#let us die young or let us live forever ; a taste of power and never say never (cedric&mathis)

[visxionaries]

who: @ofgoldengrove​ where: the council chamber, following mathis rowan’s first introduction back to the council of the reach. the room was empty now, and the two men remained sat within the great council chamber.

the reactions had been incredibly mixed; and yet if there was one thing that seemed to sear into the mind of the king, it was the incredible silence. so rare was it for silence to fall upon the personalities who sat on the reach council table, and yet, it felt as though they could hear their own hearts beating. he had not realised that he was holding the breath in his chest until he felt as though he were going to burst, and those in the room would not deny the fact that ocean hues glazed over in a sense of shock. that this was reality. 

though the matter had been quietly discussed with tirius, the possibility of it being true, he had been sure - so sure, it was false. so sure it would be another test some cruel figure in the sky had decided to throw in his path. and the king of the reach had hugged mathis rowan as though it was the last time he could - only, it now felt like the first time. it had been months since most had seen such a break in his demeanour, had seen a lively spirit that wore no crown; they saw it then. as emotional and volatile as it was.

was this not cruel? they now sat in somewhat comfortable silence as the last individual left the room, closing the door behind them; and all cedric could help wondering was why whatever gods the others seemed to have so much faith and love for would ever do such a thing. what sort of a test was this? for mathis rowan, for the rowans themselves, for all of those who had loved and mourned him. it was not a king who had stood before them those months ago to report his death, his eyes stricken and red with grief; he had made no attempts to hide the tears he had shed.

“do you want a drink?”

the death of mathis rowan had made him so utterly human. it had made him feel so incredibly human, and vulernable, and cut open. he thought it would hurt less if he was cut open a hundred times over, for he did not only think of what he had done, but he thought of what he could have had done. he thought of what should have been. made him feel as though his very side had been ripped open, as though someone, some presence, had been ripped from his side. 

and now, the life behind the eyes of mathis rowan made him feel something he was not entirely sure what to call. made him feel as though his heart would burst out of his chest, and stop, all at once. as though he had everybody and had nobody, all at once. for his death, the news of the corpse, was enough to set fire to whatever was left within him; whatever sense of morality wished for him to not carry the name of kinslayer. for regardless of it all, cedric tyrell had loved his brother. he wondered why it was their family needed to rip itself apart, just as the targaryens had done. was it their punishment for not following in their oath? 

“...didn’t think i’d ever ask you that again.” and there was a laugh that came from him. it was shaky. he rested his hand on his cheek, looking upon his best friend. he truly was sat there. he was there. seven fucking hells.

what was it that mathis was even looking upon now? who was it? it was mathis who knew best how much cedric had not wanted to kill his only brother. it was mathis rowan who knew why cedric had resisted, time and time again. it was mathis rowan who lost the love his life because of it. it was cedric who lost his true brother because of it. so why did it still feel as though his chest was ready to cave in? 

[rayan12sworld]

💖💙If One for you, then One for us

By:KusakabeNAyako

Summary:

Wei Wuxian was dead. He's been for a while now and he was content with the fact. He even enjoyed it for the most part. Being dead is not like people imagine it. It's just... peace.

At least, it will be.

Once these assholes stop insisting on him coming back.

Chapter:26/?

