#I've been laid gently in the cold dark earth

[the-moon-and-stars]

you are amazing !! love your writing , could you maybe make a amane oneshot where he takes you stargazing and he then cuddles you? btw u are awsome stay hydrated and have a lovely day ! :)

A/N: Wow, it's been awhile since I've done one of these, and this is a really old request, but I miss writing and I miss you guys. <3 Took my time on this one, and I haven't written anything tbhk related in a good minute, so bare with me. Warnings: Nothing but pure fluff

Amane’s hand grabbed yours as he pulled you towards him, his eyes illuminating under the moonlit gaze peeking from the window as you both stood still by the stairwell, the shadows from the dark corner peeking behind his back seemed only to define his features more.

An amused laugh bubbled in your throat as your eyebrow raised, “Amane, you know it’s well after school hours, what are you doing?” Your eyes glanced down to your hand interlaced with his, you felt the gentle squeeze tatter against your skin, throughout your whole body, your eyes finding his again. “I can’t spend extra time with my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, Amane always tried to smooth talk his way out of things, especially when mischief was born from it. “We need to go home.” 

Amane let out a sigh of defeat, for a moment you thought you’d convince him, but this is Amane we’re talking about. “We will, after this.” He proceeded to drag you up the steps, the abrupt movement making you almost trip, and you held onto the railing for stability. Your shouts of protest went to vain as he pushed the door open that led to the roof.

The soft breeze gently cupped your face as your eyes wandered to the scene in front of you. There was a blanket set down with constellations scattered across the dark blue fabric. His telescope was set next to the blanket, inviting you to peek through into a starlit fantasy that rested in the night sky.

You walked forward, your hand gently losing its grip from Amane’s as you moved closer to the blanket, you couldn’t help but smile. You knelt down, your knees hitting the cotton below as your hands ran through the fluffy sewn blanket. 

“You did this.. For me?” You turned to the boy who was only standing a few inches away, a smile laid on his features, due to the moonlight you could even see the canthal lines at the corners of his eyes, he never looked happier. His eyes appeared to match the constellations that laid on the sheet you were kneeling on now. He walked closer to you as you scooted over to give room for him to sit with you.

Sitting beside you, you noticed how nervous he was, a faint blush stained his cheeks and his hands stilled on his knees, but you could see his thumb lightly tapping the fabric of the jeans. 

“I did.” Amane’s head turned to face yours, his hand finding yours, a touch that was made so many times yet this felt more intimate. It burned into your skin as his hand clasped yours, guiding you closer to the telescope in front of you. The metal was cold against your skin as you brought your eye to the smaller hole of the telescope, allowing you to get a closer glimpse of the stars above.

Amane’s hands reached and turned the telescope to the right while you were looking through, his other hand rested on your shoulder. “You see that?” 

You hummed in response, looking at the star that seemed to shine brighter than the rest, like a mini sun, and coincidentally, that’s exactly what it was. “They call that one Sirius, it’s actually one of the brightest stars up there, and the closest to Earth.”

A small smile was placed on your lips as you listened to him explaining the star to you. You could hear the passion in his voice as he said these facts so easily, like they were engraved in his memory, saying them was as easy as breathing, not one stutter. The star shone, and you monovered your hands so you were able to zoom in on the bright light, noticing just how similar yet so different it was to the others that surrounded it. “It’s beautiful…”

You heard small movements behind you, the blanket becoming a bit disarray from the shuffling. You felt hands placed on your hips as Amane slowly pulled you away from the telescope. “Hey, I wasn’t done-”

Your sentence was cut short when you felt his head rest itself on your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin, making you more self aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His hands and arms wrapped around your lower stomach as he pressed you further into him. Your arms popped with goosebumps and an uncontrollable smile fought its way on your face.

“I wanted to show you this, to show you how beautiful the stars are,” Amane mumbled, the feeling of his lips lightly pressing against your skin as he spoke brought heat up from your neck to your cheeks. “And how it’s not enough to ever take my eyes off you.” 

Your smile broadened as your hand moved down and rested on top of his, the padding of your thumb gently caressing his knuckles. You looked up at the night sky, your lashes fluttering and your gaze dazed with pure bliss. “Nothing could ever pull my eyes from you either.”

Amane held you tighter in response, indulging himself in your smell, how sweet it was and your touch, the softness of your skin that brought an eerie calm to him. How your voice sounded and the small breaths you took in a serene moment such as this one.

He had you in his hands, he was able to reach you and admire you up close the way he wanted to, unlike the moon that’ll always be a beauty from afar. The difference between you and the stars in Amane’s eyes was that you were simply ineffable, the sky couldn’t come close.

[farmergilesofham]

The Vanguard Swimsuit Fic, Part 7: Snow-blind

Elsie Bray sat on an outcrop of Europan ice, overlooking the vast, gently hilly expanse of the frozen moon. She should have been inside, enjoying the warmth, but there was something so tranquil about this place, something she couldn't quite get enough of; even after dozens of timelines, she could always rely on this view to recapture some semblance of inner peace.

The stars only knew she needed it. That madcap plan of Ikora's would have given her a migraine, were it not for being mechanical - and, exo or no, it had been a terribly worrying endeavour. So Elsie sat here, on this subzero cliff, soaking in the calm of this place.

The shimmering sound of a transmat turned her head. Still partway through phasing in, Agnalla - the Young Wolf, the Guardian, Bane of Gods - gave an excited wave, exuding obvious joy even with a helmeted face. Elsie's own split into a smile, as the Guardian joined her on the ledge, dropping down to hang their legs over the side.

For a few moments, they just looked at eachother, basking in the cold light of the sun, and gently swinging their legs over the hundred-foot gap. Agni's hand drifted over to Elsie's, sharing that tiny scrap of warmth. Elsie kept telling Agnalla to get a proper glove.

They kept bringing this one.

It was the exo who first broke the contented silence, pulling the hood off her head and propping herself back on her arms:

"How is Eris?"

"She's tired, but better"

"And how are you?"

The silence returned for a few seconds, as the Guardian looked off into the horizon. Elsie waited patiently, watching her friend organise their thoughts.

"I've been better. What about you?"

"About the same, really. Patrols and cargo runs, Vanguard operations and so forth. I will say - it's been slowing down. Eramis' forces have stopped making trouble, except for resource runs. Almost like they don't want to fight anymore."

"Hm."

Elsie laid her head on the Young Wolf's shoulder, exhaling a long, slow breath. Little gears clicked over the brief flow of warm water vapour, whirring quietly as the mist crystallised into a thin wisp of snow, settling on the ice between them.

"I've missed you."

There was a fizz, and a light movement of air, as Agnalla's helmet dematerialised. Long locks of dark hair tumbled out, a single curl draping roguishly over Elsie's eyes, blurring her view of the Guardian.

"I've missed you t--"

Elsie stopped, moving the hair away. Hot tears had welled up out of nowhere, clouding honey-yellow eyes and tumbling down that skin like oiled mahogany, dripping off their chin and shattering, frozen, against the ground. There came a great hiccough, and a trembling lip, and a ragged sniff of breath.

"I-"

Agni reached for Elsie, to regain composure and stand, except suddenly it was all they could do to hold on, as the tears came hot and loud and all at once. They wept like they hadn't wept in years - blubbering and stumbling over half-formed words, burying themselves in Elsie's chest.

