitous that the silence you’ve been given here has allowed you to do the reflecting that was cut so short by the ambush earlier on.

Before you were so rudely interrupted, you had been warming to the idea of accepting your fate to be in Naxos, and the events that had taken place had only served to further engrave the sentiment into your heart.

Have you gone mad?! You should be scared! the old part of you hisses from its derelict shell. Have you forgotten what divine wrath did to your life?

Perhaps, you have gone mad.

(What kind of sane person has a heart that skips a beat at the thought of a god cursing someone who dared to harm them, or dare to get even a little bit of satisfaction out of it?)

A new battle brews between mortification and shamelessness at your change in lens towards Hoseok. This was hardly the time for it, you remind yourself. There is much to be done with your father’s loyalist at your tail.

In spite of your best efforts, the time continues bringing your heart’s utter affection for Hoseok and everything on this island to light and clarity, and you grow all the more weary with waiting. You wonder how Hoseok was faring with the soldiers—how everyone else in the forest would be. Mortals may not truly, fatally harm gods, but they are still capable of destruction, and you’d hate for Naxos to fall into trouble if any word of your being here were to get out.

The sound of footsteps makes you jump from your skin, anxiously anticipating who would appear at the entrance with a million questions running through your mind a minute.

The moment you see Hoseok's familiar face, however, relief washes over you, so much so that tears brim your eyes. "You're back," you breathlessly whisper, having enough of your restraint left to stop yourself from pushing up from the edge of the pool and running to him.

It’s a dilemma that solves itself, however, as the wine god, himself, comes to you with a small smile. Hoseok, too, wordlessly rids himself of his shoes and sits at the edge of the pool, easing his legs into the water. "I've sent out people around the island," he informs you as gazed down at your obscure reflections in the water. "We’ve managed to capture a few, but we haven’t a clue yet if there are still others left. We'll have to wait here for news till then."

You could only nod, putting faith in his word as he’s always done his best to fulfill them.

"How are you faring?"

The question was something you expected, especially when the concern in his eyes never went away. "Well enough," you try to dismiss with an assuring smile, but a fleeting glance to his solemn face condemns you to admit just a little bit of truth. "Just a bit sore."

You carefully brush your hand to the side from when the soldier had kicked you away. There was a dull ache that spread across your torso, spiking pain if you breathed a little too deeply.

The grimace on your face as you did so doesn't elude the wine god. “I'll call over Yoongi as soon as I can,” he urgently says, about to leave his place beside you if it weren't for the hand you placed on his knee, compelling him to stay. Hoseok does as you wordlessly ask, but the furrow in his brows remain along with fleeting glances at your side.

His company alone is doing more than he can ever realize, the comforting silence doing well to ease your heart. "Thank you," you speak into the silence after a while, eyes soft with gratitude and a little something more. "For coming to my aid," you further elaborate, but soon correct yourself, "for always coming to my aid."

Hoseok's frown softens, a fond look comes with casual shrug. "I always will," he tells you like it's an absolute truth of the world.

The wine god shifts closer towards you and reaches forth, hand so tenderly on your cheek that you lean into it. His thumb rests just below your eyes, readily there to wipe away teardrops should they come. You, however, hold them back as you muster the strength to tell him what had happened. "My father's dead," you tell him with only a fleeting hint of remorse and a momentary shake. "He died pursuing the architect of the labyrinth and his son," you say, "and they were here for his just revenge."

Hoseok's eyes grew dark at the mention of the soldiers and their twisted sense of justice. "You needn't worry," he declares, "I—we won't let that happen."

The correction he makes to himself twitches your lips upward. "I know," you hum, eyes telling him of the confidence you have for his promise. Hoseok has never failed you before, and even if he didn't you wouldn't dare to hold it against him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, his hand falling onto your lap where it intertwines with your fingers. Returning your gaze to the waters, you abide the time by watching the ripples that form at every languid move of your feet. You pretend not to feel his thoughtful gaze, or feel your own butterflies as you relish idly playing with his fingers.

"(Y/N)?"

Your name falls from his lips, soft yet with a hint of hesitance. Sparing him any intimidation your eyes staring into his might bring, you simply squeeze his hand in assurance. "Hm?" you all but hum in response.

There's a beat of silence—one, two.

"Marry me."

In an instant, you lift your head from his shoulder and look at him for any signs of jesting, only to find none. Instead, you see redness spread across his face as he brings his other hand to fiddle at the lobes of his ear. He's nervous.

Gods, what about you then?! Shock doesn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. Wha—

Hoseok is quick to sense your frenzied emotions, using the stunned silence to his advantage. “I know it’s what you’ve been left here for in the first place, and the memories of what that bastard did pains you, but I want you to marry me out of your own volition,” he practically vomits all his words, but he's fortunate your heart and mind's utter intrigue over all of this has compelled you to clung onto every word. “I want you to know that I crave to have your being next to mine, regardless of what had transpired for it to happen.”

To hear such words in such desperation, you were taken aback. It may have slid into a passing fantasy once, but it never occurred to you that Hoseok would feel this passionately for you. Gods, you didn't think he'd feel anything strong enough to actually ask for your hand!

The wine god forgoes his anxious habits and has both hands seize yours, both in an attempt to ground himself and in a plea for you to heed his confession—to listen should he never have the guts to spill his heart out ever again. “The moment your heart began to open, I all the more knew you were meant for something greater than how you were treated,” he proceeds to attest, “You're beautiful to me—most beautiful—and when I saw your tears, your grief, there was—is—a strong urge in me to bring a smile onto your face—something that told me you were much more radiant with happiness, instead of melancholy.”

The tears stinging your eyes were becoming difficult to fight back. You look at the god before you, still unsure of what to say. Every word strikes your weary heartstrings, and you could hardly breathe with how blissfully painful it is for your cruel demons.

He wants you to be his? The remnants of your old self can't take it, too skeptical to ever give in to the temptation of love.

Hoseok still tightly holds your hands in his, and you swear you could feel his palms sweating. “If you would so please be my wife, (Y/N),” he tells you, almost pleading in a way desperate mortals would. “I will do my very best to take all of your sorrows away.”

The panicked outcries of your old self—that poor, unfortunate runaway princess—falls into the abyss, only to land onto the plush, homely foundation that is the paradise of Hoseok's affections and yours.

This once-stranger, who saved you on that beach, had stayed with you on this damned island when he could've easily carried on his way.

This wine god, who made you feel worthy of love, had not only made you love him, but also love you.

This Hoseok, who you’ve known through months of splendor, loves you with all of his divine being—loves you more than Theseus ever could.

Hoseok watches as your eyes turn glossy and it all the more makes him despair. “Though I may not reign amidst those in Olympus,” his breath staggers, but determination reigns true in his eyes, “I swear that I shall treasure you and provide to you the life a goddess deserves.”

Your eyes widened even more, tears had long been falling down your cheeks. This is all too much for your heart to withstand.

No longer able to bear holding everything in, you inch closer towards him. “Hoseok, you of all people know well that my heart is in pieces,” your breath trembles. "How much it has lost faith in things such as love."

At that moment, his smile falters.

At that moment, he curses Silenus, Yoongi, and himself for ever hoping.

At that moment, he thought it was all for naught.

“But you're a warmth I will forever be grateful for,” you softly declare, caressing his cheek with a smile and shattering his thoughts. “Frankly, I don’t think you deserve someone like me. I am but a mere mortal compared to you—imperfect, broken, and still hurting,” you tell him, "will you still love me in spite of it?"

"I already do," Hoseok affirms it so ardently that it makes you breathlessly chuckle. "I love you with all of my heart. I'll give you anything," he vows, voice falling so soft you could barely hear it, "even Olympus itself."

He will seize a grand seat on Olympus, one way or another. You will lay on the softest of pillows and dress in the prettiest of silks. You will dine full and drink to your heart's content. You will be there with him and his mother in a palace, safe and sound. “That way, no one will come between us,” he asserts, claiming such a future into fruition. “No one will ever harm you again.”

Fury burned in every word he swore before you, unbecoming of the carefree, grinning man you knew him to be. "There's no need for such lengths," you tell him, eyes soft and endearing as you shake your head at him. You need not the glory of Olympus or the crown of a queen or a goddess. All you could ever ask is to be with him—be loved by him. "This mortal is already yours," you profess, "yours alone."

With a hitched breath, shock befell the wine god—as if your words were so hard to believe, as if he hadn't at all expected you to love him all the same.

Soon, however, his wide eyes are broken by a joyful grin, his senses coming to reality. He wastes no time pulling you into his arms, the motion of which sends a momentary shock of pain through you. The both of you are reminded of your aching side, and Hoseok, immediately frantic, pulls away in a hurry, clumsily sending you both into the cold water.

Damn that soldier for ruining the moment.

Resurfacing with a gasp, you find him with his wet tresses stuck to his mortified face, which compels you to fix your own wet hair. “Are you alright?!” he asks, still oblivious to his ridiculous appearance as he keeps you at an arm's length to look you over.

With the pain long gone, you couldn't help the endearing laugh that escapes your lips as you sweep his hair back from his forehead like you did yours. A soft smile becomes his wordless assurance, which slowly eases the furrow in his brows.

He then saves face by reaching out to you, this time carefully pulling you into his arms. Your legs secure around his waist and Hoseok happily spins the two of you around, the water easily allowing the both of you to float idly. You gleefully laugh once more, and he nuzzles his head into the side of your face, planting a trail of kisses in his wake. "I've been yours," Hoseok's lips tenderly swears this against your skin, pulling away to look at you with eyes twinkling brightly. "I'll always be yours."

In no time, his lips captured yours in a sweet and soft dance that sent the butterflies in your belly soaring. There's a faint, salty taste of the sea on your lips, and the grip he has around your waist tightens in the name of protectively pulling you closer. Your hands find purchase around his neck, taking the time to weave your fingers through his black tresses. Your heart racing even more as your head goes light with bliss. You could hardly think at the moment.

