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sshbpodcast · 1 year

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Put a cork in it: Bottle episodes in Star Trek

By Ames

“Good Lord, didn't anybody here build ships in bottles when they were boys?” Well, Star Trek sure did, and quite frequently! According to Memory Alpha, bottle shows are “episodes which take place mostly on existing sets and do not generally involve major guest stars.” Basically, any time we never leave the ship so that the show can save money for more expensive future episodes that have bigger sets, more special effects, or most frequently, the Borg.

But even in that definition, there’s still a lot of vaguery. “Mostly” on existing sets. Do not “generally” involve major guest stars. Many listicles of the best bottle episodes across the internet include instances that don’t fit all the components, but fulfill at least some of them. Look at it like a four-set Venn Diagram (which I learned is best arranged like this):

So let’s climb inside the bottle. What episodes perfectly satisfy all the elements and sit in that much sought-after place in the center of the Venn Diagram? Read on below for A Star to Steer Her By’s favorites and listen to our almost certainly contradictory discussion on this week’s podcast episode (jump to 1:04:49) to find out if we’re suckups who’ve built ships in bottles like O’Brien, or if we don’t play with toys like Worf.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Bottle Episodes with a Central Guest Star

Probably the most common kind of bottle episode is one with a simple plot, a physical confinement to the ship or station, and a non-crew character around whom the plot revolves in a pivotal way. The guest characters come to us and bring with them some kind of conflict for our main characters to handle. You know, your Richard Daystrom in “The Doomsday Machine,” Charlie Evans in “Charlie X,” Lal in “The Offspring,” Commander MacDuff in “Conundrum,” or Lon Suder in “Meld” (someone avenge that beautiful psychopath!). This list could go on and on because there are so many pretty contained episodes in which the guest of the week propels the plot forward. I’m compelled to include “The Changeling” here as well since I would treat Nomad as a full character even if he wasn’t a physical actor.

Our favorite example of this kind of bottle episode is easily “Duet” from season one of Deep Space Nine. Since so much of that entire series is set on the station, one would assume that most episodes of DS9 qualify as bottle episodes, but there’s frequently some specific budget expense that makes them more expensive than they were meant to be or some other guest stars hogging the spotlight. In this case, casting the extraordinary Harris Yullin as Marritza was well worth it, as this episode shines despite its self-imposed limitations.

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Bottle Episodes that “Leave the Ship”

I call it impressive if the characters can leave the ship and the episode still be considered in the running as a bottle episode due to some kind of shenanigans. For instance, I’d qualify something like “Mirror, Mirror” in this category – technically, it’s not on our Enterprise and yet still reusing the same sets. Similarly, “The Mark of Gideon,” “Where Silence Has Lease,” “Empok Nor,” and “Distant Voices” (wait, I said our “favorite” episodes, didn’t I?) all accomplish this by having the characters visit redresses of their respective sets for various reasons. What a great way to save a couple bucks!

In the The Original Series episode “The Doomsday Machine,” for instance, the starship Constellation is another Constitution class ship. Just turn the lights off in any of the usual sets and move some props around and blamo: instant new bridge! It’s like a whole new starship up in here! Thank Commodore Decker for this quick money-saving tip!

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Bottle Episodes with Other Sets

Sometimes, you can stay on the ship and still need to build a new set, like in TNG’s “Eye of the Beholder” where we see the inside of the nacelles for the first (and last) time and Voyager’s “One” in which we set up the stasis room. Many holodeck episodes might fall into this category as well, since technically we haven’t left the ship, but we see, say, the Bynars’ jazz club in “11001001” or Sandrine’s in “Someone to Watch Over Me,” which we covered this week.

I’d also deign to call episodes with just a brief stop at Planet Hell more bottley than even some episodes that don’t leave the ship at all. Both “The Naked Time” and “The Naked Now” start with a crewman getting infected with space madness outside the ship, but it is that need to quarantine that forces the rest of the episode to focus the story inwards, utilizing every cent wisely thereafter. And episodes like TOS’s “The Corbomite Maneuver” and DS9’s “Whispers” and “The Sound of Her Voice” are off the ship so briefly at the very end that they might as well have been strict bottle episodes.

Possibly the most controversial thing I’ll include in this list is one of A Star to Steer Her By’s favorite cost-cutting episodes: the TOS third-season money saver “The Empath.” Sure, they leave the Enterprise for a whole new set, but it’s the cheapest set you’ll ever see. Nothing but black walls and spotlights for the actors to stand in. Like our previous category about central guest stars, this episode features a Gem (literally!), but I still think it’s worth bringing up because of how it told a decent story on a shoestring budget.