She held Agni close, and did not let go.

----

Some time later, the fog over their eyes cleared, and Agnalla finally regained strength enough to get up off Elsie. Wiping their eyes, they barked a sudden rough-voiced laugh, sniffing fitfully.

"You know, I came here to ask if you wanted to be in a calendar,"

"Well, you still can, Agni"

"Heh, yeah. I know. Would you?"

Elsie turned the idea over in her head, considering. She'd heard about the Calendar - it seemed a funny way to raise money, given the propensity of guardians to maintain unreadable looks and thousand-yard stares in her presence, but truth be told, nothing even remotely similar had ever happened in the other timelines. Maybe, with the local Fallen now so calm, she could go - the view here was nice, yes, but it would make a nice change of pace to visit an Earth beach again.

"Hell, why not. I'll be there."

The Guardian smiled, then got up.

"Oh, make sure Drifter comes along too."

"Germaine? You think he won't come willingly?"

The snow crunched underfoot, and Agnalla stopped. A gust of wind whirled by, whistling past them before dying down.

"Truth, I think he might try weaselling his way out of this. It's why I'm asking you to make sure he comes along."

"Alright. Good luck gathering the team, Guardian."

And with a rush like flowing water, Elsie was alone. It was cold out there. She went inside for some hot tea.

xxxxxxxxx

AAAAAAA hello and welcome to part 7!

Just days after part 6??

Yeah!!

I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and I thank you for giving it your time. Speaking of,

Next time, on the VSF: auugh rwubudgah

[newyorkreject]

Raw

I guess ill see you around

When the wind blows

And the leaves turn brown.

When all i hear is screaming

Yet no ones making a sound.

I sometimes see you on my skin

When the sun has been beating down.

I see you in my dreams

Or when im higher than these dark clouds.

I try to calm the rain, the storm,

But, instead, the thunder-

The lightning calms me down.

The water falls, falls in love from the sky.

Hits the thin blades of grass,

The cold darkness of the roads pavement.

It's a union I've been seeing more and more recently,

A union, huh,

Reminds me of you.

The mountains cut deep into this atmosphere,

Has the sky by the throat,

Killing it yet holding it dear, oh,

Reminds you of me?

You can feel the ashes burrow into your lungs, your skin,

The smoke, the invisible flames engulf this paper mache town,

Made of newspaper clippings and headlines of the end of the world

And the glue of shed blood and tears oh,

Go head and ask me

If that makes for a good adhesive

And, for you,

I'll have an answer.

The sun goes down and kisses the other side of Earth's face

As the dying moon weakly climbs up the coast to take its place.

Over the waters, the oceans, the barren land,

I feel your emptiness take up this absence of space.

The subject of me feels like a topic in Sunday school,

Where the good Lord brings me up just to test you.

The dust on those old books collecting

Like a blood pool on the shelves.

At this time, it's all currently history-

Nothing but forgotten words sleeping on thin fragile biblical paper,

Oh won't you use me

To roll up that of the Devil?

That is all I use it for now.

For if it can't bring me salvation,

I'll find a way for it to bring me peace.

Let your fingers gently draw over the scars we once caused,

Let the burn marks illicit visions of the hell I went through.

I am still haunted

By the cackling of burnt embers,

Of the smell of a rancid camp fire,

Of the screams, oh the screams

Oh, of it all.

The Devil's hands are softer

Then yours.

His nails scraping layer after layer of skin

To where the calcium from my broken bones laid still

Hidden underneath of them.

For me to have been reborn.

Darling, but not a darling of mine,

I had to

Bleed.

I have to

Shed

The skin you had touched.

For me to have been reborn

I had to

Go

Raw.

[idolsummons]

Clarity

Tokyo Horror drabble. Don't you just want to go ape shit.

Trigger warnings for blood, gore, death, cannibalism. Drabble also includes zalgo text.

'You god damn monster!' The knife was thrust down into her torso. The wound it left behind joined a myriad of others. 'Why... won't... you... die!' Her 'blood' - which was rather a foul-smelling, dark, goop-like substance - exited her body (seeping would be the wrong word given its consistency). Her attacker did not turn tail and run at the horrid stench as others might, and instead continued to stab the knife into her as she laid on the ground, unresponsive. She had never screamed or cried or begged for her freedom - this was probably for the best. Colour drained from her cheeks as did the life from her eyes until Hana was well and truly dead.

He huffed and puffed and finally got up from his position kneeling over the deceased woman. He gave her one final hard kick. 'Fuck you, you god damn fucking... unnatural piece of shit.' And he turned to leave.

...

...

...

D̵͚̅o̷̟̓ ̶̖̌y̶̞̮͛͘ǒ̴̥͠u̵̦̅͗ ̵̭̯͛t̵̨͖͛͝ĥ̷͓̲̄i̶̜̙̋̇n̶̹̓̓k̵̻̂̎ ̶̱̩͛İ̵͙̈́'̵͚̭̿m̵̹̪̃ ̸̢͉̈́͋g̴̭̃ͅó̸̩͝i̵̹̹̊́n̵͎̕̚g̷̣͠ ̴͙̲͝͝t̸̟̏̓o̷̱͂ ̶̘̇̈́l̷̗̝͒̂e̴̝̞̋͋ẗ̶͚͒ ̶͉̞́͋ý̸̩̦̽ó̸̺͎u̶̩̅ ̵̢̼̿̉d̴̜͙͌͠ǐ̵̹̊e̶̞̠͑͘,̶̺͇̔̀ ̴̙̼͝m̷̡̳̅ẏ̸̨̔ ̶̖̋̉č̸̦͘ḧ̸̗̜ḭ̴͋l̸̡̝̀͝d̵̙̮̕͝?̶͕̠͆ Her blood travelled across her body, finding its place and hardening there. I̵ ̴d̴i̶d̸ ̶n̸o̴t̵ ̴p̵u̶t̴ ̸y̸o̶u̸ ̸o̶n̷ ̶t̶h̷i̵s̸ ̶w̵o̷r̴l̶d̷ ̷t̷o̵ ̶m̷e̶e̸t̵ ̷a̴ ̵p̷r̵e̵m̷a̷t̸u̵r̸e̴ ̶e̵n̸d̴.̶ Her teeth turned sharp and were joined by a second row - a procedure that would be painful were she alive for it. You will get up again and again until such time that I deem you worthy of joining us. Do you understand? Her eyes darkened until they were completely black. She took a sharp breath and her heart began thudding in her chest.

