#no beta we die like ares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flamencodiva · 1 year

Text

Underworld's Princess 7

Description: While the Greek God’s and Goddesses hold divine power, there is also a responsibility that comes with that very power. What happens when Illiara, or Y/N as she likes to call herself, decides that those very responsibilities aren’t worth the power? Prepare for the wild adventure of Y/N finding who she truly is, fighting against her blood and her love, as she attempts to break free from the cursed bonds placed upon her and to finally live free.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!GreekGoddess!Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: Language, Blood, Violence, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Word Count:4877

Beta: @watermelonlipstick (thank you so much for beating this hun! you have no idea how much I appreciate you!)

Also going to thank @writercole and @jensengirl83 you ladies are my ride or die and I love you both soooooo much!

Book Cover on Main Masterlist by: @talesmaniac89 and Dividers by @firefly-graphics Aesthetic Created by: Me

Underworld’s Princess Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Sam and Dean had driven to Parthenon only to find that the professor had left to lecture at the local college. Professor Nedra Athena Athanasiou (a-tha-nah-see-ou) was beginning to pick up steam on the Ancient Greek Gods when the Winchesters slipped in, having been directed to the class by a sleepy-looking coed. .

“We start to see that civilization and different societies now segregate based on the gods they worship,” Professor Athanasiou lectured.

“Like Sparta worshiping Ares and Athens Athena?” A student called out, raising their hand somewhat pointlessly at the same time they spoke.

“Exactly right,” the professor acknowledged. “But many other gods had their worshipers, and that included Hades. Most notably, when one invokes the name of a God, you garner their attention. So, when invoking Hades, simply call upon the overseer of justice in the afterlife. He determined the worth of your soul.”

“But didn’t he kidnap Persephone?” The girl who’d asked seemed genuinely disturbed, taking notes furiously with eyebrows twisted in concentration.

“Ah,” professor Athanasiou chuckled, “The famed story of Hades and Persephone. There are many versions of the story. But I have discovered an ancient tablet in the very sacred area of the Archeon river in Ephyra. Rumors circulate that the river is the gateway to the Underworld. While Hades did not have a large following of worshipers, he had a small cult, the Oracles of the Dead. These were simple seers who could predict the death of someone. They would commune with Thanatos and then see the judgment of the soul Hades had placed on them.”

“Doesn’t that mean that they were risking Hades' wrath? I mean, to worship the dead or underworld was a bad omen, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that is the assumption,” professor Athanasiou agreed with her student. “And yet, Lord Hades is said to be compassionate when it comes to grief. The Necromanteion of Acheron was a place for mourners to commune with their lost loved ones. It is for those who respected Hades and his rule over the souls of our world. Considering that most stories are about Zeus and his exploits.” She paused for dramatic effect. “We all can see how just because he oversees the souls and determines their worth, Hades was a pussy cat in comparison.”

Much of the class chuckled.

To his surprise, Dean found himself interested in the volley between them.. A small part of him wondered about the god and his wife.

“If Hades didn’t kidnap Persephone,” he called out, “then what’s the skinny there?”

“Dean, what are you–” Sam began, quickly cut off by the professor.

“That is the conversation we were supposed to have,” she chuckled. “But Hades stumbled upon the young goddess when she approached his gate. She had demanded entrance to see how things worked. That, and she was curious about the lord of the Underworld.” The class laughed again when she put bogeyman-like emphasis on ‘underworld’, and Sam thought it sounded genuine. She was good–not every professor could keep college kids on the edge of their seats about old stories like this.

Dean leaned his elbows on his thighs, resting his head in his hands as he listened. Sam wasn’t sure what angle his brother was going for, but whatever kept Dean invested in research was fine by him.

“Hades knew that Demeter would not want her daughter consorting with the dead and other creatures of the Underworld, so he demanded she leave,” professor Athanasiou continued. “Hades had Cerberus guard the gates and deny entry to the young Persephone. But the young Goddess was determined to explore the Underworld and learn about its ruler. You see,” she paused and looked at her students. “It’s hotly debated whether Hades was a true Olympian.”

“Wouldn’t calling him an Olympian mean he had a throne on Olympus?” A student asked from the back of the room.

“And therein lies the debate,” the professor announced, “For one to be considered an Olympian, one must have a throne on Olympus. But Hades is a part of the Olympic Gods as he is the third brother to Zeus, and he helped both to defeat the Titans and imprison them. This is the paradox we find ourselves in.”

“Persephone brought three gifts for Cerberus. Each head wanted something different,” she progressed. “The first head to her left loved balls. The middle head was fond of bones to chew on, and the third head loved to eat fresh meat.”

Professor Athanasiou used her body to act out the actions she narrated. Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the professor's teaching method, but perked up when she continued the story.

“Once Persephone was sure she gained Cerberus’ trust,” she narrated, “the young Goddess made her way towards the river where the ferryman Charon awaited. As we all know, Charon is the ferryman who takes souls to Lord Hades to be assessed and placed in Tartarus, where one is tortured for all eternity. Or the Elysian fields where you live your days in peace.”

Dean raised his hand, “So this is the Greeks’ version of the uh, pearly gates and the deep fryer?” He glanced around when the students near him snickered at the rough gestures above and below he’d made, the apparent annoyance on his face only decipherable to Sam as covering up a touch of self-consciousness.

“One can make that assessment, yes.” The professor offered him a smirk. “I’m sorry, you seem rather new to my class and –”

“I do apologize, Ma’am,” Dean offered. “I’m looking to transfer and I was told this class was taught by a goddess, who is passionate about Greek History and Mythology. I have to say they were right. .”

“Hmmm,” the professor blushed and winked at him. “I hope my lecture so far has wine and dined you today. Thought you might want to tone the flirting down a bit. ”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean chuckled.

“Now,” professor Athanasiou continued, “Persephone would sneak into the Underworld and shadow Lord Hades for days. She watched as he passed judgment on the souls that entered the Underworld. She could see that his eyes were filled with sadness and loneliness. Something that had the young goddess’s heart ache. She didn’t like seeing the Lord of the Underworld in pain, much less that he was technically her Uncle. Then again, these are the Gods we are discussing, but that is a discussion for another day. Anyway, seeing Hades look sad and lonely propelled the young Goddess to reveal herself.”

Professor Athanasiou paced in front of her desk as she continued. Persephone had begun to annoy Hades with trivial questions such as his favorite hobby and what he thought of the stars. Dean couldn’t help but wonder why the Goddess of Agriculture wanted to be with a God who handled dead souls day in and day out.

Dean continued to listen intently as the professor reached the climax.

“For all the time that Persephone had gone to visit Hades,” she stated, “Her mother, Demeter, had begun to notice. Demeter was very protective of her daughter and was horrified that her precious Louloúdi—flower for those of you who have not taken Greek yet.”

She chuckled along with other students in the class.

“So, she was horrified to see her daughter communicating and intimately touching the Lord of the Underworld. Now mind you, intimately to Demeter was Persephone linking arms with Hades as he led her deeper into his realm.”

Professor Athanasiou paused and took a deep breath. Her eyes roamed over all the students in attendance before falling on Dean’s intense stare.

“This is where the myth coincides with what was written on the tablet I found,” she held Dean’s gaze as she moved on. “Demeter went to Zeus and accused Hades of kidnapping her daughter and imprisoning her in the Underworld. Of Course, Persephone being Zeus’s daughter, he was outraged at the thought. But then again, he felt sorrow for his brother, who spent much of his time in solitude. So, Zeus called upon Hades and Persephone and demanded to know what was happening. Well, to make this incredibly long story short,” she paused as her students laughed.

Sam couldn’t help but notice the slightly sad look on the professor’s face.

“Zeus knew that Persephone was curious but had forbidden her from seeing Hades. However, Persephone ignored Zeus’s warnings and snuck her way into the Underworld and to the Elysian fields. There she took a pomegranate from the tree of knowledge and took a bite. She had six seeds in her mouth and was about to take another when Hades stopped Persephone.”

The professor nodded and walked across the front of the lecture hall. She paused and took a deep breath before turning back to her students.

“Hades gazed at her with fire in her eyes before she pulled him in for a fierce kiss that melted the cold heart of the Lord of the Underworld.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “it was at this moment that the woven tapestry of the Fates had begun to glow. This was meant to happen.”

Dean huffed and let out a snort. He remembered dealing with one of the Fates and wasn’t interested in a round two.

“You see, fate has a funny way of working. And the three Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, forsaw the one thing Zeus could not. Hades and Persephone would have a powerful child who would not bend to Zeus’s will. For you see, the Gods all had to follow Zeus’s will, and even though Hades could technically usurp his brother, he chose not to. Hades is very content with his life in the Underworld, and with Persephone by his side, he saw no need to be amongst the Gods of Olympus. But his youngest daughter was rumored to be the one who will never bend to the word of Zeus, for she would hold a power to rival his own. And should Zeus continue to fight Fate,” the professor chuckled, “the young Goddess would be his downfall.”

Dean rolled his eyes. This was getting him and Sam no closer to finding this Illiara. He was about to get up when the professor cleared her throat.

“This is what Fate had in store. I just happened to find a piece of the tapestry found to prove my claim that the stories of Hades and Persephone are all about suppressing what one does not understand.”

Dean felt his breath hitch as a pair of violet eyes stared back at him. The professor's picture showed a woman with shades of violet and dark purple in her hair standing atop a hill overlooking the world. She looked ethereal to Dean, and something about her pulled at his heart, even if it was just a picture. But something else caught Dean’s eye: a figure in the background, bright green eyes looking at the goddess as her hair flowed in the wind. Something flashed in Dean’s mind.

‘Find her and guide her. But your task is not easy, vessel of the archangels. You will be tested and pushed to your limits as you rise, Hero of the Underworld.’

Dean shook his head at the sensation and groaned. Whatever that was, he had no time to dwell on it. He had to find this Illiara and send her packing back to where she belonged, the Underworld.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concern flashing on his face.

“Fine,” Dean mumbled as he turned his attention back to the professor.

“It seems our time is up,” she said as students grumbled. “I know, I know.” she held her hands up in surrender. “But I do have one assignment for you. Visit the replica of the Parthenon in Nashville,” she announced, her eyes holding on to Dean’s gaze. “You won’t regret it, plus it's extra credit, as long as I get a report on anything interesting you find.”

The Winchesters waited patiently for the rest of the students to filter out of the lecture hall, digesting the story. But on top of the words, Dean’s mind was on the picture of the famed Illiara. He walked over to the projection and tilted his head. Something about the eyes called to him, the deep violet seeming to come alive as he continued to stare. The hair seemed to move with unseeable wind ;the white, lavender and purple mix appeared to sway, hypnotizing Dean.

“Dean.”

Sam’s voice and snapping fingers broke Dean out of his trance.

“Huh?” he called out, returning his focus to the present.

The professor and Sam seemed to be looking at Dean curiously.

“I was just telling your brother here that if you want to know more about Persephone and Hades, there is a book I have published. Though it hasn’t been released yet, I do have an advanced copy I could give you.”

Sam thanked the professor as he took the hefty manuscript in his hands. At that moment, Dean received an important call from their friend James. James had met Dean on a vampire hunt before having to save his mom and Jack from Apocalypse world. James said that a hunter nearby needed their help with several monsters they had never seen before. Dean shot Sam a look, signaling to the younger one that it was time to go to work. Once they were gone, professor Athanasiou let out a small chuckle before a bright light engulfed her.

There stood the Goddess Athena, smiling as she gazed at the door the Winchester Brothers had exited from.

“The cogs of Fate are in motion,” she sighed as her owl flew into the lecture hall and perched on her shoulder. “Bubo, you might need to keep an eye on them. Be my eyes and ears and guide them in the right direction,” she told the owl, letting her index finger caress him gently.

The owl simply hooted before disappearing.

“Now,” she said to herself, “time to make sure that Illiara follows the right path as well. I have my work cut out for me.”

Y/N sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. None of the books had any information she was looking for. It would be hard to help if there wasn’t enough information. From what she gathered, as far as witness accounts go, was that These weren’t your typical monsters. These were Cynolycus disguised as humans. Outside of the human form that imitated their original bodies, they would have the body of a stag, the neck of a lion, cloven hooves, and a bony ridged mouth. Their teeth were still ridge-like, but they had sharp cloven hands and wild hair that resembled a lion. What was worse than the way they’d once been able to parrot human voices was the way they were now able to act as humans might, mirroring their behavior to hide in plain sight.

“What are these things?” a hunter shouted as he crumpled to the dirt. “Nothing seems to be able to penetrate them. We tried everything, from silver to iron buck shots.”