Words:85,197

Status:discontinue

Of course their bad luck struck when they were the most vulnerable. Of course Wei Ying would accept a deal with the enemy to save them. And now the man was dying again. Something was devouring him alive from the inside out. Draining him. Killing him. And with him, it was killing Lan WangJi too. Because he can’t, no, refuses to live through Wei Ying’s death again. He will do anything in his power to save him. And if he can’t… They’ll need to put another coffin in that pavilion at Burial Mounds.

~~~

When Lan WangJi ripped the door open, the disciple’s head was buried in his Master’s chest. And he was wailing in grief. He felt his legs give away under him, but at the same time, he refused to fall. Rather he approached the two with an aching throat and a hollow heart. When the disciple noticed his presence, the young man pressed his face into his hands. “Two minutes!” He screamed. “You were late by two minutes!” The Lan’s Second Young Master collapsed next to the bed. Shaking porcelain white hands found an equally white face. He was still warm. Burning up even.

~~

Lan Zhan… it’s not over yet…” No. No, not now, please not now! What more could be taken from them? What more could they lose? His embrace growing in force, Lan WangJi buried his face into the man’s shoulder, fighting down a sob. “It must be done. But it will be quick. Now that you’re here… it will be quick.” “How quick?” He muttered, voice muffled by the fabric. Wei Ying let out a huff that could be considered a laugh. “Not twelve years. Based on how much energy you gave me, I’d say a few hours. A day at most.” A day. A single day never sounded more terrifying before.

~~

Wei Ying sounded fainter by each passing moment and Lan WangJi found himself unable to let go just yet. Why can’t these moments last forever? Why can’t they just lay here for eternity, warmed by each other’s presence? Why must they pay the highest price for every single drop of happiness, unable to savor it completely, tainted by the achingly bitter taste of grief? “… Kiss me?” “En.” The kiss tasted like salt and happiness. Grief and hope. It tasted like all those bitter times, wrapped around in the veil of desperation and misery, hope splattered all over them like crimson drops of two bleeding hearts. Cherished moments, so few with so many pain in between, shadowed oases in the Sun scorched desert of a life without each other. In that single kiss, the world had come alive, stars were born and then died out again, all of it flowering bright in a single moment. It felt like coming home. It was a promise. Lan WangJi promised to remain by his side until he wakes up. And that is exactly what he’ll do.

~~

A thought formed in Mo XuanYu’s head. Wei WuXian was the key to ascension. He was one of the necessary obstacles that cultivators needed to overcome in order to achieve true calm and serenity. If one could keep their temper in the same room with him for more than an hour, then they were due the deepest congratulations, they’d passed the test.

~

Do you have anything to add, Wei WuXian?” Is it just him, or did the temperature really fall at least ten degrees in the room? “Nothing.” Wei WuXian answered with a radiant smile. “At least, nothing child friendly.” The Elder’s eyebrow twitched again. It’s over. They are all going to die. Slowly. Horribly.

~

"Wei WuXian, are you making trouble again?” The new voice startled everyone out of their trance.

Wei WuXian took on a mischievous, but still approachable smile and inclined his head slightly to the man. “Of course not, Elder Lan! We were just reminiscing about the old days with Sect Leader Jin.” Lan QiRen took his sweet time to answer with a small but slow bow of his head, as if giving his approval. Then he turned to Jin GuangYao and said something that shocked every single person to the core. “I hope you weren’t offended by my nephew-in-law, Sect Leader Jin. You have to understand, he is exhausted and still recovering. I’m sure you’re aware, but we’ve been attacked recently.” …Dead silence. For a few seconds there were no sounds, no movement. Then, slowly, everyone processed what the Lan Elder had just said. Behind Jin Ling, a cultivator let out a high-pitched whine. Jin Ling couldn’t fault him for that. Since…when. When did Wei WuXian, The Yiling Patriarch, the Grandmaster, no, The Founder of Demonic Cultivation marry into the Lan clan? It wasn’t hard to figure out who his…uh… husband is, HanGuang-Jun was relentless when he tried to save the man’s life. But marriage?

~~

Jin Ling saw the disbelief morph into mischief on the Yiling Patriarch’s face and he instinctively knew that this wasn’t the first time they’ve heard this question. The man bit his lower lip as if trying to suppress his laugh

“… that I can call you uncle-in-law now? Uncle Lan?” “I forbid you to be that shameless!” Hissed the older man. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior…” That was all Jin Ling was able to pick up before the nervous chatter drowned out their words. He could still see Mo XuanYu, who had his back turned to his two elders as he pressed both hands to his mouth and laughing silently. Jin Ling scoffed. Of course the two trouble makers would enjoy a catastrophe like this. He didn’t look forward to telling this news to his Uncle Jiang though. He had a feeling that furnitures will break… Maybe even walls.

~

The Jin Sect certainly wasn’t above using any methods necessary to obtain such knowledge. “That is why you’ll only speak about the technical side of the matter.” Lan QiRen ordered. “You’ll sit beside me and won’t make a single jab at the Jin sect.” “My dear uncle-in-law, you’re asking for a miracle.” The Elder shot him a fierce glare. “Make it happen!” He hissed as they stepped through the doorway.

~

Just as he was finishing his explanation, he felt the familiar presence in his chest grew stronger and knew that Lan Zhan was about to knock right about… now. And, alas, he was right. Lan XiChen only took a single glance at his smiling face and immediately knew who was on the other side of the door, thus allowing entrance. Lan Zhan didn’t seem surprised by the presence of the Jin Sect, bowing to them without missing a beat. Of course, he wouldn’t show his surprise even if he hadn’t been warned by Wei WuXian about their guests. Once he finished his greetings, his eyes immediately found Wei WuXian who greeted him with a beaming smile. Reaching out with his hand, Wei WuXian made it clear for everyone where he wants his cultivation partner to sit.

~~

Freedom. He knew that Lan Zhan knew. The man could without a doubt feel his longing. In turn, he felt his fear. His terror of going out there, into the dangerous and the uncertain, where threats lurked in every corner, waiting with bated breath for the chance to rip them apart. HanGuang-Jun, the Lan Clan’s Second Young Master is a brave and selfless man. Lan WangJi, is a terrified and protective husband. The two personas clashed every day, and so far, Lan WangJi came out on top again and again and again. His love gave him power. His sense of duty tortured him for it.

~~

(Phoenix wei wuxian)

(Immortal wei wuxian)

[hekateinhell]

Can you list (as a proof) some instances of book-Daniel using non-flowery, day-to-day, prosaic language to show his smartness? I didn't buy show-Louis's spine but the Daniel-erasure is getting real.

This Pulitzer prize-winning imposter getting touted as some "upgraded" audience-mouthpiece (Daniel in IWTV) with a few cheap sassy one-liners, is highly painful.

I'm just going to breeze past what you said about Louis's spine, and I'll also try to resist the urge to copy and paste every single line of dialogue from Devil's Minion.

The Classics from QotD

"What do you mean, millions!" Daniel had scoffed. "You throw your clothes away after you wear them, you rent apartments and forget where they are. Do you know what a zip code is, or a tax bracket? I'm the one who buys all the goddamned airline tickets. Millions. How are we going to get millions! Steal another Maserati and be done with it, for God's sakes!"

"Goddamn it, do it yourself," Daniel had roared. "You're five hundred years old and you can't use a telephone? Read the directions. What are you, an immortal idiot? I will do no such thing!"

"You think you can drive me crazy, don't you?" Daniel had snarled. "Well, you can't. Let me tell you. Every time I lay eyes on you, I realize that I didn't invent you, and that I'm sane!"

"Lies, you bastard. Say that you wanted me. You'll torment me forever, won't you, and then you'll watch me die, and you'll find I that interesting, won't you? It was true what Louis said. You watch them die, your mortal slaves, they mean nothing to you. You'll watch the colors change in my face as I die."

"I don't want to be alive, Armand, I want to live forever, and then I will tell you whether life is better than death."

"Give up immortality, just to live one life? I don't believe you. This is the first time you have told me an out- and-out lie."

"How can I help it? I can't get away from your voice when you want me to listen; it's like a tiny microphone inside my head. What is this, tears? You're going to weep over me?"

"I work with limited equipment. The cells in my body are subject to deterioration, to a process called aging and-"

"What does it matter if you give it to me and it's wrong! There is no wrong! There is only desperation, and I would have it! I want to live forever with you."

The More Obscure from IWTV

“Sure, if it’s a good life. Sometimes I interview as many as three or four people a night if I’m lucky. But it has to be a good story. That’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“This really happened, didn’t it?” the boy whispered. “You’re telling me something...that’s true.”

“Excuse me,” said the boy. “I just got the impression suddenly that your arm was...abnormally long. You reached so far without moving!”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll throw the tapes away if you want!” The boy rose. “I can’t say I understand all you’re telling me. You’d know I was lying if I said I did. So how can I ask you to go on, except to say what I do understand...what I do understand is like nothing I’ve ever understood before.”

“Don’t you see how you made it sound? It was an adventure like I’ll never know in my whole life! You talk about passion, you talk about longing! You talk about things that millions of us won’t ever taste or come to understand. And then you tell me it ends like that. I tell you...” And he stood over the vampire now, his hands outstretched before him. “If you were to give me that power! The power to see and feel and live forever!”

I loved Daniel in IWTV because he's this innocent fresh-faced college-aged kid! Just so young and naive before finding his new dark gods in Armand, Lestat, and Louis. The fact that he's so gentle and excitable is why Louis chose him as his therapist to tell his life story. The fact that he was "strangely defiant and beseeching in the same breath" is what caught the attention and affections of such a terrifying, utterly damaged vampire like Armand.

I don't recognize the new guy, but we've been over that already... It is what it is.

[heartsystembeats]

From the Archive: 03/01/2018 — "Out of Place"

I ran down the corridor of existential thoughts

from strangers in the heads of every child knowing nothing

“real” by perception disturbing

and I guess I'm one of them,

in a distant fog

I can only see through into something dangerous

I only know it's real because of scars I feel whose rough scabs

never seem to fade because they're always reopening

and these people see them but

whose idea was it to blind them from lives like ours?

I wonder what sort of world I'd make if I had the chance to do so

If I really wanted

I can follow you into your life

never mind these strangers

he can't win if we don't let him, with his dangerous ideas that aren't so overwhelming

I wonder what I'd do if I could change the whole world

something new, something not so different with impossible ideas and old methods

it's not too far away from me—and you

I can change fate from your point of view

I miss you but you're missing this; your scars aren't real and I know what to do

not you, but you're there for me too

I can open my heart and learn to taste blood like water

I can pull your strings like the puppet you are

I know that the death of this world isn't far

from now and forever if only I can tell it to listen to me—LISTEN TO ME

they'll listen if they know what I've done to myself for this power

they'll listen if they know what they have to gain, but

it's ours to fix, to rebuild this torture chamber of the gods

the hotel of mysterious voices locked behind doors

the doors won't be locked anymore

and I'll be freer than anyone ever before

so in this new strength,

and this assurance

I force myself to lie down in the land of the dead

because that's where I start with secrets from under the palace of Hades

who knows nothing of the world above

the one I can change

he can keep his throne

so long as I can take this destined venom for my cousin's tombstone

and wait

I'll wait for the day I can lift the veil from your eyes

when your delusions are gone, I'll make sure none of us die

we die too young because it's unfair

unfair

I don't care how much it hurts

I will undo their reign of terror

over their children

“oh, but they're family”

they're strangers

just because they created you doesn't mean they deserve your pity

[bludhavents]

things that each greaser struggles with:

these are mostly headcanons i came up with. also, this gets pretty angsty.

content warning: alcoholism, addiction, anxiety.

darry:

- maturity. he thinks everybody looks at him like the “dad” of the group instead of just another friend, and he loathes it. he misses whenever he was able to skip work to catch a movie at the drive-in or take ponyboy and sodapop up to the dingo for lunch.

- accidental intimidation. his build is very large and strong, which is good for his job and for when he’s actually trying to, well, intimidate people, but other than that it just makes him feel guilty for being so unapproachable.

- relationships. specifically, darry is very insecure in his relationship with pony. he especially hates it whenever pony dogs on him for forgetting things or accusing him of not caring.

- emotional intelligence. he knows he comes across as cold. and he hates it. he has lots of emotions and he doesn’t air them out in a healthy way, so he tries his best to cut all the emotions off altogether in hopes that the negativity will stop, but it just makes him feel even more insecure.

- social skills. in high school, it was all much easier for him, but now that he’s working full-time and running the household, he’s fallen majorly behind in the social scene. he never goes out to the drive-in or to the dingo, and at first it was because he was too busy, but now, even if he doesn’t have a shift, he’ll make up some excuse because he’s too nervous to go and have to talk to people again since he feels like he’s gonna mess up.

- identity. darry was just starting to feel comfortable in himself and in his role in the world right before his parents died, and when they did, he stopped trying to figure out what made him happy. it has made him insecure of the emotional stint that is centered around his ego and sense of self.

sodapop:

- smarts. it’s canon that he’s insecure about this.

- growing up. while everybody else moves on to new things and grows up, he feels like he’s stuck in the same place watching everybody else progress while he stays behind. this was especially true after sandy left, because marrying her was going to be this huge exciting step in his life and when she left, he didn’t have that fulfillment anymore.

- reassurance. he feels a constant need for approval, and he will take it wherever he can get it. there’s a sort of pride he gets whenever he sees a girl checking him out, but there’s a deeper feeling telling him that she’s gonna run away once she finds out about how ‘stupid’ he is.

- authority. soda has a really hard time talking to people who are in a position of power. he gets all nervous and his hands get sweaty and his face goes sheet white in panic. his charm and social skill is enough to satisfy a conversation with a person his age, but he feels silly trying to be confident in front of an adult. he feels like they look down on him and will laugh.

- fatherhood. he’s very insecure about having a family in the future. he feels like he never appreciated his dad’s skilled parenting while he could, and since then darry has been a sort of fatherly figure in the house, but it’s hard for soda to see it that way. he grew up for 16 years with darry as a big brother and for him to suddenly be forced into a father role is troubling for soda. because of this complicated dynamic between soda and fatherhood, he feels like he won’t be able to be the best father possible for his children.

- legs. he hates his legs. you will never see soda in a pair of shorts, not even when he’s swimming. he doesn’t like the way they’re shaped and thinks that they make the rest of his body look odd, so he wears loose jeans to hide them. he’s also embarrassed of being embarrassed about them, so nobody knows, not even steve.

dallas:

- emotional intelligence. his lack of emotional intelligence is something he battles with a lot. he understands what people are feeling, but he has a hard time understanding why they feel that way. he says it’s because he’s too tuff to deal with emotions, but deep down he knows it’s because he was thrust into a traumatic childhood so early on that he never had time to build emotional bonds with people that would strengthen his empathy and understanding.

- his past, another canon take. he hates talking about it, even the good stuff, because when he thinks about new york all he can picture is 10 year old dallas watching a man being covered in a white sheet by the paramedics on the side of the road. he thinks about his friends from there and knows they’re all either locked up or dead, and it ruins any enjoyment he gets from reminiscing on the good times.

- health. he definitely has crohn’s or IBS or something else that makes his stomach hurt whenever he eats, and it embarrasses him to no end. he’s always anxious that his stomach is going to start hurting when he’s with the gang and is going to have to find some excuse to leave. he smokes so much while he’s out with them to keep from getting hungry until he gets back to buck’s place.

- his friendships. the shepherd gang is close-knit. then, the curtis’ are brothers, steve has known them forever, and two-bit is outgoing enough to make himself fit in to the group. johnny is the closest person dallas relates to, and it’s the friendship hes the most secure in.

- his smile. he knows smoking ruins his teeth, and he knows they’re crooked all over, and he knows that when he smiles his lips crack and stretch out.

johnny:

- his appearance, canon insecurity. he looks young for his age, and when the gang found him in the lot after he was beaten by Socs, they all started treating him like he was young too. he didn’t think the scar on his face was tuff, it just reminded him of being attacked.

- his voice. this is less about how it sounds and more about him not being able to speak over the shouting at home. he hates yelling, and he won’t stand in to speak up for him cause he’s too afraid of being told to “stop yelling”.

- being average. johnny feels painfully average in everything he does. he’s tried to find a skill that he truly loves and wants to take time to be good at, but he always gets frustrated and quits before he can improve.

- romance. almost every aspect of it terrifies johnny. he doesn’t know what a healthy marriage looks like, what he does know was from Mr and Mrs Curtis, but seeing them die together warped his sense of love. he doesn’t understand why you would want to love somebody so much if you didn’t have to. he doesn’t like the “til death do us part” aspect of marriage, because it makes him feel trapped. he’s not afraid of commitment, he’s afraid that he will end up in a marriage like his parents’ and not be able to leave.

two-bit:

- alcoholism. he’s an alcoholic and he knows it, but he’s been stuck in the vicious cycle of addiction for such a long time that the only way he knows how to cope with the emotional baggage of addiction is to drink more.

- social awareness. as of now, he’s very self-aware and extremely skilled in reading a room, but he didn’t used to be. he used to crack jokes at the wrong time and get scolded for it, and it made him feel horrible. like he wasn’t able to experience all the same sad feelings as everybody else because they reacted differently to the sadness than he did. they wanted to process the sadness while he wanted to ignore it.