He continued walking briskly from the scene of his crime. He never thought himself to be capable of such a heinous act but, as long as he wasn't found in the vicinity, he figured nobody cared if a thing like that was no longer walking the earth. He stopped. Footsteps other than his own. Crap. Keep walking. He fastened his pace but so, too, did those other footsteps. 'This shit isn't funny,' he called gently. 'Who's there?' 'Just me.' He screamed, fell onto the cold pavement below. 'Wh- what the fuck?' He drew the knife and held it out. 'I killed you!' But she wasn't the same. There was no humanity in those eyes, out of which that dark, bloody substance threatened to weep. The skin on her arms faded into black - he couldn't say for sure it was skin - and the tips of her fingers had sharpened claws. 'You thought you could kill me?' She grinned, and he could see that her teeth were sharp now, and it appeared that there were more teeth behind them. She stepped forward. He attempted to scoot back, though he found it hard for his feet to find purchase. 'I'm a god damn monster, aren't I?' She raised her voice and shouted, 'You think you can just kill a god damn monster?' But when she shouted her voice was not the same; it was like someone else spoke with her, a deep and horrid, unearthly voice. 'I'll show you what a god damn monster can do!' She lunged at him and he screamed once again. Although the knife found the space between her ribs, she was not dissuaded. She tore at his throat with those beast-like claws and it was only a matter of seconds before his life had met its end. You have done well, my child, said that familiar voice, one which had been with her whole life - but now, somehow, it was more comprehensible, more caring. You may take your reward. 'My reward?' Hana asked, and it was the first time she had ever indulged it by responding. 'I've already gotten my revenge.' You have abstained your whole life. It is only right that you take what you now rightfully deserve. Hana did not move as she listened, thumbs still digging into his carotids and blood continuing to soak her hands. Your reward is to be his flesh. Hesitance. It did not last long until she finally gave into that temptation, that voice which had been demanding this of her since childhood. With teeth and claws both she tore into the dead man's flesh, devouring until she could devour no more, until blood and flesh covered her hands and her face. For the first time ever, the voice was silent. And once her brain had cleared and the bloodlust was gone, Hana looked down upon her handiwork. She could not cry for she was not filled with sorrow for the passing of a man who had tried to kill her; all she felt was the pang of regret. She had become the monster she had always been accused of being.

[storyhaunt]

if you had asked mircea not ten years prior where he believed himself to end up in the future, he could only guess dead - and that would only be if he was lucky. he had no hopes of setting, of peace; the life that his mother and father were lucky enough to capture for themselves was not a luxury that van helsing had ever imagined he would be afforded. and yet, as fate would seem to have it, god did have it in him to smile on van helsing every once in awhile, even if the hunter could not find it in himself to be wholly appreciative of that which he was blessed with until much, much later.

he never would have imagined it, lying beside that once-prick of a sorcerer who aggravated him to no end, tormented his every waking moment with irritating prattles and jibes that he tried to meet with cold apathy as best he could. to stare into gray eyes that seemed to have once wished all the scorns of the earth and heavens alike on him, now gazing upon him with an adoration and reverence which his stomach flutter. the man he would have gagged at the sight of before, who he now laid bare with in a bed that was their own - their bed, of all things. between them drifts light and teasing banter that would have been all hissing and stabbing in those early and hot-tempered days, jests of witchery and hunts.

" haven't you already hunted me enough, dearest? you've already won your quarry. what more could you possibly want with me? "

a hum rises in the hunters throat, thoughtful and contemplative. the warm palm that rests upon his beloved's cheek slips smoothly off, ghosting down and across soft skin in a teasing and affectionate gesture; fingers dancing down jaw and neck and chest alike, skimming so briefly over bare stomach, before he takes to tracing nails instead of fingerpads against the lean flesh there, shifting and moving, carefully grasping regulus' hip instead of bothering him further. free hand followed the others lead, and mircea smiled slightly at his lover as he held him, and thumbs rubbed light, nigh-unnoticeable circles against him. against the tiny, fading bruises, earned a handful of nights ago now; bruises that @proditeur was sure to ask for again.

" said as though i've no reason to give chase any longer. " the hands which have settled on regulus's hip bend at the elbow, gently yet firmly urging the sorcerer closer to him, if it were any more possible. dark eyes twinkle with a not-unfamiliar light, then - the beginnings of a flame, curious and ever warm. " said as though you don't enjoy being sought after - or perhaps it's the thrill of danger that riles you so. now that would certainly explain much. "

but it was not what regulus asked. mircea gave another tug; a few too-far inches is all that laid between them, now. " but - you do not 'win' quarry, my love. you earn it. you were not a gift placed before me, an object given; you were one whom i fought for and earned, by the choice of your own hand and mine. " mircea dips forward, only a little bit, to place a feather-light kiss to the dupois' jaw. " i hunted you - and i chased you - and i will do so a thousand more times in this life, and i will continue into the next. i will never tire of it, understand that; the thought of giving hunt to you, my love, gives me purpose. which, i suppose i have won in that regard. " another kiss, once more to the jaw. then, within that same short second, he kisses the vulnerable warmth of regulus' neck, a sweet and fleeting thing settled upon the sensitive pulse-point which ran the length of it. thumb of left hand presses oh, so lightly against one of those bruises. his teasing is clear and rings loud, now; he will apologize later for his cruel behavior.

and still, he has not answered the question he has been faced with.

" when it comes to what i want with you - " a kiss to adam's apple, and then up again, a soft peck to his jaw once more, " - everything. to see a thousand sunrises and sunsets with you; to eat with you at the table; to spend our days discussing all manners of fauna and flora that might exist in this world and others, " hand skims and dances up, finding its previous resting place upon regulus' cheek, before shifting to cradle the back of his lover's head, to tangle in the dark hair there, " i want to give you the same purpose that you give me. "

he cannot tell how long they stay like that, how long they may kiss each other. mircea pays little attention to who makes what sounds, soft as they may be, but they fill his peripherals and accent his musings as he thinks about regulus. insufferable regulus, his sun and his stars, one of the few things keeping him tethered to this place, this life as they know it; clever and cunning, with wit sharper than any blade, teeming with an intellect more dangerous than anything mircea himself could hope to produce. his sounds and his hands and his thoughts, and never will he be able to stress what any of it means to him. after what must have been a hundred years locked together, mircea pulls away, breathes - and were his eyes not already dark as the night itself, regulus would see the pupils blown wide.

something mischievous flitters across his expression, then, the only warning regulus gets before mircea speaks.

" just as well - i want to have you bound and held down, as quarry ought to be, and to ravish you and break you until you can't remember your own name. but that is not so important as the rest. "

[basiccortez]

note: I've talked before how much this song means to me and also how much I dread whenever it comes on. If those men ever did a cover of it, I would simply never listen to it.

warnings: sad. mentions of child death. grieving parents. pairing: Jake x F! reader masterlist

That dreaded day came every year, like clockwork. There was a reason parents were supposed to die before their kids. It was so they didn’t have to live with the constant pain and reminder. Their house was quiet, no sounds of giggles or running feet. Everything was clean and tidy, no loose shoes and toys strewn out across the living room floor, or tutus and crayons in the basement. The color had left too, no more bright pinks and yellows, it was all pale grays and beiges. 

Every year they were constantly reminded of what they had. He’d roll over in the morning and see that she was already out of bed, more than likely sitting in their daughter’s room on the floor, staring at the empty bed that was still made and covered in stuffed animals. Even though it had been three years, neither one could find the strength to pack it up, everything still laid in its spot like a frozen time capsule. 

Jake pushed himself from the bed with a groan, placing his feet on the cold hardwood. He looked over at the family picture that sat on his bedside table, it was one of the last photoshoots they ever had with her. She looked so fragile, like she could break at any moment. You could tell by looking at her that she was sick, that her body was slowly shutting down, but her bright smile distracted you as she shined in the sun. Jake picked up the frame and gently ran his finger tips over the glass. It was also probably the last time he had seen Y/N smile. Jake set the picture frame back down and stood up, stretching his back slightly, and walking over to the window. He wasn’t surprised when he pulled the curtains back to see a gray, cloudy overcast sky. It always seemed to rain on this day. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her sitting at the table in the kitchen facing the large window. Jake saw the cup of coffee, still hot, sitting next to her on the table. The room felt cold, the gray from outside not helping the feel at all. Jake walked over to her, and gently touched her shoulder. She jumped slightly and looked over her shoulder, tears evident on her face. 

