#✨| thoughts of the fallen {Musings}

[jokeringcutio]

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader : Savior Fill (2)

Remember this prompt? Could u please do reader x joker 2019?

Reader protects Arthur (before he turned into joker) from when his sign was taken and she beat the kids up and he won’t ever forget that moment. But now,Arthur turned into the joker, he returns the favour by saving her from bad guys?

And when he saves her, he walks elegantly towards her 😫✨ and says “I missed you, doll” 🫣🫣🫣😭✨

AN: LOOK, it's a second fill to the same prompt 8D I’ve written it in such a way it can also be seen as a modern-day au.

Title: Savior Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (Joker)  x Reader Rating: Mature for safety. Warnings: Violence, (attempted) sexual assault, Crude Language, Clown beating, Sweet Arthur, Sweet Reader, Blood. ~ Savior Fill : I Need You ~

1.

When you turned the corner down the busy shopping street and into the alley, you were surprised to see a group of five teenage boys hunched over something.

Or rather, someone.

Between the dirt from torn open bins and mud from the fallen rain earlier, lay a man. You squinted to see what was happening but quickly caught on. The boys weren’t trying to help the man up. By the movements they made, your first thought was that they might be dancing. But they weren’t. Not if the only music was the sound of shouts and curses from the boys and the soft whimpers from below their feet.

The man in question lay in the ditch, face shielded from you. But you had caught sight of the oddly colorful curls, a wig, and the oversized shoes. A cardboard sign lay several feet away, folded and covered in dirt and mud. He must be one of those hired promoters, you mused. You disliked guerrilla marketing as much as any other, but beating the man up was going way too far.

These boys were bullying the man, kicking down at his shins and using their feet to bruise him, and perhaps even worse. Behind you, the main street was crowded, and people were shuffling on the sidewalks, but hardly anyone seemed to so much as glance at the sight in front of you. This is the busiest shopping street in the city, why does no one stop? you thought in a panic.

“Hey,” you shouted while sweat formed on your head. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. Why does no one stop? You thought again. But once they heard your shout, some bystanders turned around and seemed to notice the youths at the side of the road.

Thank God, you tried to calm your wildly beating heart. Your cry made the boys stop their terror and turn towards you. For a moment, you feared they would attack you next, but once they noticed that other people had stopped to look at them, they quickly turned around and fled into one of the alleyways.

Pussies, you thought angrily, but you decided not to chase after them. Instead, you walked over to the crumpled form of the man who lay in the ditch. His arms shielded his chest and face from the brutal attack. But by the sight of him, it hadn’t worked that much. Fresh bruises covered his cheek and his arms, and when he noticed the attackers had stopped and finally dared to look up at you, you saw his lip had been split and blood was running down his nose and into his mouth. He looked horrible. There was no other way to describe this poor man.

“I am so sorry,” you said while kneeling beside him. You brought a careful hand to the man’s shoulder. Your eyes widened slightly when the man smiled up at you. A true bloodied smile. How? you wondered. How can someone who has been hurt this badly still smile? You watched the trail of blood from his nose all the way to his teeth. And then he seemed to lean into your touch.

“What are you apologizing for, love?” the man asked, voice smooth like silk. There was a certain hoarseness to it, a lowness that was reminiscent of smokers. And indeed, a faint scent of cigarettes reached your nose.

What had you been apologizing for, you wondered. And your frown made way for a more innocent expression. “I should have been here sooner,” you whispered.

The stranger in front of you let out an embittered laugh and you waited quietly for him to calm down. His chest convulsed and he brought a first up to his lips. It almost seemed like he coughed, as if he choked on his own laughter, but you kept your hand on his shoulder through it all, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It seemed to work, and after a full minute or two of painful laughter, the man quieted down.

Once he fell silent, he looked up at you again. Bright green eyes met yours, and you saw the confusion within them. You gently squeezed, mindful not to squeeze too hard in case he’d been bruised there too before you removed your hand from his shoulder.

Swallowing seemed hard as you watched him, but your mouth felt dry and you wanted to ask him how he was doing. You saw his eyes dart down to your lips before they slid up to your eyes again. He observed you as if he’d never seen anyone like you before.

“Should I bring you to a doctor? Do you want to report this to the police?” you asked, hand on your chest to calm your own racing heart.

The man’s eyes slid to your hand and darkened. Then he shook his head. The blood was still streaming from his nose. But he pushed himself up, his oversized coat fell with the motion like water cascading down a waterfall. He was dressed as a clown all right. A tiny hat on top of his wig and a plastic flower pinned to the breast pocket of his coat. He brushed his thin hands past his pants, unknowingly wiping traces of blood all over the brightly colored fabric.

“No, thank you, love. I’m fine,” the man said, and you couldn’t believe your ears. He was fine? Had he looked at himself yet? You frowned up at him, all the skepticism visible in your expression. Now that he stood, you could tell that the man in front of you was far from well. There was something frail about him, perhaps that was why the boys had decided to go after him? He seemed skinny, a certain sadness visible in his eyes. The makeup hid most of his true features, but you thought he must be older than you by at least a decade. Perhaps you were wrong though. Most of these jobs were done by young students such as yourself.

He was clearly bruised, his sign destroyed and his skin tattered. His blood had ruined his costume. He looked like he had stepped out of a horror show. “You can’t go back to work like this,” you gently said, and finally rose from your knees.

Standing in front of him, you could see the stubbornness in his eyes. But there was something else in there. As if he was lost and uncertain. As if he didn’t know what to do with himself now.

You carefully reached for his hand, not caring if anyone was still watching. “Come on,” you whispered while you waited for his fingers to slide into your own. “Let me get you home.”

For a moment, his green gaze lay upon you, intensely. You saw his jaw twitch and knew he considered your offer, but you feared he would reject it and walk away.

Then his fingers were in yours and you smiled.

2. You learned the clown’s name was Arthur Fleck when you walked him home to his apartment that day. It was thanks to you that his boss was informed of his absence from the job and the reason behind it. You had gone to the nearest apothecary to get the right band-aids and disinfectant to help him clean his wounds – as apparently his entire medicine cabinet was off limits and he wasn’t going to allow you to look in there. You ended up home at such a late time that evening, that your parents were on the verge of calling the police.

You explained to them what had happened. How you had saved a clown from being attacked and how you had helped the poor man home. Despite being proud of you, your parents were also extremely worried that you’d gone home with the stranger without notifying them. You had to admit you’d forgotten. You’d been too focused on helping the man. This Arthur.

When at his house, you had helped him clean his face. And when the makeup had been taken off, you’d finally seen him for the very first time. He looked handsome, you had to admit. Definitely older than you, but appealing despite it all.

He’d kept your mind busy for months to come and became your secret little crush. You’d daydream about seeing him again, of accidentally bumping into him in the subway or watching one of his performances as a clown. But despite returning to the main shopping street in the weeks after meeting him, you didn’t catch a glimpse of him again. He just wasn’t there. The shop owner had no need for him and wouldn’t tell you where he had hired the man. Though you had spoken to Arthur’s boss, you couldn’t remember what the company he was working for was called.

You knew where Arthur lived but, the exact route to get there was a blur. You’d been too caught up in chatting with him to actually pay attention to your surroundings. So you made an attempt to find his apartment, but the streets all looked the same to you, and you got no closer to finding his house.

It’s better this way, you thought wryly. Don’t want to come off like a stalker. Then a nice boy from your class caught your attention and he managed to distract you from your secret crush.

He was attending the same courses as you. An attractive young man, closer to your own age, and with similar interests. You allowed yourself to get closer to him because it helped you forget about the unreachable Arthur Fleck.

You hoped this new boy liked you. He seemed to give hints that he did. But the two of you danced around each other, both too shy to ask the other out. Instead, you formed a friendship that made you feel all warm inside. And you forgot the clown you had helped scrambling from the pavement. You forgot about him and thought this might be the end of it all.

Just that one faithful meeting.

A memory of a crush that would never come to fruition. It would be all you ever have of him.

3.

It was broad daylight when it happened. It was summer and you enjoyed your free time by going into the city. You’d nearly forgotten about Arthur. Not fully – he was still in the back of your mind, but the ache from longing for him had become dull and easier to ignore.

You had promised to get your mom some cash from the bank and stood in line, awaiting your appointment, when a group of men rushed into the building, guns drawn. Your heart nearly stopped and frightened, you obeyed their shouts to hold up your hands and then lie down on the floor.

The cool air circulated by the air-conditioning sent goosebumps down your skin as you lay on the cold tiled floor. You were dressed for summer, after all. Shivering, you saw how the group of men made their way to the counter, ordering the staff to hand them all the money they had. While one kept his gun aimed at the woman behind the counter, the others scattered among the visitors, emptying their pockets and taking anything they deemed expensive enough with them.

One of these men came to stand next to you and pushed his foot against your side, the toes of his shoes poked between your ribs painfully and you winced before you rolled to your side. The man looked down at you properly now and a smirk spread on his lips. “I think I’m gonna need more than just your money, pretty little lady.”

You looked up at him in dread. You didn’t know where it came from, but your reply was a thoughtless stammer. “It wasn’t my turn yet,” you whispered, meaning to say that you had not had the chance to collect your money yet. You were broke. Well nearly. But the man didn’t catch on.

“Aww,” he cooed mockingly, “I think it is your turn,” and he leaned forward to grab your arm in a painfully tight grip. You knew it would bruise but were left with no choice but to follow his movements. He forced you up to your feet.

The man pressed you tight against his chest while he held your arm twisted behind your back. He held a painful grip, too tight for comfort. A clear sign that you were not to get away from him.

“Please,” you begged him. No way you were going to let this man get away with whatever plans he had for you.

It was at that moment, that someone’s voice could be heard echoing throughout the bank. “Hey,” it wasn’t a shout, but it had been forceful enough for the men to shut up. An eerie silence fell in which the men turned their heads to greet the newcomer.

In the doorway stood a man, a red suit on, face painted and hair dyed an unnatural tint. You had heard about this man. The Clown Prince Of Crime. Gotham’s latest and most successful criminal.

He stood hunched, a cigarette between his lips while he held a lighter in his left hand. His right hand was in the pocket of his pants, while his left moved slightly, lazily throwing the lighter up before catching it a few times.

Then he tilted his head to look at the men.

“Boss,” the one nearest to the counter began, but their boss shut them up merely by removing his right hand from his pocket and raising his index finger.

“The Joker,” one of the women behind the counter said, breathlessly. Most of the hostages looked at the newcomer in fear. The Joker had rapidly gained a reputation for being one of the most unpredictable and cruelest criminals Gotham had to offer. It was a given that anyone who was aware of who he was, was fearing for their life at this point. Would he set fire to the bank? Would he take a gun and shoot everyone dead? It wouldn’t be the first time he would do such a thing.

You felt a rapid rise in your heart rate, your chest rising and falling rapidly while you tried to breathe. The man’s fingers were still curled around your arm, digging into your skin. But you hardly felt it now that you came face to face with Gotham’s most dangerous and most wanted man in the whole of history.

Joker’s eyes met yours and it felt like lightning struck you. An ice-cold sword pierced through your spine, keeping you pinned to the spot. Those green eyes, you had seen them before. You remembered them. You thought you would never see them again.

Arthur? But that couldn’t be, could it? He was no criminal.

You stood frozen and hardly registered how the Joker shook his head and tusked. His hair, it was his hair. A different color, but you recognized it anywhere. You had dreamed of running your hands through it so often.

“I think you have something of mine there,” was all Joker needed to say for the man to let go of your arm. The man stumbled backward as if scared all of a sudden. So this Joker, this semblance of Arthur, was truly their leader? And they revered him? They did as they were told by him? This cowering frail man that you had saved from teenage boys was now the most wanted man in the whole of Gotham?

And then another scary thought. Had it been his orders to rob the bank then as well?

But your thoughts came to a sudden stop when you saw Arthur’s hand move. It was him, wasn’t it? It truly was Arthur?

The Clown Prince of Crime. He walked elegantly towards you, taking his time, a cigarette in his hand, still burning. Then he brought it to his lips and took a long drag before he exhaled slowly. Little clouds of white swirled up from his lips to disappear into the summer sky.

“I missed you, doll.” ~_~

AN: I take suggestions for a follow up ;D (perhaps smut?)

[thesherrinfordfacility]

(Sorry. Religion grad student) I think another reason why GO only works with Christianity is because the concept of Hell literally doesn't exist in Judaism. Fallen angels don't, either. Satan is an angel who's simply executing God's will by testing his followers. It also ENCOURAGES you to question both God and authority; he gave us free will because he wanted us to use it and think critically. Crowley would be a hero and I know Gaiman has talked about how heavily Jewish coded Crowley is- this is one of the major reasons why lmao.

It's fascinating how Christianity is so focused on the idea of punishment but both Judaism and Islam are rooted in hope. A lot of Christianity works through threats/fear of being "damned" and going to Hell when you die. Judaism says we all end up in the same place anyway so you should just live your best life and be kind. Because you CAN. Not because you don't want to get punished.

Judaism and Islam would argue that God counted on Crowley not killing anyone and Aziraphale helping him during Job.

you guys are keeping me FED✨ i was aware generally that free will is a more explored (if that's the right word) concept in judaism, and i think it does say something that the libertarianism vs determinism argument is becoming more and more opaque in GO...

but yk i never really thought to look at the 'hope' aspect... kant ideas on the presupposition of hope before faith seems especially appropriate - and oooh the concept of heaven as paradise being the ideal vs whether there could possibly exist a true utopia on earth??? gosh...

but yeah, the aspect of being good because you can, not because you have to be in order to earn reward... i kinda touched on it in a musing about pascal (here, if anyone wants to read), but i hadn't truly appreciated this from the viewpoint of judaism, which was rather short-sighted of me (given i lean into nietzsche a lot here too)✨

[minsyal]

Long May He Reign, Pt. IV

Tywin Lannister x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Hand of the King spends years vying for the princess's affections. Only fate would have it that the two cannot be. As Aerys Targaryen II slowly descends into madness, can their love survive his instability and the war to come?

Warnings: General Game of Thrones violence later on, death and stuff, shitty characterizations, eh age differences, Ser Barristan being a lovely darling ✨

Everyone dined separately that night following the tournament. Aerys had sequestered himself to his provided chambers and ordered Ser Lewyn and Ser Grandison to keep guard through the darkness into the safety of the daylight. He feared for his life in such a densely Lannister place, but he came out of principle. The crown has no fears, he would tell himself repeatedly in his mind as he jittered at the slightest of foreign sounds. Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur had drank with Rhaegar, with none of the men falling to the full temptation of their fiery liquids. Laughter rang into the evening air as the three found amusement in the results of the joust. But once the Rock quieted and a sleepy hush fell over the people, only the euphonious notes of a despondent song lingered in the thin air.

The musical tune echoed through the emptied hallways, jumping off of the cold stone of the passages and climbing down from the many balconies that extended throughout the Rock. Rhaegar’s long fingers plucked at the strings of his harp and his lips buzzed with the constant hum of his sorrowful ballad. A lean leg hung from an open windowsill, stretching downward toward the waters that waved their white-capped hands skyward. His head hung down, closing off the space between his chin and chest. If his fingers had not been moving, one would have assumed him to have fallen asleep.

“Farewell, my brother.” The princess stepped from her position in the hallway. After she and Ser Barristan navigated the winding corridors that led to doors in all directions, she bid him goodnight at her chambers and promised to lock the doors from the inside. Her mind could not sleep, even as her body beckoned her to the bed. It raged with vigor from the eventful days and coming nights as the court eventually set off for King’s Landing. She wondered what her father would say about her leaving. She thought of Viserys, the poor babe, who could not even attend a tourney thrown in his honor. But she mostly thought of Tywin.

She eventually found herself pacing the corridors until her weary feet brought her to Rhaegar’s side. “A ballad about the Cargyll brothers' plight in the Dance of the Dragons.” Adjusting the draping of her dress, she joined him on his perch and listened as the crashing waves of the Sunset Sea harmonized with the hypnotic flow of his eloquent playing. “A sad choice of song for such a joyous event. Is this your projection of your loss to Ser Arthur?”