Hoseok, sensing your human need for air, pulls away to let you breathe, forehead resting against yours as you were left gasping. “I meant every word I said,” he then murmurs against your lips. “I’ll make you a goddess, my love.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mind drifted to an indecipherable haze. You realize now that even without his wine, you were drunk—drunk in his love and devotion.

His fingers dance along your arms until both hands weave themselves with yours, unraveling your hold around his neck. “I will etch my name all over Greece, so much that they can no longer ignore it,” he vows, a certain maddened mischief sparking in his eyes as he raises a brow at you. “Will you join me?”

You realize then that your hands and body have been pinned against something—one of the cave's walls—as your newfound lover awaits your response. A shiver runs down your spine—an indication of thrill.

Mirroring his spirit, you grin and lean close. “Of course, I will, silly,” you muse, playfully rolling your eyes as you lean away just a little inch to look at him with such soft eyes that it makes him melt. "Wherever you go," you sweetly hum, forehead resting against his, "I'll be there, just as you have been with me."

Hoseok's grin is instant, shining brightly like the sun. "What an honor," he blissfully sings, lovingly tugging you into his arms and lips yet again.

In the loom of life, a bright thread fully weaves with a dull one, effectively making it brighter, too, and from now till eternity, they’ll be strands entangled together.

What a blessed woman you are.

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ | END.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real

#bts au #bts greek myth au #bts greek mythology au #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts writing #bts fanfic #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok imagines #jung hoseok fluff #jung hoseok angst #jung hoseok imagine #bts jung hoseok x reader #bts jhope x reader #jhope x reader #jhope imagines

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fallstaticexit · 1 year ago

Note

well i maybe have some theories/questions

you already know i came from tiktok😏

1. so i’m sensing that Edin is going to be Adie’s future love interest/friend/enemy/?… I MEANN they’re both toddlers currently and they’re both supernatural

2. I know you mentioned before that you wanted to do like a magic school type of story for Adie which I think is so fucking cool!! Maybe they’ll meet when they enroll whether that’s as children or teens.

3. And for miss Ellie she’s currently a human right? Will she become a werewolf like her siblings when she becomes old enough? And if she does will she be going to that school as well or is it just for spellcasters? And is that the same for Rhys who’s currently a child or is he going to just stay in normal school? I assume Amir is too old to go and he already has a story of his own.

4. This one may be a stretch but I love reading the Sims 4 lore. There’s a character with a similar name to Adelina— Avelina who was Greg’s late wife. We’ve seen Greg fight Amir in that one episode and we know that Greg is miserable because he’s all alone now (lore wise). If they are related we know that Greg and Avelina used to be mooncasters (idk if it’s the same as spellcasters) before they became werewolves. Is there any link here or am I tripping? I mean I know you read the lore too because Lux DeMarco appears in Amir’s story (😉)

5. off topic but I love Amir. Like that’s my son with his little boyfriends. 💙💙 You got 2 men obsessed with you I know he’s living life.

6. L. Faba is obviously up to no good.. I mean she is the sage of mischief magic. This ties into my first statement about the magic school story. We know there’s going to be more to the plot then Adie just going to school. She’s gotta fight someone and save the day right??!!!! So I wondering if Miss Faba is trying to cause something to happen— I assume to Tomax because she was deadset on trying to make the man practice Dark Magic.

What if something happens to him that makes him evil?? Or even do something to Simeon or Grace?? We know in the lore Grace and Tomax are roommates (and they were roommates..🤭) and in your story they’re very close.

ok this is it for now i feel like my brain is fried

SO glad you came over to Tumblr with me, your comments give me life everytime lmao 🥹🤌🏾✨

maaayybbeee 🤭

I did want to do a magic school type beat but that was a bit before I expanded the lore. Right now (In the next update, I'll touch on it a bit) Nora does NOT want Adie in the Magic realm or any of the sages to know about them. at all. She wants nothing to do with them, the past, her involvement in the war, all of it and honestly, her little magical trigger finger is itching to finish what she started tbh , more on that later.

1000% Ellie will be a werewolf. At this point it's kinda like a family business/rite of passage. Amir is grown grown now 🥹 but Sonny and his bunch will continue to hold down their ranch and keep vampires in check. But they actually play a pretty big part in what's to come and when my Briar legacy and Fallen Angel series meet, we will see ALOT of them.

No link. The only link werewolves has is that they are descendants of Mooncasters and once upon a time they lived in the Magic Realm with all the occult before the Spellcasters got all high and mighty. Now werewolves just do their own thing and fight vampires. But I really don't see them having much involvement with Spellcaster drama other than possibly whooping vamp ass when needed.

I love those boys. Other than my OGs Honey and Amina, def my favorite couple(s) 🥹

L. Faba really about to put Tomax in a world of hurt...which is crazy because he's really already emotionally and mentally in shambles. I suppose that's why she picked him. He's the weakest. This update should be out in a little bit

I saw that they were roommates which made me go hmmmmm 🤔 interesting 🧐 and exactly why we'll see them roll around in the hay from time to time. But from my most recent update, I expand on Grace's ability to heal a little and really she's all about making people feel better via touch...so maybe there’s romance involved maybe she’s trying to help out an old friend because therapy doesn’t exist in the Magic Realm ig lmao 😵‍💫

#sims 4 #sims 4 simblr #sims ask #fallen angel theory

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mcfiddlestan · 2 years ago

Text

Ten Random Lines

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people. I was tagged by @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea.

Tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do it! Also, I did not go to the midpoint on some, lol.

P.S. Not all of these are published. Some were and were taken down, and some aren't finished yet...and may never be, idk.

From Just A Fool, Chapter 5: Clint Throws A Hissy Fit and Natasha Packs a Punch (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

Natasha relaxed minutely, dropping her arms to her sides, absently fingering the handle of the knife she kept strapped to her side. “Stark—”

“When did it start?” he blurted out over her soft voice.

“When did what start?”

He turned, setting his dark, determined gaze on her. “You and Barton.” Tony’s lips quirked up at the way Natasha visibly bristled. It was the first time he had ever seen her, this agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., caught off guard. “Was it in Budapest?”

“How is that important to this discussion?”

“What discussion? You dragged me out here to badger me into breaking up with Loki.” Her head jerked in surprise and confusion and he nearly groaned in frustration. “I am, on occasion, not stupid. I can read a room.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, even moving away from him, and now he could add seeing genuine emotion to the list of firsts. He didn’t follow her, but he turned to watch her, leaning against the railing casually, enjoying how he was getting to her. “I wasn’t going to badger you, for the record. I was just going to…forcibly convince you.”

From Blank Page, Chapter 14: Waiting for You to Bring Me to Life (Frostiron, Modern AU, friends to lovers to exes to lovers again)

Loki glanced down at one arm, then the other, then his lap. “Including the serpent…nine.”

“Nine?” Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Well, let me see ’em.” Again, Loki made no move to show Tony anything. Tony tilted his head. “Hey, I showed you mine.” He tapped a finger twice to the arc reactor and grinned. “Now show me yours.”

Damn it. That was a fair point. Too fair for Loki to ignore. Moving quite slowly, he tucked one arm into his shirt, then the other, and carefully tugged it over his head. He kept the soft, green garment bundled in his lap, over his right hand. Loki wasn’t normally shy to show off his ink when asked, but it would be different with Tony. His reaction would be different.

He sat there, giving Tony time to take it all in — at least, to take in the tattoos that were visible to him. The most obvious of which was the one of Jörmungandr. It was in varying shades of blacks, greens, and golds, winding around his thin but muscular arm. The head, jaws open in a silent roar, red tongue lashing out, took up a good portion of the left side of his chest. The serpent’s tongue seemed to be licking at the sparse patch of hair in the center of Loki’s chest. Tony angled his head, touching a hand lightly to Loki’s right arm, and he obligingly turned so he could get a look at the emblem of theatre masks in the form of skulls, black and gray, with red accents, surrounded by the words Laugh Now, Cry Later on his right bicep.

“Did Bucky do all this?”

“Yes,” Loki answered softly. “He’s quite talented. Steven initially helped with some of the drawings and outlines, and he provided many samples displayed in the shop and the books. But, James has become quite a proficient artist himself.” He was rambling; words were tumbling out of his mouth. “The shop is doing quite well, actually; well enough that he and Steven are thinking of purchasing a home and marrying next year when Steven completes his army service.”

Tony made an impressed face but said nothing else on the subject. “Where are the other ones?” Loki hesitated again, briefly, before turning his back to Tony, showing him the side view of a black raven with its wings spread across his left shoulder blade. He slightly shivered when Tony brushed his fingers over the wings. “Wow…nice.”

Righting himself, Loki bent over to lift the legs of his loose-fitting pants, and Tony lowered down to a knee on the floor, his mouth still hanging open. “That is James’ design of a rising phoenix.” He pointed to the black, red, and gold design rising from a bed of black and red flames that encircled his right calf.

“Damn, that’s kick-ass,” Tony murmured.

Loki grinned softly, then pushed his pant leg down and put forward his left leg. “And, obviously, those are flames.” The flames seemed to emit from Loki’s ankle, starting in deep reds and oranges, and bled into cooler blues and purples.

“Those are really nice. Bucky does good work.” Tony spoke his complimentary words and moved to sit on the bed again.” What about the other ones?”

Loki dropped his other pant leg and fixed Tony with what he knew was a serious gaze. “Uh, well… they’re not anything spectacular, like the others you’ve seen — just a, um…,” he glanced down toward his lap, and clamped a hand over his right wrist, still hidden beneath his removed shirt.

“What?” Tony chuckled. “Show me.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki murmured. He didn’t pull his hand from under the shirt. Instead, he shoved his hand through the neck hole, exposing just enough of his wrist to reveal a thick-lined, black symbol. “There’s not much else to it. It’s a Norse rune. It means peace.”

“Cool. Let me see.” Tony reached for him, getting a loose grip on Loki’s forearm, and pushed at the shirt. Loki tugged, trying to snatch his arm away. “Wait—”

“No. Anthony, don’t.”

“I just wanna see — let me see—” There was a brief struggle before Tony ultimately yanked the shirt away. And he spotted the three dates inked into Loki’s skin beneath the rune. “What the…?”