“Morning, love,” Jake said and kissed her forehead. Y/N closed her eyes and nodded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, “What do you want to do today?” 

“I’m not sure,” Y/N said softly. It was her answer every year. She never knew what to do. How does one spend the day their child died? Jake sighed and patted her shoulder, walking away from her and going to make them breakfast.

He pulled his phone out of his pajama pants and looked at the various messages left from friends and family. Each one telling him how they are thinking of him and Y/N today, or how it’s unfair that their little girl was taken from them too early, or how they’ve never forgotten her sweet smile and laughter. 

“Do you want to listen to music?” Jake asked, trying to fill the silence. 

“No,” Y/N said quickly. Again, like every year, she shot down the idea of music, too afraid that that song will come on. Even on the other 364 days a year, she was scared that song would come whether she was driving home listening to the radio, or playing music from her phone. She hadn’t been able to listen to that song in full since the day they said goodbye forever. 

“We can go visit her later?” Jake said in more of a question than a statement.

 It was like pulling teeth sometimes to get Y/N to go with him to visit their daughter’s grave. Jake liked going, he liked sitting in the grass on a blanket with his guitar, and quietly playing to her, like he would’ve if she was still here. Y/N didn’t like going. She didn’t like knowing her little girl was buried alone, in the cold dark earth. She knew that her soul wasn’t in the dark earth, that she had left and was dancing among the sun, no longer in pain and suffering. 

Y/N didn’t say anything, but buried her face in her hands and let out a loud sob. Jake paused what he was doing, and just listened to her cry. He knew there was no comforting her on a day like this, no matter how hard he tried. He had learned over the years that she just wanted to be left alone, and that’s what he did. He went about making them breakfast as she sat at the table and cried. These pockets of emotion would happen throughout the day, and it was best to just let them be and let them happen. 

After breakfast, they sat on the couch, choosing to watch a movie to distract them. Jake noticed that she held onto their daughter’s tattered teddy bear that she had drug everywhere. Y/N held it close to her chest as she cuddled into Jake, occasionally taking a deep sniff of it. Y/N was still amazed that it smelled like their sweet little girl; like lavender and antiseptic from the hospital. Jake would occasionally get off the couch when the doorbell would ring, someone sending them a memorial flower arrangement or a fruit basket. 

“Do you think she knows what today is?” Y/N asked Jake softly. 

“I don’t know. . . I would think she probably knows the jist of it,” He answered, “I like to think that she had people waiting for her when she got there.” 

Y/N nodded and looked down at the teddy bear with the ripped ear, “I bet my mom was there. . .or my grandpa. Or the dog I had in elementary school.” 

Jake smiled, “I know my grandma was there, she probably had cookies or something baked waiting for her.” 

“I hope they’ve been nice to her,” Y/N said, her voice breaking. Jake sniffled and held her close, rubbing her back as she cried, “Cause I know she’s being nice to everyone, and smiling at them and complimenting their eyes. God, she was like Josh in the way she noticed people’s eyes.” 

Jake nodded and let his own tears fall freely. The two of them sat in silence as they cried on the couch, letting the movie playout. The sounds of rain pelting the roof and windows slowly pulled them to sleep as they both fell into a nap, holding each other, the teddy bear placed in between them. 

When they awoke, they noticed the rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still gray. Y/N had agreed to go with Jake to the cemetery to take some flowers and spend time with their little girl. Y/N didn’t say anything the whole drive there, looking out the window at their surroundings. Memories of the day of her funeral filled her mind, as they passed the familiar church and drove to her final resting place. Jake parked on the road near her headstone and put the car in park. He sighed and turned to face his wife, who had tears streaming down her face. 

“We can leave-” 

“No,” Y/N whispered, “She needs us both here.” 

Jake grabbed Y/N’s hand and kissed it. He got out of the driver’s side and quickly jogged to her side, opening the door and grabbing her hand. The earth was still wet from the constant rain of the day, as they walked in the wet grass up to the black head stone. Y/N let out a shaky breath as they stopped in front of the beautiful black stone, with their daughter’s name engraved in gray writing. 

‘Viola Elizabeth Kiszka. 

February 12th 2016- April 6th 2019’ 

Y/N ran her hands over the engraving as Jake placed the small vase of flowers in front of her headstone. The smiling engraved picture of their daughter looking back at them. The picture captured almost everything about Viola, even her bright brown eyes and smile. It was almost like it was real, like they could reach out and grab her from it. Y/N stepped back, clenching her jaw as a cold wind blew through, making the wind chimes in the tree they planted ring. They paused for a second, both too stunned to speak, as a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds. 

Y/N picked her head up from Jake’s chest, and looked at the bright light as it shone on them, making them feel warm for the first time in years. She gently took a step away from Jake, almost as if she was getting closer to the sun. Jake watched her as Y/N closed her eyes, taking in the moment, as the clouds slowly started to roll together, ceasing the sunlight. She opened her eyes, and looked towards the sky, as if their daughter had sent that beam of light to them. Jake walked towards and placed a kiss on the stone, patting it and then turning to his wife. He grabbed her hand and the two of them walked back to the car, in a little bit better feel than before. 

It wasn’t a happy feeling, it wasn’t an angry feeling, it was a peaceful feeling. They both settled into their seats and Jake started the car. Both of them froze as they heard the opening chords of that song. Jake moved quickly, going to change the channel but Y/N stopped him. Jake looked at her with wide eyes, as she smiled and then looked back at her daughter’s headstone. 

“Thank you, baby.” Y/N said and Jake smiled shyly to himself. He turned the song up just a little bit, as he put the car in drive and slowly drove off from her grave. 

The clouds once again rolled back, letting a beam of light shine down on the little girl’s grave, making the engraved quote on the headstone stand out even more than it already did. 

‘Here Comes the Sun. . .’