Ignoring his sister’s coltish jab, he plucked a few more notes. The cobalt effervescence of the glowing moon cast shadows across her softened features. Despite being out of line in leaving King’s Landing and having the anticipation of her father’s wrath looming overhead, she felt an acute calmness that stretched further than any consequence could. Footsteps bounced from the walls, shaking Rhaegar from his thoughts as the glint of a necklace he had not seen before flashed under the sapphire irradiation.

“A new necklace? It is not difficult to imagine where that has been sourced, sister dearest.” He kicked his leg out, blithely jabbing it against her hip. The footsteps did not amount to anything, as whoever they belonged to never exited onto the outlook. Still, Rhaegar lowered his voice.

“It would be an insult to not accept a gift when you are a guest in someone’s home.”

He snorted, “it is not often that a gift is made to conceal whom it stemmed from.”

“It was left in my room. For all I am aware it could be from another lord.”

“Another lord?” Rhaegar mused, closing his eyes in a playful flutter as he rested the crown of his head against the pillar he sat against. “Lord Addam Marbrand, perhaps?” He leveled his head to cast his sister a knowing look. “I heard you made acquaintance with him before bursting into my tent… I also heard you had been escorted away from Addam on Tywin’s arm.”

“Word travels at an alarming pace.”

“It does.” Rhaegar hummed in agreement as he became enamored with the gold plating of his harp with intricately spun designs pressed into its sides. “Father harbors a growing disdain for his Hand.” He peered over his shoulder and around hers, ensuring they were alone. “He could not keep his focus off of you during the joust.” There was a strange severity in his tone that she had not heard often from her genial brother. “Lord Tywin brings you happiness like no other, I understand that… He commands a crowd and holds great power.” Leaning forward, he muted his volume so that she had to strain to hear him. “But to a king, he is powerless.”

His insinuation was clear as the waters that flowed from the gardens in Dorne. Whatever she and Tywin had built could easily be disassembled brick by brick whether it be by Aerys himself or his growing court of people ready to please. They were willing to do anything to climb their way to the king’s side. Yet, she debated whether it was a place people truly wanted to reside.

“All I ask is that you remain ever cautious.”

She wet her lips, unable to comprehend the twisted web of dangers she had been playing in for the past three years. Then, reassuringly, she took Rhaegar’s hand in hers and cradled it in her other. “Worry is not a suiting expression on you, brother.” Her lighthearted ability to brighten his mood was a gift. “I assure you that I will approach the future with vigilance.”

The return to King’s Landing was done without Tywin as he and Cersei followed a few days behind. Aerys had instructed Ser Barristan to keep a close watch on the princess so as to not have her wander off again. Formally henceforth, he was assigned as her personal guard. No true punishment had been enacted from her actions and she was more than happy to have the company.

Strolling down the Blackwater, she relaxed in the midday sun. It shone down brightly from the cloudless sky, warming her chilled skin with its golden rays. The entourage had stopped for lunch at the behest of the king who, despite his unease with his distance from the Red Keep, much preferred dining when it was not an in-motion affair. This allowed the princess to venture from the rear room of the carriage house to the freedom of the outdoors.

“Do you foresee your new assignment being satisfactory?” She chided to Ser Barristan who walked in step with her nearest to the water’s edge. “Royal nursemaid to the princess who by happenstance does not appear to be an infant… at least as far as I am aware.”

He chuckled. “It is my duty to protect the royal family, princess. By definition, that would include all the royals.” Casting a glance outward to the flowing water, he watched as a lone log floated fastly downward, carrying on the harsh current. “I have always enjoyed my time in your company. I do not believe that will change in the coming days, weeks, months, even years.”

“You think that I will be watched this closely for years?”

“It could be a possibility.”

“By the gods, you will be guarding me even once father sends me away.” She brushed her fingers against the necklace draped on her breastbone. “Your life will soon be overflowing with boredom. You will be begging him to station you elsewhere.” Everything she said was in jest, but the undertones to her overcast words was clear to the man who had watched her grow.

“You underestimate yourself, princess. Kingsguard or not, I would follow you to the end of the earth.”

She considered his words for a moment, allowing the sounds of nature to overtake their conversation. Birds wings flapped together, crafting a harmonious buzz of feathers and wind as they spiraled through the open sea of blue that hung overhead. The water splashed against the eroding river banks, ripping away at the tearing and fraying grass that clung to the dry dirt. Chatter erupted from the small camp of knights and Kingsguard who hung around the wheelhouse, waiting for the king to give his approval on the move forward.

“I will keep you honest to your word then, Ser Barristan.”

“I would not expect anything less.”

Upon their official return to the Red Keep and Kings Landing, the king Aerys II confined himself to the spaces of his chambers. Her mother, Rhaella, had been quartered into the Holdfast with no provisions to leave and very few to keep her company. At times, she would seek her mother’s audiences but would often be met with the septa’s that trailed behind her much like Ser Barristan had taken to following the princess. Though, even before, she rarely saw her mother.

The birth of Viserys caused Aerys II to plummet in his state of mind. His nails grew longer in line with his unwashed and unkempt hair. Fear began to strike his heart as his beliefs of conspiratory behavior struck his veins and seized his waking moments. When he did sit the throne, he returned to the Holdfast with cuts littering his fingers and clothes. All needed to be treated by Pycelle, who would also attempt to calm him with medicinal treatments but nothing would put a halt on his increasing paranoia.

When Tywin returned to Kings Landing he brought with him his daughter to continue living at court as she daydreamed of the life she intended for her and the crowned prince. News of the young Melara Heatherspoon’s death swam through the halls of the Red Keep for a short time before it disappeared all together and she became nothing more than a faded memory. It was a tragic death, a mere accident, that started in the woods and ended at the base of a dried well.

The princess took to her lifestyle prior to her short-lived rebellion. Attending frequent lessons with her septa, strolling silently through the gardens, and slowly rebranding herself as the royal’s diligent princess was part of her routine. The king did not name her a husband, nor did he seek for one.

She met infrequently with Tywin, mostly enjoying his company on days when the sun was the brightest and the inhabitants of the Red Keep flocked to the outdoors to enjoy the sunlight in the midst of a chilling winter. It was often said that she was most striking in the frozen weather. Her gowns became more ornate and crafted of richer silks, her skin flushed with a soft rose that spread from her ears to her nose, and the cloaks that covered her shoulders in the outdoors were delightfully ethereal in the way they glittered against the snow.

The colors she opted for in the winter were of a deep red or rich green. Contrasting against her silken skin, the luxuriant fabrics made her appear like a shining star in the glittering snowfall. She radiated a phantom aura of her ghostly complexion and everywhere she stepped seemed to sing.

There was something about the cold of winter that seemed to wake the fire that burnt within.

“Lord Tywin.” Ser Barristan, who did not appear to mind the cold that blew through the skyward towers of the Red Keep, welcomed the figure to their company. Though guarded and ever scrutinizing of their relations, he recognized that the princess required some light in her often-dim life. With a respectful nod, he side-stepped away from the lord and retreated to a spot a comfortable distance away.

Tywin assumed the emptied spot next to the princess. She could not feel the warmth that lingered on the surface of his clothing, the light brushing of his arm against her cloaked shoulder was enough. “I often wonder how the Northerner’s withstand the winter when we struggle here in the south.” He could see the plushness of her lips and redness of her nose past the hood of insulated furs draped softly over her immaculate hair.

From their comfortable viewpoint, they could look down into the streets of King’s Landing. Plumes of white smoke rose from each active chimney, emanating life in such a desolate landscape. The people moved like ants in the crowded streets, barely visible among the stone walls of their homes and shops. The city was bursting at the seams with people clamoring from outside the walls to the interior for the safety of the crown. Peasants begged on the streets while others died in the alleys. The bodies were carted outside the walls to be discarded in pits.

“How do they ensure little loss of life in times such as these?” She pondered aloud as Tywin shifted from one foot to the other.

He looked commanding in his choice of fabrics. Summer tunics made of brocade and silk were quickly exchanged for wool and leather. His shoulders appeared broader and strengthened by the cloak of black wool and tanned fur that hung from golden clips securing the fabric to his body. She liked the way he looked in the winter.

“The Northerners understand winter better than any of us ever will.” Tywin turned his attention to the streets. “That is not to say that they do not suffer casualties in the same capacity.”

“We have an abundance of barley and wheat in storage. Can we not utilize it to keep the people fed?”

“You have a good heart but lack the mind for politics, princess.”

“You have a mind for politics,” she turned her head to face him, “but lack a good heart, Lord Tywin.” Any other would never dare speak to him in such a manner, but the princess found herself among the very few exceptions. Not only was she heavily protected as the daughter of the king but she also held a part of his heart that had only been open to one other in his lifetime. “Each child who perishes in the winter storm is not given the opportunity to prosper in the spring rains. I wish to see to it that they may open their eyes to the summer sun and bloom as the gardens here do.”

“How is it that you intend on seeing to this?”

She scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes in thought. Thus far, she held no true power in Westeros. She acted as a symbol of regality among the other royals who roamed the halls. Rhaegar had made contributions to the prosperity of their father’s reign, but she had not been given the chance. “I am not sure.”

“Perhaps should you find yourself in the good graces of the Hand, he would assist in fulfilling your wishes.”

A smile was brought to her lips as her infectious grin somehow spread to the sullen man. Ser Barristan had told the princess that he had never seen Tywin in such a light before he was assigned as her personal guard. The lady Joanna was the only one to pull the old lion out of his stone-faced and serious mood until the princess started harboring feelings for him.

“What must I do to find myself in such a situation?”

Tywin’s hand was warm against her skin as he reached out and cradled the necklace between his fingertips. The back of his palm rested against her collarbones. He had distinctly removed the moleskin glove that covered his fingers before, holding it in his other hand. A fingernail popped open the clasp that held the large ruby to the center of her necklace. “Never remove this.”

It was the herringbone-linked necklace, crafted with gold from the Lannister mines, that had been left in her chambers during the tourney at Casterly Rock. Rich and heavy, it was connected with large ruby embellishments that had been cut into trillion shapes for the outer links and three fine navette jewels that were framed in gold at the center. To anyone else, it appeared as fine jewelry with the red signifying the Targaryen dragon. But to them, it was a wordless promise and an act of a Lannister marking his claim.

“I do not feel it is often that men request a lady to keep her clothing on, my lord.” The princess joked, burning a beet red as his fingers grazed over base of her neck.

An amused chortle passed by the scruff of his upper lip. Yet, no smile or even small tug of the corners of his mouth followed. He was solemn and serious, holding true to the face he showed the rest of the world. The smile that had lit his face moments prior was now nothing as the hardened lines of his softened skin became clear.

He had always been a thoughtful man. Not in nature, as the man did not do favors or deeds for glory, but in mind. Like his son, his inner monologue never ceased. Every move he made was calculated and propelled him further toward some unknown goal that tingled in the back of his head.