Once Tony’s fingers loosened from around his wrist, Loki pulled his arm back, covering his wrist with his left hand, and holding it to his chest, where his heart was racing.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” Loki muttered. Tentatively, he lifted his eyes to Tony’s. Then dropped them again when he held out his hand, palm up.

“Loki.”

He was kicking himself for these particular tattoos now. Bucky had warned him. Get them in a more hidden place, he’d said. Remember, not remind. But, stubborn as a mule, Loki wanted what he wanted, where he wanted it. And Bucky acquiesced. Breathing fast, squeezing his eyes shut tight, Loki lowered his arm to Tony’s hand.

To Tony's view, the dates, inked in the simple format of the numbers of the months, days, and years, were upside down, so he shifted to read them better. His breath released in a quiet gasp that Loki felt fan over his skin, followed by a swipe of his finger. When Loki finally opened his eyes, he saw Tony was pointing at the first date.

“That’s the day your mom died.” It was a statement, not a question, but Loki still felt compelled to confirm it.

“Yes.”

He watched Tony swipe his finger over the third date in a darker black than the others, which meant it must have been more recent. “This…” His finger still on Loki’s racing pulse, Tony flicked his eyes up. His voice was barely above a whisper and tight with emotion. It cut deep, right into Loki’s soul. “This is the day I came home.”

Straining to keep his cool, to control the trembling of his chin, Loki nodded.

“Why?”

Loki moved his eyes to his wrist, quickly flicking away a tear that rolled down his cheek. “They…” Loki cursed the cracking of his voice. “Those are three important dates for me. Something significant, something that changed everything from that day forward, happened on each of those days.”

Loki’s bottom lip was still quivering as Tony ran his finger over the middle date. “Loki…what…what happened on this day?”Oh, gods. Loki’s left hand curled into the material of his shirt in his lap, and he cleared his throat so he could speak clearly. “It was…the day that Steven Rogers saved my life.”

From Empire State of Mind, Chapter 2: An Offer He Should Refuse (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“Stark…”

“You shouldn’t have come here, Loki.” Tony spun around. “This isn’t a sanctuary for the criminally insane.” Tony thought about Clint and Natasha — and himself. “Mostly. You can’t just show up here and think everything is forgiven and —”

“I can make you a deal.”

Tony drew up short at the interruption. Once again, common sense was telling him he shouldn’t even listen, shouldn’t even consider the deal. But if Tony only relied on common sense, he wouldn’t be one of the richest men in the world. “What deal?”

Loki rose from the stool and slowly stepped to him. “Allow me to reside here for the week…and I will never bother you or the others again.”

Tony’s face relaxed, and he brought a hand up to stroke his goatee. It sounded too good to be true — which meant it probably was. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t,” Loki answered simply. “Just as I cannot trust that you won’t contact your agency or your Director Fury and turn me over to them. But I can set your mind at ease on one point.”

‘What’s that?”

“You need not worry about any impending chaos or destruction. My magic is,” He lifted his hands, turning them as he looked at them. “Quite limited right now. And courting chaos is the farthest thing from my mind at the moment, to be honest.”

Tony’s eyes shot down to Loki’s hands after he lowered them to his sides again. “So you’re not going to conjure up your glow stick of destiny and try to put me under your magic spell or anything?”

Loki fought a smile. “No. My sceptre has been….” He looked away annoyed and sighed, “Confiscated. It’s hidden somewhere on Asgard by the Allfather’s magic. It would drain my own magic if I tried to search for it. And if I recall correctly, that didn’t work the first time.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with a laugh. “I know. I just wanted to remind you of it.”

From Stay With Me, Chapter 1 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, mechanic!Bucky, graduate student!Loki)

Bucky stuck a cigarette between his lips and rose to excuse himself. He had been outside for a few minutes, enjoying his cigarette in silence when he felt another’s presence. He didn’t have to look to know it was Steve. “I’m fine,” he murmured while exhaling a thick plume of smoke.

A chuckle sounded beside him. “How’d you know I was gonna ask you that?”

“‘Cause I know you.”

“Ha, yeah.” Both men went quiet again, the crickets’ song and the clinking of ice in Steve’s tea the only sounds between them. “You gonna come around on Sunday?”

Bucky glanced at his friend, in the middle of taking another drag from the cigarette. “Remind me…?”

“Peggy’s birthday.”

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely.”

“Good,” Steve breathed the word out on an almost relieved sigh. “I need you here. Peggy and me, we’re gonna tell Abraham about the engagement.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve barked out a laugh. “No — sorry,” Bucky chuckled. “You know what I mean.” Steve nodded and took another drink of his tea. Bucky frowned in thought and glanced at him. “I didn’t know you still kept in touch with him.”

Steve shrugged. “He and his wife raised me, Bucky.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You lived with them for four years, Steve,” he pointed out. “Until you aged out.”

“I know,” he responded softly. Bucky took one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “He wrote to me, Buck,” Steve mumbled into the silence. “His wife sent me stuff…while I was over there.” He continued to speak softly, but with conviction, as he always did when he spoke of his time in Iraq.

Bucky stood completely still, forcing himself not to shuffle his feet or make some excuse to go inside. He always felt a little uncomfortable when Steve brought up Iraq. Without ever delving too much into his reasons, he blindly assumed it was guilt; guilt he carried for not going back for a second tour with Steve, for choosing to walk away from the army to be a regular mechanic in a regular garage in a regular city, leaving Steve without the expert sniper that he was.

That Steve had a rougher time there, saw worse things than the first time, and lost some men, only made Bucky feel worse. They never discussed it after that first time. And even now, as the two friends, who had known each other since they were boys in Brooklyn, stood under the dim yellow porch light, it grew more tense by the second.

"I better get going," Bucky finally said, unable to take it another minute.

Steve’s head shot up. “Already? You sure you’re all right to ride?”

“Had a long week. And I’m fine, Stevie. Don’t worry so much.” Bucky held out a hand to him, and Steve gripped his tightly. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Promise.” He released Steve’s hand and moved to head down the walkway to his motorcycle parked in front on the street.

“You’re not gonna say bye to the others?” Steve aimed a thumb behind him at the house, even as Bucky swung a leg over the bike and reached for his helmet.

“Do it for me?” He chuckled at Steve’s eye-rolling and started up the motorcycle. “See you later, buddy.”

From All I Ask, Chapter 2 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, veteran!Bucky, artist!Loki)

April in New York was beautiful. New York was beautiful; he mentally corrected himself. California had been nice; Los Angeles was sunny, warm, and very laid-back. Too laid-back. Loki thought he would go mad if he spent too long there. It wasn't as if he wasn't inspired by the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the sandy beaches that stretched for miles north and south, or the acres of orange and lemon groves he'd seen once on a helicopter ride. But that much free time, in that beautiful of a place, turned out to be detrimental to his productivity.

New York was more to his liking. Bustling city life was where Loki needed to be. Taking up his pencil, he began to sketch his view of the horizon languidly. The sun was starting to hide behind some skyscrapers, but the sky was lit up in so many vivid colors that it was difficult to resist putting it down on paper so he could add the colors later. Colored pencils, perhaps. Maybe watercolor.

As he sketched, the pungent odor of cigarette smoke reached his nose. Confused, since it wasn’t usually cigarettes one could smell around here, Loki searched for the source. He found it on the balcony just below his.

There was his hearing-sensitive neighbor, one floor below, straddling the sill of his open window, taking a deep drag off a cigarette. Irritation hit Loki first — at the cigarette stench and because the man had made more complaints about Loki's music and work hours. And because deep down he'd never lost the enjoyment of being a pain to others – and because he was such a little shit – Loki was all set to yell down for his downstairs neighbor to put out his cigarette when the light of the setting sun hit a window somewhere across from them. It reflected onto the other at just the right angle.

Loki went still. The picture of him sitting on the sill brought an image to Loki’s mind, and, quietly, he flipped a page. He began a light outline, moving his pencil blindly over the page as Loki watched his neighbor bring the cigarette to his lips again. He shot a quick look down at his sketch, using the tip of his finger to smudge a line here and there. Catching movement in his vision, Loki saw his newest subject – he was horrible with names, honestly – had risen and stretched out his arms.

That was when Loki caught sight of something abnormal on his left arm. Marks – no, Loki decided. Scars. Deep scars, only shades lighter than his other arm, were etched into the skin, from shoulder to wrist. Perhaps his hand, too, but he wore a black fingerless glove hiding the majority of his hand. Loki inhaled sharply, seeing the beauty in the marring of his otherwise flawless skin, seeing the potential of how he could recreate it on paper. Or canvas. Or anything.

It was too late when Loki decided to call out to him – and say what, he questioned himself. His neighbor had ducked back inside. Loki looked over his rough drawing, wondering if the man downstairs would sit for him just a couple of times. Maybe.

From Untitled SamTasha fic, Chapter 1 (SamTasha, Stucky, Modern AU, firefighter!Sam & Steve, musician!Bucky, businesswoman!Natasha)

Sam Wilson wasn't paying attention. A swift sucker punch to the gut brought him back around. Groaning, half bent over, he glared up at his friend and working partner, Steve Rogers. "What the fuck, Steve?" Steve only shrugged and grinned. That stupid, boyish little smile that made everyone back at the firehouse think he was such a sweet guy. "This is what happens, my friend, when you sleep on the job." Sam straightened, keeping a hand pressed to his stomach. "Excuse me if I'd rather watch a pretty lady box than be your damn coach." "Hey, don't do me any favors. But I'd be careful with that one." Steve glanced back at the redhead and the man with a bun at the back of his head sparring in the boxing ring. "Pretty sure she could wipe this entire gym floor, the one above it, and below it, with your ass in a cinch." Sam chortled. "You know I'd let her, too. Look at her." He urged Steve to turn around completely and bit into his bottom lip. They weren't the only ones being spectators. Several of the gym's patrons had taken a break from their regimes to watch the skilled match. Grunts of exertion and cries of both defeat and victory sounded between the man and woman as punches were blocked and kicks were averted. "What is that?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "That's no regular boxing." Steve made a noise of uncertainty. "Looks like some mix of martial arts. Krav Maga maybe." The man ducked a deft sweep of the woman's leg by dropping into a split and Steve's brows lifted, impressed. He chuckled and slapped a hand to his friend's chest. "Come on, Wilson. We're wasting time. We have to head back in a bit." Sam sighed, torn, and not a little disappointed. "Yeah…wait." Steve scoffed under his breath and looked back in time to watch as the redhead landed a swift kick to the man's chest, making him stagger back. And she spared no time to let him gather himself; she launched herself at him, clasped her hands onto his broad shoulders and used them to swivel herself around him, not once but twice, propelling herself with her legs – short as they may be, but clearly strong – and ended it all by trapping his neck between her thighs and landing with a slam that echoed through the gym to the canvas.