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Bottle Episodes with Significant Effects

Frequently, it seems like an episode is conceived as a bottle episode, but then ends up going over budget anyway because the design scope increased without expectation. You don’t have to leave the ship to spend a lot of money on special effects, costumes, and just blowing things up. Tell that to Janeway in “Deadlock,” which was a clever reuse of the Voyager set… until someone got a hold of the destruct codes. Similarly, if it weren’t for the Bozeman and the Enterprise colliding (and whatever it cost to get Kelsey Grammer on camera for all of sixty seconds), “Cause and Effect” would make it on more bottle episode lists. You can similarly go overboard with costumes and makeup in shipbound episodes like TOS’s “Journey to Babel” and SNW’s “The Elysian Kingdom.”

I’ve seen a whole bunch of listicles that all include the Discovery season one episode “Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad” as a candidate for a bottle episode. Which is an interesting choice because I don’t think ANY the currently running Trek series are scrimping to keep on a budget because of the sheer number of effects. And “Magic…” is a good example of this while also keeping all of the action to the Discovery. Who knows, maybe with how modern CGI has improved, it’s actually cheaper? Until you have to pay Rainn Wilson, that is.

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The Pure Bottle Episodes

Are episodes that fulfill every element of being a bottle episode better than the preceding? Well, you tell us because we did, in fact, find a number of pure bottle episodes! They can be as refreshing as fresh spring water because they keep very simple and focused. Having just our usual characters (and maybe some extras and repeated guest stars) really allows the writers to dig into character work without relying on spectacle, constant set changes, or a big planetside adventure.

So episodes like TOS’s “The Immunity Syndrome,” TNG’s “Disaster” and “Clues,” DS9’s “Babel,” VOY’s “Worst Case Scenario,” and ENT’s “Shuttlepod One” and “Doctor’s Orders” succeed in telling a simple shipside story focused on their respective existing characters. Little episodes with big payoffs!

Here’s my pick of the whole blogpost: Give it up for Dr. Crusher in The Next Generation’s “Remember Me”! This episode has got it all – or rather, has got so very little – that it might be the ultimate bottle episode. The number of characters diminishes as the episode goes on because the whole world around Bev is constricting, but she’s still hard at work solving the riddle put to her. She’s quite literally in her own pocket universe – how much more bottley can you get than that? Effects are minimal, guest stars are most noteworthy in their absence, and it’s all confined to a couple of sets while still being a story that is impressive and, dare I say, memorable.

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We’ve finally corked this bottle and put it on display in our ready room! The humble bottle episode displays some of the best qualities of Star Trek: stories in small spaces that encompass huge universes. A Star to Steer Her By is back to exploring more of the Trek universe every Thursday on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts. Keep up with our voyage through Voyager, raise your glasses with us over on Facebook and Twitter, and chug chug chug chug!

#star trek #star trek podcast #podcast #bottle episodes #bottle shows #ship in a bottle #the original series #the next generation #deep space nine #voyager #enterprise #discovery #strange new worlds #duet #the doomsday machine #the empath #magic to make the sanest man go mad #remember me

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greatlydelirious · 1 year

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𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Kratos x F!Reader

wordcount: 4.1k words

summary: Two lost souls find comfort in each other’s company.

warnings: slow-burn, falling in love, angst, fluff, bedsharing, lore heavy

a/n: This is a teaser of a scene between the reader and Kratos in the giant fic, “Of Gods and Men” that I’m writing. This is my “proof of concept” for you guys that I’m actually working on it. (The reader is OC in regards to some characteristics, but skin color is not specified.)

“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.” - Homer, The Iliad

Voices ignite like fueled flames outside Kratos’s bedroom as someone enters Sindri’s home. Not just anyone can stir up that much ruckus though. The arrival of Kratos always elicited a flurry of questions and action. Despite your want to check on the god you don’t move from your supine position on the hard bed.

You continue to count the cracks in the ceiling above as if the number you came up with would unearth some deep truth within yourself. Time became a foreign concept as you tried to convince your body to relax. Sleep is elusive to you despite your mind’s craving for rest. Sindri told you, just as he did Atreus, that sleeping would make all the troubles of your mind work themselves out. Easier said than done.