Because in the end, no matter what he must do, Tywin would get what he wanted.

~~~*~~~

“Do not be nervous, princess.” Ser Barristan stood at the castle’s gates with a small armada of escorts and servants carrying overflowing carts of supplies. A deep mahogany palanquin waited in the courtyard with four men ready to depart.

“I am not nervous.” The young woman feigned, tugging at the skirts of her dress as she pushed fallen hair from her face. “I just am not accustomed to public outings.”

“Your only official trip was on the wind.” He added, providing a hand for her to grasp as she stepped inside. “You have the finest knights in all of Westeros at your aid. When the people understand why you are walking amongst them, they will rejoice in your presence.”

“I do hope you are right.”

The cart jostled and shook as the men carried it dutifully down the steps from the high hill to the streets of King’s Landing. She watched as the people looked on with curiosity, wondering why someone was venturing onto their streets.

Lord Tywin Lannister had discreetly set aside the minuscule funding required to purchase a ten room building located on the edge of Flea Bottom nearest to Rhaenys’s Hill on the northeastern portion of town. The building was run down and leaning slightly to one side. Old tattered curtains hung from the broken windows and moss covered the outermost stone that cradled the cracked street.

When she had stepped out from the palanquin, the sunlight burst through the skyline that stretched overhead. She could hear the inquisitive murmur of whispers as a group of young men watched her enter the building. The stone floors were packed full with cement made of mud and clay, large smooth rocks were crammed together within to form an uneven surface.

“Princess.” A familiar voice called out from the doorway. Ser Alliser Thorne was a man loyal to the Targaryen household. He was older than the princess, nearly a decade to be exact. With striking and sharp features, the man presented himself as a hardened soldier with great respect for those in authority. “The crone.”

Stepping aside, he presented her with a frail old woman of an age she could not imagine. She walked like she was in her early eighties but appeared as if she was alive during the Dance. The skin of her face sagged into her neck and her nose was pimpled with sunspots.

“That is no way to address a woman, Ser.” The princess scolded lightly as the woman swatted her wrinkled hand in the air to dispel the tension in the young girl’s shoulders.

“Nonsense!” Her voice was ragged and raspy but held a certain tune that filled her with loving joy. “No woman is insulted by her own name.” She shortly nodded her head to the princess in lieu of a courtesy. “Apologies, my dear. The years have not been kind. My knees do not bend as they once did. The young boy was simply calling me what I am. The Old Crone. You should do well to follow suit.”

The princess looked to Ser Barristan for any form of assistance only to find his shoulders shrugged.

“Very well then.” She watched as men and woman piled through the doors and began fortifying the various areas of the house that needed improvement. “I am very glad you have accepted the responsibility of running this home for me, my lady. I believe it will prosper under your eye.”

“Under my eye?” The woman let out a garbled laugh that sounded disgusting to most but warmed the princess’s heart. “Can’t see much out of this one,” her overgrown nail pointed to her left eye, “the other will have to do what it can. Been searching for proper housing for years, my dear. Any roof is better than the god’s one… this one won’t rain on this old head.”

Stifling a laugh, the princess nodded. “We should hope so at the very least. I want this to be more than a shelter.” A man passed by, loading beams inside that would soon hold the floors up higher. “I want this to be a home for you and anyone else should they need it.”

“A home would be nice.” The Crone mused, hiking her skirts to her lap as she sat ungracefully upon one of the many stools that littered the boundaries of the room. “Well then, let us get to work.”

The princess hesitated as she cast a security glance to Ser Barristan. As she turned her head back to the Crone, a pile of cotton was thrust into her arms along with a needle and thread. “A home isn’t much of a home without blankets for the beds, deary. You know how to sew, right? You haven’t been skipping your lessons, have you?”

Ser Barristan smiled as the princess frantically ruched the fabric in her arms and followed the Crone as she made for a back room. “Never, my lady.”

“You!” The Crone hollered back at Ser Alliser who stood awkwardly in the room nearest to Ser Barristan. “Start a fire in the hearth, would you?”

The fluttering of her skirts was the last thing the older knight saw before he too joined them in the old rickety room. Her footsteps were followed by the scratchy voice of the Crone as she dismissed the proper title once more.

The winter was in its midst as Lord Steffon Baratheon was sent across the Narrow Sea to Essos with the intention of finding the crowned prince Rhaegar a wife of Valyrian blood. The princess had found herself busied with the nonsense work of finding and maintaining sufficient funding for the shelter house while also looking to local craftsmen for apprenticeships to aid the residents in starting new lives.

“Lord Steffon searches day and night to find a bride befitting a crowned prince.”

“Yes, but that was not my question, sister dearest.” Rhaegar pat his hand on hers as they walked through the gardens together with her arm laced through his. “Who do you think they’ll match me with?”

Rhaegar and his sister walked amongst the gardens, framed beautifully by the soft blooming winter flowers. Talk of finding him a wife was in circulation. Many tried to get on the king’s good side by finding Aerys as much information as they could that would cast someone else in a bad light. The majority of the talk seemed to revolve around the Hand of the King.

“Someone who is not of your own blood.”

Brushing a stray hair from his face, he noticed the group of women who whispered amongst themselves and turned quickly when they made eye contact. “He should have matched us.”

Her feet stopped moving as the back of her skirt hit her legs. “You’re mad, brother.”

“No.” Swatting away her disapproval, he gathered her hands in his and pulled her forward to one of the overlook balconies. Snow frosted ivy grew up the sides of the two large white pillars that held up dark wooden beams.. “You’re mad that you did not think of it before I.” He sat himself down on a stone bench and guided her down by his side. “We wed, fulfill our duties, but still seek our own happiness. You found yours with,” his voice lowered, “our Lord Hand. I should be allowed to find mine also.”

“I don’t dispute that you deserve happiness, but our lineage does not bode well for the future of our house. One can only marry brother and sister for so long before madness ensues. Perhaps, if you were so in love with me you should have bid this idea to father many years ago.”

“I thought it was I who was deemed the more interesting of the king’s children.” Rhaegar found great amusement in the princess’s relaxed state as their father became absent in their lives. “You are developing too much personality, sister. I would bet a hundred golden dragons that it is solely derived from your extended company of Ser Barristan.” He joked, poking fun of the Kingsguard who only tilted his head backward for a fleeting second to display the painted smile on his lips.

Cold winds blew in off Blackwater Bay, carrying their silver hair in its gentle breeze like a loose piece of silk hanging on a clothes line. The smell of the capitol was more pleasant in the chilled months. The summer sun could not bake the filth and grime to the streets. Smells that did rise on the air were carried for many more leagues than before. From the highest tower in Maegor’s Holdfast, even the worst of noses could smell the steaming freshly baked goods on the street of flour.

“I think you would have made a fitting bride.” Rhaegar commented as he released the strained tenseness that riddled his pointed shoulders.

“You do not believe the words you speak.” The princess placed her hands on the stone wall that separated the siblings from the sea. Her fingers chilled atop its frozen surface, but she found comfort in its uncertain ease. “You fear that Lord Steffon will return with a woman you will not love.” His eyes were suddenly empty and hollow. Playful jolts of electric energy died down as a palpable hesitancy clawed its way down his dried throat.

After a passing moment filled with the static of silence, Rhaegar let out a pume of hot breath into the open air. “How can one love another when they are not certain in the prospected changing of the tides?”

“Certainty is not afforded to those who carry the name Targaryen… Lord Steffon is a reasonable man. He will not bring back anyone who is not fit to hold the title of ‘queen.’”

“With personality came wisdom.” He snickered, turning fastly as his uncertainty faded into nothingness. “You should be sent away to the Citadel to assemble your chain.”

Shaking her head, she pushed her hand against his arm and rolled her eyes. “Ser Barristan would grow bored surrounded by such a group. Perhaps I should instead be sent North. I can shed the wisdom and replace it with bravery.”

“The Targaryen princess banished to The Wall.” Rhaegar chided. “You can fight with the brothers in black against The Others.”

“The prince is to come of your lineage, not mine.”

“Oddities of the world are not set in stone. The prince could be a princess.”

“I was right.” The princess smiled with her teeth and tucked her chin to her chest as she looked down at her hands. “You are truly mad.”

Rhaegar’s hand shook her shoulder as he clasped it firmly over her cloak. “Madness is a disease we are rather prone to, sister. At the very least my form will not turn the realm to ash and dust.”

Tag List:

@issybee0611 @yellowbadgermole @ladysindar @usernameosv @thanyatargaryen @kishie8

[mirahuyooo]

Stranded (II) | 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: 11,730 (PART II) contents: FLUFF, domestic things, ✨revalations✨, drinking (duh), getting drunk (duh pt 2), hangovers (duh pt 3), yn and hobi being wholesome uwu, people teasing the shit out of them, someone caught the feels 👀💕💖💞, not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, 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: I forgot to release a teaser for this lmao but here's part two! hAVE FLUFF BC THE LAST PART IS GONNA BE A ROLLERCOASTER MWAHAHAHA I won't hold you guys back for long 💖 hope you guys enjoyed this! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Stay tuned for the last part next week!~

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ || ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

If you must admit, it’s not so bad to be in the company of the trickster stranger and his spotted beast.

In the weeks that followed, the two of them had helped you make a home for yourself, especially as the quiet decay of nature marks the eventual coming of full autumn and winter. Upon finding a little cave near the beach, you have since made turns fortifying it against nature and wild animals. Neither of you were good carpenters, but it was surely an adventure attempting to build makeshift furniture and decor. It cannot compare to the palace you grew up in, but you find yourself not minding the clutter and mess.

(There exists traces of them both around your little cave—fruits and fishes that Hoseok brings with him in his visits for you to eat, that wolf pelt cloak he let you keep, a makeshift bed on the ground for Agrios to lay on, three sets of wooden plates that you and Hoseok tried your hand at crafting.)

Though he no longer has practical reasons to do so—what with you somewhat now settled well in this corner of the island—Hoseok still visits you in your cave, at times, bringing Agrios with him. Sometimes it's a walk along the beach, other times it’s some random trinket he wanted to give you, but most times it’s endless idle chatting.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve seen that face of yours before,” you muse to him one day as the two of you sit on a blanket by the beach, watching the sun set. Next to you, Agrios naps with his tail swinging leisurely against your arm. The seabreeze blows fresh against your face, as you take in the timeless view.

Today’s a beautiful day, you think. Especially with good company.

Beside you, Hoseok seemed surprised himself. “You have?” he murmurs at your sudden thought, but his eyes soon twinkle. “And where might have you seen my dashing looks, princess?”

(He knows of your true identity by now—of your being a princess on the run for a treason committed—and has sworn to not tell a soul of your whereabouts to anyone, but something tells you he calls you princess simply to tease.) 

You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I said ‘I think’, did I not?” you huff, gently running your hand through Agrios’ fur and earning purrs of approval from the beast. “It may have been in one of the palace celebrations, I’m not really sure, but I think I’ve already heard of that boisterous laugh of yours.”

Memories of your time in Crete have become so distant the more you spend your time here. Though a part of you doesn't really mind, you are sometimes reminded of certain moments, and recently, a vague sensation rings through your head of a time where you may or may not have caught a glimpse of him.

“Well,” Hoseok muses with a shrug, catching you off guard. “You might be correct on that one.”

You didn’t quite think your assumption was true. “Oh?” you ask, a surprise now putting you in his initial position. “How so?”

Hoseok eases back, looking at the sky as if it would make him remember previous events more. “I have been to Crete before during my travels,” he hums, tapping his chin as he thought, “though I was most likely drunk off my wits, I think I can recall being in Crete around five summers ago.”

Your eyes are rounded in shock as the notion jogs your memory.

You recall sneaking out of your room, only to see chaos in the palace grounds because your older brother perched himself atop the statue of a stallion in the gardens and slurring nonsense. “Were you the one that got Catreus drunk senseless?” you gasped, scandalized but also very much amused remembering the utter mess your usually stoic and uptight brother had turned into.

Had he been there to spread the influence of his god?

It takes him a minute, but Hoseok seems to remember pulling such a stunt on a young man he came across in the garden, what with the proud grin that takes over his lips. “He seemed to need it,” he shrugs, devilish as he then goes to nudge you. “So do you.”

Though the thought of wine yet again tempts you, you go pale for a moment at the thought of the embarrassing chaos he’ll get you into if you get drunk in his presence. “I refuse to drink anything that comes from the likes of you,” you claim, a laugh leaving your lips nonetheless.

Hoseok drapes an arm over your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as he does. “Once you set your soul free,” he mischievously tells you, “you’ll know how fun these sorts of adventures can be.”

Pushing him off of you with a playful squint, you cross your arms. “Nonsense,” you playfully retorted, “one of us has to be the serious one around here, don’t we?”

A dramatic gasp comes to you as a response, along with a poke to the side that makes you giggle. The young man soon throws his full weight all over you, sending you both laying back onto the sand with an ‘oof!’ from your end.

Hoseok simply continues his dramatics. “You wound me, (Y/N)!” he cried, “how could you?”

Your laugh merrily fills the air as Hoseok feigns limp against you, playing to be slain by your words. His upper half intersects over your stomach, forcing you to lay on your back. “Get off of me, you oaf,” you half-heartedly whine as you try and wriggle your way out of his grasp.

His black tresses tickle your arm as he shakes his head. “No,” he childishly insists, as you turn your attention to his old companion for some help. The spotted beast simply stares back in disdain, as if the two of you were rowdy children he was tasked to watch over.

“Agrios,” you call out for the leopard in the midst of your struggle, “help me here, won’t you?”

A second or two passes before the beast trudges forth to nudge at Hoseok’s head, signaling him to get off of you. “You’re such a traitor, Agrios,” Hoseok grumbles, nonetheless shifting his weight a little, so that the only weight on you would be his head resting against your stomach. “No fun, at all.”

A breathless chuckle leaves your lips as you relent with where he settled with, the two of you now staring at the clouds overhead. A comfortable silence settles between you both, but your mind ruins it soon enough.

All so suddenly, you come to think of how different you and Hoseok are—of how you pale in comparison to him. The way he grins and laughs about his adventures brews a conscious jealousy in you. His experiences have made him so happy and carefree—something you wish to be, if it were only that easy.

“Having fun isn’t good,” you murmur underneath your breath—a reminder reigning yourself in. You’ll get ahead of yourself again and get yourself hurt for the umpteenth time.

Suddenly, Hoseok straightened from his laidback bearing, and gawked at you. Sitting up along with him, you realized he had heard you, and, to your shock, he almost looked offended by your statement. “What makes you think so?” he questioned, somewhere in between confused and concerned.

Feeling embarrassed at the realization you’ve said such a thing aloud, you turned your eyes towards the sea as the waves rushed to kiss the sand. “Not to disparage you, Hoseok, but,” you bit your lip as you struggled to put your thoughts into words. “I simply am not one for merrymakings.”

You feel Hoseok shift next to you. From the corner of your eyes, you see him lean over to get a good look at you. His face bared no hint of the anger you expected from him. He, instead, was simply just interested in knowing the reason as to why a person such as yourself wouldn’t be fond of parties. “Again,” he manages a chuckle, “May I ask why?”

Your life was a stark contrast to his colorful escapades. A part of you wanted to have the hunger he has for having fun and wreaking havoc, but in your bones was the foreign princess raised to be obedient and compliant. “I’m not fit for it like you are, Hoseok,” you tell him, “I’m quiet and unfun—”

“Well—”

“—I’ve never even been to a lot of parties,” you cut any of his rebuttals out. “It’s why I don’t have fun in the ones I do attend.”

Hoseok blinks—once, twice—his head taking in your words upon closer inspection. Soon, he jolted to his feet and clapped his hands together in some 'eureka!' moment. “Well that simply cannot do!” he then exclaims with a determined look branding his face.

At his words, your eyebrows furrowed together as you cast a glance at the leopard beside you for any telling sign of his companion's reaction. “What are you planning?” you questioned Hoseok, your voice swimming with suspicion. (You liked to think you were rightfully being so. The last time you allowed yourself to do something bold, you had gotten yourself stranded on this very island.)

Hoseok opens his arms with a grand gesture, as if you could see what he was envisioning. “We’ll go around the island for celebrations!” he boldly declares. "A festival for Demeter and Persephone will be coming soon! A lot of gatherings are bound to take place!"