-- -- --

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[archivalsapphic]

The Magnus Archives Entities as Hozier Songs

you're just going to have to go with me on this. (the fears as hozier songs but my justification gets weaker as you go along.)

vague entity-related spoilers throughout but i've mentioned specific s5 spoiler warnings where relevant.

the corruption - in a week : it's a love song about decaying and decomposing with the insects.

the desolation - arsonist's lullabye : i also considered would that i for this one which i still think applies, (and would definitely use for an agnes montague playlist) but i couldn't ignore a song about arson for the desolation.

the hunt - it will come back : this one has the "animalistic fear" vibe to it and reminds me a lot of the dynamic between basira and daisy (spoilers for MAG 179 and 180 in the remainder of this paragraph) because of the way basira can track daisy and daisy can recognise basira as the person she cared about and who had her back even when she's been lost to the hunt.

the extinction - be : not technically one of the fourteen, i know, but this one started the entire post idea in my head so i had to include it. i thought about wasteland, baby! and no plan but there's something so final and dramatic about be that i think fits the extinction very well.

the buried - work song : it's the being "laid gently in the cold dark earth" and the description of "crawling home."

the flesh - angel of small death & the codeine scene : "i lay my heart down with the rest at her feet / fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile / it's bloody and raw but i swear it is sweet" (MAG 171 spoilers) something about these lines reminds me of the flesh garden

the stranger - someone new : "electing strange perfections in any stranger i choose" for the way the stranger takes pieces, faces and names from people. also the idea of falling in love with "someone new" every day not because they're literally strangers walking down the street but because the stranger can entirely replace people you know.

the web - movement : the only connection i have here is the line "when you move i move" because it reminds me of Strung Out

the spiral - in the woods somewhere : this was one of the others i was thinking about for the hunt but there's something about the disorientated theme of the song with the fever and the line "i pray my mind be good to me" that i think applies to the spiral

the end - wasteland, baby! : honestly i could write an entire separate post on this but i'm rambling as is so go read the lyrics <3

the dark - no plan : "there will be darkness again" / "sit in and watch the sunlight fade"

the lonely - to noise making (sing) : honestly just the line "at best you'll find a little remedy / at worst the world will sing along"

the vast - sunlight : another one i struggled with. i decided to use sunlight solely because of the lines "strap the wing to me/ death trap clad happily/ wax melted, i'd meet the sea." because of the falling and the mention of the sea

the eye - from eden : "innocence died screaming, honey ask me, i should know." kind of self explanatory because Knowing things.

the slaughter - take me to church : the only vague explanation i can offer is "in the madness and soil of that sad, earthly scene" reminds me of MAG 163.

[asahipleaseloveme]

Hey my submission for your 200 follower event if I'm not too late. You can ignore this if i am.

HQ Character - Azumane Asahi

Favorite Color - Serulian

Favorite Quote or Lyric - (there are two from the same song which i love and i CANNOT choose them so I'll leave that to you, if that's okay)

"When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her"

AND

"My baby never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamp light I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me"

[Work Song by Hozier]

Ideal Date - Beach picnic watching a sunset and then stargazing

Hi Hi Hi! I'm so, so, so, SO sorry this took so long. I've been in a little bit of a slump. Anyway, I hope you like this!! Thanks for being patient

The amount of stress you were under was immense. If you had to deal with one more unruly customer, you would have surely snapped. You were thankful that it was finally Friday and you were ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with your boyfriend.

When you entered the apartment, you saw Asahi scrambling back and forth from room to room.

"Asahi?" you quirked an eyebrow.

"______! You're finally home! I've been waiting to surprise you," he peeked out from the bedroom.

"Surprise me with what?"

He walked into the living with a couple of packed bags in hand.

"I thought we could take a mini vacation! Like, just a weekend getaway. If we leave now, we can still have a couple hours of daylight to spend at the beach," he smiled at you.

"Well, what are we waiting for!" you smiled back as you grabbed his hand and headed out the door.

There were a few hiccups in your car ride, so you arrived closer to sunset than Asahi had planned. After getting everything set up in the beach house, you grabbed a blanket and told Asahi to follow you.

"Huh? It's getting a little late, there's not much we can do out there."

"I beg to differ. Just follow me, goober."

Asahi turned red at your playful nickname. He took your hand and followed you. You found a spot you deemed suitable and laid the blanket on the sand. You plopped down and patted the spot next to you. Asahi blinked at you a couple of times before finally sitting down.

"We can still watch the sunset. And then we can watch the stars," you stared at him with the largest grin on your face. Asahi smiled back at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

The cerulean waves of the ocean complemented the orange and pinks of the sky. You had forgotten how beautiful sunsets could be. A quietness sat between you and Asahi, the only sound was the waves crashing against the shore. The sun hit the horizon and you snuggled closer to Asahi. He wrapped an arm around you and kissed your head.

The sky began to turn to a darker blue when Asahi suddenly got up.

"I'll be right back, just gotta grab a couple of things."

He returned a few moments later with some drinks, a bluetooth speaker, and a smaller blanket.

"Thought we could get comfy," he threw the blanket on top of your head, which caused you to laugh as you struggled trying to get it off. He sat down next to you and set the speaker up. As more and more stars popped up in the night sky, you and Asahi snuggled up together listening as your favorite Hozier song played softly in the background.

"I never took you for the spontaneous type, Azumane Asahi."

"Well, you've been working really hard. And I figured you needed something to help you relax. I know how much you love the beach, so I thought this would be the perfect getaway."

"Hm, I love you," you scooted closer and kissed the tip of his nose.

"I love you, too," he said back. He heard a light snore coming from you and all he could do was smile. He continued to lay with you for a little while longer. As you slept, Asahi counted his lucky stars, with you being the biggest and brightest.

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

Feedback's welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp @januarystears @courtofjurdan @ladylochan

[flowercrown-bucky]

The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen? 

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left."  Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

[miighted]

'i'm so sorry for being gone so long, for leaving everything to you.' he'd almost not come back, it would have been so much easier to stay shying away from all the pain and regret. but, for all it hurt to return, he could never miss such a day, he could never shun the one he loved so dearly. his arms wrapped around him so tenderly, desperately, almost afraid he would slip away like all else. 'happy birthday, my knight. i've missed you more than you know... let this year be better, for us all.'

                At the bottom of the sea lay Garen Crownguard and his soul, his heart the anchor keeping him buried in the depths of his own thoughts. Everything in him ached from his shoulders down to his bones, to his lungs, to his soul, the weight of death sitting heavy on his back. The cold eyes of the High Marshal had been no comfort when he returned home with only a third of the soldiers he’d left for Nockmirch with, all of them weary and tired, silent as they marched back into the capital. The number of shields he carried to the homes of different families all made him feel as heavy as stone, each step of his boots feeling harder and harder to lift, each time he pulled himself up on his horse to ride to another door became a greater and greater effort to heave his aching soul up. 

                The night they had returned, after standing in the wake of his aunt’s cold words and reprimands that felt like lashes to his already beaten back, Garen had dragged his heart with him to his quarters. He held his chin high and kept his jaw locked for his soldier’s sake, for their pride, for their resolve. He was to be their leader and pillar, to be the one who rallied their spirits to remain strong and bold. As soon as he shut the door behind him though, the armor of the paragon fell away to just the bare and beaten man with the guilt of too many lives carved into his back. 

                He wrote all of their names down, every one, lingering on each stroke of ink. Half way through the list, his fingers began to tremble, and by the end of it, his shoulders were shaking while he furiously bit his lip to keep from weeping over the still wet ink. When he was done, he collapsed in on himself, slumping forward into his folded arms and sobbing into them. The thin cotton of his shirt was clamped between his teeth in an effort to muffled his sounds, but the Protector was still his witness and She could see just how his grief and guilt raked through him body and soul. 

                He ached, he ached, he ached. 

                There was no joy to be had when his birthday came, no light to see breaking through the dark gray clouds of the sky. Luxanna was no longer in the capital to pull him away from his work or to take his arm during the Snowdown festivities and remind him that the day was special. Without her, there became ever little reason to find any desire in his heart to celebrate. What was there to celebrate? Garen could not think of any reason to seek out a senseless joy when the weight of all his fallen soldiers was enough to bury him with. Each night since the Vanguard’s return from Nockmirch, Garen read over the list of names he had written, and each one was another stone to build the castle of his grief with. There were new names among their ranks now, new names and faces for him to commit to memory and no matter his grief, he would stand tall when he met and welcomed them, but here in his own room he would allow himself this one respite to nurture his wounds. 