That’s how you find yourself on a bed that’s not yours. One that you’ve only slept in once but couldn’t forget the feeling of. The furs below smell of him, earthy with notes of smoke and musk that remind you of the lush jungles in your home realm of Vanaheim.

Home.

It had been centuries since the last time you felt the security of such an ideal. To the dismay of your fickle heart, you felt that sense of contentment that comes with being home merely weeks ago in the arms of another. Someone you tried to remind yourself you couldn’t have. Someone who, like you, made a pact to never let themselves be kept in mind or body to another again.

It’s strange how night devolved hardened hearts into feeling such soft vulnerability. Memories have a way of burrowing deep in the brains of even those who try to forget. You’re sitting at the dining table in front of the roaring furnace. The warmth doesn’t completely stave off the coldness that stems from more than just the weather.

Sindri’s home is filled with a rare stillness, but it only works to grate on your nerves rather than bring you peace. Solace is nearly impossible to find in a world full of gods and men. Throw in the endless monsters and magic, and the notion is nothing but a fantasy for the whimsical. That you are not.

Your head darts up when a large shadow appears across the table. Wood groans as Kratos settles in the seat. It’s not often that the two of you get to sit in each other’s company alone without having other things on your mind like hunting or survival. The gripes of being a god and goddess in the opposition to the All-Father are endless.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Kratos grunts in response as he reaches for the pitcher of mead abandoned in the middle of the table. He fills the large tankard next to it to the brim before putting the pitcher back down with a weighty thump. You watch transfixed as Kratos’s adam’s apple bobs with each pull he takes from the cup.

The veins in his neck bulge and when some droplets of mead spill from the corners of his mouth, you can’t help but trail their path down his beard. For a moment you forget what was keeping you up in the first place.

“Something troubles you.”

A statement, not a question.

“I’m fine, Kratos. My woes matter not.” You feign indifference as you lean back in your chair, like his notice of your mood doesn’t make your heart leap in your chest.

Kratos leans forward, his hulking form hovering over some of the table, “Speak the truth, woman.” The word woman comes out in a growl, lingering with a threat that would never be followed through. Yet, it’s still effective enough to make you give in.

Your eyes move to focus on the expertly crafted wooden surface under your hands. Calmness is common nature for you, but something about Kratos’s piercing gaze makes you fumble to find words. Dryness coats your mouth as if your body was cursed to not utter your torment.

“I had a twin sister once. Her name was Hnoss, everyone always said we were identical, but I still think she was prettier. She…”

When your voice begins to crack you stop. Emotions you’ve suppressed for hundreds of years come bubbling to the surface. Thinking about your sister was one thing, but voicing it out loud made it all too real again. Like she’s not what haunts your dreams, but the young girl you once played in ponds and climbed trees with.

“Go on.”

The earnestness makes you chance a glance up. A small, sad smile curves your lips at the sight of Kratos’s focus trained on you. He may not say much, but he always listened. No wonder Mimir didn’t mind being stuck with the man.

“She often went to Bifröst, a rainbow bridge that reaches between Midgard and Asgard, hoping to run into our father. People predicted that Hnoss would reunite our parents. Alas, hope is not always enough to alter reality.”

Kratos slides his tankard toward you, giving you a moment of reprieve without a word. Picking it up, you swirl the amber ale with a twinge of bitterness. Normally you would say gods made pitiful fathers. That was until you met Kratos and Atreus.

The god makes a habit of surpassing expectations.

Sending a quick prayer to the lost goddess mother of Vanaheim you take a giant swig of the mead. Soft notes of bready malt accompany aromatics with a musty, oaky finish coats your tongue. A clicking noise escaped through your teeth as you cringe at the overpowering taste.

The sound of Kratos humming in approval grounds you from your wandering thoughts. You nod at him in appreciation before taking a steadying breath and continuing,

“During her visits, there was a god by the name of Heimdall who kept watch over the rainbow bridge that would entertain her with stories of old and new. One day he revealed to Hnoss that he possessed night vision and never slept. He also claimed to have existed since the beginning of time and told her tales about the creation of various things.

While our father remained absent, Hnoss was taken to Baldur's Stead to comfort her in her sorrow since it was believed to be a place where healing occurred. Baldur’s wife Nanna would often cradle her during these times of profound need. One time in particular, with Nanna by her side, Hnoss shared a strange dream she had about Queen Hela, a queen who was half living woman and half corpse. In her dream, Hela entered Asgard and declared ‘A lord of the Aesir I must have to dwell with me in my realm beneath the earth.’ Hnoss was paralyzed by fear after experiencing this dream.”