The big grin that seized his face unflinchingly remained, tempting you to agree with his plans so as to make him happy. Alas, your mind demanded to see reason. Your arms crossed as you defiantly questioned him. “Not possible. I'll be seen by the townsfolk if we do such a thing,” you countered, gesturing to yourself. “I'm a fugitive, remember?”

Hoseok grins still, so bright that it rivals the sun itself. “That is not a problem at all, my dear,” he assures you with a wink. “You have me.”

Your heart swells but your mind scoffs. “That’s hardly any consolation,” you lightly grimace as you idly run a hand through Agrios' fur, thinking of the shenaniganry Hoseok pulls and will pull.

Hoseok, ever brazen, doesn't, at all, seem to take offense in your honest doubt. "Hush now," he all but tuts before beckoning you to follow him. "Come with me, dearest (Y/N)!~"

Your friend stands there, a few feet away from you, waiting so excitedly that a traitorous part of you has already started to give in to his ideas. "Hoseok…" you sigh as you stand on your feet, Agrios following suit. "I really don't think it'd be a good idea for me to be anywhere else…"

For a moment, Hoseok turns somber, taking a step towards you to hold you by the shoulders. "It'll be alright," he assures you, voice as comforting as the squeeze he gives you. "I'll be there and we'll have fun. You don't have to drink if you'd like, but there'll be a feast. I'm sure you'd like to eat something else other than fish and fruits for a change."

A smile is nearly coaxed out of you at the thought.

It took a hint of that intrigue and a second for Hoseok's excited grin to resurface. "There'll be music, storytelling, dancing—it'll be grand!" he says, circling you as he excitedly lists off some ideas off his head. "We can all don on masks if you truly want to keep your identity secret, though I truly doubt anyone would care."

That traitorous part of you grows ever curious the more those gorgeous eyes of his sparkle with delight.

Hoseok half-heartedly rests his hand upon his heart as he lays the last of his assurances. "I'll lead you out of it if it ever gets too much for you. You needn't worry."

At this point, your mind is scrambling for an excuse to keep itself atop your reckless urge for such pleasures. Stay hidden!—your paranoia screeches, thrashing about and clinging onto any bit of sense it could grab ahold of.

Yet, you sigh and sink into the abyss. "You're a man of many words," you tell him as you nonetheless let your arms be linked with his.

The hint of your surrender writes satisfaction all over Hoseok's face. "I intend to keep them," he then croons, hips coyly nudging yours as the three of you make your way out of the beachline. "You'll have the time of your life, I promise."

Hoseok was surprisingly diligent when he wanted to, eagerly at your door (cave?) and ushering you awake in the early hours of the morrow. "Time to rise and shine! I have a lot planned for you today!" he gleefully rips away your bedding and, in spite of your half-awake protests, you are carried out of your abode over the shoulder of your dearest menace.

Eyelids heavier still, you could hardly figure out what on earth your friend was up to. By some degree of capability, you resorted to grasping at whatever slumber was left in you as Hoseok carried you to gods know where.

"Still sleeping, princess?"

You only grunt in response.

In hindsight, you should've been more attentive—should've heard the sound of running water and pulled yourself out of a sleepy haze then and there. Maybe then, you wouldn't have suffered the heart attack of having your legs plunged into cold waters out of nowhere. "Hoseok!" you screech as you jump back into his hold, suddenly very much awake.

Miraculously, he doesn't lose his balance, saving the both of you from instant, wet damnation. "Good morning," the menace grins as he sets you down once again—this time gentler as you become more aware of where he had taken you.

It was another cavern—one larger and more open than the one you made your home. The sunlight peaks through a sizable gap between the rocks above, allowing it to grace a little light inside. In the middle of the cave was a pool, one that likely has a tunnel beneath that leads to the sea outside, considering the faint sound of crashing waves in the distance reaching your ears.

"It's beautiful," you say with barely any thought as you gather the ends of your dress while you peer at the crystal clear water that reaches just below your knees. You stand on somewhat smooth stone, painstakingly carved by the sea through millions of years. It's beautiful.

"It is, isn't it?" Hoseok thoughtfully hums beside you.

Alas, you must put a hold on marvelling at the scenery to kick some water his way. "What did you dip me in here for then?" you grumble and glare—a chance to question why he dragged you out so early in the day for his antics.

Hoseok gasps, scandalized by your stunt in exaggeration. You paid his dramatics no heed, arms by your hips as you continued to squint until he gave you his answers. "I simply wanted to show you this haven of mine!"

You agreeably hum, understanding well how this makes a fine little hideout, but still. You try and pry more out of him, your questioning gaze not dropping.

As you suspected, the mischief returns to Hoseok's face. "That, and the fact that this is where my plans for the day will first take shape."

Taken aback, your arms fall to your sides. "What?"

He all but clapped his hands, gesturing grandly. "You can come out now, ladies," he calls out, his voice lightly echoing back at him.

From the gap above the cavern, two figures came flying in. They gracefully circle you both, and all you could do is gawk.

You could hardly believe your eyes. "Nymphs? How—"

"I have my ways," Hoseok gloats, beaming proudly as your wide eyes follow the nymphs who gave you amicable smiles. You turn back towards him, still incredulous.

"What's that supposed to m—"

There was no one there. That sneaky bastard. Where did he—

"My lady?"

You look back and see the nymphs excitedly awaiting your next move. "I'm (Y/N)," you bashfully say with a little courtesy, earning a delighted laugh from the two of them.

"We know," said the one with the dress adorned with pink and purple petals, her kind green eyes disappearing from her smile. "I'm Alenka," she says, she and the other nymph mirroring your courtesy from earlier.

"I'm Aldora," the more timid of the pair then said, dressed in blue as light as the sky sparkling like scales when the sunlight hit them.

Why would they waste their time here?

Unable to withstand your curiosity any longer, you ask the two beauties. "I'm so sorry," you shyly grimace, "but what exactly did my friend put you up to?"

For a moment, the two exchange a look of shock and intrigue at your words. Alenka speaks to answer your question. "We're here to help you get ready for the festival of course!" she tells you as Aldora nods along. "His hi—Hoseok, asked us to make you the prettiest we possibly can."

Her slip of the tongue doesn't escape you, but at the moment, the notion of your bare body being seen makes you fluster. "I can bathe by myself," you were quick to stammer out. "You needn't worry about that part."

Though hesitant, the two of them eventually nod. "We'll wait for you outside, Lady (Y/N)," Aldora says with the ghost of a smile. "Call for us when you're finished."

A nod from you and you're left to your own devices, water lapping at the ends of your dress as you stand idly. With a sigh, you reach to unravel your dress and shiver as you take a step deeper into the pool, deep enough for the water to rest at your collarbones. 

Best to get this over with. Wouldn't want to keep the nymphs waiting…

The silence allows your thoughts to voice themselves to you, and with no one else to keep you company, you find yourself entertaining them. What Hoseok has planned for the day, you have no idea, but it seems more questions than answers reveal themselves before you.

How did he manage to make contact with nymphs and make them serve you, no less?

What lies behind their behavior at the mention of Hoseok?

Why on earth is there so much effort for a damn party?

Hoseok had a bizarre flair to him, one that reeked of chaos and mischief, but your mind itches to know how on Earth he's managed to pull all of his stunts. Followers of Dionysus would be fond of parties—that you anticipated much—but you never thought they'd be able to get the willing participation of nymphs.

From what you've heard, nymphs often prefer the company of their own kin—too many mortals having tried to take their sisters as brides to not meet with other kinds without caution. Outside of that, they'd be in the company of heroes and demigods—even the gods themselves, too.

You freeze out of your own making, almost choking on air.

Does this mean Hoseok is something akin to the likes of those?

Heart racing, you try and put the pieces together.

He doesn't seem to carry himself as a hero—you've seen first hand what one is like.

Would he be a demigod then? Or a lover of a god?

Such were the likeliest of cases, you thought to yourself, but then you harken to the nymphs' behavior—their courteousness, their eagerness to serve, Alenka's slip of the tongue…

What could it have been?

His hi… his highness?

Your fingers pull to free your lips from your teeth, only to have them be chewed at.

Is Hoseok royalty then? What else would 'his highness' impl—no, it can't be…

Becoming a melting pot of emotions nearly turns you crazy, heart racing and unsure of what to do. "Enough," you tell yourself this with a staggering breath, pushing the questions over Hoseok's nature down the recesses of your mind. "Just bathe and meet with the nymphs, (Y/N). Just bathe."

Hoseok can be patient when he wants to, especially for something as near and dear to his heart as this. His unruly dark locks were combed, for once, and swept away from his face. He was dressed in his finest tunic that was a deep wine red with golden thread embroidery around the hem. Not that he needed it, but he also brought along a fur cloak in case the winds decided to blow colder.

Waiting an hour or so was a battlefield of boredom he was willing to march through, slicing through the drawn out hands of time by idly talking with Agrios or going through his plans for the day for the umpteenth time.

In time, he got the just rewards he was waiting for.

“Hoseok?”

There you come in, walking towards the edge of the treeline where he and Agrios waited. Hours of biding his time for this, and all he does is gawk. The sunlight, ever the blessing in his life, has allowed him to take the sight of you in. 

The nymphs had dressed you in a gown of deep red that turned purple in some trick of the eye, flowing gracefully where the wind willed it to. The fabric fittingly wrapped around your frame, the neckline dipping to show just the right amount of your decolletage and give space for the necklace he gave them to put on you. Flowers of the same colors were braided into your hair as the rest of your locks were kept to fall behind you, leaving only gentle curls to frame your face.

There was a stupid grin that seized control over his lips. All good things do come to those who wait.

A shy smile rests on your berry-stained lips, nervously chewed on by your teeth as you await his response. The sheer burgundy shawl that was draped over your shoulders also gave itself to be fiddled with by your fingers.

Agrios nudges his calf to knock him out of his stupor. “Is the first of your plans successful enough?” you try and jest upon seeing him break out of his trance, head tilted to the side in what Hoseok could tell was both teasing yet genuinely asking.

Having recovered enough sobriety, Hoseok opens his arms to welcome you. “Very much so,” he muses, as he offers an arm for you to take. A shiver of delight runs down his spine as you take his invitation and link your arm with his as your other hand gathers the ends of your skirt when the three of you begin to walk through the forest. "You look beautiful, princess," he gladly says, voice soft in spite of him mischievously leaning close to nudge your side.

Hoseok's compliment goes responseless, but the telling reddened ears and cheeks you bore was enough to satiate the pleasures he was fishing for. “Where to then?” you instead ask him, looking around at the trees and trying to familiarize yourself with this side of the forest. “Or will that have to be a secret too?”

A chuckle escaped his lips as you came back to look at him with a quirked brow. “I’m afraid so, princess,” Hoseok teasingly lilts, “but if I must admit, seeing as the first of the plan went well, I have gained high hopes for the next one.”

You reply with a mere hum, but your curiosity doesn’t elude Hoseok and it all the more leaves him giddy to see your reaction to the rest of his plans for the day. 

Sunlight through trees left a pattern of light dancing across your skin, one that constantly tempted him to steal glances your way. Idle conversation flows between you both with Hoseok being in the middle of telling you the time Silenus, the one who raised him, got so knackered from wine that he went missing for a couple of days and Hoseok had to look everywhere for him.

However much of a chatterbox he may be, Hoseok wasn’t one to keep on talking if his company wasn't at all present with him. He looks at you, furrowed brows and all, clearly thinking of something else. “Is something the matter?” he asks with a light tug of the arm linked with yours.

For a moment, you were startled, looking up at him with your cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, but he insists.

“Nonsense,” he says, circling around you to hold both of your hands in his as he continues to walk backwards. “It matters if it’s clearly occupying your mind.”

Your furrowed brows persist in your worry of him and his reckless abandon. “It’s silly, Hoseok,” you tell him with a shake of your head, trying to stop him from walking like this.

Hoseok obliges your silent request, opting to stand there before you and idly swing your arms together. Agrios, too, stopping to look at you both. “Try me,” the man before you daringly grins.

Berry-stained lips draw into a pout as you think of his challenge. There is much hesitation in your eyes, stirring more grounds within him for actual concern. Hoseok waits patiently for you to find the courage to tell him what plagues you. For a while, nothing but the faint rushing of a creek nearby filled the air.

"You're not human, are you?"

The swinging hands come to a halt and his very being froze all over. "What?" he all but says, truly not expecting such a question out of you. To know that the very answer of it will upset you dreads him even more, but he decides to conceal any more of what could give himself away and wait for you to elaborate further.

"All of this," you say as your fingers slip from his grasp—a warmth which he instantly misses—and you gesture to yourself. "All of what you've been doing for me. They are not what mere mortals can accomplish."

Hoseok wields his casual and careless shrug. "I have my ways—"

Alas, you were ready with your own points all along. "My wounds were healed in an instant because of you," you say, showing him the skin he had asked his half-brother, Yoongi, to heal.

"Yes, but that wasn't exactly me," he reasons with a nervous chuckle. A half-truth.

You go on to gesture at his leopard. "You tamed a beast like Agrios."

"I raised him!" Hoseok exasperatedly claims, looking at Agrios expectantly as if the beast could speak to confirm support of him. Another half-truth.

Still, you were stubborn. "And you've even called upon nymphs to dress me."

A damning choice, he agrees, but one he still carries to his defense. "They owed me a favor," he says, shrugging it off. And another half-truth.

Guilt bubbles within him as he continues his deceit of you. It’s in good intentions, he tells himself. "These things hardly warrant an interrogation like this, princess," he tells you, almost pleading, really. "I'm simply being a man of my word."

Alas, you could see through him—through the way he couldn't meet your eyes for too long, through the way he was overly sweeping the topic under the rug.

"And a liar," you retort, crossing your arms as you point a finger accusingly. "You're keeping something from me. Are we not friends enough for me to deserve the truth of who you are?"

Such a tone of hurt was an unfair spear to use against him and his heart. "No," he sighs, turning away from you to run a hand through his hair. "I simply think it's of no importance, alright?"

You inch just a tad bit closer—mayhaps you were dreading this too. "It's who you are," you say, ever insistent but in a gentler manner. "Of course it would be important to me."

The wine god nearly buckles, tired with the charades anyways, but every time he’s reminded of your fear of the gods, he’s reminded of why he’s hidden this truth to you in the first place. Hoseok would never want you to look at him that way—that rigid formality and careful walking on eggshells. 

"Are you a demigod?" you continue to ask, resorting to listing off prompts of what you suspected. "A god?"

Hoseok curses the way he knocked out of his stupor upon hearing that word—at how it instantly pulled the truth to light, and at how it earned him a shocked gasp from you.

"You are…"

The moment he raised his gaze to yours, he saw the panic flashing in your eyes. With what he had known of you, you were likely frantic of possibly offending or disrespecting a god. Even if you were a bit snarky at times, Hoseok really didn't mind—hardly felt irked at all. He had long understood that there were personal reasons with which your walls were built on.

"(Y/N)—"

Your instincts urge you to take a step back—keep a respectful distance between you both! He's a god!—but you root yourself to your spot. "Who?" you manage to ask, voice trembling and barely above a whisper.

No. No. No.

The confidence he’s been wielding all but escapes his grasp the moment he needed it to cool his nerves. It’s all falling apart. "(Y/N)..." Hoseok says, though his words fall short of anything else. 

"Please," your voice pulls him back to you. "Tell me who you are."

Despair fills him as he realizes this has passed a point of denying, the last of his chances at redemption only being him finally telling you the truth. "Dionysus," he says, a name that’s become so foreign in your light. "I'm Dionysus."

Shock befalls you even more, your mind reeling to take the truth in.

The thought of it had existed in your mind, but you were still not prepared for it to have been the truth. You had figured there must've been something different about Hoseok, but to think the endearing menace you've been bickering with was a god all along.

“Is that really the truth?”

The wine god lightly scoffs. "No one would dare lie about such a thing," he says what you both know aloud. No mortal would dare to, lest they intend to be struck down by the gods for their fraudulence on purpose.

Tentatively reaching forth, certain relief passes through him when you let him take your hands into his, and form them into a cupping motion. He anticipates your reaction as he fills your palms with wine out of thin air, watching the way your breath hitches at the sensation in your hands.

Hoseok finds himself grasping at straws. He’s no mighty god of Olympus—just another child of his father, born with divinity more than some heroic brute strength like the rest of Zeus’ bastards. He was just a relatively unknown god cast away from the pantheon because his divinity wasn’t worthy enough to grant him a place there and cast away by many mortals for representing insanity and lack of control.

Perhaps, that would be enough to satiate your worries—enough to make you let him stay.