                Garen spent the day in solitude, locked in the confines of his own quarters, soaking in the well of guilt and grief he struggled with. If he had been stronger, quicker, if he had done just a little bit more, perhaps some of those precious lives would not have been lost. He had not expected nor did he want to address the knock that came against the heavy wood door of his quarters as he stewed in these thoughts. His body ached as he rose from his desk nonetheless, his limbs felt as if they were carved from stone as he tried to move them, but tiredly he rose and drug a hand down his face to try and rub color back into his skin. Despite how he tried to hold himself to the image he maintained as Sword-Captain and as the might, Garen could not hide the dark shadows under his eyes. 

                When he opened the door, the face that greeted Garen almost brought him to tears all over again for new and similar reasons. Emotion swelled in Garen’s throat, a broken cry of both relief and a desperate need to seek comfort in the one person he felt he could ripping him apart from the inside. Like a wave crashing against the face of cliffs, Garen fell into the arms of his prince, his charge, his love. His arms melded to Jarvan’s body, fingers curling desperately into the cotton of his shirt as he all but melted into his form, head bowed and face pressed against his shoulder. In a rush, exhaustion seeped into his bones, making his entire feel heavy and tired, only held up by the arms of his prince. 

                “Jarvan...” his voice broke as the name fell from his lips, muffled by Garen having his face buried in the crook of his lover’s neck. 

                He raised his head finally as Jarvan spoke, desperately trying to memorized the features he already knew by heart anyway, to feel the warmth of his body against his own, to ingrain the sound of his voice as vividly as he could into his memory. It was a straining attempt all in an effort to allow the visage of his prince take precedence before the memories of bodies strewn across a stone bridge within his own thoughts, to allow at lease a moment of reprieve. All he wanted was to bask in the golden light of his lover, the blue of his eyes, the dark tresses of hair that draped so elegantly around his shoulders. Something kinder, something warmer, something and someone that was the anchor that pulled him back to earth once more.

                “I missed you too, my prince,” he murmured as one of his hands unfurled from the grasp he held on Jarvan’s clothing to press it against the curve of his cheek. Oh, he wished for the kind words his prince spoke to be true, how deeply he wanted for a gentler future to grace them, but he knew in the back of his mind that they had simply felt the thunder before a storm. Garen did not want to linger on such thoughts despite knowing that the precipice of change was coming to their country, and it was not coming gently. 

                Instead, Garen fell into the pool that was basking in the presence of the man he loved. His other hand rose to join the first, holding the strong curves of Jarvan’s face in the palms of his hands all while he tried to paint his memories with the pale blue of those eyes he loved so. The rough callouses of his thumbs brushed against the stubble on the prince’s cheeks, now longer than he often kept it after he had been gone from the capital for so long. The rough feeling of hair against his hands was comforting, tactile enough for him to focus on more than the list of names he had been pouring over within confines of his quarters for weeks now. Garen liked it, liked the feeling and look of the dark shadow against his sharp jawline. Aimlessly, he pressed forward, cheek and nose laid against the rough skin of his lover’s face before making the half inch turn to press his lips against the ones he knew better than his own. 

                He kissed Jarvan fervently, deeply, with all the anguish of a man who had been tormented by his own guilt in solitude for days on end. It was only here, between these four walls, and in the arms of the man he loved, did he make that confession known and felt. 

                “Will you stay with me?” he asks ( pleads, begs, hopes ), words barely spoken as little more than a breath leaving his lungs against the other man’s lips. “Please,” shortly follows, heartache weighting down heavily upon his voice. 

                “I need you with me, Jarvan, please...” the voice of the Might of Demacia can hardly be found in his words, rather, there is little more than the request of an aching man, once more bowing his head and trying to take refuge in the curve of Jarvan’s shoulder.

[mercurygray]

Dick and Joan - '“There is a full moon tonight.” any AU of your choice! Juno xx

I can have another historical AU, as a treat. Because early 16th century sounds good right now.

--

The song was taunting him.

He'd heard it sung often enough over the last six months,  but they'd trotted the whole thing out for the wedding feast and now it was stuck in his head like a buzzing fly.

He rode, he rode himself all alone, Until he came to lovely Joan.

His ears were still ringing with all of it, the songs and the tired jokes about plows and furrows and six miles into good English earth. But that was what one did at weddings, wasn't it, especially the wedding of the Captain of the Militia when Sir John Warren was buying the beer, because it wasn't every day you married the niece of a baronet. They'd had little to celebrate of late, and it was good to have a party. His men had been happy for him, or at least appeared so, coming to drink his health and that of his new wife, rowdy and profane, drunk and happy with their lot. But he'd heard other things, unkind things, too, about how men were glad it wasn't them - "But then with a name like Winters, he shan't much mind a frosty bitch."

But there was nothing cold about her now, sitting in the high-backed chair in front of the fire. One of her friends had helped her undress and unplaited her hair, and it hung, loose and wavy over the shoulders of her shift, dark and delicious in the firelight. Her waistcoat and skirts had been laid aside on their pegs, and the green leather pumps in which she'd danced so beautifully stood near the hearth.

"There's a full moon tonight," he said, gently closing the door behind him and checking to see that it latched. But she made no reply.

She was staring intently into the flames, and he left her be, unlacing his jerkin and removing his boots, scrubbing at a bit of dried sauce on his sleeve. Would she start tending to his clothes now? Or would that be Marjorie's domain? They were always so well turned out. How did one do this? What did one say? All the dirty jokes from earlier had turned his head around.

Finally she spoke. "Should you not like to inspect your prize? Make sure I'm worth what you're owed?"

He wished she wouldn't talk of owing - as if she were only her uncle's land patents, his position, his fortune. But that was how they'd seen her. Lovely Joan, nothing more than a road to power and position, playing the lady of the manor.

"I already know you're worth far more," He managed. "And you..." He paused, wondering if she'd hear what he wanted to say as he intended it. "I want you, Joan Warren, as badly as man's ever wanted a woman. That day when you came and stepped off that boat, I hadn't a thought in my mind to marry, but you - you're not a prize to be won, but you are to be prized, for your love and your warmth and your strength. And you deserve more than me."

"Want me? She repeated the words as if she didn't understand them.

"I've spent the last hour fighting my nature about it," he admitted, and it was like a weight was lifted. "But I'll kiss you, first, if I'm allowed."

She nodded, almost suddenly shy, and rose from her chair, and he closed the space between them, the planks of the floor strange beneath his feet. At the altar the touch of their lips had been chaste, dutiful - the seal on a covenant. This was far more than that, though it started slow - but he couldn't help but wrap his arms around her, delighted and afraid there was little more than linen between them. But she leaned into his kiss, making a small delighted noise when he pressed her closer to him and letting him continue until she broke away, suddenly, looking into his eyes.

"That day - by the river. The giggling girl."

He studied her with wonder. Of all the women, he hadn't thought she'd be the one to be spying on a man while he was mother naked at his bath. "That was you?"