“Fire,” Y/N called. “Burn the son of bitches down. These are Greek monsters we’re dealing with. The Cynolycus.”

“Are you sure?” another hunter asked. “Not sure how much more I’ve got in the tank.” She noticed a rivulet of blood trickling down from his ear, knowing the damage she couldn’t see was far worse.

“You’re forgetting my family is from Greece,” she huffed. “ So either trust me and live or don’t and die. Your choice,” she spat as she looked around for her flamethrower. “All else fails, and we run out of firepower. Decapitation wouldn’t hurt either.”

Raising her weapon, Y/N raised it high giving the monster's head a clean slice. She smiled as the hunters who did listen rallied around her, slicing and burning the monster began. A few started to run away and It wasn’t long before she found herself alone with one of them, her resolve to control Illiara faltering.

‘Let me out,’ Illiara hissed. ‘Let me deal with these monsters that continue to chase us.’

“No, you know that I can’t. We are trying to separate from one another, and you use your powers–”

‘I don’t care,’ Illiara growled as she pushed forward.

Y/N could feel her grip on her goddess half slipping. But it didn’t distract her from the task at hand. She noted one of the Cynolycus trying to sneak off into the forests and away from the hunters.

“I don’t think so,” she huffed, pushing Illiara down as best she could before giving chase.

As Y/N ran towards the escaping monster, she could feel Illiara push through. Her hair began to change to a light lavender–almost white–her eyes glowed a dark violet, and her skin prickled with power.

“Daughter of Hades and Persephone, you honor me with your presence,” the Cynolycus chuckled. “It is an honor to die by your hand and alert lord Zeus of your location.”

Illiara smirked at him evilly. “By all means, go ahead. I’m not afraid of him.”

The creature's face fell slightly before he regained his composure and charged. Illiara took a deep breath and dodged the attack, rolling away. Holding out her hand, she directed her power toward summoning a black-bladed sword. Energy radiating from the Goddess pulsated all around them as they battled, creating a tornado-like swirl in the air. Illiara’s blade clashed with the monster’s claws, causing sparks to fly. Bolts of electricity circulated the goddess, firing in all directions rather than the focused control she once had.

“So the legends are true,” the Cynolycus growled, “you have the power to rival Zeus. How is that possible?”

“Who cares?” Illiara spat. “Are you going to talk philosophy, or are you going to fight? All I wanted was to be left alone. To live my own life. I wanted to be done with the Gods,” she cried.

With a loud yell, she swung her blade haphazardly. Each blow sliced tiny, ineffectual rips in the monster’s skin.

“You swing with anger,” it chuckled. “You won’t win unless you truly mean to destroy me.”

‘Illiara, let me have control,’ Y/N demanded as she pushed through.

Illiara shook Y/N back and let out a feral scream, plunging the sword into the belly of the beast and letting a grin slip through the blood-slick on her face.

“Send my regards to my father, and tell him to send Zeus this message.”

Illiara held her sword high, swinging it down and decapitating the beast. Her chest heaved with every breath, but nothing could calm her anger. Illiara could feel it. Y/N was calm and gentle but fierce and strategic. But Illiara herself could sense she was angry and unhinged. Her rage could not be satisfied, and it was all-consuming.

Y/N pushed herself to the surface, forcing Illiara back into her cage.

“We gotta go,” Y/N hissed. “Who knows what can of worms you’ve just opened.”

“I knew it,” a voice called from behind her.

Y/N closed her eyes and tried to calm her erratically beating heart. She let out her breath, she slowly turned around, holding her hands up.

“Herman,” she said, offering him a smile. “I know what you think you saw, but–”

“But nothing,” he interrupted. “I knew there was something off about you. No one just ‘pops’ into hunting out of nowhere, and no one can pin down where you’re from. Convenient, don’t you think?”

There was something about the way Herman’s eyes drilled into her that had the hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck standing and Illiara’s senses on high alert.

“Who are you?” she asked, her black-bladed sword reappearing in her hand. With the barrier weakened, Illiara easily regained control, her eyes glowing and her hair transforming.

“My dear Illiara,” Herman chuckled. “It has been a long time since I have encountered you. I believe the last time I saw you was before you ran from Deimos and your engagement ceremony.”

“Hermes,” the goddess hissed. “What message does he have for me now?”

“The time for your silly game of cat and mouse is ending,” Hermes recited. “It is time you come back and fulfill your duty under my rule as leader of the Gods. That is the message from Zeus.”

Illiara and Y/N both laughed at the message. Their split souls resonated as one, gazing into the eyes of the messenger God.

“You can give him this message,” they said. “We will never bow down to his command. If he wants us to return, he must retrieve us himself.”

Sam and Dean arrived at the forest location that they received from Herman. It took them a while to navigate through the trees, but the sound of conversations and cheers, their weapons reflexively at the ready. But from what they could see walking up, the hunters there had already handled the situation.

“Where’s Herman?” Dean asked someone nearby who appeared to be post-fight stretching a crick out of his neck.

“He went after the Ice Queen, who chased after the last freak that escaped. I tell you, that girl is a godsend.” He turned into his stretch, revealing a handful of others in the distance setting fire to what looked familiarly to the boys like a pile of corpses.

“Which direction?” Dean growled.

The guy pointed them toward the edge of the forest and walked toward the pyre favoring his left leg. Wordlessly, the brothers turned into the woods. After a while, Dean stopped and placed a finger to his lips. Sam followed his brother’s instructions and stilled his breathing to listen.

“I think I hear something,” Dean whispered, pointing to a clearing in the forest's center.

“Let’s check it out,” Sam said, following Dean.

“You know,” Hermes chuckled. “You should know not to shoot the messenger.”

“I don’t care,” the goddess said.

Raising her sword over her head, she was ready to strike when Hermes shimmered into his disguise. Starting back at her was the hunter Herman, a fearful look in his eyes.

“No, please,” he cried as it echoed around them.

A smirk appeared on his face as he winked at the goddess.

“I wonder what would happen if lover boy caught you like this,” he whispered for only the goddess to hear. “I mean, after all, we are nothing but monsters to them, right?”

Illiara turned to see Sam and Dean, guns drawn at the edge of the clearing.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“Herman,” Dean called. “We’ll get you out.”

“Whoever you are,” Sam said, “let him go. He’s done nothing to you.”

Illiara took in a deep breath while Y/N stayed in the back of her mind. If Y/N took control from Illiara now, then the brothers would know enough to pursue her. But if Illiara killed Hermes in his disguise, they would be on the run not just from the Gods but from Sam and Dean. She was stuck.

“Stay out of this, Winchesters,” she growled. “This has nothing to do with you. Herman here isn’t who you think he is.”

“No way you can prove it,” Herman whispered before turning to the brothers. “This is Illiara. You gotta shoot her. She’s unhinged and will plunge the world into darkness if we don’t stop her.”

Sam and Dean’s eyes flickered between Illiara and Herman. She looked exactly like the painting that professor Anathasiou had shown them in so many ways; her violet eyes glowing with power and her wild hair flowing, but there was also something familiar about her. The longer Dean’s eyes laid on her, the harder the feeling was to shake.

“Dean,” Herman called, breaking the hunter out of his thoughts. “You know what you have to do, son. You know what she is. She’s a monster, Dean. I know deep down you can see that she needs to die.”

Dean’s nostrils flared. In the moment he took to process, the Winchesters missed Herman/Hermes plunging a poisoned dagger into the Goddess’ side. As they leapt to action, Illiara screamed, pain and rage mixing as she stabbed her sword into Herman/Hermes’s abdomen. It wouldn’t kill him, but the Winchesters couldn’t know, their eyes watching a fellow hunter fall as Illiara watched her chance at the messenger of the Gods slipping.

“You bitch,” Dean growled as he opened fire on Illiara.

Illiara raised her hands, stopping the bullets before her and letting them fall to the ground.

“You know nothing of what you are dealing with, mortal,” she huffed before moving at lightning speed before him.

Her nose practically touched his as she backed him up against the trunk of the nearest tree. Her violet eyes bored deep into Dean’s green ones and tilted her head from side to side, studying him. Her heart pounded in her chest as her soul vibrated with familiarity for the hunter.

She hummed softly before chuckling, “I don’t see what the big deal is with you.” Forcefully, she took hold of his jaw and turned his head from side to side. “What does she see in you? All I see is a tortured soul begging like a dog for another to belong to. You’re practically screaming for a soulmate, but too drowned in self-pity to find one.”

“And all I see is a monstrous bitch who killed my friend,” Dean spat.

Illiara smiled at his insult before wincing in pain. The poison from the dagger Hermes plunged into her was slowly entering her system, seeping deeper into her with every bite of Y/N’s heart. Illiara knew she was running out of time to do something about it, sensing it was filled with a pure darkness that only the Goddess Hecate could create.

“Well, this bitch,” she sneered, “has got to go. Hopefully, the next time we meet,” she paused and hissed in pain, “will be a bit more eventful. After all, you crossed into the world of the Gods, and now you’ll find yourself entrapped in the web they love to weave.”

“Next time we meet,” Dean gave her a cocky smile, “I’m going to have the juice to gank you. You and your whole roster.”

“Is that so?” Illiara laughed. “Then I guess I should take something from you before you end my miserable existence.”

Dean’s grin deepened. “Yeah? And what’s that? My soul’s been run through a few times already, have at it.”

“No,” Illiara whispered. “Something a bit more,” she paused and clicked her tongue against her teeth, “intimate.”

Before Dean could respond, he felt her lips on his in a searing kiss. Unable to pull back for the tight grip on his chin, Dean felt her hand rake through his hair, the nails grazing his skin. She used the moment of shock leaving Dean to deepen the kiss, leaning her whole body against his and slipping her tongue past his lips with a jolt of electricity that felt like it shot down his spine. It was–wrong, clearly, but something about it felt familiar in a way Dean couldn’t identify, and then it was over as soon as it had started as he came to his senses and found the strength to push her away.

Illiara’s cackle echoed around them as Dean clenched his jaw. His chest heaved with anger, glaring at the goddess before him.

“What? Too much tongue?” she taunted.

Sam found himself able to move. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but had no doubts the sensation of chains around him must have been Illiara’s doing. In the heightened focus of the moment, it didn’t escape him that Herman seemed to smirk as he lay still.

Shaking the impossibility out of his head, Sam grabbed his brother as the goddess disappeared.

“You okay?” he asked Dean.

Dean ran the back of his hand across his lips and spit at the ground. “Peachy.”

“Come on,” Sam sighed. “Let’s get back to the bunker, and you can give me the dirty details.”

Dean nodded as he glared at the spot the Goddess had been. His lips still tingled. It was hard enough being violated like that, but to not know why was already eating at him. Willing the possibility of any lasting damage away, he followed his brother back into the trees.

Y/N pushed past the pain and placed Illiara back into the crystal cage in her mind.

'I told you, ' Illiara said, the darkness from the poison already darkening the Goddess. 'One wrong point of view, one misdirection, and he thinks we are evil.'

“We did what was necessary but I can’t have you coming out again,” Y/N said, hissing as the wound healed.

Her eyes trailed along the mirror until they reached the wound inflicted by Hermes. To Y/N, it became a jagged scar. Illiara‌ could see it for what it was; a dark line with black veins spiraling outward.

‘Hecate knows her curses,’ she said, chuckling at their predicament. ‘But strangely enough, I feel absolutely fine.’

Y/N nodded absently as she drove towards a motel. There was no doubt in her mind that her outburst of power alerted Zeus to her location, and she didn’t have a lot of time to make a quick getaway.

Tag list is OPEN! Please remember to like, leave a comment and/or reblog! your support feeds my soul!

Dean (Female Pairing Only)

@440mxs-wife

@virgosapphire79

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

@sandlee44

@waynes-multiverse

@cookiechipdough

@magssteenkamp

@akshi8278

Dean Everything

@sexyvixen7

@kickingitwithkirk

@deandreamernp

@holylulusworld

@roseblue373

@stoneyggirl2

@hobby27

@stixnstripesworld

Underworld's Princess

@globetrotter28

26 notes · View notes

ghostwriter-of-silly-things · 6 months

Text

Call Me Old Fashioned

»»——>❀♡ ship: poly! leo valdez x oc x jason grace

»»——>❀♡ warnings/tags: angst, panic attacks, trauma, nightmares, hallucinations, emetophobia warning, references to alcohol consumption, references to death, canon typical violence, oc is kind of a dick, oc cannot take care of himself, slowburn, angst, (eventual) friends to lovers. will update tags as i post/ as i change the story because i actually cannot let it lie

»»——>❀♡ status: ongoing

»»——>❀♡ Benjamin Harding was the latest newbie at Camp Half-Blood. Disoriented and unclaimed, he was shoved unceremoniously into the Hermes cabin, where he piled his few possessions into a small uninhabited corner. In the limited time he was there, he made a name for himself by befriending Clarisse, daughter of Ares, the unbefriendable and she made it seem her duty to protect him. Not that he couldn't defend himself, but it was the principle of the thing, a thing that both had sworn a blackmail-suicide pact on as soon as they befriended each other.