You take another swig from the tankard before handing it back to Kratos. Obsidian eyes stay locked on you as their owner downs the rest of its contents.

“What happened to your sister?”

“Hnoss was never the same after that. They say that those who use seidr magic will eventually succumb to the evils of its art. Unfortunately for her, it was true. Similar to Baldur, she died a needless death.”

And just like all of the Vanir people. Many of their lives were taken by the power-hungry Aesir for no other reason than greed. Peace in these realms always comes at a price.

“So that’s why I’m troubled, Kratos. Now my own dreams are filled by her. No matter how hard I try to forget.”

Kratos hums in acknowledgment, “I too know the pain of losing a sibling.”

Comfortable silence hangs between the two of you for a couple of minutes. The time is filled with unspoken understanding lined with a sense of melancholy.

“Drink.”

Kratos seems to present a bottle of wine out of nowhere but you don’t hesitate to accept it. Not even gods are above drinking their sorrows away. Another pitcher of mead and bottle of wine later and you’re drunk. Loose-lipped, fumbled-word, soft-legged drunk.

You’re currently giggling like a fool as you lean against the bedroom door simply staring at Kratos while he sits on his bed. When you started to create too much of a ruckus in the living room he took into his room since you refused to leave his side. You’d slap yourself in the forehead for that fact the following days later.

“Come.”

Your feet move before your mind can fully process the command. It’s as if your body is compelled to obey him without hesitation. The idea goes against everything you stand for. You ran from the one home you’d ever known and the one man that ever truly loved you, because of your refusal to submit to any man or god. Thankfully, the mead-fueled haze creeping into your brain keeps you from spiraling any further.

Kratos tilts his head to look up at you as you stand between his thick legs. A lazy smile spreads across your face and before you can think you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Although he captures your wrist, he doesn’t pry you away. Tentatively, your thumb rubs small circles into the rough flesh.

For a moment he indulges in your touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smell like vanilla with a citrus charge of tangerine and cinnamon. Something tantalizingly sweet, forbidden.

A rumbling noise emanates from Kratos’s chest when your thumb ghosts along the scar on his right eye. You wonder how he got the nasty slice. What god put it there many years ago. Unfortunately, Kratos is still a mystery to you. Bits and pieces of his life are shared sparingly through short stories during long journeys, but nothing else beyond that.

Nothing else beyond that. The four words ring in your ears. What are you doing? It’s not your right to be in his room, near his bed, and touching him of all things. You are companions, sure. Friends? Maybe. But partners? Nothing of the sort.

Any semblance of tipsiness you had quickly evaporates, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ You stop when Kratos brings his other hand to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“No need to explain. Not to me.”

Your hand drops when he moves to lay on his side on the bed. Kratos scoots back until his back is against the wall.

“Lay.”

When you hesitate, he pats the small space in front of him in an almost comedic fashion due to his large size, “Lay, agápi”

The word he calls you is spoken in a language you’ve never heard before, but he says it with such tenderness that it makes you slide into the bed. You start to think you’ve been sleeping this whole time when Kratos wraps a thick arm around your waist to pull you flush against his front. After three years of pining, you’re in the arms of the man you admired. The sudden realization is almost too much.

“Will you tell me a story from your homeland?”

Kratos’s silence at your abrupt question makes you huff out a laugh. Butterflies were swarming in your belly and if you didn’t do something about them you would never fall asleep.

Was it childish for you to ask for a bedtime story? Perhaps. But this might be the last time you get to have Kratos to yourself like this. You gently nudge him with your leg. It doesn’t even slightly jostle the mountain of a man, but it does keep his attention.

“Come on! An old man like yourself must know hundreds.”

After a beat, Kratos sounds almost bashful if that emotion was even possible for the god, “There’s this… poem.”

“What’s it about?

“A cunning general and a war over forbidden love.”

Ironic.

“Is it based on truth?”

“Yes, but I prefer the poem.”

You giggle at the displeasure lacing his tone.

“Can you recite a line for me?”

Kratos grunts at the way your tired eyes have you looking at him through your lashes. You’re the picture of innocence and natural beauty. It stirs something inside him that’s laid dormant for years. He would say Aphrodite’s beauty paled in comparison to yours, but you’re more than that. You’re a beauty beyond comparison wrapped in a warm light.

“I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.”