She nodded, suddenly shy, and no man of any sense would have looked into her eyes and called them cold. "Oh, Mistress Winters," he said, trying to look grave and doubtless failing, his heart thrilling to hear her called by the name he wanted most badly for her. "We shall have to see what we can do about keeping you out of such mischief."

[jakeyfrye]

Happy Mothers Day, Dad.

Elizabeth came home from school with a rather dark cloud over her head, the topic today had her bummed out for a while. What made the day worst was Father not being home. At least Aunt Evie's here.

"Hello, Elizabeth." Evie greets in her chair as Ellie entered and sat on Evie's bed. Evie can tell something isn't right. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

Ellie nodded a little, "Where's Dad?" Oh, no wonder. She just missed Jacob already, Evie was a little worried that something happened at school. The last thing she wanted was Jacob busting into the school and causing mayhem until he found the one upsetting her and may have to move her to another school... again. Would he go that far? Oh defiantly, without a doubt. A side Evie never knew of him, she finds it adorable to see him over protective for a child but won't admit it to him.

"Today's mothers day... everyone talked about their mothers and I... well... I don't have a mother... not anymore..." Ellie hates thinking of the past, today it just brought her back to where she had it all to when she lost everything. Evie leans back in her chair, she couldn't help but think of her as Jacob when he was a child. All they had was a father but unlike Elizabeth, they have never had the chance to meet their mother.

Evie had no idea what is worst, having to lose a mother with or without knowing who they are. Actually they were both as bad. A slight story of the man Ellie calls father could cheer her up.

"You know, that brother of mine dreads the day for the exact same reason when he was young. In fact he made it sound like we had mother when people ask what he was going to get her on Mothers Day."

Ellie looks up at her with sadden but curious eyes. Evie relaxed in her seat a little more as she flicks through memory lane.

"Every after school on Mothers Day Jacob would pick flowers. A bunch of them too. He'd turn around, ripped cheeks and asks me if mother would like them all of the time. Hmph... you should see that smile and his eyes brighten when I say 'Of course she will'. Then he'd put them outside somewhere, hoping she come home... little did we know... we found out that she wasn't coming home."

"What happened?... why didn't she come back?"

Evie took in a deep breath and exhaled shakingly. "Well... we discovered that she passed away well before we even had a chance to see her or grow up with her. All we had was a Grandmother, then a Father... eventually we only have each other."

Looking at the young girl, it was clear that she wasn't very happy about the topic. It would be best if Evie left it as it is. She got out of her chair and ruffles Ellie's light hazel hair. "Don't worry about it, love. Jacob has you now, I'm sure that's all he needs, a child to be a child with. And besides, today is only a day to appreciate the one who loves you no matter what you do in your life."

Now that statement got little Ellie thinking, a day to appreciate the one who loves you no matter what?... an idea came to her head, it may seem ridiculous but yet brilliant. And there was only one person in this cold world that brought her in and raised her well.

"Evie? Could I ask you a favour, please?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and late by the time Jacob arrived back at the train hideout. He was beaten by a rollercoaster of emotions, making his journey home an absolute mission. He said what had to be said to his Mum, he's home now and Ellie should be asleep. That's all that matters now.

He always goes through Evie's car to get to his, he found it easier from some reason. He was completely taken back to see Evie bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Brother! You're back! Oh! And by the way... Ellie has a surprise for you."

To you there should be no reason to freak out about it, but it's Jacob after all. Yes, he's usually carefree as ever. When it comes to those he hold dearly to him it's a totally different story. "Evie! You know that she can't be up THIS late! Not even a minute over her bedtime!-"

Evie just rolled her eyes at her twin, he's such a motor mouth when scolding her. This was just first gear.

"Jacob..."

"If she doesn't get at least 6 hours of sleep, she'll have insomnia!-" second gear, it was getting faster.

"Jacob!..."

"And with her having insomnia means bad health!-" third gear. At this point words end up clashing together.

[I]"And with bad health she'll be unhappy!And a unhappy child means horrible paren-"

Evie stops him right there by cupping either sides of his cheeks to shut him up. Wow, he is really paranoid today. "Jacob!!... just calm down. I know that you're tired and having a bad time right now. Which is why the girl is up still."

Evie slightly flicks her head towards the door that lead to his carriage, indicating him to go in as she lets go of him. He was curious now, whatever the reason for Ellie to be up so... so called late is beyond him. It must be worth while.

"....fine. But don't make a-"

Evie had enough of his scolding and just shoves him in his carriage. "My god! Jacob! It's just for one bloody night!"

"Ach! Okay, okay! Just stop pushing me!"

Finally booting him inside his own car, dimly lit by a few candles. There was Ellie standing right there in front of him nervously for some odd reason. It alerts him in the wrong way as ever.

"Hey, sweetheart. What's the matter? Nobody's been picking on you, have they?!"

Ellie just hums, well more like a shy growl as she waddles towards him with a small box wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. It wasn't his birthday yet... or did he forget again? How can he forget if he shares the same birthday as Evie? He got down on his knees to get to her eye level.

"What's all of this for?" He asked.

Little Ellie looks at Evie, doubting if this is going to work or not. Evie just nods and mouths "Go ahead... you got it."

Looking back at her Dad, she inhaled deeply and brought the box up to him. He still had no idea what's going on, he was utterly confused and worried that he had missed something while he was gone.

"Happy Mother's day, Dad..." she looks at him with a small smile. "... I love you."

His reaction was nothing but shock, mother's day?... for him? Jacob isn't a mother? Is that what Ellie thought of him this whole time? A mother? It made no difference really. Practically Jacob had been both roles in parenting, firm and strict yet loving and playful.

No matter the reasons for this, it meant the entire world to him. He couldn't help but embrace the girl tightly. It wasn't a day for him, this wasn't his day at all. And here is his little girl making her own rules up just for him. It wasn't as much as the things he did for her, but it never matters to him. Every little thing she does was something huge.

The girl wraps her arms around his neck, cuddling her head against his. "You didn't have to do this, darling. It's Mother's Day, not Father's Day." he spoke softly. Ellie just fiddled with his hair and hums,

"We both lost someone without having the chance to say goodbye..." she pulls away just to look at him, her small hands held either sides of his stubble cheeks. "...But it's okay! Because you got me and it's my job to take care of you. Leave the worrying to me."

Ellie was far too young to understand what point she was aiming for, to Jacob it made perfect sense. Even if she was repeating exactly what he told her many times before. It just meant that she knew what he means and believed he could care for her. Having that just made the struggles of being a better Father more rewarding. As firm and strict as he may seem, under that heart of thin layer of stone was gold being melted by this young girl he gladly and gratefully calls his own daughter.

A small yawn had brought him back to earth, she laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel her weight against him, a clear indication of tiredness. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood up, hoisting her off the floor. "Alright, alright, I think it's time for bed now." He spoke softly to her as he carried her over to the couch and laid her down ever so gently. She was already asleep, he tucks her in and kissed her forehead like he had done all for all of these years.

If there was one thing he could ask for out of life is to just watch her age up well, of course he wants her to be this little sweet girl that constantly looks at him for guidance. Picking up her little gift up from the floor, he knew what it is already. With a tear of paper, he was right. Simply it was a box of chocolates, from there he knew that she always will be his sweet child.

A small sniffle brought his attention to Evie. Jacob gave an airy laugh at seeing her all emotional, something he hasn't seen for a very long time. He approached her with the box full of sweets.