Most of the time he had spent at camp had either been in a comatose-like sleep that had been put to a stop much too fast, or violently throwing up a rainbow of disturbingly neon colours. Now, he was being shoved into a quest way before he was ready to even function again as a normal person, let alone a monster-fighting demigod. With zero choice in the matter and a tendency to pass out sporadically, what could go wrong?

-> finally uploading this thing that's been in my drafts for over a year. there are 100% spelling mistakes in there -- me and my beta reader are... Not Good at spelling but it's time to release this to the public i think.

it's the first part of a 7-part series i really truly hope to finish and the amalgamation of my autistic thoughts about the riordanverse. have at it ig.

it's kinda cringe but so am I (this is self-catering but some other people might like it)

Prologue

An Offer I Could Definitely Refuse, Yet Here I Am

Single And Incapable Of Mingle

I'm Not Delusional, Promise

Fire Resistant Bandanas

Item: Doubt

So Maybe I'm Not Okay

Time To Crawl Into A Hole And Die

Hey, One Question: What The Hell Are Feelings

The Sewer Is My Favourite Sightseeing Attraction

This Is Why We Don't Socialize With Evil Mythological Sorceresses

Benjamin And The Fortress Of Trust Issues

What Is This, Teen Wolf?

Oh My Gods We Were Roomates

Error 404: Sanity Not Found

Historical Fashion Fix feat. Aphrodite

Helicopters Are Worse Than Giants (In My Professional Opinion)

I'm Not Going To Say I Told You So

Ctrl + Z

You'll Be Walking Out Early But The Show Must Go On

My Eternal Punishment (cont.)

#pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #pjo series #hoo #hoo fandom #hoo fanfic #demigods #percy jackson fanfiction #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus fanfiction #leo valdez x oc #jason grace x oc #poly fanfic #slow burn #angst #angst with a happy ending #this is has been edited to death #someone take my phone away from me

3 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

Idea 1: Vanessa quits her job

This idea is based on my interpretation that the Vanessa we see in Security Breach isn't really her; it's Vanny controlling her. Vanessa's consciousness is there, but all that she can do is just watch, like viewing your own life through an old television.

So after the 3-star ending, Vanessa would be left with a job that requires skills that "she" technically never had. She can't just pull up Vannys memories (which i have her being able to do because extra pain :D) because there are no memories of how to do that job, a final "f*ck you :D" to Vanessa from Vanny before she left.

(I feel this needs a bit more of an explanation. Vanny had an instinctive knowledge of how to use any electronic device, courtesy of Glitchtrap/Afton. This meant that she never had to read any instructions for any of the surveilance equipment that she used on the job. She also never looked down at keyboards when she typed the passwords needed to access the security computers sinceVanny had all the passwords to herself. All this means is that when Vanessa looks back at these memories, they are effectively useless.)

So now all Vanessa has left are her own memories of watching herself push random buttons that do random things. It would be like trying to learn how to fly a plane solely by watching someone else do it.

Vanessa also realizes that she'd have to still assist lost children after hours, a thought that truly scares her. It's not because she doesn't like children, no. In fact, I believe Vanessa used to work really well with children due to her former position as a video game tester/coder. This might not make much sense, but is elaborated upon in idea 2.

It is also stated in the game in one of the logs that you can find that she was not recommended for a position as a security guard, so it just makes sense for her to leave afer being freed.

So she would put in her 2 weeks notice, but not before working out some special deal with the plex that allows her and Greg the gremlin of chaos to visit the pizzaplex whenever they want and for any length of time.

As for what job she would try to go back to? It would be her old job of beta testing and coding. She was evidently very good at it based on those cut AR emails. It might sound like tempting fate, but I think that Vanessa would be a heck of a lot more careful this time if she was put back on the VR project. That assumes that the project is still even active.

That way she can make sure that what happened to her, never happens to anyone again.

OH I 100% agree with the theory that Vanny's actions weren't necessarily Vanessa's. It would explain why Ness wanted to keep Gregory safe in lost and found, but then Vanny immediately shows up and he will die if he doesn't get out. The timing of that is too impeccable to be a coincidence.

#clanask #fnaf sb

11 notes · View notes

ao3feed-hadesgame · 1 year

Text

Hypnos' Chthonic Companion

by AuntieGuac

Zagreus has always wondered if Hypnos has a Chthonic Companion. Thanatos has one, Megaera has one, hell, even Dusa was gifted one! He still wasn't sure how Skelly of Sisyphus got his hands on one. One day, he decides to ask Hypnos and gets an unexpected answer. Hypnos... doesn't have one?

Words: 2091, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Tales of the Underworld

Fandoms: Hades (Video Game 2018)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Other

Characters: Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Hypnos (Hades Video Game), Hades (Hades Video Game), Ares (Hades Video Game), Morpheus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)

Additional Tags: Nyx's A+ Parenting, Hypnos has like a million kids, Minor Character Death, (It's zagreus. It's expected), no beta we die like zagreus, Hades vs Zagreus, Hypnos-centric (Hades Video Game), Hypnos would be good with kids you can't convince me otherwise

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44409340

#Hades (Game)#fanfic #ao3feed #Hades

2 notes · View notes

dark-nymphs-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Relationship: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: identity shenanigans, kind of, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Bruce dosen't know, Resurrected Jason Todd, but Bruce dosen't know that either, you get the drill, canon-typical violence, kidnapping, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Red Hood needs better goons, no beta we die like robin

Word Count: ~3600

Summary: Bruce Wayne is used to being kidnapped, but usually he is also the target and not just a mistake.

Or: Red Hood's men ar incompetent.

"Who the hell is that?" "Bruce Wayne," Tom declared proudly, and Jason tried hard not to fight the green back. "I can see that," he stated, and his voice must have taken on a more than threatening note due to the voice distortion. In front of him, Bruce Wayne was tied to a chair, from which Batman could break out without any problems if he was left out of sight for a few seconds. The positive: Bruce would risk his secret identity only in the highest emergency; the negative: Jason had not ordered his men to kidnap Bruce. "Where's Dick Grayson?" he asked, noticing exactly how the three men flinched. "Um… He was there, but then the opportunity occurred, and we thought …" "Tell me you thought it would be great to kidnap them both. Go ahead and tell me that." Tom now just looked at the floor and his voice trembled, "No, sir. We … We just assumed that Bruce Wayne would be even better than his son. I mean, that's bound to attract the bat." Red Hood growled before pointing to the door, "We'll talk about that. Get out!"

Read more on AO3

#dc comics #fandom: batman #bruce wayne is a good dad #bruce wayne is batman #jason todd is red hood #identity shenanigans #kind of #I'm bad at tagging #canon typical violence #no beta read

4 notes · View notes

ao3feed-tolkien · 1 year

Text

as desired

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Mhld08O

by Dalliansss

Ar-Pharazôn likes to watch his captive Maia engage in pleasures of the flesh.

Words: 2387, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Blood In The Mouth

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sauron | Mairon, Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Ar-Pharazôn

Relationships: Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Sauron | Mairon, Ar-Pharazôn/Sauron | Mairon, Ar-Pharazôn & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Sex, Blood Drinking, Voyeurism, Second Age, Númenor, pharazon has a voyeurism kink, mairon does NOT share his lover with others, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Exhibitionism, Porn With Plot, darkFinrod AU, No beta we die like Carcharoth

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Mhld08O

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

0 notes

siffrinskicks · 3 years

Text

No Cops at Pride just Sebastian and his Death Glare

I wrote this in a fervor after being inspired by a conversation in the speaker discord.

Theres no smut but it’s implied so 16+ rating here dni if you’re under 16

Also Ares uses E/Em pronouns thank you~

Ares was ecstatic when Bas finally agreed to move in with em. They’ve only been dating for about a year but the timing felt right. Between vision quests, his own detective work, and dates, Bas’ time was pretty much split between Ares house, Li’s house and his office anyway. He may as well move in with one of them and Ares had more space since e only lived with eir sister whilst Li’s house was pretty consistently full. Li had practically moved into the Kotas residence already, but he maintained his room back at the Cowles house.

So now here the three of them were, packing up Bas’ apartment to properly move him in and fully solidifying the next step in their relationship. Ares had been sorting through Sebastian’s various button ups when e came across the best possible thing e could’ve found. Hidden under all of Bas’ business casual was a plain black T-shirt with a rainbow of text that all reads “No Cops At Pride.”

Ares grinned, a sudden mischief washed over em as e quickly and quietly discarded the shirt e was wearing and pulled the No Cops T-shirt over eir head. While eir shoulders almost filled out the shirt, the hem of the shirt still hung around eir thighs. Biting down on the inside of eir cheek Ares called out, “Hey Bas can you come check something out for me? Not sure if you wanna keep this or not.”

Bas called out his assent and Ares could feel eir heartbeat pick up with the sound of each of his footsteps against the floor. When he finally steps into the doorframe Ares turns, eir tongue poking through eir teeth. Sebastian is silent and his face is impassive as usual, but Ares can see his jaw working as he looks em up and down. “I see you’ve found that shirt.” Li’s voice calls from down the hall “Ooooh that shirt, sounds like something I’ve gotta see.” Li quickly joins Bas in the doorway, a smirk settling on his face as he looks between Bas and Ares.

Li’s eyes darken “Nice shirt Re, looks good on you.” Sebastian finally breaks from his position and strides purposefully towards Ares, backing em towards his half made bed. “I think we’ve been working for a good while. Seems an appropriate time to take a break. What do you say Li?” Ares feels a pleasant shiver go up eir spine as Li steps up behind Bas and threads his fingers into Sebastian’s ponytail. “I think now is the perfect time for a break Bas.”

They don’t get much else done towards packing, but all in all they’d consider it to have been a pretty productive day.

#Speaker IF #Speaker Game #drabble #Ares/Li/Bas #Speaker OC #OC: Ares Kotas #Sebastian Wynric #Liam Cowles #no beta we die like men #ficlet

9 notes · View notes

loquaciousquark · 2 years

Note

Will you share the Greek myth retelling you mentioned it in a recent post?

I surely will! Here's the (almost) verbatim email I sent @eponymous-rose when I asked her to beta what I called in my notes "the kidnapping fic." It's a mess.

HAD ONE MORE THOUGHT that probably i should have put at the start - this fic relies on some underlying knowledge of the thanatos/sisyphus mythos so here it is if you're not familiar with it.

here we go o muses back me up on this lil ditty:

SO IN LIFE king sisyphus was a real dick! he was a deceitful and avaricious king & he often murdered his royal houseguests just to show that he could (this violated xenia, a super important tradition of greek hospitality)(side note the patron god of xenia is ZEUS)

(second side note: at this same time ol' dingle-brained sisyphus also knew that zeus was sleeping with an asopid named aegina. aegina had a river god dad named asopus. sisyphus wanted asopus to run part of his river through sisyphus's kingdom for commerce reasons, so he told asopus where to find his daughter, and after asopus went & got his daughter back he gave sisyphus the tributary in thanks. this also made zeus SUPER MAD for obvious philandering reasons)

so anyway zeus got pretty ticked at his general dickishness and told thanatos to go kill sisyphus and take him to hell jail. thanatos shows up with death's chains & sisyphus is all "oh man idk death i'm just a lil guy and kinda scared maybe if you show me how these chains worked i'd feel better about going with you uwu" and thanatos the ever-dimwitted was like "yes this is a solid plan" and locked himself in his own chains to prove ????

and instead of letting him out like he promised sisyphus was like "deuces guy" and left thanatos chained up for a few days/a couple months/a couple years depending on the tradition you read.

and not really anyone cared at all that mortals quit dying for a long time, except for OUR HERO ARES GOD OF WAR. ares got pretty annoyed that he couldn't win any battles bc the enemy wouldn't bite it, so he went and unlocked thanatos (unclear if everyone knew where he was and was just like whatever not our problem, or if ares had to actually go look for him) and people started dying again, the end

(alternate ending: actually lots of people cared that the sick & infirm couldn't die and they couldn't make animal sacrifices to the gods and everyone yelled at sisyphus to knock it off but he refused. and then either he caved and let thanatos out of the closet or ares showed up anyway. but that one's less funny)