Rivulets of wine drip from the crevices of your fingers, emptying from your grasp just as Hoseok attempts to empty out his heart. “I’m no great god. Just one that fancies wine and shenanigans,” he weakly jests to you, leaving no room for any of your upcoming protests as he gets to his main point. “I’d like it very much if I remained as Hoseok to you.”

It was almost hilarious to see you more upset and frantic about all of this than he was. “I can’t possibly just—”

“It wouldn’t be any different from before,” he told you so carelessly that you would’ve thought him a fibbing mortal had it not been for what you’ve seen him capable of doing.

You look at him, incredulous still. 

“You’re a god,” you remind him, fumbling with your wine-stained hands as you willed yourself to not lean any more into his warmth. He’s the god of wine—naturally bound to be more chaotic than others, but he was a god, nonetheless. Surely, there must be lines that a mortal like you cannot cross.

The wine god shook his head. Here on this island—with you—he was free to be no one else but himself. “I’m Hoseok,” he ardently insists, “I’m your friend.” 

Your silence from a loss for words he took as hesitation that needed more assurance. "No curse or anything of that sort will come upon you," he reassures. "If you had done me any great offense, I would've already done something about it before."

The thought of yet another divine curse plaguing your life sends shivers down your spine, but the better part of you knows he tells the truth. He may be a god, but this was the same man who passionately guided you through making wine, regaled you with his travels, and encouraged you to share your mundane palace life.

This was the same man who you’ve bickered with to and fro, rough-housed with more times than you could count, and bemoaned about tackling you in hugs.

Gods! This was the same man who saved you from the beach, helped you make a home for yourself, and have nymphs dress you for some merry-making he had planned out for you.

He is Hoseok—always will be Hoseok to you, no matter how hard you can try to deny yourself otherwise and paint him in the divinity all the gods have. This notion elates yet dreads you all the same.

What will become of you?

Compared to him, you were a mere mortal—a princess, yes, but a princess on the run.

You are feeble—easily hurt, easily damaged, easily slain. If he or any of the gods so pleases, your life could be over in an instant for mere amusement. Will you be cursed like your mother? Will your life be taken for angering a god?

Perhaps, what truly terrifies you is that you are nothing—no hero, no favored child, nor a wife to one. No one knows where you are. No one would know what becomes of you. No one would mourn.

You have nothing to your name, even at this very moment. The fabric that's draped over your body, the flowers woven into your hair, and the remnants of wine that drips from your fingertips—all of them were courtesy of Hoseok; of the wine god, Dionysus.

In a brighter light, you suppose this might just be your new purpose in life—to be in his company, not simply because he was a god, but because he himself had done you great favors and changed your life for the better. Fear mustn't take hold on the foundation of what you and Hoseok have built, because it shouldn't have any foundation for itself in the first place.

Hoseok has nothing to gain from a runaway princess like you, and yet here he was, afraid of what will change with the truth. A god begging a mortal—what on Earth have you done?

You turn your back to the wine god, walking towards the creek to carefully crouch and wash your hands anew—free of the stains the wine left on you. The fresh start to your bond with the no-great-god friend of yours begins here and now.

A soft nudge to your arm demands your attention—Agrios, as it turns out, softly noses your side, eventually willing you to pet him in assurance. Right. You, too, have gotten used to the spotted beast, one of the many things that made Hoseok so bizarre. 

Behind you awaits the young man—young god—so tensely eyeing your every move, heart racing a mile a minute. His lip might as well bleed with ichor from how hard he bites it. However, the moment you come back to face him with a smile on your lips, Hoseok felt he could breathe again.

“Well," you gingerly begin, feet taking steps towards him and stopping at an arm's length. "What are we going to do now, Hoseok?”

You still worry, he notes, remnants of your hesitation bleed in the way you anticipate his next move. Nonetheless, warmth begins to bloom in his heart once more, hearing his true name from your lips a bliss to bask in.

“Follow me,” he warmly invites, opening a hand for you to take. The plan may have gone through drastic changes, but it's salvageable, he thinks—he hopes. At the very least he wouldn't have to hide the strings he intended to pull.

A moment passes and an outbreath escapes your lips. You take his hand once again, unsure of where he’d take you.

As it turns out, Hoseok planned to take you to the nearest town. There were a lot of people, their distant chattering and regaling was loud to you in spite of the distance. The town is more colorful than you had thought, a celebration clearly happening—a harvest festival in honor of Demeter and Persephone, just as Hoseok had told you.

Still, that doesn't explain everything.

In an instant, you drape the shawl overhead and shrink into the obscurity of the forest, hoping it would mask your identity. "Hoseok, what is the meaning of this?" you squeak in a panic, stepping back into the treeline where Agrios remained. The wine god, on the other hand, excitedly steps out towards the festivities and waits for you to join him. "I told you," the man sweetly beams, walking back to you to place an assuring squeeze on your shoulders. "We're here to have fun."

The fabric atop your head slips away at Hoseok's will, his careful touch tingling against your skin. "Let's not hide such beauty, hm?" He coyly chastises, earning a nudge to the rib and an eye roll from you. His laugh comes out stifled, looking down at you still amused.

"Insufferable," you half-heartedly grumble under your breath as you dare to walk into the paved road that led to the town, tightly gripping Hoseok's arm in some attempt to soothe your nerves.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

The two of you have been having your fair share of escapades all day—spectating games and sports, sneaking around to watch the enactment of Persephone's abduction, going around stalls of food—and a big grin takes its place on your lips, delighting the wine god. Throughout all of that, however, you were constantly moving and fairly hidden amongst the crowd, which is why the next of his plans earned yet another skeptic frown from you.

The night had fallen and as the wind became chillier, Hoseok had draped his fur cloak over you, laughing as it swallowed you whole. The three of you—Agrios having his own fun time strolling about in the forest while you and Hoseok were in town—walked into the forest, and to your surprise, Hoseok had brought you to a clearing in the woods, with many people, a small feast, and a bonfire—another gathering.

And so here you were, standing at the outskirts of the merrymaking and clutching Hoseok's fur cloak around you tighter, unsure and hesitant as always. Jolly music fills the air as you follow Hoseok's figure going around. He holds a goblet in one hand as the other animatedly moves along with his dramatic gestures.

"Have fun!" he had urged you earlier before he greeted the welcoming crowd, introducing you to some of them as his good friend—but, in spite of assuring him you would, "have fun" you did not.

Disappointment of yourself clashes with the paranoia gnawing away at your brain. When you two were in town earlier, you were constantly moving from one place to the next, and so, for you, the chances of getting discovered would've been slim then. You feel bad for wasting part of Hoseok's plan, but at the same time, you fear lingering among the crowd for too long and leaving an impression on them enough to recognize you as the runaway princess of Crete.

"I thought you were a giant bush for a moment."

You jolt at the sound of the wine god's voice, but soon grumble when you process his words. Hoseok stands there with an amicable grin, still nursing a goblet of wine. You, on the other hand, had been cocooning yourself in his cloak like it'd make you disappear from this place. "You take your cloak then," you snippily say, shrugging the mass of fur off only to earn yourself a chuckle from the wine god.

Hoseok shakes his head, hands guiding the cloak back over your shoulders before he goes to assess your expression. "Shall we get you home?" he kindly asks, and it makes you feel worse, because you didn’t quite know what you wanted.

"No! I—"

The wine god's brows raise at your hesitation to leave, brows knitted together in your torn sentiments while a frown rests on your lips. Hoseok resides himself to stand closer next to you and wait for you to compose yourself. "What troubles you, hm?" he asks, the thumb of his free hand easing the crease between your brows.

With a sigh, you look towards the merrymaking, the beginnings of envy blooming from within you. "I'd really hate for this to go awry in the end," you admit to him, "in case someone from here recognizes me."

Hoseok tuts, half-heartedly shaking his head. "Look at them," he tells you, gesturing to the crowd before you both. "They're all lost in their own worlds."

All around you were people lost in the music of the bard, dancing and drinking to their heart's content. "No one here knows who you are right now, princess," Hoseok urged like a demon on your shoulder—all in good intentions, of course. "What else is there to hold you back?"

You can't help but digest his words from where you stand.

You were forcibly shaped into the mold of a perfect, obedient princess for your kingdom. You were a scapegoat. You were a tool. 

Then, you became an accomplice to a murder, an enemy on the runfrom your own kingdom, and a forsaken bride, too.

And now… Now what?

You have nothing but yourself to your name—no more titles, no more labyrinths needing sacrifices, and no more promised marriages. You are no one in this sea of strangers—of people looking to festivities to forget their troubles.

Dare you say it, Hoseok is right.

What need did you have to be who you were before?

A wave of spirit emboldens you to take hold of the goblet Hoseok was about to put to his lips, your fingers grasping his wrist to guide the drink in his hand to your mouth. Gulp after gulp, you down the whole chalice before a wide-eyed wine god, shivering a little at the foreign taste you've subjected your palate to. You've never tasted wine quite like Hoseok's before.

You finally turn your attention to your dear friend, somewhere between coy and sheepish. "Dance with me?" you ask, taking a hold of his other hand.

Such words pull Hoseok back to the waking world. He grins as his finger wipes at the corner of your mouth. "I'd be delighted to," he merrily muses, letting you drag him into the circle gathering around the bonfire.

Around you, people cheer, welcoming the both of you to the joyous dance.

The party's just begun.

Many often get themselves into trouble when drunk, their inhibitions set loose by the wine pumping in their veins. It loosens lips and control—reveals one's nature in some shape or form—which was why Hoseok adored the unpredictable madness of it all.

He's seen the many ways people behave when under the influence of his creation, and many were like you, who have the drink open the heart and unleash rivers of tears.

First, you had just been humming—a folk song from Crete, if he understood your garbled notes correctly—but then you had started nuzzling your head into his neck. The motion tickles him, makes him chuckle, but it was the sound of sniffling that followed that made him stop in his tracks.

See, by now he had been carrying you in his arms back to your little cavern, the stench of wine mixed with your floral scent hitting his nostrils. The wine god, for once, had controlled his drinking to ensure he could get you home safely. With your arms wrapped around his neck and your face buried into the crook of it, however, it was easier to hear your crying—easier to feel the wetness of your tears on his skin.

"Why the tears, princess?" He dares to ask, continuing his trek.

This was followed by a tighter hold, and another sniffle. "'m nothing without you," you all but whimper, voice small and meek but enough to grab his heart by the neck and squeeze it.

Hoseok tuts, chastising you like a child in the hopes you would hear it and scold him about that instead. "Nonsense, princess," he says, "That's not true at al—"

"'Tis true!" you whine and insist, shaking him by the shoulders as if it'd knock sense into him. It almost makes him laugh—had it not been for your next (drunken) choice of words. "I'd be dead by now."

Hoseok's frown was instant, but he waited for the rest of your words to pour in, walking down a path he’s gotten so familiar with in the past few weeks. The wine god doesn’t quite know if he’d want to hear this or not—if he’s worthy enough to hear it.

Nonetheless, he’s subjected to hearing it anyway. "Would'a gotten myself killed," you blubber, tears endless as you whimper, "but now I have wine, and a cave, and a pretty dress!"

Part of Hoseok beams with pride to have been able to bring such things into your life, to know that you found joy in the chaotic moments you’ve trudged through together, but a part of him also boils in a flurry of heartache and rage to have heard of this from you. Something in Hoseok burns. 

The two of you arrive at your cave, the wine god intending to lay you down on your bed before lighting a fire to keep you warm through the night. Alas, your arms around his neck don’t let go, forcing him to hover over you with his hands on either side of you to keep himself up. “(Y/N),” Hoseok quietly whispers, one hand lightly tapping at your arm and the other guiding the back of your head. “We’re home.”

A hum comes to him as a response, you shifting only to press a sloppy, barely there kiss on the corner of his lips, catching the wine god off his guard. “Hobi?” your lips move against his skin as you speak, sending his very being ablaze all the same.

Hobi? The wine god thinks to himself in confusion. Is that meant to be me?

“Yes?” he dares to respond anyway.

Just as Hoseok thought his mind wouldn’t get any worse, your words strike him through the heart yet again. "You 'n Agrios," you sniff, voice falling softer and softer, "mean so much to me… Don' leave me, alright?"

You pull away from him, noses merely inches apart as you were looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes that shone like gemstones with tears. There's a furrow in your brows as you struggle keeping your consciousness just to wait for his answer.

Hoseok could only smile, mustering the courage to plant a kiss onto your forehead, your worried brows unknitting themselves at the sensation of his wordless assurance. With that, you drift off to Morpheus’ realm, head finally falling back onto your pillow and leaving the wine god alone to his loud, frazzled thoughts.

You mean so much to me, too.

The next morn comes and you awake to an outstanding pounding in your head, a hiss slithering past your lips as you try to recollect yourself. It's a near similar ache to when you woke up at the—no, this is different.

At the very least, this one didn't have the dread and confusion seizing your entire being—just hilarious regret that you, at the same time, don't regret.

As your reason slowly but surely comes back to you, you become aware of a weight in your right hand. With one eye open, you peek around to see the familiar rocky walls of your abode, and looking some more, you see a hand from the bottom of your bed intertwined with yours—a sight that very much wakes you.

Beneath a familiar old fur pelt, you were lying on your side, curled up near the end of the bed much like you would as a child. You muster the strength to lean over, your left arm coming over in front of you to serve as a resting place for your chin as you look at the person attached to the hand in yours.

Hoseok, the wine god and absolute menace, sleeps on the cold, rocky earth next to your bed with nothing but his cloak from last night to give him some sort of cushion. Like you, he slept on his side, curled towards you with a hint of a pout on his lips that almost tempts a giggle out of you.

The sight shocks you, really, and for a few minutes you can't help but stare, unmoving and unknowing of what to do. His touch sends tingles up your arm and all throughout your body. Your headache doesn't do much to help you either.

How does one wake a god that also happens to be their friend?

You settled for a squeeze and a light shake to the hand in your hold, his fingers tightening around your hand little in response. His dark curls, which frame his face and brush over his eyes, tousle as he shifts into consciousness. With a groan, he squints up at you, eyes adjusting as he wakes.

"Morning," you idly greet, the first to speak between you both. "Comfortable?"

It takes a second or two for your lighthearted sarcasm to register in his head, the wine god's hand slipping from yours as he stretches from his place on the floor with a groan, the motion showing you a sliver of his naked chest. "My back hurts," he whines in a mumble as he sits himself up, your eyes following him as he did even as you remain in your position. His voice is deeper, you note, and a bit hoarse.

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves you. "Why'd you sleep on the floor then?"

Still drowsy, Hoseok rubs the sleep from his eyes as he grumbles. "You wouldn't let go of my hand when I tried to leave," he tells you, playfully squinting at you with an accusatory glare as his statement sends a furious blush across your cheeks.

"Oh."

You did what?!

Truth be told, you don't recall much of the night that transpired after you brazenly chose to forgo all your inhibitions and join the fray in the dancing and drinking. What sort of ridiculous things did you get yourself into?!

The wine god watched as a flurry of confusion, mortification, and embarrassment passed through your face in a matter of seconds. A part of him, he must admit, is disappointed you don't remember the words you told him last night on your way home—of the kiss you planted on the corner of his lips that still lingers if he lets his thoughts wander too far.

For his sake and yours, Hoseok directs the conversation forward. "So," he quips, leaning in as if to gossip. "Did you enjoy the merrymaking, princess?"

He watched as a smile instantly made it to your face, one you try and fail to bite back. Your hand reaches to cover your mouth as if it'd fare against the grin that was hurting your cheeks. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” you eventually admit, the words as shy yet elated as the giggle that stifles through your lips. You recall the addicting feeling of thrill—the carefree laughter, the silly dancing, and the sweet, sweet wine.

Hoseok's grin is instant, his heart full and beating quickly at the successful fruits of his labor. He is right after all. Happiness looks gorgeous on you. “Oh, look at you, you poor thing,” he jests as he beams. "I told you we would have fun and you wouldn’t believe me!"

You roll your eyes at his teasing, sitting up from the bed. “Here I was,” you jokingly sigh and shake your head, “about to thank you for what you did.”

The wine god crosses his arms over your knees, leaning forward to comically wiggle his brows at you. “I don’t need a thank you,” he coos in a ridiculously suave manner. “Your smile is enough.”

Biting back a grin, you resort to pinching his cheeks. “You’re such a sap,” you tell him, pushing him off your knees and falling back to the sheets as you feel another wave of headache coming to hit you.