You twist your head to the side to look back at Kratos. The darkness in the room keeps his features hidden yet you still can’t help but smile. A truly genuine, happy smile despite the small crookedness from your drunken state.

“Wow… I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one breath. Didn’t think you were one for lovely words.”

Kratos makes a low noise in his throat, contemplating for a moment if letting you in his room, in his bed, was really a good idea. When you suddenly snuggle back into his front, he doesn’t move a muscle. Your soft and warm against the hard expanse of his chest. The word “comforting” comes to the forefront of his mind but he tries his best to suppress the feeling.

Only to fail when you open your mouth again.

“The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. Let them in, Kratos.” Your voice oozes drowsiness encompassed by a softness you saved for his son Atreus. It’s an inflection filled with sweet sincerity and motherly care.

When a light snore reaches his ears, Kratos looks down at your face. You’re already sound asleep. His arms tighten a fraction before letting himself close his eyes. He told himself it was just for a night.

It’s never that simple.

For long seconds after you woke up the next morning you took in the sleeping man’s face. His features were free of stressed lines and his usual frown. Kratos looked even more handsome under the lull of sleep.

His arms were secured around you like a lifeline. It wasn’t a lover’s embrace, but the comfort of another person’s body aiding you both into a dreamless sleep. Although, it would be a lie if you said your heart didn’t flutter when you woke up to his face buried in your neck, the scruff of his beard making your skin prickle and heat.

You managed to slip out of the bed without waking the beast of a man. A feat when he held you so tight. When you made it to the door you chanced one more look back at Kratos, a heaviness settling inside you. For days you’ll blame your abrupt intimacy on you both drinking, but it would take oceans of alcohol to muddy the god’s mind.

Kratos never said anything about that night; never said that you helped him have the first truly peaceful sleep in his lifetime.

The sane part of your brain is cursing you for laying in Kratos’s bed like a loyal dog waiting for its master. Especially when he gave you no inkling that your presence was wanted. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you flinch when the door opens.

Kratos doesn’t falter at your uninvited presence as he shuts the bedroom door with a heavy sigh. You sit up on his bed as he takes off his armor with rough hands, letting the items loudly clank to the floor with little care. The blades go first, then his cuffs, and the axe.

Concern fills you at his sullen state. Emotions can only be bottled up for so long and Kratos was an expert at doing just that. You know he doesn’t want your help, but he needed it more than he’ll ever admit.

“You carry your burdens with you in mind and hand.” Your eyes trail to his Blades of Chaos on the floor. They act as physical reminders of the pain and suffering he caused not only strangers and gods, but the ones he loved the most.

“What do you know of carrying burdens?” His voice is gruff, but not fueled with malice.

“Don’t you remember that night?”

Guilt washes over Kratos’s features as remembrance dawns on him. The furrow of his brows and the twitch of his jaw is evidence enough. Sighing, you scoot to the edge of the bed, “I will not claim to understand your suffering Kratos, but I do know what it means to be lost. To follow your path while being confused as to why you must. To wonder why you get to live when they don’t.”

Kratos’s shoulders are visibly tense as you stare up at him. Standing up, an idea pops into your head that is so outlandish that you whisper it in hopes that he doesn’t completely hear it.

“For just one night give your burdens to me. Let me take care of you, Kratos. Someone needs to. Let that someone be me.”

A part of you doesn’t think but knows he will reject you. Especially when those eyes filled with shadows stare at yours unblinking and unwavering in their passivity. Who were you to ask for something so personal?

A love-sick fool, that’s who.

Every fiber of your being is pulled toward Kratos, but that doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual. Dejection washes over you at your boldness fueled by foolish hope. Right when you’re going to walk away, Kratos clears his throat.

“Okay.”

You blink at him like a small child would at the sight of a giant bear. Odin himself must have been playing a trick on you because you can’t believe that Kratos just accepted your proposition. For a solid minute, you stay standing with your chests inches apart.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as you become acutely aware of your closeness. Every deep breath he takes causes his taut stomach to brush against you. Your neck starts to feel the strain of having to crane back to make eye contact with him.

“Do I need to speak in even simpler words?” Kratos’s deep voice snaps you out of your gawking. Never had a man made you feel like a mere mortal; let alone make you like the idea of being overpowered.

“I-“ You clear your throat, finally letting the air dense with an unspoken tension fill your lungs, “N-no.”

Unconsciously, you rub your hands on your trousers and take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Sit on the bed.”

Kratos follows your command without question. Carefully, you crawl behind him on the bed and prop yourself on your knees. The skin under your hands tenses when you bring them up to rest on his shoulders.