BUT WAIT the myth has a second half (less relevant to the fic though)! so anyway thanatos was SUPER bummed about all this as anyone would be really, and also kinda embarrassed bc whoops you have one job dude. and he went to finally kill sisyphus (and also to deal with the whole "zeus still wants this guy dead" thing).

but! lo and behold our serpent-wise sisyphus told his wife right before thanatos showed up: hey wife, forget that i murdered our guests all the time and when thanatos kills me, don't do any of the death rituals that are important in our culture. no body prep, no mourning, no coins for charon, just chuck my body right out the door like a bad limp lettuce leaf. and she's like GOT IT dick and he's like what and she's like what

anyway so thanatos shows up and reaps him but good and his wife just throws the corpse out with the dishwater and the chamber pots or whatever

so then dead sisyphus gets to hades and is like OH BUT LORD HADES AND QUEEN PERSEPHONE, HOW CAN I EVER REST EASY IF MY HATEFUL WIFE DID NOT CRY OVER MY DEAD BODY AND PUT COINS IN MY MOUTH THE WAY ALL PROPER WIVES WHO LOVE THEIR MURDERING HUSBANDS SHOULD and (depending on the myth but usually) persephone is like ಥ﹏ಥ aaw you poor guy, aw jeez what can we do i feel so bad for him and she SENDS HIM BACK TO LIFE (thanatos: ಠ╭╮ಠ)

and sisyphus lives like another twenty-fifty years before dying of old age, and then thanatos FINALLY gets hold of him for good and zeus sentences him to the boulder thing for being just the tooliest tool to ever live

(alternate ending to the second myth: persephone doesn't actually restore him to life, she just lets his spirit go back up, and in that story sisyphus just goes and yells at his wife forever until hermes literally drags the dude back to hell. real hero sisyphus's wife, am i right or am i right)

other myths/concepts referenced that i think are explained well enough in the text but just in case:

megaera is charged with punishing oathbreakers, especially involving duty to family and honored authorities (husbands, parents, kings, etc.), and technically infidelity but we're waist-deep in greek myth who tf cares about that

alecto is charged with punishing those who commit moral crimes against another, especially those committed out of anger

i'll give you three guesses as to whom tisiphone punishes & the first two don't count

thanatos technically is the god of gentle death; his sister ker is the god of violent death (there's a very late-game conversation in hades where than explains he wasn't there when achilles died, and likely wouldn't have been anyway given his warrior lifestyle; however, there are also multiple conversations where he mentions working really closely with ares & being on the battlefield, and the game definitely treats him like Death so ehhh ~~handwave~~) (sometimes ker is also multiple sister death-spirits rather than just one, and in that case they're called the keres, but they're universally violent, crazed, and hated [and always ladies, read into that what you will])

lyssa is another daughter of nyx and is the personification of mad rage, frenzy, and rabies

(nyx has a lot of super bummer kids is what i'm getting at)

phobos and deimos are two of ares's kids (with aphrodite). phobos is fear/terror (phobia) and dread, and deimos is panic, flight, & rout. they often went into battle with ares and either drew or drove his chariot. warriors often painted their likenesses on their shields to scare their enemies

ixion is the name of the "sun" of the underworld, and is actually a super wicked king who was bound to a flaming wheel for all eternity for his crimes so that's a fun lil easter egg for us gamers (original mythos has him as the sun itself, but later he got retconned to hell only and helios took over all above-ground sun jobs) (for the record: ixion stiffed his father-in-law on ixion's wife's bride-price when they got married and when FIL came to claim it in person, ixion murdered FIL by throwing him on hot coals [no mention ever made of wife's reaction to this, natch]. this obvs violated xenia as well as a BUNCH of other laws and bc everyone hated him now, no one would perform the rituals that would cleanse him of his guilt - except ZEUS. who for SOME REASON takes pity on this dude wandering unloved all by himself & does the rituals for him & brings him UP TO OLYMPUS TO EAT WITH THE GODS. so this bombastically moronic dude ixion decides he loves hera at this feast and is gonna seduce her. his host's wife. violating just about every other law of hospitality he hasn't already squished. so zeus catches wind of this and sends a cloud in hera's shape for him to bang instead. and because we live where we live the cloud gets pregnant [and her name is now nephele] and she gives birth to a malformed baby named centaurus [who later goes and lives in a mountain and has sex with mares and fathers the first centaurs] & so ixion becomes the grandfather of the centaur race. oh and also hermes makes ixion repeat "benefactors deserve respect" like ten thousand times before ixion gets bound to the flaming wheel for all eternity. and then later zeus sleeps with ixion's original wife dia bc why not at this point and she has a son named peirithous who becomes king of the lapinths, so i guess everyone wins. except ixion's father-in-law who is still dead.)

#long post for ts #forgive me #i'm entertaining myself and that's all that matters #greek myth #thanatos #sisyphus #ixion #i genuinely have no idea how to tag this #technically #hades #quark replies

46 notes · View notes

ponds-of-ink · 2 years

Text

Doubling Down/Building Up a Theory: “Patient 46 is Vanny, BUT…”

With the announcement of Gregory is Patient 46 theory being debunked along with several suspects being crossed off, our mystery patient’s identity is slowly being revealed.

To… celebrate?… clarify?… To do something with this realization, I want to share my personal theory and expand on it.

I’m betting (and feeling like I’m gonna die on this hill), that Vanny is 46… But only because Glitchtrap controls “her” during those sessions.

We’ve seen him hijack technology as well as minds via Help Wanted. Vanessa has a literal one-sided mind-chat with him in the Curse of Dreadbear DLC, which is how we even found out she was going to be a thing. Even during the deleted AR email saga, we learn that she’s undergoing a weird Jekyll-and-Hyde of sorts before somehow breaching Fazbear Entertainment’s system.

Even if these roundabout facts proved anything, then why is Patient 46 still referred to as a girl? It’s a guess, but I might have an answer.

Fazbear Entertainment mistakenly assumed Vanessa mysteriously gained a mental disorder due to VR-Game-induced trauma. And who could blame them, thanks to the last-known beta tester (Jeremy)? However, Fazbear was smarter than the gaming companies they hired. They called in minimum-wage/easy-to-pay therapists to check in and see how she’s doing. Vanessa, eager to get any sort of help, agrees. And Glitchtrap? Well… Let’s just say he’s less than happy about the idea…

But he plays along, maybe even sharing some of William’s past just to fill out the forum (which could explain the discrepancy). Now a mix of both Glitchtrap’s brain and Vanessa’s appearance, “Vanny”/Patient 46 is made. And, of course, Vanessa resumes her time as Patient 71 for entirely different reasons than before.

But, of course, that’s just a theory. A—

#fnaf theory #fnaf security breach #patient 46 #fnaf vanny #fnaf vanessa #glitchtrap #now watch as it gets confirmed to be Elizabeth or something lol #william afton

13 notes · View notes

awake-dearheart · 3 years

Text

To Love And Be Loved By Me [b.b]

Summary: The story of Eros and Psyche was quite literally the stuff of legends. When he lost her to the perils of mortality, Eros too lost himself. He wandered the world, lost and alone until fate gave them another chance. Will things be different this time around? Can Eros find a way to save his love before it’s too late?

Word Count: 11K

Pairing: Eros! Bucky x Psyche! Reader

Warnings: Just...so much angst, lots of talk of death, blood, needles, car accidents

A/N: This is officially the longest one shot I’ve written to date and OH BOY. I love it so much. I wanted this to be done by Valentine’s Day but I also wanted it to be good so it took a little longer. I fell in love with the idea of an Eros!Bucky story but I didn’t want to to do regular myth. I don’t directly name all the gods as MCU charaters because they don’t really matter, so you can make them whoever they are in your head. The ones who need to be named are by the end. Big thanks to @morningstar-joy for beta reading! If you’d like to be added to my taglist just send an ask!

Eros hated the rain.

Rain always spoiled everything. It led to canceled plans and ruined events and even though Demeter and Persephone danced with joy whenever it came, Eros always found himself grumbling. Now, watching as fat raindrops splattered across the stone marked with Psyche’s name, he couldn’t imagine ever hating it more.

He stood at the end of the grave, his hands shaking as he held the single red rose he’d picked up on the way. His mother stood beside him, her hand rested delicately on his shoulder to keep him balanced. A few other Olympians had come to pay their respects as well; his father, Ares, Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, and Hermes. Hades was markedly absent, along with Persephone, a fact that was not lost on Eros. But he only had time for one overwhelming emotion at a time, and right now his grief far outweighed his anger.

Nobody said a word. Immortals were normally a chatty group but none of them seemed to know what to say. Eros assumed it was the first funeral most of them had ever been to.

Why did it have to be hers?

He stepped forward, legs shaking as he did, and kneeled in front of her gravestone. His fingers brushed over her name as he set the rose on the ground beneath it. Never, in all his eons of existence, had Eros felt pain like this. He didn’t even think he could feel like this until now. As his eyes passed over the quote on the stone, a sob ripped through him.

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Eros had chiseled the words there himself, despite his mother and father telling him it wasn’t necessary. There needed to be more on the stone than just her name. People who came after them needed to know how important she was.

One by one, the Olympians who had come for her took their leave. None of them spoke as they left, leaving Eros to his sorrow. Eventually, only three of them remained; Zeus, Aphrodite, and Eros. As Eros wept, his mother stepped forward and crouched down beside him. She wrapped an arm around her son and held him close, kissing his temple softly.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered gently. Eros took a shaky breath and turned to face her, his face soaked in tears and rain.

“She deserved more time,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “We deserved more time.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing. “But she was mortal, my dear. You knew from the beginning that you would have to say goodbye one day.”

“But not yet!” he snapped. “She was young. Even by mortal standards, she was too young to die. It’s not right.”

“You may not think so, but that’s how human life works.” He knew his mother was trying to help, but all she was doing was unknowingly pouring salt into a gaping wound.

“Hades is behind this,” he said firmly, his eyes turning back to Psyche’s tombstone. Aphrodite sighed gently and shook her head.

“Eros, you know that’s not true,” she replied. “All humans die, just as they’re born. That’s the way it is.”

“What I know is that Hades has always been jealous of us,” Eros growled. “Psyche and I had what she and Persephone never could, so she took her from me.”

“That’s enough,” Zeus thundered from behind them. “I understand you’re grieving but I won’t stand here and listen to you accuse my sister of things you know aren’t true Eros. I’m sorry about your wife. I really am. Psyche was an amazing woman, but it was her time.” The king replaced his glasses and ran a hand through his perfectly trimmed goatee as Eros struggled to keep himself calm. Aphrodite could sense his tension and stood, turning to face Zeus.

“We should return to Olympus,” she said, wiping her eyes gently. “There’s still much work to be done.”

“No.”

The two of them turned quickly to face Eros who hadn’t moved a muscle.

“What do you mean, no?” Zeus asked, barely containing his anger. The king did not tolerate being disrespected and Eros knew he was toeing a dangerous line, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I’m not going back,” he said flatly. “Ever.”

“But…but Olympus is your home,” his mother protested. “Your work is there. Your family is there.”

“My family is buried in the earth right in front of me,” he countered, his voice shaking. “I won’t return to a home where she isn’t.”

“And what of your duties?” Zeus demanded. “You have a job to do, boy. You can’t turn you back on your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Eros spat. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as lightning flashed in Zeus’ eyes.

“Watch how you speak to me,” he growled, taking a step forward. Aphrodite, recognizing the king’s flaring temper, stepped between the two of them and rested her hand on Zeus’ shoulder.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly. “Forgive my son. His heart is too burdened by grief to understand the weight of his words. It might be best if we leave him.” Zeus glared at Eros for a moment before he nodded, holding out his hand for Aphrodite’s.

“I’ll be expecting you.”

Eros waited until he was sure they were gone before looking over his shoulder. He was alone now. He looked back at the stone and almost felt taunted by it. His tears came harder now, and he laid on the ground, hoping it might open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m sorry, Psyche,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have saved you. I should have tried harder.” His breath came in pants as he curled into himself, his words drowned by the weight of his heartbroken wailing. Wind cut him to the core, but he didn’t move. Nothing mattered now. She was all he’d had and now she was gone.

The sun had almost completely set by the time Eros opened his eyes. He was soaked to the bone and shivering violently, but he still didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant it was really over. She would really be gone. Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at her name. Each time he saw it was like a fresh knife right through his heart.

“I swear, my love,” he murmured. “I swear on your grave. For as long as I live, as long as my heart beats in my chest, no mortals shall know love. If I can’t have mine, they can’t have theirs.”