"Here, look. Have some sweets, the best cure for feeling better."

She just shook her head with a small smile, looking at him with teary. She didn't say anything, not a single word at all. Instead she went up to her brother to bring him into an embrace. It had completely taken him by surprise, girls seems to be brilliant at it, that he figured out growing up with her. The night was filled with soft laughter coming out of the carriage of Jacob Frye as the train rocked, rolled and went on riding through the City of London as Evie said,

"I think I've seen enough sweets for a day, thanks to you two."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Yeah, Mothers Day for me (well it was) annnd I thought "Damn, wouldn't it be cute if a child did something for their solo father?" BOOM!! Thought of little Elizabeth and Jacob straight away.

Anyways, Happy Mother's Day to all of the mum's out there. Hope ya'll treat her well, if you have a solo dad than show him a little appreciation too coz... why not!

[wildheartwannagetbetter]

I've Been Waiting A Long Time To Do That

This was my first fic that I wrote way back after watching season 2. 

Read on ao3

Lights were streaking across the sky to the north every thirty seconds or so. Before he knew what he was doing, Bellamy was rushing to the cabins on the edge of camp – towards Clarke’s cabin. Clarke had been saying she was exhausted these past couple of days. Meetings with the council and the grounders to solidify peace had gone on significantly longer than either side could have predicted and they were taking their toll on Clarke. But still Bellamy wanted Clarke to see the shooting lights crossing the sky.

Bellamy was patrolling the perimeter of Camp Jaha when he looked up to the sky and saw a shooting star. And then another. And another. Lights streaking across the sky to the north every thirty seconds or so. Before he knew what he was doing, Bellamy was rushing to the cabins on the edge of camp – towards Clarke’s cabin. As he reached the door he hesitated. Clarke had been saying she was exhausted these past couple of days. Meetings with the council and the grounders to solidify peace had gone on significantly longer than either side could have predicted and they were taking their toll on Clarke. But still Bellamy wanted Clarke to see the shooting lights crossing the sky.

He knocked on the door three times and waited. After thirty seconds, he could hear footsteps and a sleepy eyed Clarke poked her head out the door. “Bellamy, it’s the middle of the night. You better have a good reason for waking me up.” She mumbled while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You know, the last thing I would want to do is disrupt your beauty sleep, princess, but I saw something that I thought you might like to see.” He replied as the corners of his mouth crept up into an almost smile.

“Okay, but give me a minute. It’s cold.” She said as she walked away, leaving the door open. Bellamy followed her inside the cabin and looked around. The walls were covered with drawings. Sketches of the dropship. The earth from the Ark. The stream along the path to TonDC. On her desk he saw faces. Drawings of grounders, of the 100, Octavia, Abby, and a picture of him.

“When I can’t sleep, I draw. It’s what I used to do when I was confined on the Ark, before then even. Wells would always bring me a pencil he found or crayons he had traded for.” She mused quietly. She smiled at the memory and then looked up at Bellamy with sadness in her eyes.

“You’re good.” Bellamy said admiring her talent.

“Thank you. Now what was it that you wanted to show me?” Clarke asked.

“Follow me” Bellamy stated.

They walked in silence through the forest and out past the fence of Camp Jaha towards a clearing with a small hill. They walked to the top and Bellamy stopped. “Sit.” He commanded.

“Okay?” Clarke said. “Why are we on this hill…? What were you going to show me…? Bellamy?”

“Now lie down and look up.” Bellamy said, not giving Clarke any answers. He sat down next to Clarke and sprawled out on the ground – arms crossed behind his head – looking towards the sky. “Come on, Clarke. I can’t show you unless you do what I say.”

She laid down using her blanket as a pillow and looked up towards the sky.

“Wow!” She exclaimed as the first star flashed across the night sky. A few more streaked across the sky as the two sat in silence. “I’ve watched meteor showers from the Ark, but this is so much better than watching one from a spaceship. You can see the curve of the atmosphere and how wide open the world is. It’s just so beautiful.” Clarke murmured. Bellamy replied with a smile and they both turned their gazes back to the sky.

It had taken them forever to get to here. To a place where they could be in each other’s presence alone and both of them feel like they were okay. After Clarke left, Bellamy was angry and when she came back, Clarke was fragile. Clarke was gone for four months. In that time Bellamy was tasked with representing the 47 delinquents on the council and was reinstated as a guard. He had to deal with what happened at Mount Weather by himself and after four months without a word from Clarke, he was angry. When Clarke returned to Camp Jaha, she avoided Bellamy for weeks; only interacting with Bellamy when absolutely necessary because she knew that what she did wasn’t fair to Bellamy. After a month, Clarke tried to apologize but the conversation ended with Bellamy being pushed into a stream and Clarke storming back towards camp. The screaming matches continued until one day Raven locked them both in the Ark to resolve their issues for the sake of the delinquents. After that day, Clarke and Bellamy slowly mended their friendship.

Bellamy’s eyelids started to droop after watching the stars fly across the dark night sky. He looked over to see that Clarke had fallen asleep. Her golden hair was fanned out across her blanket pillow and she looked so peaceful. She’s so beautiful, he thought. A few more minutes passed before he decided to wake her. After a couple of shakes on the shoulder Clarke opened her eyes and peered at Bellamy. “Did I fall asleep?” she mumbled still only half awake.

“Yes.” Bellamy replied.

“Can we just sleep here?” She muttered, barely audible.

“No. But I can carry you back to camp.” Bellamy responded.

“Ok, good night.” She mumbled as she fell back asleep.

Bellamy picked Clarke up, grabbed her blanket, and started the short walk back to Clarke’s cabin. A small snore escaped Clarke and Bellamy smiled to himself. There was a time where –if somebody had asked him – he would have said he hated this girl: this girl who grew up with everything the world had to offer; this girl who slowly became his best friend; this girl he was gradually coming to realize he loved.

He loved her and that scared the shit out him and made him stronger at the same time.

The soft light of dawn reaches across the horizon as Bellamy approaches Clarke’s cabin. Bellamy pushes open the door to the small two room cabin she occupies and walks through to the second room. He sets Clarke gently onto her bed and walks towards the door. As he passes Clarke’s desk a drawing catches his eye. It’s a drawing of him and his sister and he can’t help himself as he picks it up to get a closer look.

“You’re still here?” Clarke asks at the doorway.

“Uh, yeah. This drawing. I wanted to take a closer look.” Bellamy said, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to look at this if you don’t want me to.” He said.

“No, please. Take it. It’s one of my favorites and you should have it.” She says, walking over to the desk.

“Thanks, um. I should go it’s late” Bellamy says as he is suddenly enveloped in a hug. He’s taken aback at the sudden closeness but then returns the hug. He pulls away slightly to look at her and he plants a kiss on his cheek. He can feel his cheeks getting warmer and suddenly is very aware of just how close he is to Clarke and how much he wants this. Aware of how much he wants to hold Clarke at the end of each day and just feel okay again because with Clarke he feels like himself again. Before he can break the hug completely Clarke places her hand on his cheek and kisses him. It takes Bellamy a moment to process what is happening before he returns the kiss with a hunger he didn’t know he possessed.

“Whoa.” Bellamy whispered as they break away to look at each other, grins forming on both their faces.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”