“Relax. I mean you no harm. I swear.”

Your voice is just above a whisper and laced with sincerity. You begin to knead the endless knots that harden Kratos’s shoulders. The endless burdens he carries on his back would crush any mortal. When Kratos lets out a satisfied groan you have to bite your lip to stifle out a noise of your own.

Now’s not the time to start frothing at the mouth.

Instead of letting yourself turn into a pathetic puddle of suppressed desire, you opt to continue your efforts to comfort.

“We will get to Asgard. Atreus was raised by a strong man. I know he is doing more than fine.”

“A strong man perhaps, but not a noble one.”

Your thumbs travel down to press into the rigid flesh of his shoulder blades while you scoff.

“What does it mean to be noble? You are strong, courageous, watchful, full of wisdom, and give astute instruction. Those are very noble traits.”

Kratos shakes his head, “You do not know the extent of my sins.”

You sigh at the persistence of his inadequacy. How could he not see that his obvious guilt was the biggest indicator of his good heart? Your hands move to his bulky chest to lightly rub the muscles.

“We are more than the sum of our parts, Kratos. Bad deeds cannot be undone, but what we do after is what matters most. We must be better, work harder, and do whatever it takes to keep the realms from falling into chaos.”

At your words, Kratos takes hold of your wrists, “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard that from centuries of living. From reaching the lowest I could possibly go and coming out of it stronger than I was before.”

You move so you’re next to his side and only hesitate for a fraction of a second before you bring a hand to his cheek. Kratos doesn’t resist as you turn his head with the gentle guidance of your palm. Instinctively your thumb gently rubs back and forth against his rough flesh. The gesture feels different than the last time. It’s more intimate, rawer.

“You’re a good man, father, and friend, but if you continue to let the past dictate your future you will never see that for yourself.” You bring your other hand up to rest on the middle of his chest, “Open your heart. I promise it will only serve to make you stronger, not weaker.”

The way Kratos is looking into your eyes leaves you breathless. It’s almost like he’s seeing you for the first time. Not your outward appearance, but the depths of your soul.

Unlike usual, the silence that fills the room is stifling. So much so that your skin begins to heat, a humid tension that rivals Vanaheim hanging in the air. Maybe you said too much. Maybe you’re silly for spewing your opinions to a man who didn’t ask for them. Maybe this is what it feels like to love someone that’s out of your grasp.

Dejected by your imprudence you leave him with one last thought, “The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. What will it do to you?”

When you try to climb off the bed, one of Kratos’s hands shoots out to grab your bicep.

“Where are you going, woman.”

His voice is deep and reminds you of the forcefulness of booming thunder. One that shakes you more than Thor could ever make. Swallowing thickly, you advert your eyes to the ground, “I don’t want to disturb you any further.”

“Stay.”

Without another word, you let Kratos slowly pull you down on the bed. Half of your body lays on him as he rests his chin on your head. He feels safe and solid, protecting and proud. If only he can see what you see. If only he can feel what you feel.

You let yourself indulge in being in Kratos’s arms just like before and close your eyes. In seconds your body relaxes. Exhaustion mixed with the tidal wave of emotions you’ve gone through makes the perfect sedative.

Kratos watches your breathing slow as you go lax on his chest. He can’t help but admire you in the secrecy of your sleep.

The light shining through the window casts a glowing effect on your long locks, making it seem as though a halo is over your head. Your hair reminds him of the sunsets in Sparta, golden and awe-inspiring. More than that you remind him of that comforting feeling that comes with being where one belongs.

Home.

When Kratos grunts at the absurdity of his thoughts, the noise causes your leg around his hip to tighten. He carefully traces your spine with the tips of his thick fingers. You’re so small and fragile in his hold, like a mouse cuddling in a bear’s den during a frigid winter despite the looming danger.

You’re unlike any goddess he’s met before; calm, kind of heart, strong, and free from the chains of greed that comes with a being with that kind of power. You told Kratos to open his heart and be better for the future. Only one other woman told him those exact words.

“The culmination of love is grief. And yet we love despite the inevitable; we open our hearts to it. To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you have opened it to me and you will find every reason to keep living in it.”

An epiphany hits Kratos so hard that it causes him to hold you tighter to his chest.

You’re something to live for.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

greek translation: agápi = love

#kratos x reader #god of war x reader #god of war ragnorak #god of war #kratos #delirious masterlist

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