And so, the god of love renounced his duties. He ignored the calls of Olympus and the pull in his heartstrings whenever a love needed his help igniting. If he had the power to give up his immortality he would have, but that ability was reserved for Zeus alone, and the king of Olympus was nothing if not stubborn. The two of them seemed determined to wait each other out, hoping one of them would bend to the other’s will.

But neither did.

Eros wandered a bit, hopelessly depressed, but never let himself get too far from Psyche’s resting place. He wanted to be able to visit her as often as his aching heart would allow, which ended up being nearly every day. No matter the weather or the season, Eros found himself settling in front of her tombstone, sometimes not even realizing he’d left his home.

He always brought something for her. Some days he read to her. Others, he just talked about what he’d seen that day. Once, he sat down to find a lyre had been left leaning against her grave, but nobody was there to claim it. When he picked up the golden instrument, the clouds broke and sunlight poured down on him, eliciting the faintest of smiles.

“Thank you, Apollo,” he whispered. On that day, Eros sang.

Mortal time passed strangely. Eros had never really needed to keep track of it before but now that he was, it felt odd. Things that could be done in an instant on Olympus took weeks on Earth. It was all he could do not to use his powers to complete everyday tasks. Somehow, he managed to learn. By his count, it had been six months since Psyche’s funeral and he finally felt like he was getting a handle on human life. The sun was warm and the breeze was soft as he made his way to the graveyard at Kerameikos, a book of poetry tucked under his arm. The cemetery was vast, but he knew the path to her grave well. The stone had just come into view when Eros felt an itch on his left shoulder. He shrugged it off as best he could, but by the time he sat at the foot of her grave the itch had progressed to a burn.

“What the?” he hissed, pulling up his sleeve to inspect his skin. Right in the center of his left shoulder, burned dark into his flesh, was a small, heart-shaped mark.

“That’s going to keep happening.”

Eros jumped up and spun around at the voice behind him, gasping softly when he saw Aphrodite standing there.

“Mother,” he breathed, dropping his book. “I…how…what are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you too,” she smirked, stepping forward to pull him into a tight hug. Eros wrapped his arms around her and was surprised at the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You took me by surprise is all. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my darling boy,” she said, pulling back and looking him over. “Oh, my sweet. You look so tired.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“You never change, do you Mother?” he asked.

“If by that you mean I never stop worrying about my son then yes, you’re right,” she answered, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger. They exchanged soft smiles for a moment before Eros remembered her words.

“What did you mean when you said this is going to keep happening?” Aphrodite’s smile faltered at his question and she dropped her hands. The air around them seemed to drop a few degrees, almost like it was trying to warn Eros of what was to come.

“The mark on your arm,” the goddess said, gesturing toward it. “It’s the first but it won’t be the last.”

“What does it mean?” Eros asked, looking down and brushing his fingertips over it. The burning had faded but the mark remained dark against his skin.

“It means a true love has been lost,” she said quietly. “Two soulmates who were meant to meet didn’t, and never will.” Eros scoffed and bent down to grab his book, pulling his sleeve back down to cover the mark.

“Aren’t soulmates your duty?” he asked coldly.

“I only entwine the souls,” she explained, the softness in her voice somehow managing to stoke the flames of Eros’ anger further. “Getting the lovers to meet is Cupid’s job.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, glaring at her. “That’s not my job anymore.”

“It will always be your job, you’re just choosing not to do it,” she said. “You can’t change who you are. You are my son, Eros. The god of love.”

“What if I don’t want to be anymore?” he yelled, staring his mother down. “I buried my wife, Mother. I watched her die surrounded by gods who could have saved her but none of them lifted a finger! How am I supposed to set the entire mortal coil on their paths to love while mine rots in the dirt!” Tears were streaming down his face now and he didn’t care. All of the anger and sorrow he’d felt since Psyche died was seeping out of him, and once it started he couldn’t stop it.

“You know we would have saved her if we could have, Eros,” she answered. “The mortal world has rules that none of us can flout.”

“It’s not fair!” he screamed, his voice cracking on the last word. “Zeus spits in the face of every rule we have. Poseidon turned the world against Athena’s most loyal priestess and made her a monster but nothing can be done for Psyche?”

“It’s not up to us to determine what’s fair,” Aphrodite started, but Eros wouldn’t hear it.

“We should be able to make it so. We’re gods!” His voice echoed through the cemetery and Eros fell to his knees, weighed down by his grief. Aphrodite slowly crept forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled slightly but felt too exhausted to move any further. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked up. The day looked every bit as beautiful as it had when he stepped out of his door, but somehow it felt as bleak as the day of Psyche’s funeral. His pain was overwhelming. Every day felt like he was breathing from underwater and walking with weights attached to his limbs. He just wanted her back.

“You have to let her go eventually,” Aphrodite said, breaking the silence between them. Eros’ breath caught in his chest as he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. She was right. They both knew it, but Eros was still so angry and far too stubborn to admit it. He was about to start yelling at her again when a glint of sunlight on stone caught his eyes. Shame mingled with his mourning as he turned to face it. Psyche’s name, and the quote he’d so carefully worded, started back at him, steadfast in the marble as the day he had carved it. This was supposed to be a place of rest and here Eros was, screaming and causing a scene. He could barely contain the disgust he felt at the disrespect he’d shown his own wife. He stood abruptly, causing his mother to gasp and step back. Everything was too much. He had to get away.

“Don’t come looking for me again,” he said, not meeting her gaze. There was a sound of wings flapping and before Aphrodite could even call his name, Eros was gone.

After that day, Eros did not return to Psyche’s grave. The guilt he felt over causing such a scene at the place she was meant to rest ate at him and drove him to run. He wandered the human world, broken, desperate, and alone. There was never a plan to where he went. Eros simply stumbled along wherever his feet and wings took him. He saw the hanging gardens of Babylon where they lay hidden away from the world. He helped lay stones at the Great Wall of China. He climbed to the top of the Eiffel tower the day it was completed. Eros saw the entire world. Then, he saw it again. Then, he saw it one more time. With each new wonder he laid his eyes on, he held Psyche in his heart. He imagined the way her face would light up at the inventions and innovations of mankind and how thrilled she would be to try everything. There were even times he could swear he felt her beside him. As he clung to pieces of the broken Titanic in the northern Atlantic or as he watched the bombs fall on helpless ships in Pearl Harbor, it felt like she was with him. He could never tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he heard her voice on the wind, guiding him to safety.

While Eros walked the Earth, the marks on his arm continued to appear, just as his mother said they would. The first one had hurt the most but by the time his arm was covered from shoulder to fingertip, he barely noticed when they appeared. Some were darker than others, but all of them stood out sharply against his skin. Eros took to wearing long sleeves year-round to deter stares and awkward conversations.

Perhaps the oddest thing about all the years he spent on Earth was how utterly alone Eros felt. Nobody, not his mother or father or even Zeus came looking for him. Finding him would have been no problem for them, he knew. Hermes was able to locate the gods anywhere at any time, and even though he’d told his mother not to come looking, part of him wished she would have. He’d lost his wife, he’d lost his faith, and apparently, he’d also lost his family. Eros, the god of love, was alone.

Present Day: Brooklyn

Eros descended the stairs of his building, tugging on his leather jacket before stepping outside. He took a deep breath and looked around, taking in the city before he started off down the street. Everyone was just starting to wake up, and soon the air would be filled with shouting voices, car horns, and the clanking of construction equipment. He didn’t mind the noise though. Something about the chaos and scrambling of it all reminded him of Olympus. It was the closest he’d felt to home throughout his self-imposed 800-year exile. It pained him a bit, thinking of all that had surely changed since he’d left, but not enough to make him go back. Even though he hadn’t been back to Psyche’s grave since his confrontation with his mother, the idea of leaving her on Earth to go back home was unbearable. The gods didn’t want him back there or they would have said so. He was where he belonged.

“Hey, Buck!” one of his neighbors called, waving at him. He smiled and waved back as he crossed the street toward the coffee shop.

Bucky.

The alias he’d picked when he arrived in Brooklyn five years ago still felt foreign to him. Everyone here knew him by that name, but it usually took him a while to settle into them. He jogged across the street and followed the sidewalk to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that had become one of his favorite places. The sun was almost fully up now, and Bucky could tell it was going to be a beautiful day. It reminded him of the last time he’d been to see Psyche’s grave, all warm breezes and sunshine. The small smile that had tugged at his lips a moment ago fell away abruptly at the thought. Even after 800 years his heart still ached for his lost love. Sighing, he rounded the final corner. As he did, he felt the familiar itch starting at his left shoulder blade. It was stronger than any he’d felt in a long time, and Bucky rolled his shoulder in a vain attempt to placate it. Groaning softly, he pulled open the door to the coffee shop and plowed headfirst into a woman exiting.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as hot coffee spilled over both of them. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s ok. Neither was I. Are you ok?”

That voice. Bucky froze in his spot when he heard it. This time he wasn’t hearing it on the back of the wind of the creak of a lifeboat as it bobbed on the water. This was real. It was her. Slowly, Bucky looked up.

“P-Psyche?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the strange name he called you and Bucky felt like his heart might burst. Even after 800 years you still managed to take his breath away.

“Sorry?” you asked. He was still staring at you dumbfounded as you offered him your name. It wasn’t the same, but it was somehow so distinctly you.

“O-Oh, sorry,” he said, finally taking a breath. “You um…you look like someone I used to know.”

“Was she covered in coffee too?” you giggled, and it was all Bucky could do not to pass out. He had never been more confused in his entire existence. You were here, but you weren’t you. Clearly, you didn’t know him, but even eight centuries apart couldn’t erase you from his memory. Every line, every freckle, every minute detail of you had been etched into his memory like stone and they were staring back at him in you. In all his confusion he hadn't even noticed the itch on his shoulder blade had faded before it had a chance to burn.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he stammered. “I’m normally not like this.”

“You mean this clumsy or this cute?” you asked, causing the blood to rush to his face. Cheeky. Just like he remembered.

“I guess both?” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” you said, fishing some napkins out of your bag and handing him one. “I’m sorry about the mess.” Bucky started dabbing at the stain on his shirt and shook his head.

“It’s my fault,” he replied. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you countered. “Let me at least pay for your dry cleaning.”

“That’s really not-“

“I insist,” you interrupted, taking out your phone and handing it to him. “Let me get your number and I can pay you back.” Dumbstruck, Bucky could only nod as he took it and programmed his number in. He had to force himself not to type Eros and checked it three times before locking it and handing it back to you.

“It’s really no trouble,” he tried again, his hands still shaking.

“Maybe not,” you replied, flashing him a smile that made his stomach do backflips. “But if I don’t do something this will weigh on my conscience and slowly force me into overwhelming madness.” It took him a moment to catch onto the joke, and he managed to force out a laugh that matched yours before it got too awkward. You laughed with him and it was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in the better part of a millennium. Everything was so overwhelming. Bucky needed to get somewhere quiet where he could think but he didn’t want to leave you. He was terrified that if he even blinked you’d vanish, like it had all been some cruel trick by the universe just to further fracture his already broken heart. But his mind was racing too quickly to make sense of anything with you standing right there. You had his phone number. He hung onto that with everything he had as he spoke again.

“I um…I gotta…I have…,” he stammered, trying to connect his brain to his tongue long enough to form a coherent sentence. Blissfully, you chuckled.

“Yeah, me too,” you said. “Gotta change before work.” Bucky cringed as he looked over the large, brown stain on your white shirt.

“Sorry again,” he said, but you waved him off.

“Really, it’s ok,” you said. “Just hang onto your dry-cleaning receipt. And maybe after you can get me a replacement cup of coffee?”

“O-Ok,” he said, already stumbling over his feet as he turned to go. He was almost back to the corner when you called out.

“Wait! I didn’t get your name!” When he looked back he could see you scrolling through your phone, searching for the name that hadn’t been there moments ago. For some reason, you not knowing his name hit him like a slap in the face and it took him a solid fifteen seconds to reply.

“I’m Bucky.”

By the time Bucky came to his senses he had to stop completely and figure out where he was because he didn’t recognize anything. How long had he been walking? Everything since he’d turned the corner and taken his eyes off your face was a blur.

“What the actual fuck?” he mumbled to himself, leaning against the nearest building and sinking to the ground. Several people stared at him as they passed but he didn’t care. Millions of questions buzzed through his mind, like wasps disturbed from a nest. What was happening? How were you alive? Why didn’t you know him? Nothing made any sense at all and the longer he sat and thought, the more questions he came up with. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and dug his phone out of his pocket. First things first, he had to figure out where he was. He unlocked the screen only to immediately be greeted with a text from a number he didn’t know. Bucky’s heart pounded against his ribs as he opened it to find a picture of you staring back at him.