“Son of a bitch,” Steve muttered in a shocked gasp. He looked over at Sam and saw the curve of his lips. “No.”

“I have to.”

“Damn it, Wilson.”

“Five minutes. I swear.”

“We're gonna be late.”

“I'll make it up to you, okay?” Sam pleaded even as he started to back away, moving toward the ring where Natasha was helping Bucky to his feet.

“Damn right you will. You're buying the food tonight.”

Sam stopped. “What? Why?”

“I'm on chef duty for tonight; you're making me late, so you have to buy the food.”

Sam lifted dark eyes to the ceiling, brushing Steve off. “Fine, whatever. Meet me in the locker room.”

“Oh, no.” Steve began to unravel the tape around his large hands. “I'm watching this. Gotta make sure I get all the details to tell the guys.”

Sam frowned hard at him, but Steve merely sent him that boyish grin again. Steve got one hand free, and watched as Sam approached the redhead, her dark-haired friend practically limping away. He noted Sam’s usual moves; a bashful smile, maintained eye contact that thankfully, was more flirtatious than creepy, and an offering of his hand. He gestured as he spoke and Steve had to bite back a chuckle at the indifference on the redhead’s face. He turned away briefly, to toss the tape from his hands into a trash bin, and when he turned back, Sam was on his way back. With a giant smile on his face.

“Shit,” Steve breathed to himself. “You mean you actually got her name and number?”

“Better. I got her to agree to get a drink with me.”

Steve raised a brow, surprised yet skeptical. “A drink?”

“Yeah. Sort of a pre-date date. If we hit it off, she'll consider going on an actual date with me.”

Steve made an impressed face. “She's screening you. I like her already.” He started off toward the locker rooms and Sam fell in step beside him.

“Hey, you're not busy tomorrow night, right?”

“No, I'm off the next…” Realization dawning, Steve stopped and looked at Sam, jaw tight, eyes bright under lowered eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Sam protested; but his smile was still too big. “All right, look. She agreed to drinks…but to make it more casual, and less like a real date – I get the feeling she's been let down a lot,” he added as an aside, “I agreed to bring along a friend. And she'll bring one, too.”

Steve's head fell back, an exhalation of breath that sounded like a pained groan released. “Sam…”

“It's just drinks!” He promised. “And it'll be my treat.”

“You bet your ass it's your treat. Come on,” he started for the showers again. “I’ve got a meal to plan and you’ve got some begging to do.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot, and followed.

From Dark Side (Part One of the Picture Perfect series), Chapter 23: The Definition of Gay and Birthday Sex

When Loki opened his eyes, Darcy had taken the seat directly across from them. He frowned at her and sat up. Tony moved to rest his head on Loki’s shoulder and curl himself around Loki’s arm, but he didn’t wake up.

“Has something happened?”

Darcy shook her head, her dark curls, spilling out from the bright turquoise knit beanie she wore, bounced around her shoulders. “Nah, I just felt like I was invading their time together. So, I came out here.” Her smile grew to show big white teeth. “And found you guys cuddling.”

Loki chuckled softly. He saw Darcy’s gaze focus on Tony, almost narrowing, and turned to look down at him himself. “What are you looking at?”

“How’d you do it?” she asked, her voice full of what sounded like wonder.

“Do what?”

“How’d you get Tony Stark to commit? Nobody’s ever been able to do it. Is it because he didn’t know he was gay?” She turned those big blue eyes on Loki and asked the question like she was asking if he wanted a piece of gum.

He grinned. “You’re under the assumption that people only fall into the two categories of ‘gay’ or ‘straight.’”

Darcy’s face contorted. “Tsch, yeah! Well, I mean, I know you don’t.”

“Do you?” Loki raised an eyebrow, crossed one long leg over the other, careful not to jostle or move a still-sleeping Tony.

“Yeah, because you were with Bucky, then Maria, and now Tony. So, you’re bi, right?”

Loki shrugged. “If that’s the name you wish to apply to it.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side and mimicked Loki’s position, crossing her legs. “What would you call it?” she challenged.

“I don’t attach any labels to myself, dear. Others seem more inclined and happy to do it for me.”

“But you guys,” she aimed a black-polished finger at him, then at Tony, back and forth a few times. “You and Tony, you do it a lot. I mean, that’s what I heard.”

Loki couldn’t help the curve of his lips. He glanced down at Tony when he buried his nose into the sleeve of Loki’s sweater for a brief moment. “You heard as in from someone else, or you heard as in you were eavesdropping outside my door?”

Darcy made a horrified face. “Eww, gross, no! I meant like gossip. I. Hear. Everything, Loki,” she said with an authoritative air, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s why I’m so surprised that Tony’s been with you for so long. Even with Pepper, it was off and on. And only for, like, a month at a time.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded knowingly, almost wisely, like she was teaching him a lesson. “So, what’d you do, huh? Did you use magic on him? Did you put him under some spell of yours?” She wiggled her fingers like a magician.

Loki’s chin lowered. “You jest, but your question suggests the only way Anthony Stark could fall in love is if he was tricked into it.”

Darcy’s shoulders and hands lifted in an innocent gesture. “I’m just saying, as far as I know, you’re the first person he ever said he’s loved. Besides himself, of course.” Loki smiled, chuckled, and nodded his head more in acknowledgment than agreement. “So…?”

Loki lifted his gaze to hers and smiled politely. “Sorry — Darcy, is it?” She nodded. “I’m afraid I am not inclined to discuss the details of my relationship with you. I mean, no offense. But I especially won’t discuss it when the other half of said relationship is awake and listening.”

Darcy blinked, and her mouth fell open as her eyes shot to Tony.

“Aw, man!” Tony sat up and playfully shoved Loki. “How’d you know?”

Loki cocked his head to the side. “I believe I’m familiar as to when you are awake or asleep after spending the last four months sleeping beside you, Anthony. Also, you laughed when Darcy said you’ve never loved anyone but yourself.”

“Shit, I gave myself away. You’re no fun.”

From As Long As You're Mine (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“You lost?” he quipped.

Loki’s eyes remained fixed on Tony’s, and that sexy little smirk curved his lips. “Not at all. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

Tony forced out a chuckle, but that’s exactly what it sounded like — forced. “Yeah, right. Where’re your horns, Reindeer Games?”

Loki’s smirk melted into a dreamy grin and, clasping his hands behind his back, moved toward the bar. “I’m sure you’re aware I’ve managed to escape Odin’s clutches, yes?”

Tony nodded.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to retrieve my sceptre or much else. I’m lucky I managed to snatch this off the hook in the prison they tried to secure me in.” He flicked the lapel of the coat before shrugging it off his shoulders and setting it aside as he slid onto one of the barstools.

“I’m not sure luck is a word that applies to anything that you do.” Tony hadn’t moved from his spot; he didn’t dare. If he moved over to the bar or anywhere near Loki, he knew they would both be in serious trouble.

Loki laughed softly, then gestured lightly toward the collections of bottles and glasses behind the bar. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

Damn it all to hell. “Fine,” Tony muttered and reluctantly made his way behind the bar, setting down his glass. “What’s your poison?”

“I am sure whatever it is you’re drinking will suffice.”

Without another word, Tony pulled out a tumbler from under the bar and filled it halfway with Jack Daniels. Seconds after sliding it across the counter to Loki, it slid back, empty. He looked at it, frowned.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Fuck. Deeply inhaling, Tony’s eyes flicked up, meeting a pair of deep green eyes. Green? Tony could’ve sworn Loki’s eyes were blue. He must have looked confused because…

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I…I thought your eyes were blue. That’s all.” Dropping his gaze, Tony refilled his glass and Loki’s before placing it in front of him. He watched Loki’s fingers wrap around the glass, felt that damn rush again.

“That day, they were. A side effect of the Tesseract’s influence, thanks to the Chitauri. You’ll remember the Hawk’s eyes were similarly blue. More so than usual,” he added before Tony could respond. Loki took a long drink, swallowed, and sighed a bit at the burn down his throat to his empty stomach. When was the last time he refueled? He couldn’t remember. He drank again. It wasn’t what he was used to on Asgard, he thought as he ran his tongue across his lips, but it was good. “I must admit, Stark…”

Tony looked up at his name. It was the first time Loki had ever used it.

“I’m surprised you would remember the color of my eyes.” He lifted the glass again, fixed Tony with a steady gaze over its rim. “Should I be flattered?”

Tony feigned indifference, though inside everything was fluttering, beating a mile a minute, or generally spazzing out in a way he refused to acknowledge on the outside. He finished off his drink to calm it all down. “Are you asking permission? I thought you did what you wanted. Or is that just a bunch of bullshit?”

It was silent for a beat. “Quite right.”

Tony jerked back but could go nowhere when Loki’s arm snaked out, his hand fisting in Tony’s black Aerosmith tee, and pulled him across the bar to plant his mouth on his. Tony’s lips parted to object, but when he felt that long, velvety tongue slide into his mouth, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say.