Hoseok only grins, lifting himself up to take a seat on the bed next to you. Without much thought, he reaches forth to brush away the stray hairs that flew over your face when you laid back. 

Whether or not you minded his gesture, you don’t make note of it, simply letting a quiet groan past your lips. "My head hurts though," you whine, eyes falling shut. 

"It happens," Hoseok hums, partly apologetic. Mortals get drunk more easily than gods, and you were drinking enough to be slurring confessions to him in the late hours of the night.  

For your sake, the wine god decidedly stands to help you with your hangover, hands brushing down your arms to seize your hands and encourage you to get up along with him. "Fortunately for you," he sings, pulling you up onto your feet—only to have you crash onto his chest. "I know someone who has a remedy for that."

You squint at him, somewhat suspicious, but nonetheless loop your arm around his, heavily leaning against his side as the two of you leave. Anything to gladly get the headache over with.

As it always is with Hoseok, this was another surprise.

(You suppose it’d be best for you to get used to such things, now that Hoseok has revealed his true nature to you. This, undoubtedly, would only be the beginning.)

Someone begrudgingly opens the door to a dwelling carved into the mountain, quite a bit far from your cave which led to Hoseok carrying you on his back halfway through. Peculiarly, faint yet janky music comes from inside, but even more peculiar is the pale man before you.

His presence definitely sobers you just a little bit more. He has the same ethereal, otherworldly glow as Hoseok tends to pose, and yet also different. His golden locks nearly shine in the sunlight—almost as if the sun focused solely on him.

Next to you, however, Hoseok also seems to be taken aback, but his was more so a bewildered shock. "Yoongi?"

Feline eyes that had been drenched with sleepy exhaustion and glaring at Hoseok turned confused and alarmed at the name used to address him. It was only when the stranger's eyes landed a good look at you as you stepped down from the wine god's hold that a flicker of understanding crossed his face. “Got yourself drunk again, hm?” Yoongi then amusingly says, “and with a friend too.”

Hoseok simply grins, so amicable with the stranger that it eases you enough to give him a timid smile and a small bow in greeting. "You seem a little intoxicated yourself," the wine god muses as you bashfully address his friend. "I suppose that means the remedy is at hand already?"

Yoongi simply sighs in defeat and wordlessly invites the two of you in, leaving the door open for Hoseok to guide you inside. The inside is definitely much better than your measly little cave with the house carved deeper into the mountain than you initially thought. Intricately chiseled furniture and decor fill the spaces in between, and before a fireplace lay… a satyr fiddling with a pan flute?

Suddenly, your headache was the last thing on your mind.

"Silenus!" Hoseok's gleeful laughter booms and startles you out of your stupor, watching as the wine god opens his arms wide to the delirious satyr. Silenus, finally registering the wine god's presence, grins and gets up, nearly stumbling over himself.

"My boy, welcome!"

It was only a matter of time before the satyr's eyes landed on you—they twinkle with mischief and amusement.

"Good morning," you could only greet, standing idly.

You couldn't help the fidgeting brought by your awkward and wary nature, doing your best not to rudely stare at the hooves he had for feet. Like the nymphs, you've never seen such creatures in person before, only heard of them from the stories of servants, or from the scholars in the palace who frowned upon the wild and lustful life these beings lived.

"She's the princess," a voice from behind you knowingly informs him. Yoongi, you realize, stands not far from you, leaning against a wall as he watches the whole scene unfold. 

You can't help the startled confusion. How does he know you?

The words, however, do click in Silenus' head. "Ah! The one you've been blabbering about?" he smugly jests with a nudge to Hoseok's side, earning a flustered look of shock from you as he offers you a nod of acknowledgement. "You are a pretty one, if I must say, my lady."

You nearly choke on your own spit. "Thank you," you stammer, as you steal a glance at the wine god next to him. Hoseok speaks of you in such a way?

Hoseok gladly took over the conversation then, not meeting your eyes as a blush came to his cheeks. "Alright, that's enough," he hurriedly grumbles, pulling out one of the nearby chairs of a table as he addresses the blond. "Yoongi, you know well what we're all in need of, yes?"

Silenus simply chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender as Hoseok gently ushers you to sit on the chair. "It's quite fortunate Yoongi here is around for us, aye?" he boisterously laughs, ushering Yoongi to follow him. "Come along, boy. Let us make breakfast, too."

You watch as the old satyr and the pale stranger moves about into the makeshift kitchen of his abode. "He's the one that raised me," Hoseok, next to you, leans in and whispers as he takes his seat at the table. "Don't mind him and his silly teasing. He simply wants to embarrass me."

A hum leaves your lips as you nod, faintly recalling the tale he shared with you yesterday. Silenus took the wine god in as a babe and raised him to be the rambunctious man he is today. You certainly see the resemblance between them action-wise.

In spite of the satyr's sleazy mannerisms and faint stench of wine and ale, you see the hints of his fatherly care in the way he brought out barley bread, cheese, fruits, and leftover meat for breakfast onto the table. He places a kind, grateful pat on Hoseok's back as the wine god lays out plates, and thanks Yoongi when he comes to the table with the remedy you've been hearing so much about.

(Envy festers within you. You were used to a different sort of a father.)

Even in the way he gingerly hands you three your respective wooden chalices, did you feel soft yet numb. "Here you go, princess," Silenus grins at you, "Yoongi's specialty."

"Thank you," you say as you gratefully take the cup from him, still timid as you look over to Hoseok for some guidance on what to do next. With everyone now sat at the table, the wine god simply downs the cup he was given, grimacing a little as he does, but ultimately finishes it all.

Silenus notices your reserved nature. "No need to act stiff, princess," he warmly assures you, "Yoongi here is a skilled healer that works wonders."

The words catch your attention, eyes flitting to the blond next to Silenus who simply acknowledges you with a small nod—just as reserved as you, it seems.

Healer? Is he the one Hoseok asked to heal me?

Nonetheless, you simply give them a bashful smile, finally bringing the cup closer to inspect it. The smell of it is an odd mix of spices and things you can't quite put your finger on, and, frankly, you think it better for you to not know. Brazenly, you bring it to your lips and—finally—drink. Like Hoseok, you wince at the strange concoction, but eventually manage to gulp it down.

Oddly, you do feel a bit better already. You take a sip of some more, eyeing the reclusive blond quietly making himself a sandwich. A skilled healer, hm?

"So," Silenus suddenly claps his hands together, knocking you out of your stupor as the satyr addresses both you and his fostered son. "When are you two getting married?"

You sputter out some of the tonic in your shock, and in panic of that, you almost choke trying to salvage any more of the drinks from falling from your lips. Hoseok, too, panics, handing you a nearby towel to wipe your lips with as he rubs circles onto your back.

"Silenus!"

The blond stranger and the old satyr only laugh and smile.

Silenus turned out to be a cheeky man fond of jokes, teasing, and drinking—one with a booming laughter that you've now known very well to hear and always seen with a smile on that bearded face of his. Perhaps, that is where Hoseok got his mischievous nature from, after all.

Yet, the old geezer also has a penchant for wisdom from his long years—a comfort, really, as his words of optimism do away with your worries the same way Hoseok's does. Silenus also tends to regale with stories, especially that of a young wine god under his care—much to the chagrin of Hoseok, himself.

You find yourself fortunate to have met him, even if it had been under hungover circumstances. 

As with Yoongi—or should you say Apollo?

(The gods have many names, but only one remains precious to them—or so you were told.)

You didn't think you would ever live to witness the presence of two gods, and yet you've dined with the sun god, danced with Hoseok to his music, and passed out drunk with him and the others at some parties. When Hoseok confirmed that it was indeedYoongi who healed you that day, you truly began to ponder whether there was something in your bloodline that gave you and your family such an affinity to gods.

Yoongi was quiet—similar to you, in a way—but brilliant as a god of music and arts like him is meant to be. The harmony he produces is unlike any other, and the words he writes for his verses drip with so much soul and heart that it makes you weep.

He would often complain that Hoseok was often a child he had to look out for, but you knew better than to only see those grumbles and not his genuine fondness for his half-brother's bright, carefree nature.

Hoseok is a stark difference from the rest of the pantheon, he once told you—being a relatively minor deity frees him from the heavy burdens and responsibilities a fully-fledged god is bound to, even if it does deprive him of his full potential to power and prestige.

The sun god continues his visits once in a while, sometimes to drink away his heartache or exhaustion with you, Hoseok, and Silenus, but sometimes to simply idle around the fireplace and bask in the small, hush conversations of travels, memories, and tales.   

You, yourself, have taken to setting loose along with them—making wine with Hoseok and Silenus, attending more gatherings in the woods and towns, meeting Agrios' sisters and brothers, and befriending nymphs, satyrs, and followers alike. Every night leaves you tired yet blissful, while every morn begins with you waking next to the wine god that brought you along these merriments.

Something, too, seems to have changed with Hoseok.

Though you can pretend not to notice, you are not saved from the restless nights you spend lying awake in bed thinking of the wine god’s lingering touches—of how he constantly treads the line between innocent and intimate. Hands on your waist as you two dance, a guiding hand on the small of your back, a passing brush of fingertips to your arms—such instances occupy your thoughts, making your heart skip a beat and leaving your senses to fixate on everything else he does.

Unwavering attention to your talking, a gaze feeling like they linger on your lips.

Fingertips always unconsciously reaching out for yours whenever you’re close by.

Eyes almost instantly searching for yours once you lose one another in the crowd.

You find yourself liking this game, letting him come closer and anticipating the next of his actions, in spite of knowing how easily you can be cast aside by someone like him, a god who can get everything he wants. You indulge in this delusion every once in a while, but ultimately leave it to Hoseok's unpredictable chaos.

As winter approached and the days got colder, however, most of the adrenaline died down as you and Hoseok forgo the gatherings to prepare for the harshest days. Silenus had welcomed you and Hoseok to his home during the season, which was definitely much better for the harsh cold than the cave you and Hoseok tried to make use of. (Though you don’t exactly know why a god like him would want to bear the brunt of winter when he can easily go to Olympus or elsewhere.)

“There.”

Broken away from your reveries, you come to see Hoseok inspecting the thick wool scarf he had wound around you. There’s a concentrated furrow in his brows as he thinks whether the knot was secure or satisfactory enough.

“She won't die so easily in the cold, boy,” Silenus, who had been occupied with cleaning his pan flute, mused from his seat before the fireplace. A giggle escapes your lips as Hoseok half-heartedly rolls his eyes at his mentor’s words.

The two of you plan to gather firewood on your way back after visiting Aldora and Alenka in their part of the woods, and Hoseok insisted on the thick scarf. “It’s better to be safe,” he murmurs under his breath, as you roll your eyes and grab his arm to head out the door, ushering Agrios to follow suit.   

“We’ll be back soon, Silenus!” you bid goodbye, waving warmly as you’re greeted by a cold gust of wind. Your breath forms a faint smoke of air as the icy sensation tickles your exposed skin. At the shiver that seizes you, Hoseok smiles as you bury your face into the thick scarf. “As I’ve told you,” he says as he lingers closer, “you needn’t accompany me.”

Stubborn, you tighten your hold around his arm, playfully glaring up at his smug grin. “And as I’ve told you, I want to go out and see Alenka and Aldora,” you quip, pushing him slightly as you turn your attention to the forest you’ve become accustomed to. The towering trees that had been a canopy of greens and oranges were now barren, their dark bark and branches a stark contrast against the snow and the blue sky.

There are moments where you’ve quietly reflected on the months you’ve been here, on how much things have changed since Theseus le—

Something cold hits the back of your head, a shocked gasp leaving your lips as you whip around to see where on Earth that came from. The culprit, of course, is Hoseok, who was forming balls of snow in his hands. “I’m hurt, princess,” he dramatically sighs despite his eyes glinting with mischief. “Here I thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

You dodge his next snowball in time, wide eyes now squinting at him. “Insufferable,��� you grumble, taking a quick duck behind a tree and gathering your own projectile, landing a hit on his shoulder as he was trying to flee for cover. “Aha!”

An unamused leopard stares at the two of you, waiting for the two of you to quit giggling and running around with eyes of judgment. “Agrios, help!” you squeal, squealing as one of Hoseok’s snowballs struck your leg.

“Don’t you dare, traitor!” the wine god immediately retaliates.

You look over your shoulder and see him fully running after you at this point, and just as you are about to strike back, a root ensnares your foot, sending you crashing forth. Arms wound around your waist, pulling you back in time for Hoseok, who caught you at the last minute, to take most of the fall.

The two of you fall on your knees, a grunt and a hiss leaving you both as you recoil from the impact and the cold ground. You look at your companion, his dark curls much more unruly and his tunic and cloak disheveled from all the running you two did. In spite of that, he was looking over at you and assessing your state, adjusting your scarf yet again. “Are you alright?”

Hoseok watched as you started breathlessly chuckling and failing miserably at hiding it. This, however, was a sign to him that you were alright, beginning to smile, himself. “Truce?” he asks, watching as you grin back at him.

Your hands were cold with what remained of your previous snowball as you grabbed at his cheeks, doing well to squeeze it about as he gasps and shrieks at the icy touch. “Truce,” you finally affirm, laughing at his dramatic pout of defeat.

Funnily, even in the chill of the winter morn, all you could feel throughout was warmth.

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ || ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

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

[nebulous-library]

Nebulous-Library Masterlist ✨

MY AO3 - All of my works are posted ONLY either here (on my main blog in some cases) or on my AO3 account. Nowhere else has permission to post or use them. Do not feed my work to robots. I can’t enforce that, I know, but like, I work really hard on this stuff and it would make me sad.

This masterlist is organized in two parts: 

Things that have the utmost brainrot at the current point in time.

Everything else, organized alphabetically by series.

Read more below!

Relatively current obsessions -

TOKYO REVENGERS

Hajime Kokonoi (Koko)

Better Together (Koko x Reader x Inupi)

my thoughts will echo your name until i see you again (NSFW - dark content, not porn)

Seishu Inui (Inupi)

Better Together (Koko x Reader x Inupi)

Misc. headcanons, musings, imagines

little acts of intimacy - how they like to be touched (misc. characters)

what their kisses are like (misc. characters)

what they sound like when they cum (misc. characters)

how they fall in love (misc. characters)

Baji with a crush (HC)

SPIDER-VERSE -

Lyla 

the one where lyla gets a physical body (HCs)

UPCOMING - Untitled work (Hologran!Lyla x Reader)

Miguel O’Hara

UPCOMING - Untitled work (Dr. Olivia Octavius x Reader, Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

Dr. Olivia Octavius 

UPCOMING - Untitled work (Dr. Olivia Octavius x Reader, Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

Peter B. Parker x Bagel (feat. Reader)

Fifty Shades of Grain (NSFW) - Peter's love of carbs goes a little too far when he finds himself alone in his apartment one morning, fantasizing about his cute neighbor and not having anything better to satisfy his cravings than the bagel from the coffee shop. Whilst getting jiggy with this bagel, Peter manages to find himself in a little bit of a predicament only said neighbor can help him get out of.

BUNGO STRAY DOGS

Chuuya Nakahara

wine & dine (NSFW) - When your plans for Chuuya’s birthday go awry, he keeps himself busy with a nice bottle of wine. However, when you arrive later that evening, you find that the wine has caused certain complications for Chuuya. No matter — he’s going to have a birthday feast one way or another.

wine & dine - the bonus chapter (NSFW) - The unplanned follow-up in which Chuuya finally gets to smash

Sigma

mile high club (NSFW) - Sigma didn’t think his first sexual encounter would be with his assistant manager at the Sky Casino. But things don’t always go as planned, do they?

Everything else, alphabetical by source material

AVATAR: THE LAST ARIBENDER -

Zuko 

Like a Moth to the Flame (NSFW) - You are with the Gaang at Zuko's family's abandoned vacation home on Ember Island. Sozin's Comet is due to return in three days' time. The entire squad is stressed, especially Zuko. You approach him that evening in an attempt to help him alleviate some of his tension.

DEMON SLAYER -

Headcanons, musings, imagines

Being romantically/sexually involved with Kagaya Ubayashiki [part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3]

Douma + breeding kink, kind of (HC)

Eggplant HCs [part 1] -  [part 2]

DRAGON PRINCE -

Araavos 

Milky Way (NSFW) - Whilst sneaking about where you shouldn't, you discovered the mirror from Viren's study down in an empty dungeon chamber. As captivating as such a relic as the mirror was, it was nowhere near as captivating as that which you saw in the glass.

Runaan 

Bound (NSFW) - You didn't mean to start semi-regularly having sex with the leader of one of the most notorious moonshadow elf assassin groups. But it happened, and now after having not seen him in months, he is being held captive in essentially the basement of your place of employment. You decide to pay him a friendly visit.

A Nocturnal Affair (NSFW) -  Night has fallen in Katolis, and what a beautiful night it is. Beautiful, but lonesome. Your chambers at the palace were lovely, but so very empty. Perhaps a sneaky late-night visit from a certain lover of yours can do something about that.