- being absent at home. he knows he spends the majority of time at the curtis house, and he also knows that his mother spends the majority of her time at work, which leaves his little sister at home alone. he has a good relationship with her, but he doesn’t like for her to see him drunk, and as his alcoholism progresses, that gets to be more and more often. he knows this, and it’s one of the main reasons he’s so insecure about his addiction, because she’s the one who let him know that it wasn’t a one-way street. his problem affected him and her.

- commitment. two-bit is young, but he feels old enough to know how relationships work. he saw his dad walk out on them, and he was never able to process how you could go from marrying someone to leaving and never looking back. at first, he thought that his dad was just a selfish jerk, but when he met johnny and saw that his parents were also married and simultaneously abusive, he convinced himself that all marriages were bound to end up that way. he believes that if the curtis’ lived longer, they would have eventually gotten bitter and tired of each other, because in his mind, that’s just what couples do.

ponyboy:

- confidence. he has a lot of insecurities, and they’re shared pretty evenly between physical and non physical. he doesn’t like his body or his eyes. he doesn’t like how impulsive and dramatic he is.

- security. not in himself, but in life. he’s permanently on edge, feeling anxious about who’s going to be around the corner and what would happen if he got jumped and how many Socs he’d be able to fight off in case anything happened. his parents’ sudden deaths did not help this. he feels like life is constantly tossing him around, and he never feels completely safe.

- emotional outbursts. this isn’t exclusive to ponyboy, but he struggles with it the most. he hates getting upset with people, and he hates hurting other people’s feelings. when he’s feeling too many things, he starts to speak without a filter and gets mad at the littlest things, and he knows that it makes everybody around him feel bad.

- fitting in. in contrast to johnny’s insecurity, ponyboy wants nothing more than to fit in. he’s tired of being the only greaser in his classes, he’s tired of his isolated taste in movies and theatre, he’s tired of being a track star, and he’s tired of all the pressure put on him since he isn’t average.

steve

- masculinity. his dad always enforces an unrealistic standard of being strong, independent, and logical. steve is inherently all of these things, but the pressure he feels to keep it up weighs him down.

- comparing himself to others. it started in middle school when he noticed all of the people liked sodapop more. from then on he couldn’t help but feel like soda was more attractive and charming, darry was stronger and smarter, two-bit was funnier and cooler, dallas was tougher and unbothered, johnny was more likeable and down-to-earth, and ponyboy was more creative and well spoken.

- addiction. there was a time in steve’s life where he was getting high every day. at first it was fun, but then he had to quit track because he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be. it ruined his health and motivation. he started working on cars more to keep himself busy, and it helped a lot, even got him a job.

- hyperindependence. steve’s biggest character flaw is that he can’t ask for help. whether it’s asking for help in school or asking for soda to hand him a tool in the garage, steve can’t bring himself to do ask. it makes him feel like he’s not good enough to do it on his own.

[helliontherapscallion]

Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone. 

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look. 

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly. 

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back. 

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave. 

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts. 

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red. 

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks. 

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment. 

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own. 

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster. 

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno. 

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door.  You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers. 

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better. 

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully. 

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you. 

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day. 

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent. 

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!” 

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon. 

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster. 

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[romancingfiction]

Sometimes it's hard to face reality. The shattering of worlds and the end of times. Time is limited and precious its what all things depend on and the March of time slows and stops for no one. We can never truely absolve ourselves of it. Day turns to night, trees grow from young sapplings to towering beauties. Seeds become fruits and your soft skin would one day be covered in wrinkles.

You told him forever. When the ice caps melted and humanity cease to exist. When the world spun on without us to continue. You told him he was the sun to your universe and you gave him that power over you. You gave him the ways to build you up. The way he called your name, soft and sweet- his hand resting on your cheek his eyes shimmering with unfilled adoration. You knew when he looked into yours he to saw the same. He could build you up with three simple words. Had you feeling as if you where the greatest hero in the world. Other times he tore you down with his unwavering silence. When his jaw was clenched lips pressed into a firm line as he tore his eyes from you.

Your fights were explosive like the crumbling or world's. You screamed and it felt as if the tectonic plates shifted a vicious rumble seemed to resonate. He snapped back and buildings feel encasing the innocence of your love. Tears fell from your eyes like bullets from a gun and he would leave you. Alone withing the wreckage of your love in the darkest of nights.

Yet even the darkest nights must face time, must face the sunrise and he would come back pick you up and whosper his apologies you gathered the peices searched for survivors of the carnage. From the wreckage of this fight you built anew, stronger. You mourned what was lost but you looked to the future.

" Do you love me?"

He would ask when he was at his lowest. Tears gathered in his eyes with all the emotions he would never let fall down his face as he hid away from reality tucked into your chest breathing in your scent.

" I do. I will forever. "

You would breath into him.

You wanted to live in a home of his love, hollow his ribcage out and burrow inside and get that would never be close enough to how much you loved him.

" You can't mean that "

His voice would quake and you wanted to die. To crush yourself into nothingness and become parts of the universe if you could not be with him.

" I do. I will love you when we are no longer together. Your job is likely to take you from me. I will never date again. I will leave things as they are. If you survive I will love you so much more. When we are old. When I can't see your face or remember the sound of your voice I will remember the warmth of your skin, the timber of your soul reverberating in my ears. The memories we have. There is nothing of you I do not love. There is so much of you I have yet to explore. Every nook and cranny of your soul and flesh. I will explore them with all the excitement of new love no matter how old we get. No matter bow many times I explore you it will always be with fresh eyes and the expectation of loving you until time crawls to a stop. "

He would laugh at you then. Watery but full once more and you would feel whole.

When he embraced you at night it was fiery and passionate. The ghost of his breath on your skin the feeling of his hands ravenous I their pursuit of you. The way his lips melded agaisnt yours. The way he bared his soul for you in the coils of earthly ecstacy. The way sweet tasted on his skim. The intense heat of his eyes.

But time stops for no one.

And you said forever.

Here you stood eyes blury, tears sliding down your cheeks bathed in yellow, clapping along side everyone else as he kissed Her. Kissed Her like he kissed you.

He smiled at Her like he use to smile at you and you said forever.

For a second his eyes met yours as he waved to family and friends next to Her. You turned. As you walked down the aisle She came up you felt your heart turn to dust.

You said forever. He only smiled and kissed your forehead.

His things sat prim and neat in your home. Never packed, never touched because he said he was away on business that he would be home to see you soon. And you just knew, he would never be home again because you were never his home. She was.

You where his escape.

Walking down the steps of the church unable to look back for the first time you notice you cannot breath. Your lungs have filled with cement you have found that Forever meant onky two years. But She had him FOREVER.....she always had. Even if he wondered to you.

The crunch of paper made you look down

' 𝓙𝓸𝓲𝓷 𝓾𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯

𝓔𝓷𝓳𝓲 𝓣𝓸𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓲 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓲 𝓗𝓲𝓶𝓾𝓻𝓪'

You said forever

And time marches on.

[sunny-sings-sooth]

Daphne

Words: 4.5k

TW: Sexual assault, abuse

Here's my retelling of the myth of Apollo and Daphne! Highly experimental, as I usually write in first person and not so poetically. Hope you enjoy, and if anything doesn't make sense lemme know and I will add some context here. (Also FYI some of the dialogues are pulled directly from Homer's narration)

_____________________________________________________________

Phoebus Apollonas had been alive too long.

He was young by god standards, barely over a millenia old, and still one of the youngest Olympians. And yet he had grown exhausted. He’d been suffering the curse of life long enough to see the boy he used to be -- Phoebus -- die. The demise of the boy began when, in attempt to protect his sister Artemis, he had committed his first murder and thereby lost her forever. The boy decayed further when he’d held the corpses of his sons in his arms. And he’d finally killed the boy with his own hands when he turned his grief-fueled wrath on mortals. Phoebus, the bright, the innocent, the golden prince of Olympus, was dead. All that remained was Apollonas, the destroyer, the terror, the monstrous god of plague.

Except he no longer wished to be Apollonas. Apollonas was addicted to alcohol, drowning himself in it so that he wouldn’t have to face the memories that had murdered Phoebus. Apollonas had struck his younger brother Hermes, the only friend he had left, in drunken rage. Apollonas was despicable and deserved death. He could never be Phoebus again; that he knew and had accepted. But perhaps he could rid himself of Apollonas and become just Apollo. That did not mean erasing Apollonas; he had too many crimes to pay for, and running away would be a dishonor to all those who had suffered at his hands. He would repent for everything he had done as Apollonas, and thereby recreate himself as Apollo.

The first thing he needed to do was to break alcohol’s hold on him, which meant distancing himself from Dionysus. He didn’t want to abandon his youngest brother, but the temptation to drink was too strong in his presence. He hoped Dionysus would understand, and that he would one day be strong enough to bridge the gap of his creation.

He had been clean for three whole days. It didn’t seem like much -- blink of an eye in the lengthy lives of gods -- but that alone had taken him all his willpower. In the absence of the gallons of drink he had been consuming daily, not only was he plagued by memories and sheer self-hatred, he suddenly became highly attuned to the gossip that trailed him. Every moment on Olympus, hundreds of eyes were trained on him, and the whispers never escaped his sharp ears. It wasn’t that he was not used to being the center of attention, but rather the harsh truth of their statements. Phoebus Apollonas is a murderer. He flayed Marsyas alive for daring to challenge him. He curses anyone who questions his authority. He has killed thousands with his plague arrows. He is a monster. He knew these were all true and that he deserved to be pierced by such words, but the anxiousness caused by his withdrawal made them unbearable, and he had to escape to the woods. Here he found solace. Here he could work to slowly put himself together again until he was strong enough to face those who he wronged.

If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, then perhaps he would’ve heard the flap of wings before Eros was standing before him. He nearly dropped the silver bow that he’d been restringing and looked up to meet the other god’s gaze. Eros was the only man Apollonas considered a possible competitor in terms of beauty; his fair skin was smooth as a pearl, his wings the color of one, his features the aspiration of every artist’s portrait. And yet there was something unnerving about the other god. Perhaps it was his hair that, while comparable to a young maiden’s blush, was also the same shade as blood. Perhaps it was the deep red hue of his eyes, made of crushed hearts and rubies. And perhaps it wasn’t his appearance at all, but the mystique that surrounded him; he was the fourth being to come into existence and was old as time itself, and that was one of the only two things Apollonas knew about him.

“Phoebus Apollona,” Eros stated in greeting, and Apollonas hated how wrong it sounded, though he couldn’t tell if it was the names themselves or simply the one who spoke them.

“What do you want?” He couldn’t hide his irritation. The other thing he knew about Eros was that he was the god of love, and love had only ever caused Apollonas pain. He had no reason to like the god nor felt the need to veil his displeasure. All he wanted was the solitude necessary to rework himself.

“I was simply admiring your bow, oh He Who Shoots From Afar.” There was no missing the mockery in Eros’s voice, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the weapon. “Why, your skill is almost comparable to my own! Perhaps with some effort, you can become the greatest archer in the land.”

“Are you implying that you are the greatest archer?” Eros nodded, and one glance at the winged god’s slim arms and the modest bow slung across his back sent Apollonas into a fit of laughter. It was many moments before he could calm himself enough to speak. “What have you to do with the arms of men, you feeble thing?”

“I am merely suggesting I may be god of archery as you are god of plague.” Apollonas’s head snapped up at the idea, and his hands curled into fists as he stood, towering over the shorter god. If Eros was a painter’s fantasy, then Apollonas was a sculptor’s. His toned body was the epitome of perfection, the ideal balance between strength and beauty. He was well aware of this fact, and though he rarely preferred to use his appearance for intimidation purposes, Eros’s insult necessitated such action.

“Do not lay claim to my honors,” he hissed, his sky blue eyes glinting with divine power. Archery was the one constant he could always rely on. With his bow and arrows, he could protect and punish, wound and save. It was the one part of him that stayed no matter if he was Phoebus or Apollonas or whoever, and he’d be damned if he allowed this worthless winged wretch to even suggest taking that from him.

“Let us put it to test, then,” Eros declared, unfazed by the archer’s anger. What would the ancient deity have to fear from the youth? He was well aware of his capability, and little did Apollonas know he was falling into another trap, his emotions and naivety deceiving him once more. He was but a pawn in Eros’s game. “What say you to a battle of skill?”

Apollonas did not grace the other with an answer, lifting his weapon and drawing an arrow from his golden quiver in response. The toned muscles of his back flexed as he pulled back the string and released, and the arrow had barely gone forth an inch before he sent forward another, and then yet another. His arms were but a blur as arrow after arrow went flying, striking the most minuscule of targets: the pupil of a fly’s eye, the thread of a spider’s web, the stem of a single olive. Apollonas did not stop until his quiver lay empty, and he took in the perfect shots before him that seemed almost artistic by his hand. No matter how low he may have descended in these past years, there was no denying the masterpiece he created from the most basic of weapons. This was his domain. He couldn’t keep his lips from curling in conceit as he turned to Eros.

“That gear becomes my shoulders best,” he declared, setting his bow back beside his quiver to draw emphasis to the weapons that had adorned him for centuries. “I wound my enemies; I wound wild beasts. My countless arrows slew the bloated Python, whose vast coils across so many acres spread their blight. You and your loves!” Apollonas couldn’t hold back his scoff at the mention of Eros’s inferior work. “You have your torch to light them. Let that content you. Never claim my fame!”

“Your bow, Phoebus Apollona, may vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you. As every creature yields to power divine, shall your glory yield to mine.” At Eros’s threat, an enraged response was making its way up Apollonas’s throat, but before it could spill off his tongue, the love god drew his own golden-tipped arrow. In the blink of an eye, he shot it forth right into the other god’s heart before taking flight.

Apollonas stumbled back, a gasp more of shock than pain escaping him as he clasped his hands over his chest, fingers fumbling for the arrow. However, it had already dissolved into him, its magic making its home in his body. He felt something ooze into his heart and bloodstream, shoot up his spine, ensnare his mind. He turned his attention inward, trying to identify the invader, but he could not locate it, nor could he compare it to anything he had ever felt before. What had Eros done? He lifted his head, searching for the god, but instead his gaze fell upon another figure altogether.

There, a few feet away, stood the sweet river nymph Daphne. He knew her -- he knew the names of many of the nymphs that resided in these woods -- but beyond a passing glance and a murmured greeting, she had never caught his attention. But now… he couldn’t seem to look away, his lips parting in awe as he stared at her, dumbfounded. Had she always been so breathtaking? How could he have missed such a beauty? Her dark locks flowed down like a waterfall of ink. What it would be to hold that silky hair between his fingers, to braid it and adorn it with flowers and beads! Her eyes were a startling shade of not blue, not green, but something between the two, and he could spend hours drowning in their depths. Her figure had the slightest curve to it, the outline of a river, and he imagined that her body had been crafted to fit against his perfectly. He saw her, loved her, wanted her.

“Daphne.” Apollonas whispered her name, marvelling at the nectar-like flavor that coated his tongue. If just her name was so sweet, then how must her lips taste? Looking was not enough. The urge to find out was unbearable, the earlier argument stolen from his mind entirely as he found himself tossing aside his bow and quiver. What did archery matter when he could master the bow of her lips instead? He would claim it, make it and the rest of her his and his alone. He took a step forth, a giddy smile alighting his features.

“St-stay back,” the nymph stammered, icy fear coiling in the depths of her stomach. She could read his intentions clearly on his face, from the crazed look in his eyes to the wolfish grin he wore to the way his hands reached towards her. Daphne knew all too well what this man planned to do with her, and that should she fall into his grasp, she would not be able to stop him from having his way. So when he took another step forward, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Apollonas gaped only a moment before rushing after her, an arrow released from its bow.

“Daphne, please wait! I am no foe! You don’t need to fear me!” he cried out after her. Daphne did not answer him, her thoughts only on escaping. Thorns and brambles tore at the bare skin of her calves, yet she refused to slow down. “You run as if I am a wolf and you a lamb, but that is not so! It is love that spurs me! Don’t fly so fast, lest you fall and wound yourself!”