From Second Time Around, Chapter 1: Thirty-Six Days Later (WinterFrost, Modern AU, disgraced vet!Bucky, college student!Loki)

The August sun was blazing down, overheating the concrete of the sidewalks and the black pavement of the parking lot, when James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes stepped through the sliding doors of the pristine white medical building. He slipped a dark pair of shades over his sleepy ice blue eyes and idly wished he hadn't worn a black t-shirt and dark jeans. But he always favored dark colored clothes. He took a deep breath, and though the air was thick and hot, he was just grateful to be outdoors for the first time in over a month.

A car horn sounded and an old station wagon pulled up to the curb. Bucky saw a female hand push out from behind the lowered window and wave him over, followed by his mother's overly sweet voice saying, "Yoo-hoo! Bucky, dear!"

A little embarrassed, Bucky gave a small wave back and turned to the orderly that had escorted him out, shook his hand, and laughed at the man's attempt at humor when he told Bucky to not call or write or visit.

He picked up his duffel bag of personal items from the bench he stood next to and headed to the station wagon, where both of his parents now stood outside the car, waiting for him. They both welcomed him with a hug; his mother's, as usual, feeling just a bit more genuine than his father's. They all climbed back into the car and started the drive back to their quiet little town, a couple hour's drive.

Bucky stared out the window, blankly watching the world pass by, barely listening to his mother rattle on, filling him in on everything that had happened while he was cooped up in a rehabilitation facility for the past thirty-six days. Intermittently, he brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled the rich taste of tobacco and smoke. Apparently, nothing much had changed; summer block parties were had, recent graduates both left for college and returned from it — nothing Bucky really missed out on. But the big story of the week, and likely for the rest of what was left of the summer, was about the bravery and courage of the town's favorite war hero, Captain Steve Rogers — who also happened to be Bucky's best friend.

Steve, an Army captain, had been going on his daily jog one morning, running from one part of town to another, and back. He often liked to run alongside the ravine that crossed through the city, as it veered away from the heaviest parts of traffic. It just so happened on this particular morning, a young girl had fallen into the ravine, chasing after her ball and couldn't climb back out, after twisting her ankle. Steve had heard her cries, climbed down and carried her, and her ball, to the nearest medical office, and saved the day.

Bucky's mother fed the tale to him, sounding as prideful as a mother hen. Rightfully so, though, as she had taken on the role of parent after Steve's mother died when he was just eighteen, not long after both he and Bucky had left to join the army. Her death left his childhood friend an orphan, as his father had died when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Bucky leaned his head back against the red leather bench seat of the station wagon, concentrating on his breathing, exhaling long plumes of smoke, letting those pesky feelings of resentment and hurt seep from him, like a drop of water sliding down his back to eventually dissipate in darkness somewhere. His mother always spoke of Steve in high regard. And why shouldn't she? The guy was the shining example of the all-American good guy.

From Untitled MaLoki fic, Prologue (Maleficent/Loki, AU crossover between Maleficent (2014) and Thor (2011))

The explosions were getting louder, closer. Maleficent, the Younger, could feel the ground shake and the windows with it. She heard voices outside and downstairs, yelling and screaming. When she looked out the window in her bedroom, she could see tunnels of smoke in the distance and shadowed figures fighting on the hills of Svartalfheim. Father was out there somewhere.

There was so much happening, but she didn’t know what to do. What she could do. Her magic was still too powerful for her to wield. Mother was training her. But then the war happened.

“Maleficent!“

She turned her head at her mother’s voice, shaken by its urgency. She slipped on her shoes and ran to find her. “Yes, Mama?” She stood looking over the railing where Mother was searching for her frantically in the foyer.

“Come. Quickly. We must go.” She met Maleficent at the bottom of the stairs, and took her by the arms. “Where is Astrid?”

“I am here, milady,” a voice spoke from a doorway leading to the kitchen.

Maleficent’s mother took her hand and reached for Astrid’s — then placed Maleficent’s into Astrid’s. “Take her. Make haste to the field beyond the forest.”

“No, Mother, I want to stay with you.”

Maleficent, the Elder, knelt before her young daughter, her fingers trailing down her chestnut hair, falling over her shoulders on either side of the horns growing out of her head. Maleficent saw her swallow thickly and her stomach twisted with anxiety. “I’m afraid you cannot, pieni korppi. The Einherjar are getting closer. You must go.” [Little Raven]

Maleficent felt tears sting her yellow eyes. “But I could help. I could—“

“No.” Maleficent the Elder was quick to quiet her daughter, her only child. She rose again and turned to Astrid. As she spoke to her, Maleficent the Younger looked past her, out of the entrance to the home she lived in with her mother and father. She could see the explosions growing nearer and nearer.

“And remember, Astrid: Neshihi rouhilejee, tifidhoh djonta elithidheene yr ajamihi/.” [To save our people, there is nothing I would not sacrifice.]

“Yes, milady. And may the threads of the Norns guide you on your journey.”

Maleficent the Elder nodded. She turned as Maleficent called her, expecting the young fairy beside her, but found her just inside the entrance. “Maleficent…?”

Maleficent stared, frozen in horror, as a ball of orange fire headed straight for them. Her mother shouted and instinctively, Maleficent raised her arms, her magic — purple at its edges — coming to her fingers. But she never got to use it. An arm wrapped around her waist and she was hurled in the air, her young but powerful wings spread and wrapped around her body protectively as she landed directly in the arms of Astrid.

“Run!“

“Mother!”

Maleficent reached for her, but Astrid was strong. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her mother — her strong, willful mother — hold the ball of fire back, her own magic a cobalt blue. The elder Maleficent strained and the younger knew she wouldn’t hold it much longer.

Their eyes, matching sets of yellow with dark green edges, locked, and Maleficent heard her mother’s voice in her mind: Go, my child. I will always be with you. Kira liljal nol. Now! [I love you.]

Maleficent stopped struggling and let Astrid take her from her home. As the image of her mother being consumed by a wall of fire burned into her memory, Maleficent vowed revenge on Bor, son of Buri, and the realm of Asgard.

Apologies for the length. LOL. Three or four sentences is hardly anything. If you read this far, yay! Thanks!

xoxo, La

#ten random lines #matbts #frostiron #winterfrost #stucky #samtasha #maloki #my fics #stuff i wish i would finish #stuff i surprised i did #stuff i'm kind of proud of

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fanmoose12 · 2 years ago

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Hi, I've been enjoying your fics (esp the fluffs) in ao3. Thanks for that btw!

Idk if you're currently available to accept some prompts but might as well suggest one;

So I've been having this hc where levi started using his actual surname "ackerman" after he found out from kenny about it. I want to know how will hange (ofcrs) and the others will react to it. Thank you!

Erwin is the one, who finds about it first, by the virtue of being Commander.

It's mostly accidental too, and happens when he reads through one of Levi's weekly reports.

He skips over rather dull- in Levi's unbiased opinion, at least- details in the beginning, goes right to the final conclusion, which as week after week goes by, remains almost unchanged: Mikasa is the best out of bunch, Connie, Sasha and Jean are adequate and make a decent team, Armin and Eren are okay, mostly, but are still better suited to work with Hange.

Erwin takes it all with only quiet hum as his reply, however- however, his eyes widen a fraction, when he sees Levi's signature.

"Not just Levi anymore?" is all he asks, as he regards Levi with a raised eyebrow.

Levi falteres, although the question was more than expected, and his reply to it was already prepared. He puts down the watering can and steps away from Erwin's plant he's been tending to. Looks his Commander in the eyes, as he says, "Old man, he-" a curse slips past his lips, and Levi shakes his head with a sigh. That kind of stuff is still hard to share, even with someone as close to him as Erwin. He makes an effort, though. "Told me about our family, and all that. Could be a load of bullshit, of course, but- it feels kind of nice. To know where you come from."

There, he said it, and with minimum amount of cursing and cringing too. A job good done, if Levi can say so himself.

"Levi Ackerman. It certainly has a ring to it," Erwin says, after a moment of pensive rubbing of his chin. How does he do that, Levi wonders, how does he manage to look as a fucking pillar of wisdom, while he simply touches his face. Must be a talent, or- a special power of the Smith lineage. "Although I must admit," the hand is gone from his chin, and in a blink of eye, gravely serious Commander Erwin transfroms into Erwin, a little piece of shit. His lips turn upwards, as he gives Levi a look that fills his blue eyes up to the brim with mischief. "I always expected you to take a different name. We all did, actually."

What- what can he possibly mean? Levi feels lost, lacking the context to understand a joke. Is it some kind of tradition he doesn't know of? Something he's not privy to because he grew up in the Underground? Or is it just a case of Erwin being Erwin - a barely comprehensible motherfucker?

Maybe, it's a bit of both, Levi decides, but just to be thorough, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," as expected, Erwin gives him nothing more than a quiet chuckle. "Forget I said anything. You may now go, Captain Ackerman."

Levi wants to flip the bastard off, but- subordination and all that shit must be maintained, so he doesn't. Not, at least, until the door to Erwin's office is closed.

___

The next to discover the news are the kids, damn them all. They swarm Levi like a cloud of flies, surrounding him from all sides.

"So!" It's Sasha, who gets the closest to him. And yells the loudest. "You're, like, Mikasa's brother? Or- or uncle? It's so-"

The expression of disgust he pulls at the mere suggestion of being related to the most annoying (after Yeager, naturally) member of his squad is mirrored almost scarily accurate, by none other than Mikasa.

Perhaps, Levi must admit, there is some truth to Sasha's words. But even if they're related, they're definitely not as close as the girl thinks. Distant cousins, perhaps, but that's all Levi agrees to entertain.

"It's kinda weird," amongst the chatter of others, Levi picks up Jean's voice - it's much quieter, whispered into Connie's ear. "I thought Captain had a last name already. Just kept quiet about it, you know-"

Connie's confused shake of a head confirms that he doesn't, in fact, know. Levi doesn't know too, so he drones out Eren's question to Mikasa, and leans a little closer to Jean and Connie, curious to hear the explanation.

Can it be related to Erwin's previous nonsense?

"You know," Jean continues, after granting his friend with a disapproving glance, "To keep that thing- between him and Hange-san in secret."