Xadian Nights - Your relationship with Runaan has come to the point where you can no longer stand the sneaking around and the secrecy. Neither of you wants this to be all it is for the rest of your life. After what had started as wistful daydreaming of what your lives might be like under other circumstances, you decide you're going to do it. You are going to flee to Xadia. With Runaan by your side, you venture off on a life-changing journey. [prologue] -  [chapter 1] - [chapter 2] - [chapter 3]

HAIKYUU -

Oikawa Tooru 

The “Oikawa Has A Bedroom Full Of Mirror, Particularly On The Ceiling, And 100% Gets Off On His Own Reflection” saga (NSFW, drabbles/HCs) - [drabble 1] - [drabble 2] - [HC 1] - [HC 2] - [bonus]

Oikawa has both a praise kink AND a degradation kink (NSFW, HCs)

JUJUTSU KAISEN -

Kokichi Muta

Bringing him presents (HC)

Developing a relationship with him (drabble)

Going on dates with him if/when his body gets restored (drabbles) - [part 1] - [part 2]

Suguru Geto

Character Analysis Hours - [part 1] - [part 2]

High school Suguru + his piercings (HC)

Subby Suguru thoughts 

Misc. poly w/ SatoSugu thoughts [part 1] - [part 2]

Satoru Gojo

His sense of humor (HC)

Misc. poly w/ SatoSugu thoughts [part 1] - [part 2]

Kento Nanami

What flirting with him is like (HC)

Mahito

Learning how to speak like a person (HC)

SK8 THE INFINITY - 

Kaoru Sakurayashiki (Cherry Blossom)

what they’re like in bed (part 1)

Cherry/Joe/Adam cockblocking each other

Kojiro Nanjo (Joe)

what they’re like in bed (part 1)

Miscellaneous HCs (NSFW)

Cherry/Joe/Adam cockblocking each other

Ainosuke Shindo (Adam)

Adam’s shotgunning kink (NSFW, imagine)

what they’re like in bed (part 2 - the Adam-centric sequel)

Cherry/Joe/Adam cockblocking each other

Hiromi Higa (Shadow)

what they’re like in bed (part 1)

SPIDER-VERSE - 

Peter B. Parker x Bagel (feat. Reader) 

Fifty Shades of Grain (NSFW) - Peter's love of carbs goes a little too far when he finds himself alone in his apartment one morning, fantasizing about his cute neighbor and not having anything better to satisfy his cravings than the bagel from the coffee shop. Whilst getting jiggy with this bagel, Peter manages to find himself in a little bit of a predicament only said neighbor can help him get out of.

VOLTRON: LEGENDARY DEFENDER -

Takashi Shriogane

Missing Pieces series - A pre-VLD series in which you, Shiro’s partner, are coping with losing him to the Kerberos mission.

Part one - Let Me Call You Sweetheart (SFW) - You and Shiro had just moved into your new place shortly before he left. Now everything just feels empty without him.

Part two - The Moon and Back (SFW) - Keith comes to check on how you’re doing.

Part three - Stay with Me (NSFW) - Keith’s comforting goes a step too far

Part four - Just One Yesterday (SFW) - A glimpse into the development of your relationship with Shiro when you were both eager young Garrison students

Part five - Somewhere Only We Know (NSFW) - A bittersweet reunion between you and Shiro after his alleged disappearance on the Kerberos mission.  

Part six - The Impossible Year (SFW) -  [chapter 1] - [chapter 2] - It's been almost a year since the Kerberos mission, since you thought you'd lost the love of your life forever. But a fire is brewing within your soul. Despite your previous beliefs, you no longer can sit idly by and accept what the Garrison has told you about the disappearance of the crew on that mission. You need answers. And it's about time you find your missing pieces 

[imhereforscm]

HEADCANONS💕💕💕✨✨✨

It's about these two goofs😚😚😌😌💖💖

(pretty picture, isn't it?☺️ I stole it from @acefaun )

Sooooo in Scorpio's sequel, when MC is having a chat with Dui and Ichthys, they mention how when Scorpio first came into the Heavens a lot of gods didn't make it easy for him.

It's also shown in Scorpio's musings on love, where MC watches the flashback from his trial and the judge is dragging Scorpio for his ex humanity.

And also in Scorpio's constellations of love, where the gods are—even now!—gossiping about Scorpio, saying what a cruel god he is and such bullsh- *gets smacked with a pan*

MY POINT:

Scorpio was obviously very lonely at first, not feeling like he fits in and stuff. (Yeah, he had Zyglavis and I'm sure Zyg treated him fine and everything, but even with Zyglavis, I feel like all that warmth came a bit later. I feel like for a long time at first, Zyglavis was a far-reaching idol to him. Like he thought of him as "o, big and great minister", but actually became friends with him much later. Just a thought! I might he wrong!)

The person I think was his first friend, even if Scorpio doesn't wanna admit, is Ichthys. Dui too, but I believe Duo came a liiiiiiiittle later, not much, but a little.

I think that's because Dui would take it easy with Scorpio, approaching him slowly as to not "scare him off" and also, I think at the time he was hanging out more with Celsius (his late friend) and Ida. (Again: that's just a theory. I have no proof—I don't think.).

On the contrary, Ichthys DEFINITELY went in for a handshake the very first second of meeting Scorpio and the very second day, he had already fallen off the ceiling and tackled him in a surprise hug. It sounds fitting for the golden retriever Ichthys is.😌✨

Scorpio would try to avoid him, because "wtf are those feelings you're making me feel???" But Ichthys would keep running around him like a puppy like- "Wanna go somewhere after work?" "Wanna meet my parents?" "Wanna go meet Dui?" "Wanna pull a prank?" "Wanna-"

Also-

I can't be the only one who absolutely

✨M E L T S✨

in Scorpio's sequel POV, where he calls Dui and Ichthys his friends in his head. Like- he yells at them pretty much everyday, but he actually ❤️❤️WWWOVES❤️❤️ THEM(⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

[sribbles-drabbles]

You Are My Sunlight

Here’s a tiny little Kars x GN! Pillar Person! Reader from a few months ago, just to start drumming up ✨bidness✨—————————————————————-

“Kars....Darling wake up...” I whisper, playing with the larger man’s hair, and attempting to wake him. He groans and rolls over, making me laugh and shove him once more.

I then stride to the mouth of the cave in which we live and look out at the bright and twinkling stars in the dark midnight blue velvet sky. The stars are beautiful. The normally cool and crisp night air is still muggy with summer warmth that sticks to my mostly bare skin as crickets and cicadas chirp and as I gently sit myself in the grass just outside the cave’s entrance.

Shortly after, as I sit and hum, gazing at the stars above, I feel my eyes droop. This muggy summer air truly is tiring, even though it’s midnight, and most are working, Kars still is probably lulled by the sound of the world around us and this tiring heat. My dreary thoughts are cut short however, when the familiar sound of heavy footsteps reaches my ears. Padding towards me with such a self assured and un-rushed rhythm that has grown to be my own lullaby. Then there’s a soft yawn, the crack of one’s joints after waking from a deep sleep, and then a voice:

“You wake me but while you still seem tired yourself, why is that my dear?” He muses, and I think before answering.

“I suppose I simply wanted to stargaze with my beloved. Was it so wrong of me?” I huff then chuckle and he returns it. His chuckle is warm and airy, it always makes me feel safe, loved. He then places himself ungraciously next to me, preferring to simply flop in the damp but warm grass. All formalities, and composure he presents himself with before the other pillar people vanish with me. For with me, there are no need for such trivial things. We are partners for life, he and I. This much I vowed when I used the mask, standing beside him. I believe in him, in his cause, and in us.

“I suppose not, however, you should repay me that time of slumber you took from me. I’d be very pleased if I were to be given another token of your affection beyond just silly stars in the sky~” he now chuckles darkly, a flash of lust in his eyes, and with that I pick some nearby grass and shove it in his face before giggling and running away. I hear Kars chuckle once again, this time his usual light an airy one. I take to the trees hopping from branch to branch with expert skill.

Kars is beside me, chasing me, and I once again laugh at him. At his determination to catch me and at our own competitive and teasing natures. We’re both fast and careful as we spring from branch to branch but Kars is slightly faster, and as I go for a large leap across the a clearing within our dense forest home, Kars grabs me in midair and we go tumbling into the clearing, full of flowers and autumn leaves. It’s still late summer so theirs not too many fallen just yet.

We lie in the field and laugh out loud, simply elated to be in each other’s presences. I sit up and as he tries to as well, I take his head and guide it down to lie in my lap. He relaxes and I play with his hair idly as he closes his eyes and I gaze down at him. He’s consuming all my heart and thought as per usual, I think to myself. I often find myself wondering what goes on in his wonderful mind as well, curiously pondering if I consume his thought with as much fever as he does mine. My mind then turns back to the stars above us. I wonder what it would be like to be one of those starts, not a care in the world, simply providing endless illumination .

“The stars are beautiful tonight, right Kars?”I hum in thought while gazing between the orbs of flame above and back down at his half sleeping form.

“Not as beautiful as the sun...” he retorts and causing me to sigh. That’s right, he’s not interested in these distant stars of various hues and is instead only interested in the once closest to us. The one that burns us with it’s closeness, the one that confines us to thus current time of night. The most distant of all if one thinks about it. Honestly, his love for the sun almost makes me feel jealous, if not for the fact that the wonder, ambition, and passion that flashes in his eyes when he speaks of it, makes me fall for him even more than one would think possible.

“I know...I’m sorry we can’t see it Kars, but I swear, one day, with your genius, we will.” I state truthfully with my best beaming smile in hopes to console him.

He opens his eyes slightly and smiles softly At me. Catching me off guard as he gently reaches up and cups my cheek with his warm, and strong hand.

“Even if we never see it, I’ll still be content. After all, you are MY sunlight, and we will be together, forevermore...”

—————————————————————-

[vamp8687]

Slashers with a s/o with a small chest🖤

Requested by @iwannacry123 🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

———————————————

Vincent

Vinny loves everything’s about your body!!❤️

Your his muse.

He makes art about you all the time and admires your body so much.🥺🙏

He has countless little artworks of you that he makes, he would even give you some of them.

But one time you when he gave you an artwork of yourself, it was only then when he found out your insecure.

You stared at the artwork, “Vinny, why do my boobs have to be so small..” you muttered. What..? He gave you a look. ‘What do you mean?’ He signed. You told him about how you felt insecure about them. “I don’t get it, why can’t I look-“ Vincent stopped you right there. He knows what it’s like to be insecure but how in the world do you fine your chest ugly?!? He literally thinks your a fallen angel sent down to earth for him.. after you said that, he pulled you into his lap and cuddled you tightly, he loves you, your his muse, his angel, his world. Your perfect.🥺❤️ he would give you tons of hugs.kisses.cuddles more often now. And he would make you more and more artworks. “Awh Vinny! these ones are adorable!!!”. You appreciated his artworks so much.❤️

He knows what’s it’s like to feel insecure but he doesn’t want you to feel that way about yourself.

He needs you to know your ✨beautiful✨

!poly ghostface

They both love you.

However they can both be a pain in the ass.👯‍♀️

Stu doesn’t have a filter and Billy is just a shit in general

They never really meant all of the dumb ass things they say sometimes..

They didn’t know you were insecure but after they did they felt really bad for what they said.

You were going chased around the house by your two boyfriends. You guys always chased each other around the house, but this time it was Billy+Stu vs you.. “WHERE ARE YOU Y/N??” You hear Billy yell followed by stu giggling. You laughed and turned around the keep running but you TRIPPED!! You fell face first onto the floor of the bedroom. You heard stu and Billy laughing in the background, Dan they must’ve found you… “HAHAHAHAHA, DID YOU S-SEE THE WAY YOU FELL!!!” Stu hollowed with laughter. “Maybe it’s because your tits are so flat you fell face first!!” Billy laughed, stu began laughing to. Your eyes watered a bit but you didn’t let it get to you until, “YEAH, YOU THINK WITH TITS LIKE THAT YOU WOULD OF THOUGHT ABOUT IMPLANTS-“. You slammed the bathroom door to the bedroom shut and let the tears flow out, you hated everything about yourself, your looks. You heard the bathroom door open. ”baby, we’re sorry… I-“ Billy got cut off. “ PLEASE DONT LEAVE. PLEASE Y/N!! IM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY, I LOVE YOUR TITS, I LOVE YOU, DONT LEAVE US-“. “Stu.” Billy gave him a look, makeing you giggle, you loved these two with all your heart

Bubba

Bubba doesn’t know the difference.. tbh.. he doesn’t really even know what your bozongas are.💀

Hey you can’t blame the guy, I don’t think the sawyer took there s*x Ed. (I mean Drayton can’t even spell s*x)

He thinks they are just comfy pillows that he can lay on.

Wait there’s different sizes..? 🤨

Now your confusing him y/n🙄

One day he notices you feeling insecure and he figures why.

Bubba nudges your shoulder with one of his favourite dresses of yours. “No! Bubba I’m not wearing it..”. He whines. “It doesn’t look good on me anyways..” your eyes began to tear up. You have always been insecure of your chest area, you wished you looked different… bubba gasped. He started shaking his head violently, mumbling little ‘noooo’ s. He immediately wraps you in a hug. He couldn’t believe it, your so beautiful how could you ever think that, then it hits him. He tilts his head downwards and cuddles in your chest, he loves you, everything about you.❤️

From then on he always reassures you how beautiful you are

Mainly by cuddles☺️

[deluxewhump]

no pressure but oh my god erik coming to visit maxim please✨🤌🏼✨

Carlo woke disoriented on a downstairs sofa sometime after dark. There were lights on in nearby rooms. The glow from the other side of french doors cast a long rectangle on the floor. It was voices that woke him— they were growing clearer as they drew closer.

“I haven’t been in this house since your father owned it.”

“I thought we didn’t speak of the distant past?”

“I find it’s best not to.”

Carlo sat up. The soft throw he’d fallen asleep with fell from his shoulders and he shivered. The voices came closer, and two vampires entered the room. Maxim flicked on the light and Carlo squinted. He was accompanied by none other than Erik Holstrom, the ringleader of the vampires who had tortured and fed from him for months.

He went numb. He was frozen in place, adrenaline washing over him in white hot waves, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Carlo,” Maxim said a little stiffly. “Thought you’d be upstairs at this time of evening, sweetheart.”

Erik’s eyes landed on him and lit up, a look Carlo was all too familiar with. “Well now. I remember you,” he crooned, coming closer so all Carlo could do was shrink against the back of the sofa, though pulling away was something Erik had once taught him never to do in his presence.

He was the same vampire— a stately monster resembling a living man in the same cursory way a scarecrow resembled one. He had on a familiar navy coat, his leather driving gloves in one pocket. Carlo noticed the powerful hands and short, blunt fingernails he well remembered, the lightly oiled hair, slicked back and neat. His face was frozen at a mortal fifty-five. Never deepening lines creased his forehead when he gave that condescending smile of his. The turn of his mouth suggested both hunger and disdain.

Erik stopped two feet in front of the sofa and tilted his head slightly to the right. “Are you taller?”

Being spoken to directly rattled him. Not him, or it. You. He looked over Erik’s shoulder at Maxim.

“He’s cleaner,” Max offered dryly. “Perhaps that’s what you’re noticing. Gave him a bath.”

“Boy,” Erik made a come-hither gesture. “Stand up.”

On numb and trembling legs he untangled himself from the blanket and stood on the cold floor. He fought the urge to run. It was a strong one, but possibly fatal. They would always be stronger than him, and faster, and two steps ahead of whatever his prey-animal brain could conjure up. Erik was the crueler of the vampires, but surely even Max would not let him run. His next best defense was to give them anything and everything they wanted without a fight—but that was often more difficult.

“Has it only been six months?” Erik mused. “This looks like another creature altogether.”

“Same one,” Max said with an air of tedium. “You forget mortals need to be looked after, is all. Food and a warm bed go a long way.”

Erik chuckled and looked Carlo up and down another time, tugged at the front of his shirt like he didn’t believe the nearly six feet of boy beneath it was real. “Well, I never had your patience, Max. I’d love to try him, though.” He turned to look over his shoulder at his friend. “For old time’s sake.”

Carlo’s vision grew dark wings in the corners. His heart stuttered and then pounded faster— he was sure the Vampires could hear it, could see it through his thin T-shirt. He looked to Maxim. Please, he begged silently, hoping the two way radio they seemed to have between them was turned on and receiving a signal. Don’t let him touch me.

Maxim’s black cat trotted in the room chirping, apparently oblivious to the danger Carlo felt pressing in from all sides. It rubbed its head against their master's pant leg. The Vampire scooped it up, holding the cat in the crook of one elbow.

“You’re both a guest and an old friend,” Maxim told Erik. “And I remember well the boy was your gift to me, and you were right, I quite enjoy him. But I’m afraid I’m just not interested in sharing. Don’t take it personally. The thought puts me off him. And I’d rather not be put off my only bloodbag. You understand.”

Carlo watched Erik’s eyes for a coldness he knew all too well, but he only waved a hand dismissively. “To be honest, I felt that way myself when he was too chewed up. Bruises easily, as I remember. Gets skittish, too. It was rude of me to ask.”

Maxim shrugged. “No harm, no foul.” He clicked his tongue affectionately at his cat and set it back down gently. Not once did he look up at Carlo.

Erik took his ex-bloodbag under the chin with two fingers and scratched him gently, not unlike how Maxim had touched the cat. He tried not to let anything at all show in his eyes.

“The others miss you, pet,” he said with a hint of amusement. “They ask for you still.”

Carlo thought the faint, familiar smell of his cologne alone was enough to bring him to his knees. It was the sort of fear one felt in dreams, aimed at the corner of a dark room, at the tall figure at the end of the bed.

“The desk is in the next room,” Maxim said calmly, coming forward and taking Carlo under his arm. “I’m showing your old master an antique I think he’d like to add to his collection,” he told him, explaining the other vampire’s presence. “It’s in the front dining room for the time being.”