“Leave me be, you horrid man!” she shrieked, not stopping even as her dress got caught on the surrounding plants and began to tear, revealing her to him little by little. Apollonas’s brows furrowed in worry at the sight of bloodied cuts on her legs. From within him a voice called out: What are you doing, Apollona? Why are you tormenting this poor girl? Leave her be! You will not have your way with her! But before the voice could say more, he caught a glimpse of the bare skin of her thigh, and everything left his mind. His conscience was once more bound and gagged by Eros’s power, forced to watch it all in horror. Speaking of the god of love, he also watched, flying unnoticed above them, yet he felt only amusement from the sight. The sheer terror that had contorted Daphne’s face and drawn panicked tears from her eyes made him smirk, and Apollonas’s frantic yelling drew out peals of laughter. They had both bent to his will so easily, and he was eager to see how this played out.

“You run because you do not know. I am no peasant, no shepherd!” Apollonas called out to her again. She was only afraid because he didn’t know who he was. He knew the moment she realized his true identity, she would stop and turn to him with a blessed smile. “I am the son of Zeus, prince of Olympus, lord of Delphi. By me things future, past and present are revealed. I shape the harmony of songs and strings. You will be happy as my bride, dear Daphne! I will see that your every wish is granted and that no desire goes unfulfilled. Please stay!”

“No! My only desire is to escape you!” Yet this would not be granted, as her body was beginning to fail her. Try as she might, she could not outrun Apollonas; he was strong from years of training and battle, and though she was swift and sure-footed, she had used up all her limited mortal strength. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs two pits of fire in her chest. And so her traitorous body came to a stop as she gasped for breath, and Apollonas finally had her. He held her hip tightly, freezing her in place. Had he been in his senses and had control over his own body, he’d never have done this, and his conscience screamed within him. But he was deaf to it, the lust coursing through him silencing all else. His eyes soaked in her bare skin when he would’ve shielded them, his hands pulled her closer when he would’ve let her go, and he was ready to claim her when he would’ve done anything but this crime.

“My love.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, pressing his lips against the pale column of her neck. Daphne gasped and tried to pull herself away, but his grip was too strong, utterly unbreakable. How could she escape a god? She was helpless and frail, trapped and alone. There was no one to aid her, no one to stop Apollonas from running his hands down her body and forcing himself against her. And then he was turning her around, wishing to taste her lips, and a final plea escaped her.

“Help me, Peneus!” she screamed for her father. She knew her father could do nothing against an Olympian, but perhaps he could do something to her, and she would accept any escape from this fate. “Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Let me be free of this man from this moment forward!”

Daphne’s prayer was answered, and she was changing.

A stiffness had taken over her body, the swiftness that had protected her for so long sacrificed to escape Apollonas. Her arms lifted of their own accord, her fingers elongating up and her feet rooting into the ground. The dark waterfall split into a hundred streams that lightened to a soft green. Her curved figure fell away as her body thinned into a single arc, her legs fusing and her hands reaching higher and higher. Bark was creeping up from her extremities, down what were now branches and up what had transformed into a trunk. It conquered her shoulders, her chest, her neck. A soft sigh, her last breath, escaped her just as her lips were encased.

Apollonas’s lips met rough bark that cut at his soft skin. With a small gasp, his eyes flew open and he looked straight into Daphne’s piercing eyes. The waves in them had finally calmed, as the storm that had tormented them could no longer ripple its waters. He stared into those beautiful orbs, breathing her name, and watched as they shut forever.

Apollonas couldn’t tear his gaze away, his mind still unable to process the transformation that had unfolded before him. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing flat against the trunk of the tree. A steady pulse graced his fingertips -- a heartbeat. Daphne’s heartbeat. She was this tree, this sorrowful laurel tree, lost from him forever. His legs gave out beneath him as he wept, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against her bark. And yet the lust hadn’t left him, and he was kissing the wood over and over, whispering her name and an endless string of apologies as the skin of his lips tore and blood dripped down his chin.

“Oh, Daphne. My Daphne,” he cried, yearning what could’ve been. He thought the image of her smiling sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and calling him ‘husband’, was a vision, a prophecy promising that he could be the source of her happiness until the end of time. But he was wrong. It had been a fantasy, a dream that had slipped out of his grasp. And now she was gone. His sobs doubled in intensity as grief wracked him, and he didn’t notice Eros approaching until he spoke.

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight?” the god of love asked, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Phoebus Apollonas, broken and filthy inside and out. A slave to his desires. Do you accept defeat, oh lustful one?”

Apollonas turned to the other god, and the grief in him sharpened to rage. His beautiful Daphne, the love of his life, had been stolen from him, snatched right out of his hands, and the cause of it all was simply standing there, taking amusement in his loss. He reached for his bow only to find it missing, and so he lunged forth and tackled Eros to the ground, wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s thin neck.

“You monster,” Apollonas growled, his sky blue eyes glowing with divine power. This horrid creature had taken his Daphne from him and deserved nothing less than death. Apollonas would deliver him to the gates of Tartarus himself if necessary. The man must pay for his crimes. He increased the pressure, causing the other god to choke under his iron grip. “You did this!”

“Oh no, Apollona. I merely gave you a nudge. The rest was all you,” Eros gasped out, managing to laugh even as his windpipe threatened to collapse altogether. The sun god’s brows furrowed at the statement, and Eros subtly waved his hand, calming the effects of his magic. “And who knows what you’ll do next if I keep nudging you forth? You’ll be giving your father quite the competition, won’t you?”

The spell finally broke, and Apollonas’s grip slackened as the lust drained out of him and the truth became clear. He had chased Daphne. He had chased Daphne with the intention to force himself on her. He had tried to kiss her and claim her as his own with no care for her terror. He pushed her so far that she thought it better to lose her humanity than to be his. Oh Fates, what had he done? You are the most wicked person to live, Phoebus Apollona. You are no better than your father. You did this to that poor girl. You ruined her.

“N-no,” he whispered, backing away from Eros and clamping his hands over his ears, but it was in vain. The voice came not from outside but from within, where his conscience was finally free to reclaim its owner. And so Apollonas relived the incident that had just taken place. He saw himself chase after her just as Python had chased him and his family, heard his plans to ruin her just as he believed Orion had intended with Artemis, felt himself force himself upon her just as Zeus did to his mother Leto. Never in his life had something been so achingly clear to him as this truth: while he had spent his whole life painting others as wicked, he had been the most terrible monster all along. Apollonas doubled over, spilling his insides onto the earth as though he could purge the maliciousness from his body. But alas, he could not; he was born the destroyer, and he had truly lived up to his name. He could not tell if his scream remained in his soul or ripped out of him. He didn’t know if it was tears or fire spilling from his eyes. All he knew was the terrible truth that he has been blind to all his life.

“You are weak, boy. But I can make you strong,” Eros declared, towering over the hysterical god. He wondered how Olympus would react to seeing their golden heir broken on the ground, sobbing like a spoiled child. He could only imagine they’d be just as entertained as he. Still, the time for games was over. Making sure to avoid the pool of vomit, he crouched down and placed a thin finger under Apollonas’s chin, forcing the young god to meet his gaze. “Here is my offer to you: vow to me on the river Styx that you will follow my every command, and I will save you from further humiliation and heartbreak.”

“What, so I can spend my life blind and deaf, a mindless slave to a heartless man?” A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of Apollonas’s lips. He had seen and tasted truth, and he would not give that up to become Eros’s puppet. He scowled and spat at the love god’s feet, glaring into those blood-red eyes. “That is what I think of your offer.”

“I expected the god of intellect to be wiser than this, but I now see the difference between you and Athena.” Eros sneered, wrinkling his nose at the sorry display. “Do not be hasty, godling, and ponder my words carefully. I am offering you invulnerability. I will harden your heart to stone so that none may hurt you. Without your greatest weakness, you will be unstoppable. You will never have to feel such pain again.”

Apollonas paused for a moment, considering Eros’s claim. To never feel this soul-tearing agony again? To be free of the organ that rebelled against his mind at every moment? Now that he contemplated it, the offer was quite tempting. Without his heart, he would only have to rely on his body and mind, both of which were immaculate. He would indeed be unstoppable, finally the golden heir of Olympus he was expected to be. And yet… his gaze moved to the laurel tree, and a single leaf drifted down before him. Apollonas caught it in the palm of his hand, carefully tracing its pale green veins. If he were to remove his heart, to lose his ability to feel, would that not be a dishonor to Daphne? After all he had put her through, did she not deserve to be mourned and remembered? And what about all the others, every mortal that had suffered at his hand? He would be spitting on their graves by choosing to run away from the pain that, in the face of what torment they had lived through, was nothing. And so Apollonas rose to his feet, stretching to full height and then kneeling down so that his face was merely inches from the love god’s. “Rot. In. Tartarus.”

“You really should have chosen the easy path,” Eros muttered, the smirk sliding off his face as he grit his teeth. Apollonas wanted to regret? Then he’d give him reason to regret. His hands flew to Apollonas’s temples, freezing the younger god in place. Eros’s eyes glowed, twin pits of lava, and his voice boomed as he invoked his ancient power. “I curse you, Phoebus Apollona. May love be your enemy and your heart a traitor. May you be powerless to control the whims of your desire, and may you be the cause of pain to those you love, over and over until the end of time itself.”

Apollonas fell to the ground once more, struggling as the curse rooted itself deep in his soul, at the very essence of his being. By the time his throat had grown too raw for him to continue screaming, Eros had already flown away, leaving behind nothing but punishment. He found himself crawling back to the laurel tree, to Daphne, leaning his forehead against her trunk as he wept. He wept for her, for those before her, and for those after her.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, holding on so tightly the bark dug into his skin and realizing how powerless he really was. “I’d change you back if I could, sweet nymph, but I cannot. Instead, I swear by the river Styx, I won’t let you be forgotten. I bless you so that your leaves are never shed and instead will be woven in wreaths that will become a symbol of honor, the very thing I tried to steal from you. Let mankind see me to be the monster I am if that means your memory will live on. And even if your name no longer forms on the lips of men, they will live on eternally upon my own. This I vow to you.”

With this, he lay one last touch upon the tree before turning away, trudging his leaden feet back to Olympus. He heard the whispers as he arrived in the city, but he paid them no mind and made way to his house. Barely moments after he entered, his fingers scurried over the wall until they found the loose brick that he yanked out and tossed aside. His hands trembled in a moment of hesitation before reaching in. He grasped the bottle of his poison, his secret, his solace. Apollonas lifted it to his lips, tears running down his face, and drank his worries away.

[sanjisock]

more than words

50 words; 50 sentences

ao3

#01 - Motion

A spinning kick, a swing of blade — the two meet and hit but don’t hurt, and Nami sighs exasperatedly at such a pathetic display of a mating dance.

#02 - Cool

Zoro stands his ground as his enemy — finally, finally — falls unceremoniously on his back, unconscious, and Sanji thinks for a moment that the sight of Zoro — wild and victorious and ready to take on the world — looks kind of, maybe, slightly cool.

  #03 - Young

Brook sees the two — dying to die for each other, the weight of their friends’ lives pulling down their shoulders — and he thinks too many people forget how young they still are.

  #04 - Last

The Cook is the last person Zoro would consider lending a hand in a fight — “who would want to work together with that dumbass anyway,” he lies whenever anyone asks, and doesn’t admit that it’s because he trusts Sanji’s ability to stand his ground, wholly and fully.

  #05 - Wrong

Sanji knows Zoro, like him, understands better than most — that this nakama thing isn’t just something you’d die for, but something you’d kill for, too.

  #06 - Gentle

Sanji manages to catch Kitetsu before it rolls off from the deck during a storm, and in that moment, Zoro knows, from the reverent way he regards the swords in his hands, that this isn’t the first time the Cook has wielded one.

  #07 - One

“Calm down, Marimo,” Sanji says with a dismissive wave of his hand when Zoro asks about the sword a few days later, “I’m not about to take your place as the ship’s swordsman; a cook doesn’t use his hands to fight, and I had a terrible teacher anyways.”

  #08 - Thousand

“I’m worth two thousand men,” Zoro grumpily says, almost sulking, and Nami can’t resist patting his head like she would to a little boy pulling the pigtail of a girl he has a crush on.

  #09 - King

You’re like the prince of Dumbass Kingdom, Zoro says, and it takes Sanji everything in him not to blurt out, Dumbass Kingdom sounds about right; wait ‘till you see the fucking king.

  #10 - Learn

Watching Sanji converse fluently with a couple of tourists in a Northern language, Zoro wonders when he will ever stop learning something new about Sanji — or if he ever will, at all.

  #11 - Blur

When Zoro finally comes to, the wounds from Bartholomeow Kuma is muted by Chopper’s medicine, a dull throb at the back of his consciousness; but the sharp pain against his heart feels raw still, visceral and razor-sharp, tucked alongside the ache of Sanji’s sacrifice.

#12 - Wait

“Wait,” he manages to croak out before Sanji flees the room, the word spilling out unbidden; he isn’t quite sure why, but he knows that he wants the Cook to stay.

  #13 - Change

“Have some fucking decency ,” Sanji yells, throwing a shirt at Zoro’s direction; the brute has been walking around the ship bare-chested like an eyesore ever since they entered the summer island, and Sanji is just trying to do everyone a favor — and definitely not because there’s a different kind of heat pooling at the pit of his stomach.

#14 - Command

Robin watches the two in amusement — Zoro could have easily refused to be Sanji’s pack mule, and she can hear him grumbling about it still; and yet, here they are, once again, together at the island’s marketplace.

#15 - Hold

Sanji is rough around the edges, bristling at the slightest touch; Zoro knows he needs to be gentle, but he doesn’t quite remember the last time he held something that isn’t a hilt of a sword, without meaning to hurt . It’s a learning curve. 

  #16 - Need

Sanji knows Zoro is a dumbass, but it takes a special kind of stupid to think he would never be good enough for Sanji, when he’s all that Sanji has ever needed.

#17 - Vision

Zoro never regrets losing his eye, but he wishes, sometimes, he could still take in the sight of Sanji with an unimpaired vision, just to see more of him.

  #18 - Attention

“You’re starting a fight, Marimo?” Sanji growls, voice low and dangerous, and Zoro thinks, yes, yes, anything to get you to look at me.

  #19 - Soul

He loves the kid like a brother, but sometimes Zoro hates how Luffy can easily see past his gruff words and feigned ignorance; the way Luffy only needs to take one look at him to guess, “you’re worried about Sanji, aren’t you?”

  #20 - Picture

He carries around everyone’s bounty posters, Sanji tells himself, and tries not to think too hard about how the only one he kept in his breast pocket is Zoro’s, folded neatly against his heart.

  #21 - Fool

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done so far,” Sanji says when they part, lips still tingling from their earlier kiss, because Zoro’s love is fierce and consuming and Sanji knows, ever since he was just a kid with the iron mask, that he doesn’t deserve any of this.

  #22 - Mad

“Don’t you ever say that kind of shit again,” Zoro snarls, slamming the wall beside Sanji’s head, his voice trembling with a kind of anger Sanji has never seen him with before — frustrated, desperate. “You’re important to me, Cook.” 

  #23 - Child

Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji tells himself every day, the voice ringing in his ears; you stopped being a child deserving of a dream the moment you chained Zeff down to the ground.

  #24 - Now

Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji wants to tell himself, but the voice stutters, drowned out by the sight of the kid bleeding on the deck of Baratie — he’s a swordsman, too, acknowledged by none other than Dracule Mihawk himself — but a kid still, throwing himself headfirst towards the case of his dreams, steps unweighted by regrets.

  #25 - Shadow

Zoro doesn’t know which is worse — Sanji, forever running away from the shadow his brothers cast; or Zoro, chasing after someone who is no longer around to leave behind a shadow anymore.

  #26 - Goodbye

After Whole Cake Island, there’s a period of time where Zoro would follow Sanji around the ship like a lost puppy, unwilling to let the Cook out of his sight; Usopp definitely didn’t expect Zoro to have such a cute side, and crouches over his new invention to hide his smile.

  #27 - Hide

“We’re not doing that here,” Sanji hisses, and forces himself not to laugh at the pout on Zoro’s face; the galley might be secluded enough, but they’re still on the enemy ship’s galley.

  #28 - Fortune

It is annoying, the way Sanji keeps reminding Zoro that he could have collected Mihawk’s bounty and lived the rest of his life in wealth; especially when Zoro would trade any riches in the world just to stay by the Cook’s side.

  #29 - Safe

It catches Zoro off guard when Sanji starts talking about his mother; it’s a short anecdote, a single happy memory, but Zoro can tell by the way Sanji tells it — guarded and hesitant, like he wants to keep the words close and safe — that he has never shared it with anyone else before.

  #30 - Ghost

Usopp starts shaking like a leaf as soon as they enter the abandoned, dilapidated house, and Sanji gently tells him, sometimes the worst ghost is the one you create yourself; Zoro feels the weight of Wado on his hip, and agrees.

  #31 - Book

“I don’t need this,” Zoro grumbles with a blush, pushing the book back into Nami’s hands, trying hard to ignore Nami’s laughter and the words ROMANCE FOR DUMMIES emblazoned on the book’s jacket.

  #32 - Eye

Shusui sinks into the man’s stomach, all the way to the hilt, and Zoro thinks of the way Sanji curled into himself as the man landed a lucky hit on the cook’s hand. An eye for an eye.

  #33 - Never

“This is my first time,” Zoro whispers, head ducking away as he feels his face flush at the admission; but Sanji’s hand rests on his cheek, encouraging, and he can feel the curve of Sanji’s smile as their lips meet and Sanji replies, “it’s mine, too.”

  #34 - Sing

Luffy cheers when Zoro and Sanji comes into view, and he lets them take on the next batch of enemies; a good fight is always fun, but watching Zoro and Sanji fight is even more so — like watching a dance that only those two know the melody to.

  #35 - Sudden

“What, are we supposed to be surprised?” Nami says, barely looking up from the map she’s working on; Sanji sputters, face redder than the tomatoes he served during breakfast, and Nami feels almost bad for him.