Now you have mine too! I hope that stain comes out. Let me know once you get it cleaned and we can meet up.

Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped on the photo to enlarge it. You were beaming at the camera, the coffee stain he’d left you with barely visible at the bottom of the frame. Sunlight danced off your skin and your smile stretched all the way up to your eyebrows giving Bucky a feeling of warmth in his heart that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anymore. Along with the elation, he felt unbridled fear. You didn’t know him. Why didn’t you know him? Where The Fates toying with him? Was this some torment Zeus has concocted to try and get him to come home? A somber realization dawned over him, chilling Bucky to the bone. Only one god had this kind of power, and only one god reveled in this kind of pain. Bucky looked back down at his phone, making sure to save your number and photo before opening the map app to find the closest Greek church.

Had Bucky not been in such a hyper-focused state, he might have been able to appreciate how beautiful the church was. The cathedral ceilings towered above him and the massive stained glass windows threw rainbows at his feet as he walked. He nodded once at the priest as he passed, opting to forego small talk while he scanned the busts along the back wall. Stone eyes bored into his, sending shivers down his spine until he found the altar he needed. This was the closest he’d been to his kin since renouncing his duty, and he could feel the presence of all of them as he made his way forward.

The bust looked nothing like her, mostly because someone long ago had decided she was a man, but Bucky knew her symbols. He kneeled before the stone, checking over his shoulder for onlookers before drawing a small blade from his waistband. Wincing, he drew the cold steel across his palm and let a few droplets of blood fall onto the stone.

“I know you can hear me,” he hissed under his breath. “Get your ass down here. You and I have unfinished business.” As he replaced the knife and watched the wound on his hand close, someone sat down beside him.

“The blood is a bit dramatic, but I appreciate the commitment,” she said with a smirk.

“Cut the shit, Hades,” he snapped, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

“For the mortal’s sake let’s stick with Natasha,” she replied. “What have they been calling you?”

“Bucky,” he grumbled, finally turning to look at her. “Are the pleasantries really necessary?” She chuckled softly and tossed her red curls over her shoulder, leaning back to rest her elbows on the altar.

“Always a man of action,” she teased, looking out over the cathedral. “What do you think these mortals would do if they knew two of the gods they worship were standing right in front of them?” Bucky, having listened to as much of Natasha’s vanity as he could stomach, rose from his knees and turned to leave. She followed close behind, her high heels clacking on the stone floor. Neither of them spoke until they exited the building. Bucky stomped ahead, seething as he walked away from the church. As soon as the crowd around them had thinned enough for them not to be overheard he rounded on Natasha, and she was surprised to see that he was crying. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t coated with the loathing she expected, but rather low and shaking. If she didn’t know better, she would have called it fear.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked quietly. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Do you get off on my pain or something? I’ve never done anything to you Natasha, so why? Why are you tormenting me?” The goddess stared blankly at him, cocking her head in confusion. This wasn’t the headstrong god she’d come to know so many years ago. He was barely even a god anymore. She looked him up and down, taking note of the host of scars that covered his balled-up left fist, and found herself hardly recognizing him. Natasha drew in a deep breath and chose her next words carefully.

“Have you been gone from us so long that you’ve forgotten our ways, Eros?” Bucky flinched at the use of his true name and averted his gaze. The last person to call him that had been his mother, and coupled with the shock of seeing his lost love, it was too much.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his eyes still on the ground.

“Not here,” she responded, grabbing his right arm gently. He opened his mouth to argue but their air was already moving around them. When it settled, it took him a moment to realize where Natasha had brought him. The cemetery was far bigger than the last time he’d been here, but the mountains and the river remained the same. Even with all the change, he knew where he was. Horror-struck, he turned slowly and faced Natasha.

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispered.

“You need to see,” was her simple answer.

Bucky stood, rooted to the spot as he weighed his options. He could run, but it was pointless. Natasha was far stronger than him and if she wanted him here, she’d keep him here. He took a shuddering breath and turned his head, biting back a sob when he did.

“Psyche…”

The stone had worn down over the centuries, but it didn’t matter. Bucky would have recognized it even if it had been cracked in half. He fell to his knees at the foot of her grave and stared blankly ahead. Her name was barely visible anymore, chipped away by time and weather and overgrown by moss and ivy. His eyes watered as he took it all in.

“I should have come back,” he mumbled, speaking more to the stone than Natasha. Wind wrapped around him as hot tears poured down his cheeks. Natasha stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You had your reasons,” she said softly. Bucky scoffed and shook her hand off, glaring up at her.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked, wiping his face angrily. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Natasha replied flatly, causing Bucky to falter. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy people’s pain.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky snapped, climbing to his feet.

“It’s the truth,” she continued, watching him carefully. “I don’t like watching people in pain, but I see my share of it. What I do is a part of life. That’s it.”

“Until someone has what you want,” Bucky challenged. “Until you decide to end life before its time.”

“I don’t kill people, Bucky,” Natasha said, her voice softer than before. “I have nothing to do with that. The Fates are in charge of the threads of life. My job is just to usher souls on their way. I hated seeing Psyche come through my gates. But it really was just her time.”

“You were always jealous,” he countered, shaking his head. “You wanted what Psyche and I had for you and Persephone.”

“Wanda and I,” she said through gritted teeth. “Are just fine. Our arrangement isn’t the concern. Psyche was fated to die so her string was cut. I didn’t even know until she walked through my door.” Anger burned in him as he glared at the Queen of the Underworld. He wanted to scream or hit something. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not again.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked again. “Why torture me? I haven’t been here since-“

“I know,” she interrupted. “We all know. You cut yourself off from everyone and everything. Olympus didn’t stop when you walked away, Bucky. Our ways are ancient and unwavering. Psyche’s soul completed its cycle in the Underworld, and it was time for her to be reincarnated. This isn’t some punishment or grand plan to torment you. This is just the way it is.”

“Even if that’s true,” he said, his voice wavering. “Why not? Why Brooklyn?”

“Take that up with Phanes,” Natasha replied. “He’s in charge of new births. Last I heard he was somewhere on Earth going by Steve. All this is his territory. I know you think I take some kind of joy in all this, but I don’t. My job is just to maintain the natural order. I don’t take pleasure in watching people grieve but I also don’t let their grief stop me from keeping the scales in balance. Everyone lives. Everyone dies. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. I’m sorry for what you had to endure but I can’t rewrite the laws of man. Not even for the people I care about.”

Bucky listened to her in silence as he stared at the tombstone. Some part of him knew she was right. Life was delicate and fragile, and its cycle kept the entire mortal realm in balance. He had spent so many lifetimes blaming Hades, assuming her jealousy had been what ripped Psyche from him, but now he could finally see the truth. She was just doing her job.

Her job.

His entire left arm tingled at the thought. Thousands of scars dotted his skin, a daunting reminder of the responsibility he’d neglected for so long. Soulmates spent their lives as lost and alone as he’d been, all because he was too busy wallowing in his own pain to help them find each other. Centuries of him being too self-absorbed to do his damn job. He thought that turning his back on love would somehow honor Psyche, but the harsh reality was that it tarnished her memory. All he’d managed to do was lose himself. Rather than honor her, he’d lost her too.

“I’m sorry, Hades,” he said softly, sniffling and wiping his eyes. She stood beside him and rubbed his arm gently. For the first time in all the eons he’d known her, she gave him a real, honest smile. He returned it and turned to go but she squeezed his arm to stop him.

“She’s still mortal, Bucky,” she reminded him. “Remember that. To love her again is to lose her again. Even I can’t change that.” His heart faltered at the thought and he bit his lip.

“Would you do it for Wanda?” She smiled again and let go of his arm.

“Over and over and over again,” she replied. Bucky returned it once more and turned on his heel, vanishing in the air among the flapping of wings. Natasha stared at the spot he’d been for a moment before she crouched down by the tombstone, brushing her fingers over the worn words.

“Take care of him. He’s going to need it.”

One Year Later

Loud honking horns from the street below dragged Bucky from an unusually peaceful sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking down in confusion at the strangely empty bed. When he went to sleep you had been curled up against his chest, but by the feel of the cold sheets, you’d been gone for some time.

“Angel?” he called gently, sitting up and tossing the covers back.

“I’m not in the kitchen!” you yelled from the kitchen. He chuckled softly and moved to get up, his face falling when he smelled something burning. Calling your name again, he jumped up and raced to the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he saw you. Splatters of batter clung to your cheeks, your nose, one of your eyebrows, and every surface in your shared kitchen. Bucky had to bite back laughter at the look of frustration on your face.

“Noooo,” you whined softly. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” The way your lip jutted out was enough to break his resolve and laughter bubbled to the surface. You pouted as he stepped forward and swiped some of the batter from your cheek with his thumbs.

“I think it still counts as a surprise, angel,” he smiled, licking the batter from his thumb. “Just a bit of a messy one.” Sighing, you rested your chin on his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you said with a soft smile.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get this cleaned up and we can go out for a big breakfast.

The cleanup took a little longer than he’d planned but soon the kitchen was shiny and clean and the two of you made your way out to celebrate. Bucky took you for the breakfast he’d promised and then out for a walk through your favorite parts of the city. As you walked, Bucky held you close and smiled brightly. Smiles came so much easier to him now. For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt truly happy. Only he remembered everything from your lives before, but it didn’t matter. You were you and not Psyche, and even though you’d occasionally do something the same way as you would have eons ago, there was a clear distinction between who you were then and who you were now. Bucky found himself delighting in learning everything about you, and falling in love with you in entirely new ways.

With his love, came his work. He’d started up again a few months after your first official date where he’d finally replaced your spilled coffee, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever stopped. Whenever a pair needed help meeting, he was there to nudge them together. It felt good to be the god of love again, and even though he couldn’t tell you about it, he knew you’d be proud of him. Working again, being with you, all of it felt right. He felt lighter than he had in longer than he could remember and even though part of him knew there was an expiration date on everything the two of you had built, he refused to let himself wallow in that. He lived in the moment with you, and loved you with everything he had.

“Oooo, baby can we get ice cream?” you chirped beside him, pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“Sure, babydoll,” he replied, getting you a pair of matching cones from the cart you’d spotted. His arm found its home around your shoulders as you started through the park. You smiled as you ate, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle again. Up ahead, maybe twenty or so yards from you, he saw a man he knew was one of his. He adjusted his arm over you and scanned the crowd until he found the match he was searching for. Another man, on the other side of the park, sat on a bench reading. Bucky smiled to himself as he passed his original target. He brushed his fingers along the man’s shoulders, and at the same time pointed at his match. Pulling his thumb back like a trigger, he smirked as he watched both of their eyes flash pink.

“Bullseye,” he mumbled under his breath as the first man changed directions, set on a path that would lead him right in front of the bench.

“What, baby?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, angel,” he smiled, kissing the end of your nose. “Just people watching.” You stole a kiss from him and went back to eating as he looked up over the crowd again. His smile crashed to the ground when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Natasha stared back at him, clad all in black with her red hair standing out like pure fire. She didn’t move, she barely blinked, but she stared directly at him. When their eyes met, Bucky felt like pure ice was sliding down his spine. Why did he feel so afraid?

“Who’s that?”

Everything slowed down and Bucky felt the ice that had coated his spine spill into the pit of his stomach.

“Who’s who?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.

“The redhead giving you the death glare,” you replied, licking your ice cream nonchalantly. The blood drained from Bucky’s face as he squeezed you tighter to him, his eyes still on Natasha.

“You can see her?” he breathed, his voice wavering. From across the way, Natasha gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

“Of course, I can see her,” you answered. “She’s staring right at us. Is she a friend of yours? Or an ex?” Tears threatened at the edges of his eyes as you spoke, and he felt sick to his stomach. There was only one reason mortals could perceive Hades when she was on Earth. When their thread of life was pulled taught, just prior to being cut, they could see through the veil and Hades would appear to them. You kept eating your ice cream as you waited for his answer, completely oblivious to the panic that was building in him.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t know her.”

Bucky rushed you home after that, giving a weak excuse of not feeling well. You followed him with a concerned expression, holding his left hand in both of yours. Once you made it home he rushed to your bedroom, leaving you slightly stunned and alone, staring at the door as it slammed shut.

In the bedroom, Bucky was falling apart. This couldn’t be happening again. It was too soon. You were younger now than you had been the last time you were taken from him, and he had only just gotten you back. It wasn’t fair. You deserved more time. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his mouth to muffle the sobs spilling out. If he thought his heart had been broken before, he’d been an idiot. It felt like someone had stolen the heart from his chest, leaving only a gaping chasm behind, and made him watch as they crushed it beneath their heel. He was helpless and breaking all over again.