"Oh," Connie stretches out, delighted. He giggles, elbowing Jean in the side. "That thing." Just as quickly, though, his enthusiasm dies out. "But if Captain actually has a last name, that means- ugh," the boy hangs his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. Levi is utterly lost, again, the conversation between two friends all but incomprehensible to him. "That means that you were wrong. Damn, we owe Mikasa our lunches now."

Why do they? What has happened? What the fuck is going on?

Levi wants to ask, he feels, knows it even that he needs to know. What was that, what thing between him and Hange? Is it so secret that even he doesn't know?

Does Hange?

He should probably ask her about it. But for now- Levi hurries to turn away from two boys, before they take note of his curiosity. Whatever is going on in his squad (and possibly, whole regiment, "We all did, actually", Erwin had said), he doesn't want to become the topic of yet another gossip.

___

He goes to find Hange as soon as he shakes off his squad, but- it turns out that getting rid of six over-excited teenagers is much easier than finding one, incredibly hard-working scientist.

Hange is not in her office, and when he comes to the training grounds, she's not there either; he visits the research facility, but finds it empty too, except for Moblit, who smiles apologetically and says that, "Hange-san is running some errands. Truthfully, I'm not sure when she'll come back. Or if she'll come back. Maybe, you'll find her at dinner?"

Except, of fucking course, Hange skips that too. Frustrated and not an inch closer to finding an answer to his puzzle, Levi grabs some leftovers from the kitchen and goes to eat in his room.

And that's where - fantastically - he finds Hange.

She sits at his desk, brows furrowed and lips plucked, discontent all but written on her face. It's- it's not an unusual expression on Hange's face, especially after a long day of tiring work, but she rarely comes to him, when she's in that kind of mood, so Levi feels the need to ask. Before he can even open his mouth, though, Hange looks up, her finger immediately shooting upwards, to point accusingly at him.

"So when were you going to tell me about this?"

"This?" Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had his fill of the riddles today, and now Hange - instead of helping him solve the previous ones - is adding another one? Unbelievable. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Your last name! Everyone talks about it, but I didn't even know you had one!"

Oh. So it's this thing, again. Levi is thoroughly done with it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hange persists, one hand on her hip. "Are we not friends?"

"Of course, we're friends," he replies, without missing a bit. Early on, Levi has learnt that arguing with Hange about that is absolutely pointless. Besides, it's not in his nature to deny the obvious. "And I did tell you about it, when I spoke of-"

"Kenny the Ripper, yes," Hange nods, "Your uncle who you thought was your father."

"Exactly," he shoots back. "You already know everything."

Hange shakes her head. "No. I still don't know why you decided to take his name. And when you made that decision. I mean, you knew that you two were related, so why didn't you take it-"

"I wasn't sure. And I thought he was my father."

Hange cocks her head to the side, looking exactly like Levi was feeling earlier today, in Erwin's office and with the kids - utterly confused.

"I don't follow," she confesses at last, in a small voice.

Levi exhales, and comes to sit at his bed, motioning for Hange to do the same. Once she is there, and her shoulder brushes against his, he explains, "I thought he was my father, a father who, at first abandoned my mother, then did the same thing to me. I wasn't exactly fond of him, in case you haven't noticed, that's why I didn't take his name. But when I found out that he was my mother's brother, I-"

"Oh," Hange breathes out softly. "It's not his name that you took. It's your..."

"My mom's, yeah."

"Oh," she repeats again, this time even softer, much gentler. "Want a hug?"

Without waiting for his answer, or- more probably- already knowing it and seeing right through his bullshit, Hange embraces him. Her hands wrap around his neck, chin lands on his shoulder, digging into his skin and making her touch feel tangible, real. Levi exhales, puts his arms on her waist, allows himself to relax, get lost in the warm cacoon of Hange's affection. And if he pulls Hange a little closer, if his grip on her seems desperate in any way, she is kind not to mention it and patient enough to continue holding him.

"You know," she begins, and Levi shivers, when he feels her hot breath on his neck, "I know it's a little stupid-"

"You're stupid," he shoots back, smiling, when he hears Hange let out a short chuckle.

"Well yeah, I can get a little stupid, when I'm not busy being a brilliant genius, but I was thinking-"

"Yeah?"

"Before Kenny and all that mess, I was thinking that, maybe, and it was foolish of me, I know-" get to the fucking point, Levi wants to demand, but all that gets out is a frustrated grunt. Hange picks up on it all the same, chuckling heartily, before she continues, "Levi, have some patience. But, yeah, I was thinking that since you don't have a last name, then maybe... well, you could take mine. I mean, you already have a name, so that's not necessary, but-"

Levi drones out the rest of the sentence and the rambling that follows after it. He ignores everything else too - time, the world itself seems to be put on a pause, as he wonders: if that was the others have meant earlier? Can Hange mean what he hopes she does?

"Four-eyes." He can't help it, his voice comes out too raspy, too shaken, when he breaks the embrace, inching away until he can look into her eyes. "Do you-" he doesn't quite know how to formulate his question, what words he must use to make sure that Hange is absolutely on the same page as he is. So he tries again, "I didn't exactly pay attention to it, but in the Underground, when someone asks you to take their name, it usually means that-"

"If they're lucky," Hange chuckles - nervously, with fingers fisted into her shirt so tightly her knuckles turn white. She glances up at him, meets his eyes, then fleetingly moves her gaze away. Levi wonders if the red on her cheeks is the trick of light or his own imagination. "It means that, um, that someone loves you very much. And wants you in their life."

"And..." his heart beats too fast, too loud, he barely hears himself. He takes a moment to clear his throat, then, feeling far more scared than in the moments when he has to face a horde of titans, he asks, "Am I that lucky?"

Hange is smiling, which Levi feels acutely, when she presses her chapped lips to his cheek. "So, so lucky, Levi."

He closes his eyes, scarcely breathes, as he lets the feeling wash over him. He is lucky, he is loved. And-

And he loves back, so, so much.

And that's- oh, Levi realizes, that's what everyone has been going on about. The thing between him and Hange. So secret that everyone knew about it but them. Perhaps- Perhaps, in their duo, Hange is not the only one stupid.

"I already have a name," he says, and wonders if that feeling inside of him, the one that blooms so vividly, threatening to take up all of the space in his lungs, is that fear or elation? Only Hange can answer this question. "But if it doesn't bother that someone-"

"That someone," Hange giggles, presses another kiss to his cheek, seemingly as overwhelmed as Levi feels, "would love you all the same. That is, of course, if you-"

How can he not, when Hange's been there for him since the beginning, when Hange is the smartest, the weirdest, the kindest, the funniest, the the, the best out of all of them. For Levi, at least.

"I do," he says, eyes flicking up to meet Hange's, to let her know that he means it. His palm lands back on her waist, so when he reaches out to Hange, he is steady. He glances at her, to make sure that what he's about to do is okay, and with Hange's permission granted in a form of a nod, he puts his lips on hers.

He means the kiss to be short, chaste, but when Hange tangles her fingers into his hair, when she pulls him closer and closer until he's all but on her lap, he can only melt against her and do his best to follow her lead.

Hange is passionate, impatient, and she kisses him like she means it, like she has been dying to know what his lips taste like. And that feeling- that fear that was almost suffocating him, now disappears, turns into a delight so forceful it leaves him dizzy.

When they separate - inevitably, which makes Levi wonder if there is a way for humans to survive without air, if Hange, his brilliant Hange can figure that out, for the sole purpose of allowing Levi to spend the rest of his life just right there, on his bed and in Hange's lap, their lips touching - Hange grins at him, eyes darkening when she catches a sight of his swollen lips.

"Levi Ackerman," she says, announces it, like they're on some sort of an official meeting, and not in the privacy of his bedroom. Her voice is loud as she speaks, and her tone is cheerful and proud, "and Hange Zoe. Separate, but stronger together."

"Mm," Levi nuzzles into her neck, missing her lips already. "And extremely lucky."

"So lucky," Hange agrees, before she lifts his chin. She craddles his face between her hands, caresses his cheeks, while her forehead presses against his, and this- simple touch, filled with so much love- feels as good as kissing. Even better, somehow. "Who cares about names anyway?"

Certainly not Levi, not while his heart is full of love, and his hands are full of his Hange.

And as they kiss again, he smiles.

#levihan

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potter-pavlikovsky-popchyk · 3 years ago

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My portfolio of hyperfixating and projecting, if you will. ENJOY! <3 (Most songs i post about are then put on this playlist... or another in the works, some of which aren't public for fics. I link fic playlists on fics.)

Ignore songs that don’t go, I might have added by accident since i be doing the most.

Boris' playlist has vibes for his whole life, him alone, with family after Theo and of course with Theo. So, energetically, very all over the place. Some dark desolate vibes, mixed states of being in a place of distortion as well as, of course mania. Drugs, mental illness struggles, unhealthy coping mechanisms, disconnect, discontent, and overwhelm.

Theos playlist. Idk I may change the image but I wanted to show how he lights up with Boris. Same difference as Boris for Theo but more sad boy™ in that way that is so much more Theo... you know what i mean.:

Also here is my Archive. Many are ongoing so pls subscribe incase i forget to post here about next chapters added since I'm super busy and don't want yall to miss a thing! <3 open to suggestions! comments or asks are always welcomed!

Richard Papen/Henry Winter fic (NEW CH IS UP!!!!! More to come):

The (original concept for the above mentioned) SUPER DARK AU gone even darker upon my revisit and much more layered. oops, now another long fic RIP! (PLS READ TAGS AND NOTES/SUM. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED) if you enjoy such content as this, follow the Dionysus2xBorn on tumblr as well so you don't miss the mischief over there!:

Random poem i wrote when i saw this lovely persons fanart. Called Cling.

A whole thread on figuring out some features/aspects about Boris from the book's description.