  #36 - Stop

“But we — Zoro and I — how did you know?” Sanji asks, and promptly stops asking questions when he realizes the rest of the crew aren’t surprised either; who could blame them, when his and Zoro’s sexual tension can be seen from a mile away.

  #37 - Time

Sanji knows they have to break apart soon, just to breathe, but right now all he cares about is to taste as much of Zoro as possible — he has waited two years for this, and it has been two years too long.

  #38 - Wash

They have their fair share of fighting — and how, considering the amount of repairs Usopp has to do for Merry just from their petty fights alone — but what the crew doesn’t know is that they also have this thing, this quiet thing, just him and the Cook and a stack of dirty plates between them.

  #39 - Torn

“In retrospect,” Robin observes, “dressing up our dear cook in a maid uniform would not only lower the enemy’s firepower, but also ours, considering how distracted our swordsman has clearly become.”

  #40 - History

“Why do you keep him around, mister?” The kid asks, pointing at the old swordsman with three swords and an eye scar by the peer; Sanji laughs, pats the kid on the head, and says, almost wistfully — “you can say we have some history.”

  #41 - Power

Sanji tugs at Zoro’s sleeve, and Zoro follows suit despite his complaints — Sanji thinks, distantly, how much of an honor it is, to have so much control over such a powerful man.

  #42 - Bother

“I didn’t have enough time to make this three-tier ice cream cake for our lovely Nami-san and Robin-chan because you distracted me!” Sanji says with a hard jab of a finger against Zoro’s chest, and Zoro thinks, good .

  #43 - God

Zoro does not believe in gods, but there’s a hymn of a noise when Zoro presses his lips against the crook of Sanji’s neck, the hallelujah of the world breaking apart as their bodies move together, and he thinks, close enough .

  #44 - Wall

 Zoro slams his fist into the wall of Polar Tang, and is taken aback by the depth of his own frustration; he knows Luffy and the others will get Sanji back from Big Mom’s place, but it unsettles him still, the way Sanji hides himself under layers of pretenses when Zoro has bared so much of himself to the Cook in return.

  #45 - Naked

“What the fuck was that for , Mosshead?!” Sanji shrieks, justifiably furious, leg raised and on fire after Zoro sliced his tray into two without preamble; Zoro can’t exactly tell the Cook he did it because he was too surprised at the sight of Sanji in a swimming trunk and nothing else.

  #46 - Drive

Why Zoro , people sometimes ask, but the answer is easy to Sanji — nobody drives him crazy the way Zoro does, and is that not what true love feels like?

  #47 - Harm

Zoro knows Sanji will be furious ; but as he faces Kuma, knowing at least the Cook is out of harm’s way, he knows he would do this a hundred times over, a thousand times over, a million times over.

  #48 - Precious

Sanji is sitting by the corner of the infirmary, face pale with red-rimmed eyes, and Zoro thinks he’s never had that, before — people who would weep for him, knowing that he is more than dried scars and calloused skin.

  #49 - Hunger

This thing we have is dangerous, Sanji tells him, but Zoro doesn’t care — he already has a craving, the same way he needs a booze when it’s been too long, except he thinks that this vice will surely kill him.

  #50 - Believe

This isn’t faith; this is the truth, Zoro’s truth, the same way he knows he will become the Greatest — Sanji will find that elusive sea of his, and Zoro will stay with him until it is the last thing he can do.

[quantumlocked310]

Summon Up Remembrance

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​. Cherrypie. My friend. My OG. My Vikings Mom. My shared braincell about everything Hvitty. You encouraged me to put myself out there and talk to people. You’ve given me some of my best ideas. You’re an amazing human who works so hard both in fandom and irl. I’m so happy I took the plunge and wrote you Bjornekram so we could start up this wonderful friendship. Congratulations on your 500 followers! Every single one is well-deserved.

So! In order to celebrate our love, I’ve tortured myself and Hvitty with this story inspired by The Little Match Girl. I’d say “Enjoy!,” but I have a feeling that’s not the right word...

Summary: What if Ivar hadn’t found Hvitserk in that cold forest in time?

Warnings: not a happy time, depression, graphic descriptions of violence, major character death, loss, despair, drug use, oral sex female receiving

Note: Title from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30

Don’t forget to tap the moodboard to see it in its highest quality!

++++++++++++

He’d used his last coin to buy the matches. Everything else had already been spent on the sweet release the mushrooms and drink provided him. His greatest triumph bled into his deepest failure when Bjorn sentenced him to live in the frozen forest. He knew it would not be long. His half-brother had given him painful and terrible mercy. Already he could no longer feel his toes, and his hair was stiff with ice.

His first match is useless. Scraped against the frozen rocks he huddles behind for some semblance of shelter. He knows he’s going to die, but he’d like to have a last taste of heat before he goes. Even the memory of the bright burning flames of his execution can no longer keep the shivering at bay. The cold and wet sticks he’d gathered couldn’t catch, even with the pine needles he’d found to shove under the bundle.

He is resigned to no fire and no hope. Only four matches to keep him company. The last vestiges of drink and drugs are leaving his body aching and freezing; his hands have barely enough movement to strike the next match. He watches this one burn. Its tiny flame dancing merrily along the wood. In its flickering he sees a better time; his favorite feast.

He’d been younger then, and happier. Not yet burdened with a legacy and revenge. The feast fires had kept him warm inside the packed great hall, and his belly had been full of food and satisfied with drink. It was the night he learned a woman might prefer his mouth over his other parts, and he’d been fascinated. The thrall he’d danced with had taken him aside and shared in his body, and shown him things other women hadn’t yet taught him. Their copulation was in a side room; their sounds of pleasure hidden by the noise in the hall. He remembers the delicious wet heat of her body against his tongue, and the way she whimpered and begged so sweetly for him.

The match goes out and Hvitserk is thrust out of the memory. He grows melancholy as he remembers the thrall was killed by horse hoof to the head when she was cleaning the stables one day. A horrible accident.

He scrambles for the next match. Wanting to leave this new remembrance aside and see something joyful once more. The next match strike flares bright in front of his eyes and he hears the clang of axes on swords. His best battle. He’d felt invincible that day. Bobbing and weaving in between English soldiers. Feeling the thunk of his axe as he buries it in the flesh of his enemies. The sweet and terrible smell of blood and guts and fresh mud. Hearing screams and battle cries around him as the Vikings cut a swath through the English forces. Getting to fight alongside his brothers, and seeing the prideful look in Ubbe’s face when he swoops in at the last moment to save his older brother from danger. Ubbe.

The match goes out, and the cold rushes into Hvitserk’s head. His despair is palpable. Ubbe could not let him die as he’d wished for on that fiery spit. But Ubbe let him walk into this cold and certain death demanded by Bjorn.

His saddened breath rattles his chest, and he feels the exhaustion in his bones; the wet snow seeping further and further into his clothing to numb his skin. The stinging tears falling from his red-rimmed eyes freeze to his cheeks, and he is barely able to lift a hand to strike the match. The tears fall faster as he stares into the flickering orange and gold to find a moment of peace.

They’re all there. Ivar, Ubbe, Sigurd, and Hvitserk. The four of them that beautiful spring day, together in the forest trading blows of the sword and the axe. Even their verbal sparring brings a smile to his disheveled face. He remembers going toe to toe with Sigurd, and being equally matched with Ivar. The rush of adrenaline in the fight is a distant comfort, and he dwells again upon youth; how young they all were. Naive and furious; untouched by the horrors that awaited them.

The match goes out and shivers wrack Hvitserk’s body. He sobs and shakes as he memorializes the family he will never see again.

Desire floods his system. The desire he’s always had to escape, to be someone he is not, to chase the dreams he had but could never fulfill. He weeps for his brothers, his mother, and his father. The most torturous thoughts follow, and he mourns and cries for himself. For the person he will never be. For the women he loved, and the children he never gave them.

This is his last one. The last chance to see his loved ones again. To see his brothers happy and together and alive again. Perhaps he will catch a glimpse of Thora or Margrette in this last memory. He draws strength from this small hope.

His breaths rattle and he lights the match. In the tiny flame it is his mother. How tall she felt when he was a child. She is loving peering down at his small frame as he plays with a wooden horse from Floki. Her smile is radiant as she talks to him. Asking him about the horse and the world inside his mind. Her tone is warm and loving, and it floods his body with a final burst of heat.

The match goes out and Hvitserk’s hand falls. In front of him his mother hasn’t left. Standing there like she was in his memory, with a gentle, proud smile on her regal face. She raises her hand, palm up, open and beckoning him. He rises and falls deeply into his mother’s embrace, clutching at her silken robes that catch the salty tears still falling down his face.

“Come, my son. You have done well. We must go to meet your father and brother.” Aslaug wraps her arms around her beautiful boy and holds him close. She feels his sorrow and his perfect joy as their souls connect and ascend.

Some hours later the stomping of boots and the rattle of wheels can be heard in the forest. Ivar looks to his side, observing the landscape around him, and his eyes are drawn to a cluster of rocks. They’re not at all interesting he thinks, but a strong winter wind whips past his face, and the rocks flutter in the wind. No, not the rocks. The hood of the person hunched behind them.

Ivar calls for a halt and carefully climbs down from his rig. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he has to see who it is for himself. His heart is pounding, and his instincts are screaming, and when he rounds the cluster he sees why.

The body is Hvitserk.

White hot rage floods his body, and Ivar lets out a primal scream. His sorrow and pain released in one powerful sound. Tears flood his eyes and freeze on his cheeks. He gestures to the closest soldiers to help carry his brother. They can barely lift him; Hvitserk has frozen in place, but Ivar is determined to give his brother the Viking funeral he deserves.

Ivar cries and mourns, and swears that he will seek revenge on his brothers in Kattegat who shoved one of their own into the wild to die. They did not even allow his fearsome brother the warrior’s death he deserved. What Ivar misses in his incandescent rage is the sweet smile on Hvitserk’s frozen face. Ivar should be celebrating, because as he was not in life Hvitserk is euphoric in his death; together with those he loved and lost once again. The image of rapturous bliss frozen forever in time on the face of his mortal body.

++++++++++++

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist!

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash​

Photos are not mine they are from Pinterest.

[honestlyfrance]

( oranges in october )

You’d think that just because he had wings and he flies, that makes him an Icarus. Icarus fell to his death. He did not resurface, he did not live beyond that power. Sam Wilson soared high into the missiles of war and came back battered and red, dripping love and death as he stands in the aftermath of it all. You think he was an Icarus when he was actually Apollo. Anyone who gets too close to him falls to the ocean waves, then sooner than later, he’s left singing eulogies as his heart rattles in a cage.

He’s sadness in a bottle. He’s got a lot of baggage, and it took so much of him to figure out how he was going to carry it.

If you ever wondered why tragedy is always romanticized, it was because the red was too much, and what else is there to do? They made songs out of the fallen and poems from their last breaths. Sam Wilson gasped, “Let him live. Let me catch him,” and his arms caught the air that whisked Riley away. He only had a few regrets.

Sam’s thoughts ran that day. He wondered what would have happened if he did catch him. Would Riley say some ridiculous remark, or would he be shaken, overcome with the trauma of near-death? Would Riley cry, or would he be quiet, forever empty? Would Sam never have left the Air Force or would he be more careful, a never-ending feeling of death following him? It was no use anyway. All that Sam thinks of was What if I never met Riley? What if Sam never loved a man so much his death shattered his very soul. He’s battered. Gold can’t glue him back together. He’s seen so much red, it’s bleeding in his heart.

They buried an empty coffin.

Maybe if he had never let himself love then he wouldn’t get hurt. If Sam never let himself be vulnerable, maybe he could think of death as a missing person. Gone from your world, but somewhere out there living their best life, now that would be quite the belief. Sam wouldn’t have to spend so many nights alone if he had only let himself believe that. What if I never met him? He thinks that he would be better off okay.

It’s selfish, he knows, but seeing it happen and pretend it never did was something awfully wrong to him. It was like driving through an empty highway in the dark, speeding by with your headlights the only source of light, and suddenly by your right, you see the mangled corpse of some dead thing on the side of the road. You were too late, you couldn’t stop now or turn back around. It was dream-like, it always was. Sam couldn’t turn back and save it. It was like he didn’t know him anymore.

He’s screaming in his head because Riley wasn’t supposed to die young. That man had ambitions and plans. The world hadn’t had the right to do something so cruel.

If anyone tried to touch his hand, it would only go through. Sam couldn’t feel himself as he mourned. It’s all falling apart.

The thing is, it wasn’t just Riley. It was everyone who ever tried to be close to him. He’s a grown man whose most feared words were still, “Your mother isn’t coming home” and he wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain it. He knows he doesn’t owe an explanation about his grievances, but the thing that terrifies himself is the fact that he can’t even begin to explain anything. Sam can’t say how much he loved these people to even begin to comprehend how much it hurts. It’s a pool of love that drained itself every time he tried to do so. He can’t reach the seafloor.

Sometimes he thinks his remorse is just an overreaction, and then he becomes numb to the point it’s his normal to grieve this deeply.

He’s trying. He’s trying so hard. Please believe him when he says it.

He sees himself break and he doesn't even know what from. He's falling so slow he braces for the impact before he even brought out his wings. God, he’s trying, believe him when he says it.

Sam knows he's shattered. He's looking like a lost cause. Like a bruise pressed every time he sees it, he's screaming for the ache. He wants to live but at the same time, he wants every tear he shed to drown him. Heaven sighs at their angel, and Sam's going down like Babylon.

He's lonely, after the war. He's curled into his sheets as if everything was too loud to look at. He left the Air Force then he's looking up into the sky, wondering if every pararescue was an angel in disguise. Sam’s eyes were tired and he wished for a kiss goodnight.

Forgive him. He's sad and lonely. He wants to romanticize every single quiver of life before he loses it.

Goddamn, how he loses it. Sam walked alone on the pavement and dropped his umbrella, feels the first drop of rain on his cheek like a lover's kiss. And, oh, he's gone mad — mad with loneliness. He wants to kiss the sun all of the sudden but his tongue tasted like ashes from the war he died to escape from. He's losing his mind deciding if he's allowed to love again, and now he's shattered as he thinks about it.

Is a kiss any less lovely if it had been a different set of lips? Sam's turned to Shakespeare just wondering about it. He's still trying, believe him. It's just that the wounds on his back ran deeper than the trenches in the ocean and no one seemed to want to even acknowledge the depths of it. No one wanted a scar so deep they'd have to fill it with love to dig out the doubt.

War made poor boys angry and Sam might be one of them, he doesn't know. The pull of heaven’s light is enough to blind him but he knows the books, don't trust his own faith as much as he's used to. He's praying blindly and confesses as if he's got the right to in the first place.

If repentance was a kiss, Sam wouldn't even think he'd deserve to think about it.

He moves sluggish but that’s what depression does to you. It takes all of his might to even hold his niece in his arms without crying and then his sister's whispering in his ear, "I love you, Sam, but don't you ever hurt yourself." He finds himself in front of the VA Hospital in D.C. and suddenly he’s crying in the car as he drives home afterward. It was like an ocean wave cleansed his soul, but the shore was still a mess, he knew as much, but he'd watched the water ebb and flow for as long as the day burns bright.

There are years of healing after that, and he knows he’s trying, believes it some days but sometimes he forgets. It felt like eons finding help. Sam tells himself that war kept chasing him when in reality he just misses it, jumps at the first sight of danger, and follows it through the depths of hell. It wasn’t his fault — no one’s fault really. Who was to predict that Sam would be an Avenger?

No one thinks that what he does is like war, but Sam could sense the familiarity. He’s soaring into the sky and he’s kicking helicopters by the tail. He’s following orders and sending them out, back on a team so different from his own that it grounds him into reality. This isn’t war, he thinks, it’s just what your body wants you to think.

Sometimes he’s falling and he feels like he’s in another dream. Other times, he’s dreaming and he screams. But he knew that he shouldn’t regret what he had lost, all he needed was to take care of what he has now before he loses it later. You know, Natasha Romanoff once said that he was the embodiment of the present, so aware of your surroundings, you pick out exit strategies as if you made the floorplan. You don’t think of how the past is haunting you or even think of what you could have.

I’m trying to get through the day, he says to himself and her. Little things like these keep me okay.

Years pass and he finds what he could have had a little too late. He appreciated what he had had with his closest friends but he feels like pouring alcohol on a wound that never truly healed. Sam finds out Natasha was gone and he breaks even further, grief becoming too much of a permanent thing in his life.

He's singing Ave Maria as he's dying.

( read more on AO3 )

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away. 

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent. 

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.” 

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run. 

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.” 

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her. 

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises. 

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause.  After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says. 

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[horrorslashergirl]

Andrei and Amaria Kulokova 🐺🔪

(This shall be interesting 👀👀 and funny! Lol)

Richard Firewood

For Andrei: Richard might see Andrei as an alternative for business, when there aren't enough clients to his hotel, he might call Andrei to hide him to capture 10 or 20 people. It will be strictly business.

Richard: Cash is King. Enough said.

For Amaria: He might be on neutral territory with her as long as she respects his territory and hotel.

Richard: She better not cover the carpets of the lobby in mud.

Jackson Jasper

For Andrei: He may view Andrei as a cool guy with whom to hang around for drinks and flirt with women.