“No,” he muttered, stumbling to his feet. He climbed frantically over the bed, tugging open his nightstand and sending the clock and lamp atop it tumbling to the ground.

“Bucky?”

He heard your soft voice and knock from behind him but he didn’t answer, searching desperately for the items he needed. You opened the door and walked slowly inside as he pulled some thread, scissors, and drachma from the drawer.

“Baby?” you called again, this time catching his attention. “Is everything ok? What are you doing?”

“Summoning The Fates,” he said bluntly, grabbing a tall white candle and book before marching past you into the living room.

“Summoning the…what?” you asked bewildered. He set the items on the coffee table as you trailed behind him, eyebrows stitched together.

“The Fates,” he repeated, looking around for a lighter. “Three of them. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, though last I heard it was Carol, Gamora, and Nebula. They control the threads of life. If I can get them here I can just…,” His sentence died as he ran his hands through his hair. What would he do if he got them here? It wasn’t like he could force their hands or even hurt them if he wanted to. Fate was drawn eons before he had even been conceived and nothing kept the sisters from doing their jobs.

I have to try, he thought, sitting down on the couch.

“Bucky, baby,” you cooed, sitting beside him and taking his hands in yours. “You’re not making any sense.” Rain had started to fall as he looked over at you, his heart lurching a bit at the worry that clouded your eyes. There was another option. It was a long shot, but no longer than demanding The Fates turn over your thread. Bucky drew in a deep breath before he spoke.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” he started, squeezing your hands gently. “All this, it’s about my life from…before.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t-“ He held up a hand to stop you and shook his head.

“No, I have to tell you,” he said, waiting for your nod before he continued. “It’s not just my life from before. It’s yours too. Ours together.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “We didn’t have a life together until a year ago?” Bucky ran his hands over his face and steeled himself for what was to come. It was now or never.

“We did. You just don’t remember,” he said, picking up the book from the table as he spoke. “My real name…is Eros. I was born on Mount Olympus, the son of Aphrodite and Ares. For millennia, I’ve been worshipped as the god of love. Most people nowadays call me Cupid.”

“C-Cupid?” you replied, arching an eyebrow. “Really?” He winced slightly at the skepticism in your voice but nodded, flipping through the book to find the picture he wanted.

“If it’s any consolation, I hate the nickname,” he replied.

“What is this really?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of you. “I know you’re not Cupid, Bucky, Just tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” he said gently. “You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. Plenty of people stopped believing in us after Mary gave birth but that doesn’t make us any less real.”

“Bucky, come on,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re talking about mythology here.”

“Mythology that was written about us,” he urged. “About me and…my wife.” Your face fell at his words and your arms dropped to your sides.

“You’re MARRIED?” you shouted, earning a shudder of fear from Bucky. “Is that who that redhead is? Is she your wife?”

“I was married,” he explained, showing you the page he’d found in the book. “A long time ago. To you.” Still fuming, you looked down at the page. The photo was of an etching at the temple of Aphrodite. It told the story of Eros and Psyche and their doomed love, and you pulled the book closer to you to inspect it. The faces of the gods looked too familiar to you. A winged man hanging out of the sky had his arms around a woman that stretched up to the heavens for him. His face was the same one that sat on the couch across from you. Her face was the one you saw in the mirror every morning. It was all too exact to be a coincidence, but it had to be. The other explanation was too ludicrous.

“This…this is…,” you stammered, your eyes still glued to the page. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t be…

“It’s us,” Bucky finished for you, his tone gentle. “You don’t remember but it’s us.” Shaking your head, you slammed the book shut and tossed it on the table.

“Look, James,” you said, making him flinch as you stood and grabbed your purse. “I don’t know what all this is about but I’m not gonna sit around and listen to it. There’s something you don’t want to tell me and that’s fine, but this is insane. I’m going to stay with a friend for a few days. Call me once you’ve figured all this out.” Your hand was on the door when Bucky vaulted over the back of the couch and grabbed it.

“I’m telling the truth!” he cried, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal the field of scars that covered it. “Haven’t you ever wondered about these? Why all the marks are the exact same shape? Each heart represents a true love that I abandoned.” You crossed your arms again and stepped back, your eyes flitting over the exposed limb. Bucky rarely uncovered his arm in the light. He wrapped it around you during countless nights when you were too spent to bother with clothes, but he would always dress quickly in the morning.

“I thought you were the god of love,” you challenged, your tone almost mocking. “Why would you abandon that much true love?”

“Because I lost you!” he yelled, making you jump. “I first met you over 800 years ago and I fell in love with you then just as I have now. Back then, you were Psyche and you were mortal, just like you are now. We had only been married a few years when…when your time came. I tried everything I could to save you but I couldn’t. Every mortal has a time and yours had come. After, I renounced Olympus and my job. I couldn’t watch others fall in love when I had lost mine. Then I met you again last year and I found out you’d completed your cycle in the Underworld and been reincarnated. I finally have you back, baby, and I’m not losing you again.” You listened quietly, chewing on your lip as he told his tale. After a minute that felt like a decade, you finally spoke.

“You really believe all this, don’t you?” you asked quietly. “Jesus, baby. This is insane.”

“No, it’s not!” he insisted. “That redhead we saw today? On Earth she goes by Natasha but back home, she’s Hades.”

“That five-foot-tall woman is the god of death?” you scoffed.

“Goddess of the dead,” he corrected, taking a step forward. “That’s not important. The only way for mortals to see her is if they’re close to her realm.”

“Close to her realm meaning dying?” you chuckled, tossing up your hands. “You know, for a chick on the brink of death, I feel stellar.”

“The Fates have your thread!” he urged, tears in his eyes. “Baby, I know how this sounds-“

“No, I don’t think you do,” you interrupted, your voice riddled with anger. “My boyfriend, the man I love and live with, sees some ex or something on our anniversary and gets so freaked out that he concocts this bullshit story about me being the reincarnated wife to a Greek god, all so, I’m guessing here, we can skip town until his ex moves on. Sound about right?” Your fists were balled and your chest was heaving, making Bucky take a step back. He’d never seen you this angry, in all your lifetimes. There had to be a way to make you remember. If you could remember your old life then maybe the two of you could figure something out together. Suddenly, he had an idea that he couldn’t believe took him so long to come up with.

“I can prove it,” he said quickly. Your head cocked to the side at his words, but your anger seemed to ebb just a bit.

“Oh, you can?” you asked sarcastically. “Sure, let’s see your proof. You got a bow and arrow tucked away here somewhere?” A soft smirk tugged at his lips as Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. The sound of your protest was muffled by the sound of his wings flapping quickly, and in an instant, the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside of your building.

“Something like that,” he said softly, holding you close. Rain dotted your face as Bucky watched the color drain from it. Your eyes darted around and your breathing picked up as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“Wh-…I…we…how?” you stammered, spinning slowly to look out into the street.

“Perk of the job,” he replied softly. “Do you believe me now?” Your breath was still coming in pants as he spoke and you grabbed his shirt tight. Bucky pulled you close, scared you might pass out in the street.

“This…this can’t…,” you mumbled. “I can’t….no.”

“Baby,” Bucky whispered, cupping your face gently and lifting your eyes to his. “Breathe. Everything is going to be ok, but we have to go. We’re gonna summon the sisters and make them give us your thread. Trust me.” Tears mixed with the rain on your face as you looked up at him, terror drawn over your brow. He leaned in to kiss your forehead gently, but you pulled back.

“St-Stay away from me,” you whispered, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

“A-Angel,” he said, his heart aching. He stepped forward but you backed away again, shaking your head. It was only then he understood the fear in your eyes. You weren’t afraid of The Fates or Hades or even death. You were afraid of him.

“I mean it,” you said a little louder, taking another step back. “Don’t come near me.” You stumbled slowly back toward the curb as Bucky followed, crying to match you.

“Baby, please,” he said with a sob. “Please just come back inside.”

“No!” you yelled, drawing the attention of several onlookers. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Before he could plead any more, you turned and took off down the sidewalk. Bucky called your name and chased after you, ducking and weaving through the crowd. His eyes stayed on you as you tossed fearful glances over your shoulder, trying to lose him. He lost sight of you for a fraction of a second, regaining it just as you jumped off the curb to cross the street.

“Baby!” he screamed, racing toward you. He shoved people out of his way, desperate to make it to you before the car he knew you didn’t see.

The blaring of a car horn. The smell of burning tires on asphalt. A flash of red hair. A bloodcurdling scream. And then, all was quiet.

You felt warm. Warmer than you should be considering you were just standing in the rain. All the sounds of the city, including Bucky’s scream of your name, had faded into nothing more than a faint hum, trilling in your ears. Blinking open your eyes, you sat up slowly and tried to make sense of the strange place you’d found yourself in.

Everything around you was stark white; the floor, the walls, the ceiling. You couldn’t even be sure they were walls. They were all the exact same shade of white and blended together so seamlessly that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

“She’s awake.”

The voice from behind you was feather-light and perfectly matched the aura of the room. You turned in her direction and found a man and a woman smiling at you. They watched as you climbed to your feet and looked nervously around the room. There was nothing there except the three of you and one silver chalice on a pedestal between the two of them. Whatever it held glowed a soft golden color and even though you’d never felt more confused, somehow, you were calm.

“Where am I?” you asked, looking back at them. “Who are you?” The man smirked softly and removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his sharp grey suit.

“For now, you can call me Tony,” he said, nodding toward his companion. “And this is Winnifred.”

“Welcome, my dear,” she said with a smile. “We’ve been waiting quite some time for you.”

“Y-You have?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we have,” Tony replied. “You’ve been a prominent topic of discussion for, oh, about 800 years now.” Winnifred narrowed her eyes at him as you furrowed your brow.

“Don’t confuse the poor girl,” she chided. “She’s been through enough already.” Tony shook his head and picked up the chalice, taking a drink and keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, your voice thickening with tears. “What is this place? Where’s Bucky?”

“Bucky,” Winnifred said with a smile. “I expect he’s waiting for you to return.

“Return from where?” you asked, tears starting to roll down your face.

“Limbo,” Tony said matter-of-factly. “Sort of a cosmic waiting room between realms.” You rubbed your temples with your fingers, desperate to make all of this make sense.

“Why am I here?” you asked again, struggling through your tears. “I need to get back to Bucky. Please.”

“You’re here because a decision has been made about you,” Winnifred answered. Tony handed the chalice to her and she took a drink, both of them keeping their eyes on you.

“What kind of decision?” you asked, wiping your eyes. Winnifred smiled softly at you and something about it made you feel so safe. Some of the tension waned as she stepped forward and brushed some hair back from your forehead.

“You know, there was once a time I was incredibly jealous of you,” she said gently. “My son was so taken by your beauty when you met. He told anyone that would listen that you were the most beautiful creature in existence, and I hated it. I raged and railed and told him to recant it, but he refused. His love for you ran so deep he defied even me. He made me realize my pride could cost me my son, and I couldn’t live with that. Your love was so strong, it changed the will of the gods.”

“But I’ve never even met your son,” you protested. “Or you. I don’t know anything about the gods.” Winnifred and Tony both smirked at your confusion as the former nodded softly.

“Yes, you have, sweet girl,” she said simply. Tony smirked knowingly behind her as your eyes watered again.

“Will one of you please just give me a straight answer?” you begged.

“All will be revealed in time,” Winnifred said, offering you the chalice. “Drink.” You took it with shaking hands, looking inside. The liquid it held was almost like molten gold. It barely moved as you took the chalice but it continued to glow softly. Something about the stillness of the liquid unnerved you and you looked back up at the duo.

“Is it safe?” you asked quietly. Tony chuckled in response and folded his arms.

“You just watched both of us drink from it, didn’t you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Winnifred glared at him again as you swirled the liquid gently. He had a point. Both of them had drunk from the same chalice moments before and they were fine. After a comforting nod from Winnifred, you raised it to your lips and drank.

The veil of confusion lifted so suddenly and completely that you were amazed you didn’t realize what was going on sooner. It was all so obvious. Bucky was Eros, and you were Psyche. And here you were in Limbo with-

“Zeus,” you whispered. “Aphrodite.” Both of them smiled at you and nodded.

“Welcome back, Psyche,” Zeus said, pulling out his sunglasses. “Been a long time.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aphrodite smiled, taking the chalice and setting it back down. Panic set in and your breathing picked up as you started to remember how you’d gotten here. You remembered the rain and the car, and the ghost of Bucky’s scream echoed in your head.