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

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happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

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thisisawonderfulusername · 3 years ago

Text

for all time, always

episode one, part one

loki laufeyson x reader

requested by: @lonely-nerd-sodaholic

summary: you've been friends with loki since childhood, and you knew that his views were wrong. you help the avengers capture him in his attempt to take over midgard- and get caught up in the tva.

warnings: none that i can think of? idk tell me if you see anything.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: okay, hi. so this is going to be a series, because the request was so packed and i already had a lot written only 20 minutes into the first episode of the show. so, the first episode will be broken into 2, mainly because i'm figuring out how to write the rest, and i didnt want one part to be ridiculously long.

i'm still thinking of a name for this, so if there are any suggestions please tell me :)

ever since your home planet had been destroyed, way back in your childhood, loki had been your friend. for most of the thousand years you’ve lived, he was your best friend. he helped you feel at home on asgard when you first arrived, and as you grew up next to each other, you became inseparable.

you helped him stay out of too much trouble- though there was no stopping the god of mischief in causing a little chaos. but he always wanted more.

and now you stood in front of him with the avengers, hawkeye pointing an arrow at his face as he catches his breath. the hulk had clearly gotten him good, as there was now a deep, god shaped impression in the floor, and his face was covered in scratches.

you handed a pair of handcuffs to tony- ones that even a god couldn’t break through- and he locked them onto loki’s hands without a struggle from the man. his brother lugged him up off the ground as an agent of shield placed his scepter in a case, and tony carefully placed the tesseract into a hopefully secure briefcase. you didn’t want something like that to escape it’s prison- not into the wrong hands. which, unfortunately, were your friend’s hands.

captain america walked by everyone as you all waited for the two men to finish packing up the dangerous items, speaking into his comms. “on my way to coordinate search and rescue.”

loki’s form changes to look like steve, and you roll your eyes as he mocks the man. “i mean, honestly, how do you even keep your-”

before he can finish the sentence, you place a restraint over his mouth that extends to wrap around his head in order to stay in place, as his brother tells him to shut up in irritation.

you all gather into the elevator- except for the hulk. everyone ushers him away, “maximum occupancy has been reached.” tony tells him, “take the stairs.”

as the doors close, his rageful roar can be heard and a dent is made in the ridiculously strong metal.

the ride down to the main floor of the building is filled with conversation of what’s to happen with loki. the plan was for you and thor to take him back to asgard, to serve his time in a cell strong enough to hold him.

you look to the god next to you. “i thought you were better than this.” you mutter to him, and his head turns as his eyes meet yours. his eyebrows raise, and you know exactly what he’s trying to communicate.

did you really, though?

no.

the doors open to show the busy lobby, and you all begin to escort him out of the building. you are quickly stopped by some agents, including an older man who stops in front of stark and thor. “may i ask you where you’re going?” he questions.

“bit of lunch and then asgard,” thor tells him, glancing to tony before looking back at the man with furrowed eyebrows, “i’m sorry, you are..?”

“alexander pierce,” tony informs, “he’s the man above the folks behind nick fury.”

thor nods in understanding as pierce speaks up again, “my friends call me mr. secretary. i’m gonna have to ask you to turn that prisoner over to me.”

you look to the man, more attentive now, “loki will be answering to odin himself.” you contend, seeing out of the corner of your eye how loki shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

“no, he’s gonna answer to us.” the man argues, “odin can have what’s left. and i’m gonna need that case.” he nods to where the tesseract is contained. “that’s been shield property for over seventy years.”

one of his guards steps in, “hand over the case, stark.” he moves to grab it from him, but thor quickly puts a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks.

tony adjusts so the case is further away from them, holding his hand out, “all right, i’m not gonna argue who’s got the higher authority here…”

“i need the case.” the man states strongly.

“i know you got a lot of pull, i’m just saying, jurisdiction-”

they begin to interrupt each other, arguing back and forth about jurisdiction, and agents begin to gather around stark to try to grab the case from him.

suddenly, the case drops from his hand as he gasps, beginning to choke on air as he falls to the ground. your eyes widen, not noticing when the briefcase slides past you on the ground. you have no idea how to help in this situation.

in an instant, the door to the stairwells slams open and your head whips towards it as the hulk hits one of the agents- who drops the case that everyone had been fighting over just seconds.

you’re in shock as it falls open and the tesseract slides across the floor to stop next to loki’s foot. “loki, no!” you shout, and in one quick motion you both bend over to grab it from each other, before you’re going through a portal.

you’re falling out of the sky, and you instinctively grab for loki, managing to find his arm before the two of you crash into a sandy dune of the desert.

you breathe shakily as you quickly sit up, looking to your side as he pulls the mouth guard off. “you’ve got to be kidding me, loki!” you yell at him, pushing up from the ground and shaking the sand off of your hands.

he scoffs as he stands as well, “no, no y/n. you’ve got to be kidding me!” he points a finger at you, “helping those fools?”

your jaw tightens, “those fools were keeping you from destroying a planet! i was keeping you from destroying a planet!”

he shakes his head, chuckling bitterly, “no, i wasn’t destroying midgard.” he argues, “i was going to rule them!”

“you weren’t going to rule them!” you’re voice raises, “you were going to be a cruel tyrant.” he’s about to speak but you shake your head, holding a finger up, “we thought you were dead, and this is the absurdity you pull to rise from the dead?”

he purses his lips, “did you mourn me?”

you sigh, “we all did, loki.” you clench your fist, “your brother, your father-”

“thor’s father.” he interrupts, “you know of my true parentage.”

your teeth grit together, and you bring your hands to your head to be able to run your fingers through your hair. “you are unbelievable.” you mumble, “unbelievable!”

“i am loki, of asgard.” you hear him say, and you spin on your heel to see him standing on a rock, looking at a group of women. “and i am burdened with glorious purpose.”

“loki,” you groan, “stop. just stop.”

one of the women speaks in some foreign language that neither of you understand, and loki is about to respond- until you hear the warbling of a portal opening up. your head turns and you see multiple people, clad in armored gear, stepping out. one of them kneels beside the tesseract.

your friend immediately steps towards them, “don’t touch that.” he commands as they all stand defensively, holding some sort of weapon pointed towards him. your eyebrows furrow as you look around in confusion.

another portal opens and a woman steps out, looking around, “appears to be a standard sequence violation.” she observes, lifting a device that resembled a phone and looking at it, “branch is growing at a stable rate and slope. variants identified.”

you tilt your head, “i beg your pardon.”

“on behalf of the time variance authority, i hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline. hands up.” she commands, all of the soldiers around her charging their weapons, “you’re coming with us.”

“i’m sorry, who’s ‘us’?” loki questions her, his eyebrows furrowing.

she pulls out her own weapon, not answering the question. “last chance, variants.”

the god next to you chuckles before sniffling, “it’s been a very long day, and i think i’ve had my fill of idiots in armored suits telling me what to do, so,” the woman is slowly beginning to creep towards the two of you, “if you don’t mind, this is actually your last chance. now, get out of my way.”

instead of moving, like you would assume anyone would do when loki commands to, she pulls back and hits him with the stick she holds. now, it seems like he’s moving in slow motion, and your jaw drops. it was quite entertaining, seeing how his hair floated and his face jiggled from the hit he took.

she holds a collar-like thing to his neck and it wraps around, clicking into place. before you can fight against it, another one of the armored people attaches one to you.

“you are now moving at one-sixteenth speed, but feeling all that pain in real time.” she tells him, and you’re quite amazed by this technology- despite the fact that it was being used on you, as well.

as he falls to the ground, he is dropped out of slow motion and hits the ground in real time, at full force. you can’t help but to laugh, until two of the soldiers grab at your arms. two others lift loki up, and you try to struggle against the people now dragging you towards a portal. “reset the timeline.”

your head is turned as they continue to force your steps, watching as the one remaining soldier places a bomb-like thing on the ground. slowly, a glow washes over the sand, but you’re unable to see what happens as you’re shoved through the portal.

the woman who seemed to be in charge grabs both yours and loki’s arms, and the other soldiers seemed to have disappeared- maybe gone to another place?

it doesn’t matter, as she pushes the two of you along, into a room that looked sort of like the lobby to an office building.

your eyebrows furrow as you ask the question that is on both of your minds, “what is this place?”

you don’t get a response, and another man is being pushed through a door to the side. “my dad is on the board of goldman sachs! one call, and your whole job is privatized.” he threatens. the soldier next to him doesn’t say anything, simply grabbing him and forcing him to move along.

loki, at the other side of the woman, looks at her. without a thought, he quickly runs forward. before he can even get halfway across the room, she presses a button and he phases back to her side.

confused, you look at him before trying the same thing as him. again, before you can get far, you appear back at her side. the two of you look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, silently communicating with each other. at the same time, the two of you run forward.

again, your both teleport back to the woman, and this time you stumble back, falling onto the ground.

she rolls her eyes, grabbing the both of you and moving up to the desk as another man leaves the room. the guy working there seems too happy, as he greets her. “hello, ma’am! uh-”

“log this as evidence.” she places the tesseract on the desk, cutting him off and ignoring the clipboard that he was going to hand her.

as you’re walking away, he grabs the cube, “okay, uh, can you at least tell me what it is?”

“it’s the tesseract.” loki pulls away from the lady slightly, “be very careful with it.”

she walks the two of you to what looks to be the doors to an elevator, pulling a lever down as loki turns to her.

“know this. you cross me, there are deadly consequences.” he points a finger at her.

the doors open and she shakes her head, “we’ll see.”

she shoves him through the doors and you try to follow, “hey!” you raise your voice at her as the doors shut on you, “where is he going?”

she ignores you as she stares at the doors, and you stand there for a few minutes. it feels like a lifetime.

when she decided it was time, the lady opened the doors again and like loki, you are pushed inside, and your breathing goes shallow for a moment as you stare at her through the closing doors.

there’s a tap on your shoulder and you jump, quickly turning on your feet and accidentally bumping into the door. in front of you is a robot with claws. “excuse you!” you nearly shout, and the digital face somehow smirks, holding up what looked like a laser pointer.

“hold very still.” the robotic voice tells you, and your eyes widen as something that definitely seemed like a lazer dematerialized your asgardian clothes.