Jackson: Any drinking buddy is good company.

For Amaria: Jackson loves a pretty lady especially one who isn't afraid to get down and dirty. He likes her.

Jackson: You don't see women like her often. *smirks*

The Hacker

For Andrei: Both are fucked up into the head. Both are bloody disgusting. Both love to stick their cocks into bloody pussies. They might be on good terms... Plus if Andrei needs a certain weapon, The Hacker can provide it wirh ease.... For a good priece.

The Hacker: *looks up from his computer screen* Oh? Him? Yeah... Fucked up in the head but not as much as me. *smirks*

For Amaria: Now that's a dollface that the Hacker might like. She fucks the corpses of her victims from time to time? The Hacker does that on an almost daily basis... Almost.

The Hacker: *whistle* Pretty wild baby doll. Me like~

Dave Anthony

For Andrei: If Andrei thought he was brutal then he sure doesn't know Dave. This poltergeist was casted from both heaven and hell. Try to match that Andrei. If Andrei tries to stab or shot Dave, this evil entity will just laugh in his face and grin.

Dave: *evil smirk* Trying to kill me? *manical laugh* You cannot kill what's already dead, cocksucker... I am gonna enjoy possessing your body.

For Amaria: Now, that's something you don't usually see everyday and Dave would be intrigued by Amaria and her so called Gods. Interesting little human girl.

Dave: Oh? You believe in Gods.... Well.... I am the biggest motherfucking God ever, baby girl.

Samuel Grayson

For Andrei: The moment Samuel senses his aura he wants to puke his guts, because Andrei screams of sins all over and just his presence into the same room will annoy Samuel. Let alone Andrei trying anything with this poltergeist. Andrei will turn into a chew toy for Samuels hellhounds.

Samuel: He stinks of sin and he is a disgusting piece of walking meat on earth. *snarls*

For Amaria: Her aura is so so much more different than her brothers and to say so... Samuel is a little intrigued by her aura, sensing all the sadness from her past and there is just something about her beliefs that he finds.... Adorable?

Samuel: She is... Interesting.... But no... I am no God. These are too high words for me, little one.

Azol

For Andrei: Did I say Dave is absolutly brutal? Well Andrei... Meet Azol. This evil entity will view Andrei as the most amusing plaything ever. Ironic, huh? Much like the other supranatural ones, Azol feasts on humans desires and he will absolutly use Andrei's desires against him. He will haunt his dreams and drive him insane.

Azol: Ohhhh... You think you are brutal, piece of sloppy fucking used cunt. *chuckles evily* I am gonna have so much fun with your soul... I am sure after you die... We all are gonna fuck you into hell like the cocksucker I know you are. *laugh*

For Amaria: Azol will be amused by her beliefs into her Gods, teasing and haunting her, making her kill as many people as possible. Azol found himself new entertainment.

Azol: Oh... Never seen a human kill that much and with such a passion. *grins evilly* See that man, little one... He needs to die.... Listen to your new God and you will live on forever.

Bahini Talibah

For Andrei: Andrei is everything that Bahini hates into a man; he is despicable, horrible, disgusting, annoying, sleazy and someone she would absolutly not stand. He better not get near her or else he will suffer a slow, horrible and painfull death that will make Andei crawl on the floor in his own blood. Having your flesh and muscels be slowly melted by Bahinis piercing gaze isn't something to look forward to.

Bahini: His aura is simply making me anxious. He better stay away from me. He pisses me off!

For Amaria: Bahini might find her believe in Gods fascinating since she herself believes in the Egyptian Gods. They might have conversations about their Gods and such. Plus Amarias quiet and misterious aura is very calm and gives Bahini tranquility.

Bahini: She is a fascinating young woman... Also Anubis told me she has a beautiful and lightfull soul.

Azment

For Andrei: This demoness lust will destroy Andrei's for sure... And I advise him to not get close to her because at the end of the night he will be dead by the time he climaxes.... I mean... If he wants a horse dick up his ass that's his problem. Azment will over power him with ease.

Azment: Ohhh He sure is handsome and I can taste his lust... Such delicious carnal and mouthwatering lust.

For Amaria: Azment sees this small but deadly woman as very beautiful and she can appreciate such brutal display for passion of certain things... Like Amarias passion for Gods.

Azment: Beautiful and powerfull young human woman... Such beauty... It gives tingles down my spine. *sways her tail from side to side*

The Shadow

For Andrei: His personality and the vibe Andrei gives off is simply annoying to Shadow. Isn't it enough he has to deal with that idiot of a HACKER maniac? Now he has the stand this Russian Incompetent. He cannot work with these idiots around.

The Shadow: *looks up from cleaning his scalpels* I cannot stand this morron. He better not stick his nose into my business unless he wants to end up on my disection table.

For Amaria: She seems quiet and she keeps to herself so that is good on Shadows books. Her past might make Shadow sad because he has went through abuse too... Different but still abuse. He might be interested into her topics of Gods... Since he is one to feast on information and likes to learn about all type of topics.

The Shadow: She is... Fascinating to say so... But at last she is quiet.

Mitch Carson

For Andrei: This feral man will view Andrei as straight up enemy and he won't hesitate to turn the Russian into a raw steak, considering all that mass muscels and blood. If Andrei knows what's good for him, he better keep off Mitchs territory or else he will be the new target for crossbow practice.

Mitch: *growls, all body muscels ready for him to strike*

For Amaria: Considering her small body stature, he might be intrigued by her but still cautious, like a feral animal of the deep dark woods. If she brings him human flesh or bones for him to chew on... She Might.... Just might turn Mitch into a feral lap dog that will maim anyone who dares to touch Amaria.

Mitch: *growls then purrs at her, tilting his head to the side curiously*

Gerome Montana and Axel Friedrich

For Andrei: Army friends? Maybe? They might share some drinks some army stories. Three mercenaries sharing bloody ideas of killing. I guess. They might be on neutral relations with Andrei, but since they are in Miami and Andrei hates the heat... I doubt it. Down for a one night stand after drinks? Perhaps.

Gerome: Haha Cool Russian Crazy Dude!

Axel Friedrich: His personality is a bit too much. *groans*

For Amaria: You don't see such deadly women that often and they might find her very intirguing, but that's about it. Plus.... I don't know if she would like Miami with the heat and all that.

Gerome: Beautiful badass woman! Sexy!

Axel: *facepalms at Gerome* I suppose I can appreciate a woman who can handle such big weapons like a machete.

Damiano Liberato

For Andrei: He finds him very disgusting with no taste at all and Andrei simply makes Damiano have a horrible taste into his mouth. He cannot stand camo!

Damiano: Isn't it enough I have to stand my creator and her camo army clothing!? Now this man! I cannot believe Richard can be close to this disgusting brute. Ugh.

For Amaria: Very beautiful woman but a shame that she has no style into dressing up. Damiano finds the Kulokova siblings too.... Dirty.

Damiano: A lady shouldn't dress like that. Pants? Seriously... Just no.

Bambi Miller

For Andrei: She thinks he is a pretty cool dude with whom to share drinks and maybe have some knife throwing game. Plus, she thinks she thinks Andrei is pretty badass with his faux hawk. They might have some fun nights with drinking vodka and throwing knife at people.

Bambi: Pretty badass Russian stud. *giggles* only my knife is bigger than his. *winks*

For Amaria: Bambi thinks Amaria is very pretty and she appreciates women who can stand up for themselvs and beat the guys around. Plus her machete is so cool.

Bambi: She is very beautiful... Its true what they say that Russian women are very gorgeous.

Xaviera Lah-Mo

For Andrei: He is her ultimate and only love, so of course she simply adores Andrei. It comes natural. He is her precious and wild Wolf.... And to think that the first day they meet, Xavi wanted to throw his ass into the blizzard outside. Andrei is her soulmate and the only man she has feelings for... And the only man she won't shot with her sniper rifle into his balls.

Xaviera: He is the light of my life, the man that make me be strong with each passing day.... My wild and handsome Wolf..... My beautiful soulmate. My everything.

For Amaria: Being Andrei's sister, Xaviera cares for her and tries to calm Andrei down to think clearly when she is around. Xaviera tries to be the refere between these two without getting between their fights. Both Xavi and Amaria use a sniper rifle and Xavi would love for her sister-in-law and her to have a shooting practice together. Just enjoying some quiet time.

Xaviera: She is a hard person to understand if you don't see through her soul, you need to take your time to understand her because she means well... She is not as bad as one might think. She is just misunderstood like we all were at some point in life.

Akshay Lah-Mo

For Andrei: Andrei is Akshay's best friend and soul brother to say so; they fight, they bicker, they drink, but at the end of the day they are best friends and always there to watch eachothers backs. Akshay might seem that he hates Andrei, but if he really hated him, Andrei wouldn’t be alive.

Akshay: The mutt? Yeah... He is a good man... When he isn't his usual idiot self. *grunts*

For Amaria: Akshay knows she is Andrei's sister and that their sibling relation isn't that good. Akshay hasn't really interacted that much with Amaria but if he has to say his opinion he would say that he is beautiful and misunderstood... And very deadly for such a small woman.

Akshay: It really shows she is the mutts sister... She can maim you and your corpse would just misteriously disappear.

Decebal Avram Chirilă

For Andrei: Decebal has lots of fun with Andrei and they are two knuckleheads and daredevils. Andrei had done so much for Decebal that none has ever done and the Romanian is very gratefull for it, hench his loyality towards the Russian. Decebal didn't expected to get along with Andrei that good but he absolutly adores him... And the moments they fuck.

Decebal: Ohhhh! Vodknockers!? He is like a fun and crazy little brother... He sure has a temper which is funny. Haha *smirks* His libido matches mine and he has a great cock *laughs*

For Amaria: Decebal knows that she is the way she is because of her past and he isn't one to judge or make fun of her believs and such. Everyone can believe in whatever they want. What's the problem with that? Plus, he thinks she is very gorgeous.

Decebal: Oh? That wild woman? She is very beautiful, like hella beautiful that she could put an army of women to shame. *laughs* But seriously now... Just like Xavi said... She is only misunderstood. *soft smile*

Alexander Chirilă

For Andrei: Alexander simply feels very uncomfortable in the same room as Andrei and it doesn't help that the Russian was Alexanders first. Alexander finds it so so frustrating that Andrei has no sense of other peoples personal space, especially his.

Alexander: Oh God.... Not him again. He has no respect, he is an absolut degeranted wanker who doesn't understand the concept of personal space and he frustrates me so so much it makes me so angry. *blushing red face and huffs* But.... I suppose... Like my big brother said... He can be nice... Only I never saw that!

For Amaria: Alexander enjoys that she is quite and she seems to have some concept of other peoples personal space. Plus he is glad she isn't like her big brother... Who acts like a sexual offender. Amaria kind of reminds Alexander of one of the tallest mountains, surrounded by mist... Especially that certain quietness.

Alexander: I suppose she is alright... She seems like a very strong one with a certain specific will... And she is pretty..... B-But not like that! *blushes*

Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

For Andrei: She thinks she is a good man, on certain topics but on other hands.... She views him as a stupid kid with disgusting behaviors and most important.... A coward. If he thinks he is so mighty, why not take someone his own size or bigger, not some small and innocent woman. Andrei is only lucky because of Decebal..... Or else he would have been castrated the moment he meet Nadia. Period.

Nadia: *looks up from her painting* He is a stupid child.... But means well... On certain moments.

For Amaria: Nadia thinks that Amaria is a very intirguing and gorgeous woman, small but with a fierce spirit that will cit through you just like her machete... Nadia appreciates greatly a woman who won't take anyones shit, especially a mans. Amaria reminds Nadia of a pit of big sharp deadly ice icicle, that she saw the first month she moved into Greenland. The pit looked so so beautiful but if you stepped to close you would fall into said pit and a painfull horrible death will follow.

Nadia: Beautiful and Deadly... Such a majestic combination. *paints a womans shadow with mountains into the background*

[aio-rya]

"Iris" — Malleus x f!Reader

「Requested by: Anon」

『This is the Iris version I used for this songifc, I felt it was perfect』

ー・Φ・ー

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

Once again, his path brought him to the human child's dorm. It looked so different by daylight, the view of the old building was not that bad but night in that place had another meaning: his encounters with his little mortal. He was unbelievable about his thoughts, flying around her, as if he could smell her sweet perfume and feeling the tip of her fingers grabbing his coat. A little laugh scaped through his lips as he turned around, taking his leave —unexpectedly, he spotted someone sleeping under a tree near the path that led to main street.

As he walked by, he realised it was his little human friend. She was so peaceful and quiet while sleeping, her pale eyelids and her pink lips made her look so innocent, like a porcelain doll. Avoiding any kind of noise, he sat down next to her, under the fresh shadow of the tree. He remained there the whole afternoon, watching over her sleep and even humming a lullaby he remembered Lilia used to sing for Silver.

Malleus was fighting with the impulse of caressing her soft skin, startled when she, still sleeping, moved her head near to his legs. Babbling quietly on her sleep.

"Tsuno-chan..."

As the sun was setting on the horizon, on the opposite side to where he and his beloved girl were facing, she woke up —even then, sleepy, she was beautiful.

"You look like an angel" he whispered, putting his book down on his legs while she sat down.

"How long have you been here?" she asked with drowsy voice, yawning.

He chuckled, "long enough to take care of you."

"Then, you are my guardian angel" she answered, getting nearer.

"I am no angel. I have lived in a cold, enormous and empty castle for centuries. But having a friend, loving someone like you... That is the nearest thing I have to heaven" he muttered, as if he was afraid of those words.

She smiled and his heart beat increased.

"Should we get inside?" she asked, standing up as he pulled her arm. Her tiny body landed over Malleus' legs.

"I'd rather stay here with you" he said, lifting her ching with a finger. "Do you feel it? The cold shiver running down your spine?"

She remained quiet as he started getting near, mixing their breathing. Is he going to...

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered almost against her lips.

She stared at his beautiful green dragon eyes, then at his lips, lightly blushed.

"You."

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

And sooner or later, it's over

I just don't wanna miss you tonight

They saw stars shining in the distance as night covered the sky, cold wind caressed their skin as moonlight witnessed their long unspoken love. Life was so different before, without him, and for the great prince, it was too without her. Everything he knew was loneliness as he only had Lilia by his side, for eternity, while the human lifes passed by in the blink of an eye. He never really cared about them, the sons of men, since there were millions and almost everyone of them were similar.

But she. She was an exception. He was condemned to the hell of a life that would last eons, such as Lilia, he will live as the people he loved died —and now, he was afraid of losing her, the young lady who laid down on his chest, the one who never feared him, the so daring and brave human he was holding between his arms.

"What is it, Tsunotaro?" she whispered, tightening her hold over his waist.

"You will never learn, won't you?" he laughed, kissing her forehead. "What should it be?" he answered, trying to keep the mysterious atmosphere.

"You hold your breath when you're worried" she stated, burying her nose on the collar of his shirt.

"How would you know that?" he asked, giggling. Oh, how happy she was, since no one but her coulg listen to him like that. So... Tender.

"I was told by a little bird~" she crooned, lifting her head.

"A silver one, pheraphs~?" he followed her tone, mischievously.

"Pheraphs not" she laughed, laying over him, looking straight into his beautiful emerald eyes, "What is worrying you, my king?"

My king, he taught. You only called him like that when you were serious.

"Human life is... Ephemeral. It has and end, sooner or later. That's why you live every moment with such intensity, so you can leave this life without regrets" Malleus started explaining, caressing her plum lips with his cold finger, "You treasure every important memory, every true love's kiss, every reward earned after taking a risk... And yet, we the faes live long enough to remember our humans with love and pain."

"Is... Is this some kind of... Farewell?" the young one asked, with some tears stuck on her throat.

"It is not. If fact... I want to do as you" he smiled, holding the back of her head, getting near to her face, "I want to engrave this moment with fire on my heart. Your smell, the smoothness of your skin, the taste of your lips..." his voice was deeper, not sad but nostalgic, his lips dangerously close to hers, "Breathing the same atmosphere as you."

He leaned forward to catch her between his lips, cold but sweet, tender but needy, fragile as strong. She was breathless, speechless —it was a feeling none of them had experienced ever before.

"I want to remember this night, so I won't ever miss you again. I want to remember every inch of you forever."

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know, you're alive

"If that is what makes her happy, I'm willing to sacrifice my own happiness" he stated with powerful but polite voice, staring blankly at the letter on the table aside him.

"You have surely grown up, Malleus" certain ancient fae answered with a gleam of proud on his voice, leaning forward, putting his hands over the prince's shoulders. "But you will not be happy with her choise, you can lie her. But you can't lie yourself."

"I--"

"I know. Life is not as fairytales, you may feel you are near your 'happily ever after', but fate is unpredictable" Lilia spoke before his ward could, trying to understand how he must have been feeling about losing her, his beloved human child.

"I'm fine" Malleus stated once again. "I can't allow myself to break down, it is not proper of the Heir of the Valley of Thorns". He was lying to himself and he was clearly aware of that, not even his guardian, who knew him as the hilt of his very own sword, could be fooled by his unconcerned visage.

"Malleus... If you need to release those feelings, I--"

"It's fine, Lilia. I'll be fine. There's no need for crying nor overthinking the situation" he stood up from the chair at the Diasomnia's dinning room and made his way toward the door. "I'll take my leave. I need to prepare a farewell gift for the Child of Men. That is proper from a Prince."

I never mentioned crying, my dear. The short fae thought with a sigh , taking the letter between his fingers while walking towards the main door of the castle.

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

"What is this?" she asked, taking the black velvety box Malleus handled out to her.

"A gift. A farewell gift" he said bitterly, also tenderly as the eyes of her human watered.

"F-fare...wel..." she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. "So it is true? Are you willing to sacrifice your own happiness for letting me go, then? I... I can't. An eternity thinking about this moment, heavier than our memories together..."

"We have to fulfil our own duties. And you have a world waiting for you" he insisted, taking a few steps back.

"I have a world waiting for me, but it is not in the other side of the mirror. It is here, with you" her voice was shaking.