“N-No,” you mumbled. “I can’t be here. Not again. I can’t leave him again. Please, you have to send me back.” Aphrodite placed her hands on your shoulders and shushed you gently.

“Shh, my darling,” she said softly. “Everything is alright.”

“No, it’s isn’t,” you protested. “I can’t leave him alone again. You didn’t see him when I found him, Aphrodite. He was so broken. This will destroy him. Zeus, please. You can talk to The Fates. They can’t be this cruel.” Zeus sighed and grabbed the chalice again, stepping forward and holding it out.

“Take a look and tell me what you see,” he said, exasperation thick in his voice. You looked down, confused, and gasped at what you saw. How did you not recognize it before?

“Ambrosia,” you breathed, earning a smile from the gods.

“Nectar of the gods,” Zeus confirmed, taking another drink and handing it back to you. “Aphrodite, refresh my memory. What happens when a mortal shares ambrosia with one of the twelve Olympians?” She rolled her eyes slightly at his theatrics and sighed.

“They become an immortal,” Aphrodite replied, causing your eyes to widen.

“Immortal?” you asked.

“Immortal,” Aphrodite confirmed. “The Twelve have had many conversations about you and my son since he abandoned Olympus. In the end, it was decided that robbing the god of love of his true love was unfair.” The chalice fell from your hands and clattered to the ground at her words. More tears formed in your eyes but this time for entirely different reasons.

“We can stay together?” you asked, your voice shaking. “I don’t have to lose him again?”

“If that’s what you want,” Zeus drawled, checking his watch. “Are we ready? Pepper’s waiting.’

“Give her a minute,” Aphrodite said, taking your hands. “The choice is yours. You can go back to Eros, or come with us and we’ll take you to Elysium. Your soul has completed its cycle so if you choose to rest, you can. It’s your decision.” You squeezed her hands tight and shook your head quickly.

“I want to go back,” you said. “I want to be with Eros. Please.” Aphrodite smiled and nodded gently, kissing the top of your head.

“Take care of him,” she said quietly. “He’s going to need it.” You nodded softly and looked between them.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, lots of feelings,” Zeus said, stepping between you and Aphrodite. “See ya!” He tapped your forehead once, and everything went black.

A steady beeping roused you from your sleep and you opened your eyes slowly. At first, you thought you were still in limbo because everything was so white. Things shifted into focus and you realized you were in a hospital room. Bucky was asleep in a chair beside your bed, his huge frame overfilling the small seat.

You felt different. Not bad or in pain, but different. Colors seemed sharper, sounds hit your ears more clearly, and even the smell of antiseptic filled the room differently. You assumed these were side-effects of your newfound immortality as you sat up slowly. Bucky stirred a bit but stayed asleep and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Bucky,” you said quietly. His eyes opened slowly and it took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. After a second, his brain caught up and he jumped out of the chair, rushing toward you.

“Angel,” he breathed, cupping your face gently. “Take it easy.”

“I’m ok,” you said, resting your hands over his. He shook his head and kissed your forehead softly.

“Baby, you’re hurt,” he said, his voice full of ache. “Let me go get your doctor.” You chuckled softly at how frantic he was, looking around for the call button.

“Eros,” you said, freezing him in his tracks. “I’m ok.” He looked over your face and trembled gently, tears dripping from his red-rimmed eyes.

“W-What did you just call me?” he asked, hoping with everything in him that he had heard you right. You smiled wider and leaned in to kiss him, squeezing his hands.

“I called you Eros,” you murmured against his lips. “I remember.” A broken sob left him as he wound his arms around you, holding you tight as he kissed you again. You hugged him back and squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in his neck.

“I thought I was losing you again,” he whispered against your hair.

“You’re never losing me again, my love,” you answered, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m yours. Forever.” His face fell as he looked you over, shaking his head slowly.

“But I will,” he whimpered. “I’m gonna lose you one day and I can’t stop it. I can’t keep you safe from The Fates. Psyche I…I don’t know if I can survive it again.” He was crying in earnest now and it was enough to break your heart. You pulled back from him and held out the arm with your IV. Bucky wiped his eyes and watched in confusion as you pulled the needle from your arm. He gasped as both of you watched the wound the needle had made heal before your eyes. His eyes flitted from your arm to your face as he worked out what was happening.

“How?” he asked finally, his eyes wide.

“Zeus,” you answered, getting another smaller sob from him. “And Aphrodite. They took me to Limbo and Zeus offered me ambrosia.”

“But…if he gave you…that means…,” he stammered.

“It means I’m immortal,” you finished for him. “It means for the rest of forever, I’m never leaving you again.” That was Bucky’s breaking point. He jumped into the bed with you and hugged you tight to him, peppering your face with kisses. You giggled gently and held him close, returning the kisses where you could.

“I love you, Psyche,” he mumbled against your lips. “I love you so much and I swear I’m never letting you go.”

“I love you too, Eros,” you replied. “I’m never leaving you again.” He kissed you softly again and hugged you tight, only pulling back when you were both panting for air.

“Let’s go home,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. You took it and stood beside him, looking down at your hospital gown.

“We might be a little conspicuous walking around Brooklyn like this,” you commented. Bucky kissed you again and shook his head gently.

“Who are you talking to, angel?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. He pressed his lips to yours again as you held him close, the flap of his wings taking you home together at last.

Permanent taglist (43/50): @golden-parker @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @niall2017 @thefridgeismybestie @bibbarnes @buckysmischief @reann-loves-sebstan @afterlaughter27 @lyniboy @stuckonjbbarnes @stareyedplanet @tomhollandssecurityguard @agent-barnes40 @emmandhercoffecrisp @whitewolfandthefox @murdermornings @bellelittleoff @unlikelygalaxygiver @sovereignparker @agent-curt-mega @missmeganrachel @heyhihellowhatsup0 @valkyriesryde @my-drowning-in-time @sunmoonandbucky @just-the-hiddles @daughterofthenight117 @glowunderthemoon @lilliannaansalla @dumblani @chewymoustachio @spideyboipete @my-super-musical-life @tomshufflepuff @practicallylivesonline @dasexydevitt13 @willowtree42095 @rebekkah4766 @mariaenchanted @lexy9716 @alexxcorona113 @morningstar-joy @capsnacklepop

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #to love and be loved by me #eros and psyche #Greek Mythology #Sebastian Stan #marvel fanfic #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes angst #greek mythology AU #kore komposes

365 notes · View notes

smallraindrops-blog · 3 years

Text

To Have and To hold

Hypnos x female!reader

Word count: 900

Summary: Power can drive even a god to maddess.

Warning:War, dead people and children, Ares ( let be real, that guy is a warning all on his own) kissing and sexual themes, no beta

A/N: This is a part of the Marriage AU. You can find the first arc in the tags.

This is a time skip, Persephone has returned. Hypnos and y/n are still not fully together, like early stage dating If that makes sense. Next part is in the works. It will take longer since I am also working on requests as well.

I hope you enjoy it!

The war had turned into some ugly and brutal nightmare as it neared the end. The few talks between Hypnos and Thanatos that you were able to eavesdrop on made your gut twisted.

You rolled the scroll up with a sigh, not able to focus. Your eyes went back to the bag of melomakarona or honey cookies as Hypnos called them. Attached to the bag, a note from your husband with apologies for not being able to stop by or even really talk to you for the last few weeks.

And with the amount of new dead to care for, Hypnos had been busy. You wondered if he was even able to work on his godly duties in the meantime.

You felt so foolish. You had requested Hypnos to let you and him have a courting period, even if you were already married. You had wanted to take it slow, to really know the god who was your husband.

Now what has seemed like in matters of months, the world above you had gone mad. It truly felt like they were trying to send everyone and everything to their doom.

And you felt like a silly little girl who wanted flowers.

You rubbed your eyes, and with guilt weighing on your shoulders, called it a night (or morning, it was impossible to tell.). You picked up your things, including the bag of cookies and was about to leave when the door opened to reveal Hypnos, exhausted and sullen.

You dropped everything on the table and hurried to him. He floated in and met you in a hug.

You buried your face in his shoulder, and just held on. For several minutes, neither one of you said anything.

He gave you a small squeeze before he pulled away. "I cannot tell you how badly I needed that." He smiled and your heart twisted.

You reached up and held his face between your hands to study him. His permanent dark circles had gotten worse and his normally bright eyes had become dull with the lack of rest. "Oh Hypnos." You muttered, your thumbs rubbing his face.

Hypnos closed his eyes and sighed. "I wish I was coming to tell you that it is finally over but it looks like it might be ongoing for a little longer."

You shook your head. "Goodness. Are they finally giving you a break?" You asked hopefully. You could get him to get some sleep and food in him before he had to start again.

"No, love. I'm afraid not." Hypnos covered your hands with his own. "I just came to check on you. Are you heading to your chambers?"

"I was but nevermind, I can still get some work done." You replied, some tea should wake you up.

"No. I want you to get some rest. Darkness knows we will need someone who still has energy afterwards to get the house back in order because it isn't going to be me."

Hypnos pulled your hands down and held them in his own hands. He pressed a kiss on both and you blushed at how carefully he held your hands.

"Gather your things, I can take you to your chambers before I am needed back." Hypnos all but ordered. You thought about arguing back but the exhaustion in his face held your tongue.

"Have a cookie." You shoved the bag to his face. He blinked before laughing, "Didn't I give these cookies to you?"

You smiled, "Yes and you should have some." Hypnos opened the bag as you closed up the library. He hummed happily as he chewed, and immediately popped another one in.

"Have you received any more news?" You asked hopefully, walking down the hallway while he floated next to you.

"Just the normal horrible stuff that humans are doing to each other." Hypnos said. "I know I've joked about having them all die so I don't have to keep working but now they actually seem trying."

You raised a brow, "Wouldn't that mean you won't be able to do the thing you like? Helping humans sleep?"

"That right, no one else will bother me ever again and I can just sleep. Forever." His happy tone made you laugh despite yourself.

He chewed another cookie, "You know it's nothing to worry about right? This stuff just happens sometimes."

You gave him a doubtful look, you knew he was holding back the more ugly details. "I know but the amount of people coming, that's unusual isn't it?" You bit your lip, "Isn't there anything I can help with?"

You sighed when Hypnos shook his head.

"It is unusual but enough about that horrible stuff, I need my mind taken off of it for a bit. Tell me about your day." Hypnos held out a cookie for you.

You took the cookie, pouting little a bit at least you could help him forget a bit.

💤

*Hypnos' pov*

He should have expected the line waiting for him to get back but he still groaned at the amount of shades waiting for him.

The only reason Hades hadn't ripped his head off for leaving his post was because of Queen Persephone. Both of their heads were bent close, looking over the scroll Charon delivered for Hermes.

Hypnos pulled his quills out and gestured to a shade to step forward.

Even with Dusa and some of the worker shades' help, there were still far too many humans waiting.

He could hear some of the children crying, some with their families but more without. Normally, he and Dusa didn't talk or even like the other that much, Hypnos admitted to himself, but the grimaces they shared made him soften just a bit.

This just made him more sure in his decision not to have Y/N help with this mess that Ares created. She was already too kind for her own good and the crying children and grief-sick humans would break her heart.

The farther he could keep Y/N away from this, the better.

#hypnos x reader #hypnos x female!reader #marriage au #hades hypnos

41 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

I Promise (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4722 Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

PART 1

In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly.

His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.

His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.

“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”

Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space.

“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.”

You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back.

It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought.

A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home.

It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date.

The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of.

Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time.

Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive.

You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship.

When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.

As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you.

You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…

Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.

“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob.

Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know?

Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…”

His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”

Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”

“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”

You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.

“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted.

Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun.

“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.”

He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”

Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”

“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.

Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt.

He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted.

Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side.

“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”

Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.

“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.

Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”

He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.”

Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!”

“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely.

There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something.

“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”

Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.

There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world.

Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there.

Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.

“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.”

Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.

“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.”

When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.

Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.

It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.

“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”

He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need.

Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision.

“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew.

It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him.

Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.

It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence.

“Y/N… if anything happens…”

“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.

“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.”

He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.

You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before.

His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.

A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.

He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas.

Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”

There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.”

It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.

With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone.

Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.

While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…”

His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”

“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.

Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music.

Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad.

It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.

A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt.

This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.

The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms.

Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you.

“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more.

“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence.

You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it.

“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time.

There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”

Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris.

“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition.

He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”

A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”

The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.

“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut.

He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms.

Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.

#chris beck x reader #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck fluff #dad!chris beck #chris beck x you

526 notes · View notes