Erik started toward the adjoining room, clearly familiar with the layout of the house.

That left Carlo briefly behind with his new master, who leaned down and kissed his temple, gave him a squeeze.

“I’m here,” he whispered knowingly. “You’re with me.”

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

4. In front of the fireplace & geraskier for the cuddle ask?

(can I also ask for 20. Post-proposal on top? 🥺 only with your muse’s permission tho lmao)

🌸✨🧡

Jaskier shuffled across the fur rug, pressing closer to Geralt's side. Geralt shifted, lifting his arm to let him in against his chest. Despite changing out of his sodden clothes and giving his hair a cursory dry, Jaskier was still shivering, fingertips tingling where they’d been exposed to the pouring rain.

Despite it all--the freezing rain and his chattering teeth and the burning pain in his feet where the feeling was returning to his toes--there was a fluttering feeling in his stomach, a heat at the base of his spine, a lightness in his chest.

He slid a cautious arm around Geralt’s waist. He’d done this a hundred times before; and a hundred times again since he’d fallen into Geralt’s bed and found him willing and waiting. But it was different, now. He was uncertain.

He swallowed, staring at the crackling fire. “That was quick thinking, back there. With the--” shit, shit, shit “--the proposal.” Geralt made a non-committal humming sound, so Jaskier continued. “I thought they were going to kill me for sure. Good job Lord Elyas was watching, because…” he stuttered, unsure. “Anyway. I, ah. Thanks. For saving my neck.” He gripped tighter at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Again.”

Geralt gripped him tighter. “You’re welcome.”

They fell into silence. Jaskier’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his pulse loud in his ears. He couldn’t bear it; the feeling of unutterable fullness in his chest, trying to burst out.

“You know--”

He cut himself off abruptly. He could feel Geralt’s eyes on him, even where his own were watering where he kept his gaze fixed on the flames.

“Yes?” Geralt prompted.

Jaskier took a deep breath. “For a second, I thought…” he sniffed, already feeling a sting at the back of his throat. “I thought you were really asking.” He tugged at the fur beneath his fingers. “I thought it was real.”

Geralt’s grip tightened around his shoulders. Jaskier found himself being twisted around on the rug, forced to finally look him in the eyes. Geralt ducked forwards, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's lips. When he pulled back, his pupils were wide and dark, his expression soft.

“Did I ever claim it wasn’t?”

[the-darkdragonfly]

WIP Wednesday: Tempest, Chapter One

A Rewrite in Progress (coming soon)

My muse has taken this and run away with it - so buckle up! This Rewrite drops next week, and we get to meet the wonder that is sassy pirate Will Scarlet - he officially owns my heart and soul ✨

♥️♥️♥️

“Did you get her name?” 

“I dinna ask,” came the reply, muffled by a mouthful of bread. Killian bit down a retort, born of raising this boy, to not speak with his mouth full. Old habits, he thought as he hid a smile, schooling his face once more as he turned to watch the young man play with food that wasn’t meant for him. 

“Why ever not?” He growled, exasperated once more, as Will tossed a grape into the air and missed catching it, watching it roll under the table. 

“She wasn’t going to tell me,” the lad met his eyes, exuding a mocking patience which Killian admired for its boldness. “So there was no point in me askin’, was there?” 

Another grape rolled across the floor and a growl of annoyance broke from Killian’s throat- we are not getting a dog, boy, clean that up yourself- which Will pointedly ignored in favour of swallowing the last of Killian’s wine. “Besides,” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “if I asked, then I’m no better than you, am I?” 

“Mmmhmm,” he nodded, conceding to the strategy. He had been a bold little thing, scrawny and wild, following Killian around as he commanded the ship, learning letters and numbers and navigation and how to watch people without watching them, and learn what people wanted without asking. By the time he was old enough to hold a sword, William Scarlet was a formidable fighter, and the only member of his crew who would stand a chance at beating him in a fight. He had taught the lad all he knew, and would trust him with everything he had. 

Killian's chest swelled with pride, remembering the hardened look in the lad’s eyes as he carried the injured young lady to the safety of the cabin. 

“Where did you put her?” 

“In my room,” eyebrows dancing on his face. 

“Where are you sleeping then?” 

Will opened his mouth but Killian cut him off, “and don’t,” he stepped closer, pointing to the three fallen grapes under the table- clean those up, we don’t want rats- with a lift of his eyebrow, speaking with one sentence inside another as he often had when the lad was young, “you dare say your room.” 

♥️♥️♥️

Coming Soon!

Read my other stuff on A03

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@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @xhookswenchx @justanother-unluckysoul @itsfabianadocarmo @zaharadessert @jadehowlettthewolf @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @yikes-00 @midnightsuki 

[thesungod]

for director's commentary:

“Oh dear,” Melpomene ( fitting , Will thought) whispered, “you truly did need that, didn’t you?”

Nico nodded. “ Thank you,”  he breathed, with an intensity he rarely held in his voice. “Thank you so much . Please-“ he hesitated, “please thank Apollo too, if you happen to see him before I do.”

The goddess shook her head. “Love, that would be thanking the wind for blowing and the rain for falling down. Apollo is music. There is no need to be grateful to him for writing it.”

I looooove your take on the Muses and would be thrilled to know more about how you imagine them and their powers, and their relationship to Apollo!

Ok so.

You chose A Scene lmao😭

I had a beautiful comment tell me that what Melpomene said about Apollo not needing thanks for his song (or his general greatness) was meant to be a compliment, but betrayed a certain naiveness about the way the Muses see Apollo. Like, no wonder Apollo feels so unappreciated and burdened among his fellow immortals if even his bestest friends don’t believe he needs praise and encouragement and see him as infallible.

And honestly, while Melpomene’s words are beautiful and would please Apollo greatly, they do point out something that I wanted to be noticed (however subtly) about the Muses: their view of Apollo is beautiful and loving, but also maybe a tad romanticized. Not that they don’t know Apollo has flaws, and has been and is in pain: they are his friends and companions and lovers, and they’ve been on his side throughout his entire existence. Still, they don’t get him completely, not only because Apollo is very careful not to show his vulnerability (only a fake mask of a whiny and melodramatic god) and many of his actual thoughts to his fellow immortals, but because he’s their teacher, and they actually turn to him for guidance and leadership (kinda like the Hunters do with Artemis, but a bit more on equal grounds). Therefore, it’s him who most likely has functioned as their rock and advisor throughout the centuries, rather than the other way around. I’m sure he goes to them when he’s heartsick, has lost someone he was close to or he’s had a fight with Artemis, but he wouldn’t share his deepest reflections about Zeus and immortality with them when he hasn’t even told them to his twin sister. Hearing “The worst of the Gods” (what a title!!!) was probably quite a shock for them. As much as they know him more intimately than anyone else (except for Leto and Artemis), they’d also partially fallen for his mask of complete confidence. On the bright side, I’m sure they showered him with love afterwards <3

Apart from this “misunderstanding” both parties have going on, they are besties. Apollo and the Muses go on shopping sprees together, advice each other on boyfriends (personal fave headcanon is that Apollo never married one of them because they all enjoy their freedom to have ✨flings✨ even tho they love him to pieces), create music together, have monthly slumber parties where they get updated on all the Olympus gossip (Thalia can be vicious). He has true, actual friends who not only love him and are on his side but genuinely respect him and his incredible craft and look up to him. Whereas Artemis goes 🙄Apollo’s new poems🙄, the Muses go 😍Apollo’s new poems😍 and that’s just <3333333 Artists get each other.

Seriously seriously underrated part of the Apollo lore and RR should have included them at least in the end because :((( And yes, he did date all of them. Lol. Dripping in bitches since 2000 B.C

Nico hearing the Song of Jason Grace from people who could do justice to Apollo’s art and genuinely appreciate it was very important because while he isn’t scared of death, he IS scared of people being forgotten and set aside (“not giving people a second thought can be dangerous”) and knowing Apollo made the most beautiful song in honor of Jason’s memory and that the Muses will sing it forever gave him so much comfort. He’s grateful to them and to him. Though he won’t always have kind thoughts about Apollo in my fic lolololol

[dailyreverie]

Traces

A/N: Thank you so much for your request @moodnoodl3 This was going to be a quick blurb and then it wasn’t becasue I kept picturing the whole thing 💖

#39: Drawing/painting them

Oscar Isaac character week ✨

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader (Modern!AU, College!AU)

Word count: 815

Warnings: Mature references at the beginning and end .18+ only warning.

***********

Poe’s touch is traveling up and down your bare back as you lay on top of his chest, skin to skin as you breathe in each other filling your body with warmth. You are not sure if you have fallen asleep, or how long you’ve been wrapped in his arms, but it is warm and it is quiet and there’s nowhere else in the world where you’d rather be.

You are pretty sure Poe did fall asleep, though, as his chest rises and falls peacefully and not a sound has come out of his mouth for longer than it usually does; the movements of his fingers along your back could be done by muscle memory alone at this point.

Perking up your head you confirm that, actually, he is wide awake and staring at the ceiling, a content smile on his lips and a relaxed gaze on his eyes. You can analyze him there, from the comfort of his chest you can see the hard features of his face, the curve of his nose, the shape of his jaw, puffy lips from being against yours, the turns that every strand of hair does… all that coming together in perfect harmony, carved by some ancient God by hand. That’s just from an artist point of view, of course.

“Hey” His raspy voice speaks, and you hadn’t realized that he was looking at you.

“Hi.” You say back, not able to avoid the goofy smile on your face.

“You alright?” At his question you simply nod, propping against your elbow to get a better look at him. At how his nose dips at the bridge, and at how his cheekbones sink at the curve of his eyes. It was a tricky face, full of edges that your trained hands had never dared to try to replicate.

A ray of sun hits his eyes then, and the way he looks just makes you laugh incredulously; it’s a work of art, simply put. “You have somewhere else to be?” You ask, your muse suddenly making an appearance in your head.

“I have a lecture in a few hours, why?”

You reach over him to your night stand, pulling out a sketch pad and a couple charcoals from the drawer. “I want to try something.”

“Do art students really just pull out notebooks from everywhere? I thought it was a myth.” He jokes with a laugh included, receiving a hand swatting at his chest in return.

“Are all history majors assholes?” You ask back, feeling his hands grasping your waist as you sit on the bed wrapping the sheet around your torso before leaning to kiss him softly. “That’s definitely not a myth.” You speak against his lips.

“Oh, no, that would be just me.” Poe winks. “What are you going to draw?” He gets fidgety when he notices you are sitting right in front of him, eyes traveling from the paper in front of you to his face.

“Stay put.” You warn him with a quirked eyebrow as your fingers begin to trace the outline of his face.

“Do I get credits for being an art model? A naked art model? I was not warned about this.”

“I’m not drawing your body, Dameron, don’t worry.” Your eyes were focused on the paper, only ever so slightly going up to look at his face, your hands moving his chin around for you to look at the part of his face that needed to be looked up close at.

And he could not keep his eyes away from you, from the way your bottom lip was caught in between your teeth in concentration, from your entire process of grabbing a piece of him and placing it on paper to last forever. Poe felt naked, both literally and figuratively, lying basically underneath you, surrounded by your sheets, and never had he been looked at with such depth before.

“I’m done.” Nesting in between his arm and his chest, you lifted your sketch up in front of you for both of you to see. Poe remained still looking at the drawing of his face. “What do you think?” As you look up at him you see the corners of his mouth lifting. The way he looks at you was now forever captured by your very own hands. “You have a pretty tricky nose, did you know that?”

His hand reaches for the notebook and yanks it to the side as he attacks your lips. “I’m keeping that forever.” He states against your lips, pressing you against the mattress as his tongue chases yours. “I love it.” He states, his stubble against your face making you giggle.

“You really do?” Your excited question makes him look at you with nothing but love in his stare.

“I do.” His rough fingertips began ghosting up and down your body, his lips leaving a trail from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbones… “Now it’s my turn to trace you.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

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[hopeful-hugz]

@fallen-phxtxgrapher asked: 💕 [ if ur still taking these at least! ^-^ ]

Mutual Positivity RNG || Accepting

🎶 @kingsmedley / @sunriseinsound​ ✨

DUSTYYYYYYYYY I ROLLED YOU ON THE D60! Manokay, we’ve become really fast pals and I can’t express how sweet of a person you are and how talented of a writer you are! You have a way of capturing emotions with your muses that make me want to keep thinking about them, even if you’re not on the dash at that current moment! Your portrayals are a breath of fresh air and I have yet to find someone who has such a breezy and light writing style like yours. It makes everything hit in a way you’d never expect and genuinely makes you care about characters a tone. Not to mention the love and thought you put into your muses. The care you keep in writing and expanding on them shows vibrantly and just aaaaa! I could gush forever but I can’t do that! I’m really glad I met you, my friend!

[arklay]

🤝✨🧸 + ithenril the beloved

[🤝] how does your muse approach intimacy? are they hesitant, or do they like it? what types of intimacy do they like and dislike? (ex. physical intimacy, sexual intimacy, emotional intimacy, etc.)

ithrenil is hesitant with pretty much most intimacy i’d say. physical definitely comes easier to them i think because it doesn’t require them to put her thoughts and emotions into words, and sex makes her uncomfortable unless she has formed a close bond with that person. in case you’re unaware i’m cringe and farkas is her mate they consider themselves lucky that someone like farkas is who can feel their emotions as his own because he’s very patient with her and he’s just got a heart of gold like he always wants to help, but he too struggles with expressing his feelings so they kinda just. understand each other and let physical touch speak more for them. as time goes on and they grow more comfortable, it becomes easier to say what she’s feeling and it’s something they both work on

[✨] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

the moon… specifically its symbolisms with cycles and transitions, emotion and intuition, mystery, darkness of nature, eternity. now when you pair that with werewolves. see where i’m going with this? the cyclical nature of lycanthropes’ transformations – though ithrenil has a lot of control over how often she transforms. the moon bringing out strong emotions ties in with the heightened aggression and bloodlust of werewolves, as well as the connection to primal instincts. eternity i find interesting because although ithrenil doesn’t possess the immortality her mother had, when they die, hircine will claim their soul and she will spend eternity in the hunting grounds

i didn’t expect to write this much just on symbolism but basically what i’m trying to say is although ithrenil has more power over their abilities than most and can control their bloodlust because of their hereditary condition – and her mother training her from a young age – it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s still their nature. and the fact that in canon, transformations vary wildly from person to person. with some, it’s every full moon. with others, it’s every night. both follow a cycle. there are also those who can choose when they transform, which is where ren falls, but to me she still has her monthly ones which are much harder to control. okay, aesthetics. the distant sound of wolves howling. forest obscured by fog. windswept cloaks. furs. long, slender fingers. paw prints in the snow. scratches on wood. lockpicks. black leather. shadows

[🧸] does your muse keep anything sentimental? if so, what do they keep and why?

surprisingly, they are very sentimental and hold onto quite a few things. the oldest being the first dagger her mother ever gave her. it is small, ineffective against an enemy, and the leather woven around the handle has practically fallen apart, but they can’t part with it. the night she was forced to flee from their home in the mountains, she couldn’t take, nor reach, much, but their mother’s hairpin that she almost always wore was lying a bit aways from her body and ithrenil held it close before heading towards the heartlands. farkas has also forged a few daggers for them specifically, which they cherish because they know he put a lot of love and hard work into making them perfect

send in an emoji and i'll answer the corresponding question about my muse!

[twinleafroyalty]

✨!

SEND ME SPARKLES AND I'LL TALK ABOUT WHATEVER I WANT // ACCEPTING

The way my Palmer got his name is really, really stupid actually.

When I was first getting into the RP scene, I went with the tried-and-true “English first name, Japanese name for the last name” method for my muses. Nothing wrong with it, per say, but it could be better!

I’m staring at the name ‘Palmer Kurotsugu’ open in my Google Doc. I stare at it, then think... nothing wrong with using the JP name for his last name, but I can do better, surely... I highlighted the first half of it, hit backspace, and Tsugu was born.

His middle name, ‘Taoreta’, was straight up just me going into Google Translate and putting in a bunch of keywords that I thought were relevant to Palmer via symbolism. If I recall correctly, Taoreta is ‘fallen’ or ‘collapsed’.

The last name was meaningless when I decided on it, but I later found out that ‘Tsugu’ does have meaning! ‘Success’ or ‘triumph’.

With Palmer being named after the palm tree, and palm fronds symbolizing many things including victory, I could bend the meaning of his name to be... Victor who triumphs over falls? Victor whose triumphs are followed by collapse? One day I’ll make a post about the symbolism behind his name!