"You are a human. Your life is as fragile as a leaf... It is made to break, you are made to die."

"That's how life works."

He suddenly felt her hands trying to reach his face, tip toeing because of the height difference. She lifted a black hair strand from his forehead, revealing his birth marks and caressing them with her thumb; he was astonished.

"You truly are a fearless human" he said, recovering from the initial shock. Leaning forward for her to touch his whole skin.

"I don't have to fear you" her eyes were now closed, as he made possible to touch each other forehead, "I know you. I've walked with you... Even in my dreams."

Her arms surrounded Malleus as she held him tightly, burying her nose on his neck.

"Even if the world doesn't see what I do, I will still love you. And if you ask me, I will stay. I don't care if they never understand, I don't mean they do--"

She was silenced by a sudden kiss. Something she never expected to be so rough yet too careful.

"And this is my gift to you: I will always love you..."

"Until my last breath."

ー・Φ・ー

It has been a while since my last songifc. So... It's up to you guys, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR 

Ok y’all if you thought 18x05 was long, you in for a trip. Get ready for lots of caps, lots of not PG-13, and lots of overanalysis. I hope this lives up to the hype since it took me forever and a day (literally almost every minute of the 20 minutes of scenes took practically an hour to breakdown, I have a problem I know). Anyways, let’s get sweaty under the cut because the day ain’t young no more 👇🏼

Their bickering in the car but Nick smiling the whole time is a huge married vibe but also he’s so happy she’s alive and will take any shit she gives him vibe and I’m here for it. Pluuuuus Ellie avoiding nicks question about the phone call 😭 he’s so freaking concerned for her (he’s been through his own version of PTSD), his voice drops all the teasing and he actually opens up a little bit - really wants to make sure she’s ok. He needs to be there for her and ugh poor Ellie, those walls are going back up after that hug- a momentary lapse in her usual self. She’s so far outside of her comfort zone talking about feelings and weaknesses and she immediately deflects. Nick respecting that deflection is also huge growth for him, knows it’s not ok to push through like a person like him would normally do and force her hand. He knows she needs space but also clearly ready to be that ear to listen or shoulder to cry on whenever she needs it.

His joke about notable mustaches only to be the butt of the joke about using the word notable later is hiiiiiilarious. 

Her comment about Zillow 😂 um excuse me ellie you looking for houses and to settle down 👀 but then(!!) Nick pushes her down the stairs first when shots start, getting her out of harm’s way and putting himself in danger like he always does my heart 😩 like he’s still on the stairs by the time she’s in a cell “safe.” And side note damn they are good shots, oof. 

The toilet bowl scene is easily one of my favorites. Nick freaking out over Ellie moving hers and him not being able to had me DYING. Like legit cackling over his worry she’s suddenly way stronger than him 🤣🤣 and then he gets SO pissed they took their car hahaha like so mad he hugs the damn wall in frustration. But then he claims he’ll rip out the bars of the window (you know, to make up for not being able to move his toilet and still prove he’s macho) and Ellie’s comment about superhuman strength & his agreement LOL. His anxiety level of being trapped and more so Ellie being trapped is getting to him already. He is reaching for any possible way to get them (read: her) out of there safely it doesn’t matter that the plan sounds outrageous. Cue him moving back to pissed and breaking the toilet with his damn foot like 🥵 we get you strong Nick but no need to show off. Hot damn. His “I really think we’re stuck in here” after that IDK why but had be laughing again. I’m pretty sure I said “no shit Sherlock” at my TV watching live because thank you Captain Obvious. 

Aaaaaand then when she pauses and finds the bomb bricks but goes so quiet oooooof he’s on high alert. You can practically hear his heart pounding and then he goes and starts panicking slightly when she doesn’t respond with our first use of a first name, “Ellie we have a wall between us, what is it?” But his tone is so frantic and his eyes are darting around putting the whole picture together and my heart aches for him. He’s starting to realize just how helpless he is to save her. The exact thing he likely swore he’d set out to never let happen again (Ellie in danger) after last episode, is happening again. And this time, it’s not like he can go hunt the guys down, he’s quite literally stuck. Helpless with no way out. Aaand here’s where Nick starts to lose his patience. Pissed at himself for not saving her before, not being able to save her now. Pissed at everything. He cannot comprehend how she is in this situation AGAIN and he can do nothing. But oh lord, he doesn’t even realize it’s about to get worse...

Him brooding over this crappy situation in a corner and being the cautious one is so unlike him (but also so telling as to how unnerved he is by her being in danger once again and not wanting to do anything to make it worse) and Ellie calls him on being “so careful, cowboy” and hot damn again she really does like a man in uniform doesn’t she??? 👀🔥 and she not picky on the type of uniform either 😏 but Nick immediately deflects because he’s not *quite* ready to talk feelings so let’s get down to business about counting bullets BUT the second Ellie starts to worry again he goes into hyperdrive protective and caring boyfriend partner. Without hesitation he tells her they’re going to figure it out because goddamnit he HAS to figure this out for her. He can’t fail, again. And he’s so so SO worried about her & her mental health right now and I sincerely love it. I know Ellie doesn’t want to have that conversation but I stan (I can’t believe I’m using that word, I’m not hip enough for that word) an empathetic boyfriend who supports their significant other when facing mental health issues (like PTSD in Ellie’s case) ❤️❤️❤️ Nick breaks my heart, he wants to be there for her- wants to be the one she feels comfortable enough to open up to and he just gets so dejected when she rejects his probing again (but I don’t blame her, it’s *hard* to open up about these difficult topics), his body language slumped over the bars and tone is just so defeated even if he tries to snap back into his usual Torres self (newsflash it ain’t working bruv because she’s not totally wrong in calling you hovery). Yet naturally he gets annoyed because he JUST CARES ELLIE DAMMIT LET HIM CARE. Like you go through this entire list of him trying to protect you from everything that could go wrong because HE CARES. HE WAS TERRIFIED HE LOST YOU ELLIE. HE TRULY THOUGHT HE’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. NEVER TOUCH YOU AGAIN. NEVER TELL YOU HE LOVES YOU. HE CARES. AND HE CANT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU AGAIN. HE LITERALLY WANTS TO SAVE YOU (his own words because god damn this show plays with my emotions 😭😭) FROM ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE HE COULDN’T SAVE YOU FROM GETTING KIDNAPPED AND HAVING TO FIGHT YOUR WAY OUT OF A PLANE RIGGED TO BLOW. Ok done with yelling for now but man this part gets me. The implications are so important even over trivial stuff. He felt helpless and Nick Torres cannot do helpless, so he tries do to everything else in his power to keep her away from any danger no matter how little it seems. Even hot coffee is too much for his precious babe and while he knows she’s not some delicate, fragile flower- he knows she can hold her own (& has called her a badass as proof), his heart can’t possibly take another explosion on an airstrip. Even if that airstrip is something like a burnt tongue. Ok I die now 😩😩😩

But let’s come back to living because this bullshit Nick “I always tell you what’s going on with me...you ask I tell you” exCUSE ME. Is this the same man who claimed he was being overprotective and that Ellie was like a sister to him?!???!! Yeah, I call bullSHIT that you tell Ellie what’s going on with you. (And Ellie calls BS too, btw buddy). 

But when Ellie finally decides to open a little I love it. I think she finally understood at least just a bit that he just, simply cares about her & her well-being. So she gives him a tiny taste of what she’s going through. And god Nick’s face when he understands the gravity of what she’s having to face mentally. Like I know he knew but I don’t think he knew just how bad. And you can just see that hatred towards his perceived failure turning inward once again as the mood shifts in these cells to somber. Plus Ellies last comment here with them *needing* to find a way out of there- girrrrrrrl poor baby girl 😭 she’s struggling so hard right now and trying so hard to not let it show and not let it get to her but you know she’s terrified. You know she’s desperately triggered. UGH Ellie 💔💔

We cut to Ellie desperately trying to figure out a solution to getting the fuck outta there and once again my heart aches for her triggered self. Nick seems desolate and frustrated, shutting down slowly as it seems less and less likely they’ll get out. Buuuuut then the GUM. Ahahahahahah Ellieeeeeee how do you know about that last piece of gum for “breath emergencies”??? AHHHH this man’s jeans are so damn tight (& yes trust me I would know, I observe) but like also you staring at a spot on said tight jeans that’s only maybe five inches from a different outline 👀👀👀 GIRL I FEEL YOUUUU. GET. IT. Plus she knows exactly what he calls it and I freaking love that. His excuse for why he has to save it is also hilarious 🤣 his breath emergency later hmmm doubt you wanted to save it to MacGyver something Nick sooooo you got another thing in mind?? 😏 and then LMAO it’s mushy because his pants are sweaty I’m rolllllling. Your pants too tight Nick? (this is not humanly possible btw) ALSO is this why later Ellie says she expected Nick to be more sweaty??? If it is and now rewatching I kind of feel like it is, omg what a great callback on her part 🤣🤣

Nick trying to coach her on the proper way of opening the cell door is hilarious because bitch which one of you was able to move their toilet Nick 👀😂 but oh damn now it’s when shit goes downhill fast. 

Nick not being able to see anything and his frantic questioning is amazing compared to Ellies absolute panic realizing she is once again facing down a bomb. I feel like her calming breaths are a coping technique Jack has been helping her with but man kill me now, Nick’s face?? When he realizes what he thought was helplessness earlier has just shot yo exponentially??? Oof with a capital O. This poor man needs a damn drink and yet all he can have is a club soda boy I *feel you* on that (side note #letsgetthisbabyoutmybellyasap). His woman has gone and gotten herself into another bomb encounter for the second time in a week. And he CANT DO A DAMN THING ABOUT IT. Can you imagine the absolute inner (and outer, give it a sec) freak out he’s having?? He wants to save her from hot coffee for Christ’s sake and now he can’t save her from a rigged bomb. Talk about a shitty situation. 

I just love the Torres Teachable Moment little discussion. Like Nick’s smirk gets me. I really don’t think he knew she had a name for it or realized that she caught on to what he was doing (trying to help her grow as an agent without being obvious or “degrading”). And then we move on to comparing arm length and I crack up 😂 “my arms are longer than yours” and “no they’re disproportionately short for your body” HAHAHA like what the hell have you guys been doing to know this?? Do you stand *that* close together with your arms down to know their lengths comparatively and how much do you stare at Nick, Ellie? Daaaaaaamn. From his gum to his arms to his body I see you 👀 I’m not hating tho I would too 😏 I think what I loved most about this whole jail scene (aside the ending obvs) is the quick flipping back and  forth from joking & teasing to dead serious & worried. Like they’re both trying so hard to keep it above board and light- trying desperately not to think of the implications of what’s happening but then (usually Nick) those intrusive thoughts sneak through and he can’t help but redirect them back to serious. It shows their inner warrings with themselves and just how hard this is for both of them. How much they want to appear strong and unflappable but they both know deep down the whole situation is eating away at them. And Nick bringing up her standing on a bomb only moments before he tells her he’s going to shoot the wall- OOF. Ellie’s genuine terror for him injuring himself and her then not being able to do a damn thing about it because she’s standing on a FREAKING BOMB is so painful to watch. Like she’s stuttering she can’t get it out fast enough, she needs to stop him, she can’t fathom him getting hurt while she’s helpless (uh, hello there theme of the episode how have you been). Nick’s facial expressions through this scene are also so telling. He goes from “this isn’t a big deal” to “oh shit she’s panicking” to “holy shit is she going to open up, is she really talking about this” to “fuck it’s my fault she had to go through that and it’s tearing me up inside every second” to “hooooooly fuck is she about to say what I think she’s about to say?? Is she about to confirm what I know deep inside but am too afraid to say aloud?? Is it true??” And ELLIE OH ELLIE. Reliving that *has* to be hard, has to. To finally bring it up after she’s been dodging it all damn day...you know the thought of him getting seriously injured had her more than rattled. And she cracks open those cement walls around her heart so briefly, the glimpse in it provides I think a turning point for Nick. Finally seeing that it’s not just him, she’s in deep too. Even if she can’t say it, can’t say she was fighting to see him again 😩💔 he knows. She says he only has one bullet left and to save it and they’ll figure some other way with tears in her eyes my HEART. But Nick gets it. Nick gets it because he’s been in the exact same situation. His eyes as they process the implication of her words and the fear for his life running through them 🥺 his simple “ok” is so unlike his normal self, you just know he’s once again doing anything and everything he can for. Even if that means standing down and not fighting for his way (the natural instinct for him). He knows what she needs is reassurance he won’t accidentally shoot himself. So he does it 😭 But him pacing (as a man of action suddenly faced with forced inaction) & Ellie begging for an inventory over and over (a woman of logics and data faced with PTSD) is so painful. You can tell they’re both struggling and neither wants to admit it but also they both need to do something - for Nick that becomes finally deciding to shoot a foothold in the wall and for Ellie that meant trying to go over their facts again and again but suddenly she’s once again terrified Nick is going to injure himself. The one man she fought to see again might hurt or even kill himself and she can’t do a damn thing because she’s standing on a bomb for fuck’s sake. Aaaaaaand cue the blow up. Cue Nick voicing his worst fears of Ellie accidentally triggering the bomb. Cue Ellie getting defensive because she’s so damn used to be babied and treated like she can’t take care of herself. Cue the “overprotective hovery man crap” line that had me rolling on the floor (tbt ROFL). Cue Ellie calling herself a girl but Nick calling her a woman like DAMN get me where it hurts Nick- that right there is a man who respects the living hell out of this fiiiiiiine representation of a woman in front of him 🔥. Cue Ellie saying because I’m “me” like um FUCK YES IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE YOU AND HE’S TOO SCARED OF LOSING YOU ELLIE. Cue Nick finally losing his shit and getting reeeeeealllllllll like hallelujah do you hear the church bells?! Even Ellie knows to finally pause and listen. Nick never loses it on her, never. She knows this shift is serious and it’s happening. And omg his confession can I just have a moment of silence for the GROWTH.

Thank you, it needed commemorating. The same Nick who didn’t belong to a team is the Nick that is out here claiming he can’t sit idly by while the love of his life might get blown up again. He’s NOT OKAY WITH THAT AND NEITHER AM I. NOT AFTER THIS GODDAMN SCENE. His head bob accentuating just- how- important this is to him is so in character (thank you Wilmer) and theeeeeeen shoot me the way he has to fucking collect himself from almost crying. The emotion- there just aren’t words. Literally he has to look up to the sky and blink back those tears you know are threatening to fall at the thought of the woman who he still *technically* hasn’t told that he loves her could potentially die, again, for the second time in a week. So guess the hell what? He’s telling her (sort of). He’s telling her he would do anything, anything, put himself in danger’s way if it meant there was even the tiniest chance it would save her. Pardon the callback but- HE WOULD RISK HIS LIFE TO SAVE HERS. DON’T YOU REMEMBER ELLIE. YOU SAID I KNOW. DO YOU KNOW NOW. DO YOU. BECAUSE GOOD LORD CAN YOU MARRY THIS MAN ALREADY BEFORE I DIVORCE MY HUSBAND AND DO IT (jk love you honey 😘). But like damn, she knows it now. That look- she bites her lip and has tears in her own eyes at the realness she can feel even through a cement block wall. It’s a feeling she’s not used to. She isn’t used to being a person someone would literally risk death for. She doesn’t think she deserves it (sip on that like whiskey, mull it over, let it sink in & cry about it). Even if she knows she doesn’t need saving (and so does Nick), she finally realizes it isn’t about that. It isn’t about he feels like she can’t do it. It’s about the overwhelming pull that your life isn’t greater than the one you love. That love, real true love, is knowing you would do anything for that other person (and they the same) because the world would be worse off without them in it. And Nick will never be okay with a world without Ellie. Never. Their joint quiet after his confession is so powerful. There’s no claims of falsehood, there’s no trying to quip back at him, there’s no trying to stop him. It just settles into the room- into their hearts. They’ve crossed a line and it means so, so much. Nick can feel a weight lifted off his shoulders as he loads his gun and gets ready and Ellie can feel a weight settle on hers from the need to reciprocate. And not out of pity, it would be out of truth. But she knows it isn’t the right time. She knows she has to do it, and she will. She held back earlier when she couldn’t say she was fighting for Nick, but his outburst and confession gave her the courage in this scene. She finally has confirmation she means to him like he means to her. And she has to know, she has to know if he means it or if it was heat of the moment so when the dust settles she inquires, “what’s going on over there?” A pulse check. A way of asking without asking—did you mean that? And the shock of confirmation of her face as Nick, dead as a doornail serious says, “close calls make you live harder”….holy hell. That’s the moment it snaps for her, everything snaps into place—the agony he’s gone through not only this week, but the past couple years of close calls. He’s done beating around the bush, he’s living harder, he’s going all in, he’s getting what he wants. He refuses to let anything like a damn jail cell rigged to blow stand in his way. And she knows, she knows just how important she is to him. He might not have said those three words, but that phrase- that phrase was a direct window into Nick Torres’ soul. And by god I love it. 

But Nick pulling a prank on Ellie like that is also so Nick- the little shit. The genuine concern in her voice when she yells his name 😭 like dude, her worst fear, something causing ongoing trauma in her head right now is the ONE THING you decide to tease her with??? I should expect nothing less but damn that’s low 😂 her checking on his status update with Gibbs though feels like such a role reversal from earlier and it cracks me up, side note. 

When they’re getting ready to stand down the returning brother and Nick gets in position next to the wall but can’t even look ahead- he’s just staring at Ellie, oof. In that moment he’s brutally and painfully aware she can’t hide for cover. Not only can she not hide, he can’t cover her because he’s (locked in a cell but also) out of bullets. He’s once again near helpless and the woman he loves (and has now finally kind of told) is a sitting duck. Someone get this poor man a damn club soda, I repeat. 

And the little talk between the two parties- I love that Ellie takes point. Love that Nick lets her. Like damn that’s a supportive partner right there and I 👏🏼 AM 👏🏼 HERE 👏🏼 FOR 👏🏼 IT. He knows she can handle this shit and he will willingly let her. But nooooooowwwww weee gettinggggg to the goooooood paaaaaaart. 