“what-” you look down at your form, now only wearing your undergarments. your gaze falls back on the robot, which smiles at you. “now why would you-”

before you can finish the sentence, you’re dropped through the floor and into different clothes. ones that look like what a prisoner would wear. you hit the ground, almost falling, but you quickly stand back up, straightening your posture. you jump when you see a man sitting behind a desk, a very large stack of papers in front of him.

he pushes the stack towards you. “please sign to verify this is everything you’ve ever said.” he tells you, and you look at him in confusion.

“i’m sorry, what?” you ask, and a printer eats a piece of paper, spitting it out into his hand. he places it on the top with a pen.

“sign this, too.”

you look at the paper, seeing that it had typed exactly what you said. you scoff, “what is this?”

once again, the printer spits out a piece of paper, and you watch as he places it on top. “and this.”

you bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything else, stepping forward and grabbing the pen. you aggressively scribble your name on the line that asks for your signature, and step back, motioning at the papers to show that you did it.

once again, you’re dropped through the floor, and you yelp.

in front of you is a large machine that looks like it would be a metal detector, a short man standing on the other side with a clipboard.

he looks at you, “please confirm that to your knowledge you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do, in fact, possess what many cultures would call a soul.”

you stare at him in confusion for a moment, “pardon? if i am a robotic being?”

“that is what i asked, yes.” he responds in a monotonous tone.

you tilt your head, thinking for a moment, “would i not know if i were a robot?”

he writes something down, “thank you for your confirmation, please step through.”

looking at the machine, you take slow steps towards it. you hesitate to move through it, “what would happen if i did turn out to be a robot?”

he looks at you, dropping the board to his side for a moment, “the machine would melt you from the inside out.”

“well, thanks for sugar coating it.” you breathe out, looking at the doors on the other side.

taking one more deep breath, you step into the machine. a bright light flashes in your eyes and you flinch, watching as a polaroid prints to your side. you see a blue glow. “what’s that?” you ask him as he examines it.

“your temporal aura.” he informs.

“...what’s that?” you repeat the question.

rolling his eyes, he motions to the door, “move along, please.”

the doors open, and you’re met with a room that looks like a long queue, due to the ropes that cut it into a line.

“hey there!” a female voice is projected through the room, and you quickly snap your head to the side, trying to find where it was coming from, “you’re probably saying, ‘this is a mistake. i shouldn’t even be here.’”

a tv cuts on in the room, and the image of a cartoon clock spins onto the screen, saluting. “welcome to the time variance authority. i’m miss minutes, and it’s my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes.”

crimes? what crimes did you commit? you just helped save new york from being destroyed by your friend!

“take a ticket.” you look away from the tv as the clock continues to speak, at a man dressed the same as all of the other soldiers. you look towards the empty queue, and you see your friend staring at the tv in confusion.

you quickly snatch one of the tickets, “loki!”

as you weave your way through the line, his eyes widen slightly, “there you are.” he sighs as you get to his side, “this place is insane.”

there’s a loud thundercrack, and you jump slightly as your gaze falls back on the tv. the visual of a lighting strike is on the screen, over the background of stars in space.

“long ago, there was a vast multiversal war. countless unique timelines battled each other for supremacy, nearly resulting in the destruction of…” lines dance across the screen before crashing into each other, and a mushroom cloud from an explosion shows. “...well, everything.”

three figures take over the screen, floating in the galaxy, “but then, the all-knowing time-keepers emerged, bringing peace by reorganizing the multiverse into a single timeline, the sacred timeline.” one single line, like the rest that had exploded, now floats in front of them, “now, the time-keepers protect and preserve the proper flow of time for everyone and everything.”

the background changes to an orange color with lines breaking it up into boxes, and a group of people shows, walking across a white pathway. “but sometimes, people like you veer off the path the time-keepers created.” a new red line appears, and one of the people stops behind the rest, looking around before following the red path. “we call those variants. maybe you started an uprising, or were just late for work. whatever it was, stepping off your path created a nexus event, which, left unchecked, could branch off into madness, leading to another multiversal war.”

new lines begin to emerge from the path, before they’re spreading like wildfire. a warning comes up on the screen, ‘danger: multiverse’.

“but don’t worry! to make sure that doesn’t happen, the time-keepers created the tva and all its incredible workers. the tva has stepped in to fix your mistake and set time back on its predetermined path.”

the variant, as the clock called him, is dragged off by drawings of people that look much like the soldiers who carried you in, and an identical form of the variant drops back into the line, following with the rest of the group. “now that your actions have left you without a place on the timeline, you must stand trial for your offenses. so sit tight, and we’ll get you in front of a judge in no time. just make sure you have your ticket, and you’ll be seen by the next available attendent.” a logo for the tva takes over the screen. “for all time,”

“always.” more voices join in to finish the motto.

the tv cuts back off and you’re standing there in shock for a moment. “this is absurd.” you whisper to yourself.

loki scoffs, “time-keepers? the sacred timeline? who actually believes this bunkum?” he questions, and you shrug your shoulders.

“ticket, sir?” another guard asks the only other ‘variant’ in the room, and the guy motions to his colleague.

“that guy didn’t give me a ticket.” he accuses, “i asked for one!”

an argument breaks out between the two, “what, you’re raising your voice at me, bucket head?” before he can say anything else, the guard taps the glowing end of his weapon to his body, and he begins to disappear.

your jaw drops, and you quickly check that you’re still holding your ticket. “do you- you got a ticket, right?” you ask your friend as he pats his body down before reaching into his pocket and pulling one out.

“yeah,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “i have it.”

you nod, and the two of you get to the front of the line, where the same guy asks you for your ticket.

both of you hold your tickets up, and the guard looks at you. “him first.”

“what-” you glance to loki as he speaks, “we’re going together. we have to.”

the end of his stick begins to glow again, and you quickly step back, “okay, fine.”

the other god in the room looks back to you, and you smile anxiously, “it’s okay. i’ll be right behind you.” you hold two thumbs up, and he shakes his head.

hesitantly, he holds his ticket out, and the same woman who pushed you into that terrible elevator contraption walks up to grab his arm. “don’t get into any more trouble, please!”

“you know me, y/n.” he looks back as he’s dragged away, through a door. you sigh as it slams shut behind him.

looking at the guard, you clear your throat. “so, tva?” you ask, playing with the sleeve of your jumpsuit, “you believe in it?”

when you don’t get an answer, you take in a deep breath, “okay. no talking from you, either.” you rock back on your feet, looking around the silent room. “are all of you the silent type? the most i’ve gotten is ‘sign this’ and ‘step through’.” you mock the voices of the men you came across before getting here.

when you still get no answer, you nod your head and give up. it feels like an eternity before you see a man in a suit entering the room, swiftly making his way towards the same door loki had been pushed through.

just before touching the knob, he quickly looks back at you. a smile appears on his face, “you.”

his eyes seem to be pointed in your direction, but you turn your head to look behind you to see if anyone else had silently made their way into the room, but no. you slowly look back to him, pointing a finger at yourself, “me?”

“yes. you.” he looks at the guard standing next to you. “i’ll be taking her, thank you.”

the man in armor looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate for a moment. “right, yeah.” you quickly hand him your ticket and quickly make your way to the other man. “and who are you?”

“mobius. it’s nice to meet you, y/n.” your eyebrows furrow, but before you can ask how he knows your name when you haven’t said it, he nods to the door, “you may want to be quiet. wouldn’t want to interrupt the court.”

you look at him in confusion, but follow him into the room. at the front, there is a desk overlooking the room, and standing before it is loki, at a sort of speaking pedestal.

you wish to call out to him, but he seems to be fending for himself as you sit in one of the rows of benches next to mobius.

“you speak of time criminals? it’s they you should be after.” he tells the woman looking down on him, “perhaps you could provide me with a taskforce and resources, and i could return and eliminate them for you.”

“we’re not here to talk about the avengers.” the judge speaks sternly, “what they did was supposed to happen. you escaping was not.”

your friend laughs, and you glance at mobius, who doesn’t pay any mind to you. “right. uh… ‘not supposed to happen’? according to whom?” loki asks her.

the woman is clearly getting annoyed, “the time-keepers?”

“oh, the time-keepers. right.” loki nods his head, “well, perhaps i should speak to these time-keepers, gods to gods.”

the lady smiles tightly, “i’m sorry, but they’re quite busy.”

“oh they are? what are they doing?”

“dictating the proper flow of time.”

you bite your lip as you think over what is happening right now. “i see,” loki says, “and what is it that you do?”

she sighs, “dictate the proper flow of time according to their dictations, how do you plead?” she snaps as she finishes her sentence.

pleading? god, what is this place? “guilty…” your eyebrows furrow as you look up at loki, as he slowly puts his arms out. you roll your eyes. “...of this.” he strains his muscles as he puffs his chest out, and you’re confused when nothing happens.

why wasn’t his magic working?

there is stifled laughter from the workers as he tries again, the judge asking what’s going on as he does it one last time. “he’s trying to use his powers, ma’am.”

“damn it! why won’t it work?” he shouts, banging his hands against the rail of the pedestal.

“magic powers?” the judge seems to be ridiculing him now, “they’re no good in the tva, mr. laufeyson. the court finds you guilty, and i sentence you to be reset.” she bangs her gavel, “next case please!”

your eyes widen as loki asks the question you have, “reset? what does that mean?” guards pull him from the pedestal and you jump up from your seat, mobius grabbing your arm before you can even try to help him.

fighting against the guards, loki shouts at her, “you have no idea what i’m capable of!”

standing, mobius joins into the conversation. “i… i think i might.” the room goes quiet as the few people inside look at him, “have an idea of what he’s capable of.”

the judge tilts her head, “approach the bench.”

the man mutters and “excuse me.” as he moves by you, and you watch as he moves past the pedestal and to the base of the desk, looking up at her.

you quickly move forward, wanting to help loki from the guards’ grasp, but you’re quickly stopped by another one. you groan, instead having to watch as mobius has a quiet conversation with the judge.

he seems to win whatever argument they’re having, and he glances at you and loki.

“and who are you?” loki asks the question you already had before you came into this room.

mobius simply smiles.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

marvel: none yet

loki: none yet

#marvel #loki #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader

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