Ok first, “good to see you” - this man has missed her face. Straight up dying to see her in the flesh. Just listening to her voice and not seeing the emotions written on her face is not enough. Seeing her alive, smiling at him, he needed it. But of course, let’s keep it light, act natural Nicholas. 

“I thought you’d be sweatier” - excUUUUSE ME ELLIE. Not only did you just call out his reference to his sweaty jeans earlier, you also WANT TO SEE HIM SWEATY DON’T YOU. THAT SMIRK SAYS YES DON’T LIE. And honestly, I don’t blame you shhhhh.

“The day is young” - can I get another excUUUUSE ME NICK. Words- they don’t- function. Because that knowing smile of hers- SHE’S OKAY WITH IT. GET YOUR MIND OUT THE GUTTER YOU TWO THERE’S A HOMICIDAL MAN UPSTAIRS. YOU’VE GOT TIME TO GET SWEATY TOGETHER TONIGHT YOU HEAR ME. THAT DAY IS YOUNG AND SO ARE YOU SO GET THOSE BRICKS AND THEN YOU CAN GET TO BANGING LATER. I just fucking can’t with their smirks. I can’t. This isn’t the normal banter, this is the fuck me banter and I’m okay with it. Because right after the I-wanna-get-in-your-sweaty-jeans banter we have Ellie putting her HAND ON HIS GD HIP AS HE PASSES ONLY TO MOVE UP TO BOTH SHOULDERS. AND THEEEEEEEN HOLY HELL SOMEONE LIGHT A MATCH BECAUSE THIS BITCH ABOUT TO EXPLODE FROM SEXUAL TENSION. Is it possible to rewatch this scene a thousand times in slo-mo and still not have watched it enough? Because that is me. That will always be me. How are they so in tandem, so in sync as they look up mere inches from each other- directly into the other’s eyes knowing exactly how serious this situation is and yet pausing to freaking gaze longingly (read: have eye sex) at each other. And I’m sorry Nick looks down at her lips like three times??? For a good while too?? Sir nothing you said required you to look there. nothing. And also there’s no way his hands aren’t on her I thiiiiiiink they’re on her upper arms (based on the last shot as he’s walking to get the bricks) but like hold her tight Nick please. Also while Ellie doesn’t look at his lips (in this scene) holy shit those are some come-hither eyes if I’ve ever seen them. “I’m sure” ABOUT YOU. SHE’S SURE ABOUT YOU NICK. SHE’S SURE SHE’S READY TO GET SWEATY WITH YOU NICK. Like literally, this girl had been leaning up against the cement wall for a looooong time before he has to pass her and now, NOW that Nick has to pass her- SHE STANDS UP TALL. TO GIVE HIM NO SPACE. WHILE SHE’S STANDING ON A BOMB. BITCH YOU WANTED IT. That was a damn power move Ellie and I am not mad about it. She so easily could have leaned back, given him a ton of space to get around, but nooooooo she stands right there, middle of the tight opening and says yes Nick come get 1mm from my face, touch me here, touch me there, touch me everywhere don’t care 👀 while you pass. I’m sure I’m okay with it because you’ve just eye fucked me and it’s exactly what I wanted. And I mean come oooooooon just the underlying emotion behind both of their words. Nick isn’t just asking if she won’t move her foot- it’s his way of asking if she’s ok and she looks SO much better, more relaxed now that he’s with her. The tense, anxiety-ridden Ellie that was asking for inventory or snapping about him being overprotective, is now at ease despite still standing on said bomb- all because Nick is right there with her and if that doesn’t make you 🥺😭 I don’t know what will. Like she can’t even take her eyes off of him even after rude brother interrupts this gold moment of theirs until Nick has already completely turned his head towards the dude. She’s just so relieved to see him standing there, so close to her, feeling his warmth underneath her hands again. 

Side note to prove my earlier point, when Nick casually reaches through to throw the bags of bricks through the door Ellie is leaning on the wall and THERE’S SO MUCH ROOM. HE COULD HAVE EASILY PASSED. 

Nick looks like he literally wants to murder the guy, enraged that he’s the one who put Ellie in this situation again. We would’ve seen swan!Nick if it wasn’t for Ellie choosing this moment to finally share her feelings. Because remember- she’d decided she was going to reciprocate but knew it wouldn’t come off the right way before. Now’s the time. Now when the immediate threat to their lives is gone (excluding bomb of course). Now when they’re alone, they’re together, and she can look him in the eye so he knows she’s serious. He can read the truth in her eyes rather than doubt her words said across a jail cell wall. 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you” - well damn that got your attention didn’t it Nick??? So used to putting Ellie first, putting yourself second its weird to hear it come from someone else isn’t it? That someone is worried for your safety? That someone needs you living and breathing just as much as you need them doing the same? His eyes immediately change from Imma kill this man to did I just hear this woman right. 

“I’m not okay with you getting blown up either” - first off, the parallelism is what makes this absolute *chef’s kiss* because Nick has literally zero chance of being blown up if he runs after this dude. Shot? Yes. But blown up? No. Ellie has chosen these words precisely to call back to what Nick said earlier. To make sure he’s aware she understood the weight of his earlier confession and is making the same one. They are on equal footing- their feelings are not only reciprocated but just as strong as the other. She could’ve said anything else but choosing his exact words was so poignant in the moment. It’s like the difference between saying “I love you” & “I love you too” compared to “I love you” & “I really care about you.” And the way she says it with such confidence, she isn’t playing around, she didn’t even *have* to bring up their previous conversation, she’s got determination etched across her face with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She means this, and it’s dying to bust out of her. And so the shock to Nick’s system is quite frankly understandable. This is Ellie - someone who hours ago didn’t even want to tell him who she was trying to make a phone call to. Ellie who has walls the size of Mt. Everest erected around her heart. Ellie who could have brushed off his earlier comments said from the safety of a cement wall between them. But no. This Ellie is all-in, she’s ready to own up to her side. She’s ready to lay it on the line just like him. Equal footing. If Nick is ready to jump, then so is she. And he’s just so taken aback- glancing at her lips, blinking through the shock as he processes. Processes the weight of her words on their relationship. He knows he could laugh it off, make a joke about his superhuman strength not allowing him to get blown up, or he could man up and take them both forward. Ellie doesn’t even flinch under his stare, if anything she becomes more confident, more resolute in her words and her stance. Her eyes searching his for what his reaction will be and for a brief moment I swear there’s a tiny bit of worry, a tiny bit of unease that he wasn’t ready for her to repeat his words back to him. 

“Well, what are we gonna do about that?” Oh YOU HEARD. That smirrrrrrrrk Nicholas stop iiiiiit, Eleanor’s standing on a bomb you don’t need to light her on fire!! Because this is a challenge, a goddamn challenge. Staring straight into her soul saying, “oh you want me and I want you? How about we blow this popsicle stand and go get fucking sweaty ok? Because that’s what I want to do about that 👀🔥🔥🔥” and not only is the smirk sexy as hell but it’s also got this glint of elation. Like he could not be happier she said those words back to him. That he finally took Ziva’s advice, wasn’t a wuss and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT IT PAID OFF. But his words also tell of a little nervousness. And not necessarily in a bad way, more as in a leaving it to her way. Putting her in the driver’s seat of this relationship knowing it’s where she’ll feel most comfortable. Given all she’s been through, like all of it not just the past week, he knows that she needs to be in control of how fast they move. And once again his chivalry and thoughtfulness of her is just- I cry. He doesn’t just assault her with what they should do next, he leaves it for her to decide. For her to weigh in on how far and how fast she wants to take them. And by the little shy smile Ellie gives him- she knows what he means. She knows her words have hit their mark and that he respects her enough to let her lead the way. And now she has to make her decision, a decision we DON’T GET TO SEE BUT I’M NOT BITTER IT’S FINE. But a decision nonetheless. 

I honestly go two ways on this- the most obvious of hell yes they kissed right then and there and started *something* and then the bitter realistic one of they were probably interrupted by Gibbs (who was literally outside like right then based on timing) but also may have just continued to stare into each other’s eyes- still slightly taken aback by everything they just shared and what it means for them. Still unsure of how they “work” as people who *love* each other, not just partners. Having that reality sink in as they continue to face off and wait for a rescuer. That reality sinking in could lead to obviously very good things (that we better see on our screen or I will fucking riot) or a slight nervous closing-off. Like not quite closed off closed off, but a tiny retreat when the gravity of the day falls down on both of them. I don’t think either will believe they only said what they did because of the situation/moment they were in, but it’s still a lot to deal with after all is said and done. I sincerely hope they unpack this in the coming episodes and give us some direction of what happened after that jail cell scene. 

I love the Torres told McGee about what happened today and I’m so curious about how much detail he told him lol but I also love that McGee has now received genuinely good advice from Torres twice now (the one about the reunion and now this). Just goes to show you the brotherly bond they have ❤️ but also that the advice was the same advice he literally lived out that day. Close calls make you live harder, almost as an affirmation to himself (Nick about what happened), but as something he knew McGee needed to hear too- they all do. 

And then this bullpen scene - one, how far of a time jump is this and whyyyyyyy won’t they telllll meeeeee. They hate me. Two, Ellie coming over so close just to hand off a file that he doesn’t even look at 👀 three, THEIR SMIRKS. WHAT DO THEY MEAN. Because Nick is holding back the world’s biggest smile as Ellie gets close to him and Ellie is just all nonchalantly checking him out with a brief eye-sex scene. Like damn this fine man doesn’t want me to blow up and I don’t want him to blow up either 🔥 Now does this mean they absolutely got together and did the nasty after they got out of that cell? Of course not. We can only dream, and write fics. This ending scene is very reminiscent of what NCIS loves to do with their power of open-ended persuasion at the end of an ep, see On Fire for example. The ending music and comments combined with the shot of Gibbs leaving in the elevator is literally there to try and persuade you that he killed Xavier. In this ep, the ending music and voiceover combined with their looks at each other is there to try and persuade you they totally got it oooooon. Not to say they didn’t, but I don’t trust NCIS one damn bit. 

All in all, cannot *wait* to see where they take ellick the rest of the season. Emily hyped this ep and man, she did NOT disappoint. Let’s see that shift that is going to ripple for the rest of the season now like Wilmer promised 🤞🏼

Oh and my only side note because this was insanely insanely long and if you’re still reading I’m proud of you for hanging in there with me & my screams into the void, send me an ask screaming back it’s ok I’ll love you for it—waaaas the whole team poking fun at Torres for using the word notable was downright hilarious. That and Gibbs trying to do everything himself, I can’t. Comedic gold. I love. I would go from dying of laughter to intense emotions so fast in this ep I got whiplash and for that, I am thankful to Gina. She always delivers 🔥

[imherongraystairstrash]

Can you write prompt 32 or 65 for luciexjesse??

Ahh, I love Jesse and Luciee!! I tried really hard to do them justice in this fic, but I also wanted to write about Lucie’s new internal conflicts now that she’s separated from her family. I also thought I might as well use both prompts because I’m horrible at making decisions. Hope you enjoy!:

Prompts: “I’d rather be here” &  “I was worried about you”

Ship: Lucie x Jesse

The thing about dreams is that they’re conjurings of the uncontrolled mind. Dreams are free and abide by no laws. They take strange forms, shifting and molding into things that can be beautiful or harrowing, lovely or tragic. They can be both based on fiction or reality; there are no limits when the mind is liberated to conjure as it desires. Lucie’s dreams have always been occult, abstract in the way one might describe a meticulous painting in a gallery hall. She usually got ideas for her novels from her dreams, as their strangeness is perfect inspiration. It was like a wooden table: the idea was there, all she had to do was sand it down, paint and varnish it. 

Now, however, her dreams have taken a different form. Cruel, malicious, utterly wicked. Her dreams are whispers of her family, memories, corrupted by an unknown source of evil. Her father carried her on his shoulders, her mother kissed her feet when she was a baby, her brother held her hand as they walked barefoot through the mossy floor of the Brocelind forest, to go to their cousins’ houses. 

But they were tainted with shadows. Will would suddenly let go of her and let her tumble to the floor, not caring if she was harmed. Tessa would look down at her in disappointment and walk away. James would tear his arm from her’s and run, trying to get away. She would run after him, but her legs wouldn’t let her. She’d reach Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel’s house only to have them slam the door in her face and shut the curtains. She'd run.

Away from her family that despised her so. She ran through time until, suddenly, she was thirteen. She was running in a meadow with Cordelia. Her dark red hair was like a proud, silk banner as it flew in the wind. Her strides were long and her brown skin glowed under the sunlight. She turned to Lucie and her face filled with pain. 

“Why didn't you tell me? We were supposed to be sisters and parabatai.”

“We are, Daisy.” Lucie said through tears. “We are sisters.”

Cordelia shook her head, she began disappearing. “We used to be.”

Lucie screamed Cordelia’s name, but her glorious presence winked away in the blink of an eye. 

She saw Thomas and Christopher in the distance, but they couldn’t see her. They were talking about her, about what horrible thing she’d done. 

Lucie clasped her hands over her ears, willing their voices away until she was a shadow, without life or power.

She heard a song being sung by a soft, deep voice. She opened her eyes and saw a boy with sea green eyes and curling brown hair. He tucked a smaller boy who shared his same features into bed and kissed his cheek. She watched in wonder as he turned off the lights of other rooms, saying a final goodnight to three other children, all of which—minus another boy—shared a similar appearance to him. As he walked down the hall, Lucie followed, wondering where his parents were. He went into what she assumed was his room and closed the door. Lucie watched him stand there, staring at where his hands were, bracing against the wood. She watched him slowly turn and press his back to the door and slide down until he was sitting on the ground. And then, he began to choke on dry tears. 

Lucie was taken aback. She looked at the young boy and wanted to do something. To help him. He was so lonely. She put her hand in his hair and he looked up quickly, in surprise. 

Lucie wanted to kneel down next to the boy and tell him it was alright and that she would help him, but she was torn away from him. She cried out, not knowing why her heart cracked at the prospect of leaving this familiar looking boy alone. The pain was so great she slipped out of her unconscious state.

Lucie felt her eyes flutter open, light bursting across her vision, blinding her and causing her to close them again. She reached for her other senses. She could hear the sea birds squawking and waves crashing against each other and the sand. She felt the sunlight warm her right arm and the soft material of bedding under her. She smelled the salt in the air, that is found only by the seaside. She tasted nothing though. 

Finally she began opening her eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. She saw a pattern on the ceiling, of the beams that held the roof up. The walls were cream colored and the house (or cottage?, Lucie wasn’t quite sure.)

Her line of vision began descending down the walls and she noticed the house must be rounded and small. She saw a boy, bent over in worry, his hands pushing his crow, black hair back, eyes closed and elbows rested on the bed. His eyebrows were furrowed and he had bluish bags under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well in a long time. 

Lucie couldn’t help but admire how he was solid. She could almost reach out a touch the back of his neck—

His head shot up, and his vibrant green eyes danced as he saw her.

“Lucie,” Jesse said, coming close and leaning over her. There was relief written all over his face and his hands were soft and calloused as they brushed her hair away from her face. “I was worried about you.” 

“I’m alright, Jesse.” Lucie said, her voice soft and raspy from disuse.

He kissed her forehead and murmured her name over and over. Lucie closed her eyes and breathed in his scent and basked in his presence. 

She’d done it. Her Jesse was no longer a phantom, a whisper of life. He was living and breathing and he was healthy. He wasn’t disappearing, not anymore. 

“Jesse,” She gasped, pressing her lips to his neck and feeling the pulse of his heart on them. “Jesse, I can’t believe you’re alive.”

He pulled back and looked into her face. He was so beautiful, she’d forgotten how beautiful he was until she saw him again. Her dreams, her imagination, paled to how he was in real life. The way his eyes softened and his shoulders seemed to lean in her direction, like he wanted to hold her in his arms until the end of time. Yes, she had shamefully omitted those things from her memory. But now, she could see them, now they were here for her to adore and love.

“I can’t believe you’re awake,” he replied.

Lucie felt her breath shudder. “Where are we?”

“Cornwall. We’re in Malcolm’s cottage.” Jesse said.

Lucie felt her eyebrows scrunch involuntarily.

“You want to leave, don’t you?” Jesse said quickly, despair clear in his voice. “You want to go back to London with everybody else, which makes complete sense. Of course you’d rather—”

“Jesse.” Lucie said, “I’d rather be with you.”

Jesse looked at her, confused which, Lucie couldn’t help but notice, was very adorable.

“Of course, I want to be with my family, but I want you to be with me. I don’t want to go back if you’re not there beside me.”

“Lucie, you don’t have to say that to spare my feelings. I understand why you’d want to go back—”

“Are you joking, Jesse Blackthorn?” 

“What?” 

“I literally raised you from the dead because I couldn’t stand the thought of not being with you, of you living a half life while I lived a full one. I did that because I love you! How could you imagine that I’d just abandon you after all of this?”

“If I come back to London, the entire enclave will know that you performed necromancy to bring me back to life and you’ll be imprisoned and I executed. And this time, we won’t come back from death. You could have a better life than this, Lucie.”

“A better life? How is that any better than being dead? I’ll be miserable and I’ll have to lie to everyone I know about what I did. And live with my parents until I die, because I know that I could never love anyone else if it’s not you.” Lucie felt drops of water on her skin and realized tears rolling down her face. “I love you, Jesse! How many times do I have to tell you that before you start believing it?”

Jesse reached out to brush her tears away. “I love you too, Lucie.” His voice thick, as though he were holding back his own tears. 

“Then let us stay together, forever. No matter who tries to come between us, we remain by each other’s side. Because I can be scorned at and thrown into prison, and I will be happy, as long as you are by my side.”

Jesse leaned in and they shared the sweetest of kisses. Lucie felt something she’d never felt before; the start of a new beginning. A story where she’ll be the protagonist and not the narrator. Yes, this would be a fine adventure, even if it’ll be difficult.

...

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