#* you and me until all the stars burn out ( bradly & reem ).

[cerynitiis]

displays of affection: 17, from bradly

hands pulling at clothes,     breaths hot on each other’s lips   ;   mouths bruising together in kiss after kiss as they bump into walls and objects.      bradly’s right hand finds her waist,     firm and strong,     palm digging into her ribs as he uses his other for leverage,      swinging them both around the corner.     there’s barely a second before his broad frame pushes her against the wall,      apple - sweet lips never leaving hers   --   lingering,     rather,      tasting and nipping and sighing,     plush but chapped.

she laughs,     breathless.     hands fly up in surrender.          ❝     hey,      ❞         reem whispers.     her sentence is interrupted by another flurry of enthusiastic kisses.     she can’t help but melt against him,     lily - white fingers disappearing in his hair.     a sighed moan sounds.          ❝     i missed you too.      ❞         

she loves him.     so much.      that’s all she can think of while they fumble and pull,     and layer after layer comes off until it’s just warm skin pressed to warm skin.      palms travel down the expanse of his back,     exploring every scar and bump.     there are a few new ones.     he distracts her   --   smoothly   --   with a kiss and a pinch before she can frown or scold,     and reem laughs again,     drowning in his touch,     reveling in every half - moan and groan and whisper as they find each other again after years of war   &   solitude.

         ❝     I love you too.      ❞         

@carriedatlas​

[carriedatlas-a]

// boops bradly's nose

@cerynitiis      .

his nose scrunches under her touch.      he pauses,      bringing a hand up to scratch the itch that surfaces at the tip of his nose after.          ❝      what was that for   ?      ❞

[carriedatlasmoved]

ships   /   affiliated peoples. 

[cerynitiis]

@ichorimbrued​.  bradly asked: “ could you be happy here with me? ”

could you be happy here with me ?  he whispers.   reem can hear his insecurity woven through the words,   and she knows the question is twofold.   could you be happy here ?   could you be happy with me ?  

she looks over the garden,   filled with roses,  freesia,  lavender,   poppies,   hyacinths,   a flowery sea of pinks and purples and red.    the air is thick with their scent.   how could he doubt that she would be happy here ?    it was the house she dreamt of having when they first met in normandy:   an old stone cottage covered with ivy,  in need of some love,  green shutters in front of the windows,   a garden that bordered on fields that led to nowhere.   there are no other houses around for miles and the nearest town is a two hour drive.   it is perfect.

reem turns to face him,  a soft smile pulling at her lips.     “  my silly mr.  moore,  ”   she says,   taking his hands and moving them to her stomach.   it’s a little early to tell him,   but she wants to;  needs him to know.    “  a life together,  in a place like this,  is everything i have ever dreamed of and more.   i know the three of us will be very happy here.  ”

[cerynitiis]

12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . bradly. imagine with me a second, just them in the kitchen either after cleaning up from dinner or just late at night when neither of them could sleep and just there in the moonlight 🥺

reem is staring out of the window,  at the fields covered by the blue blanket of the night.   the moon ( artemis ? ) covers everything with a silver sheen, illuminating silken spiderwebs and the tips of the grass,  the flowers,  the trees.  though it is late,  she can't bring herself to sleep,  not even in bradly's arms.  everything,  everything is a reminder of what little time they have left.  the sound of the clock in the hallway is agony,    a horrible reminder that every second gone by is a second she won't be able to spend with him.  but the warmth of his breath at night,   which used to soothe her to sleep, somehow makes everything worse now;  the way he twists restlessly in his sleep tells her it's just as agonizing for him,  now that he's made the decision to stop running,  stop hiding.     it's the cruelest waiting game.  part of her wonders if her love for him is another punishment from the gods and she hates herself for it.  but what else could this torture be ?  she has never felt like this before,  this utterly sick with terror.  perhaps aphrodite struck her with an arrow for this sole purpose — to see love consume her from the inside out.

no.  this love is real, not manufactured.  cruel as this end is,   it was always inevitable,  and it has nothing to do with her.  her love,  his love,  has always been real.  it must be.  she waited four thousand years for him.  she would easily do it again for just one more dawn,  one more day with him.

the sudden warmth of arms around her startles her.    reem looks over her shoulder, breath caught in her throat and relaxes only when she sees the familiar apple green of his eyes.   she turns around to face him,   lays her head in the crook of his shoulder.     neither of them speak.    there’s no need to  —  they have said everything they need to say,    know each other beyond words.    her mind goes back to when they met,    in that hospital in france so many years ago,   and as though he has read her mind   ( and perhaps he has ),  their silent embrace turns into a soft sway.     hands find each other,     clasp together for comfort.     they dance in the kitchen for hours,    just like that,    until the soft silver of the moon’s light turns pink with morning sun.  

@ichorimbrued

[carriedatlas-a]

“ hey there - you gave me quite a scare. ” @bradly

hospital   themed   starters          /          @cerynitiis      .

fingers curl to a tight fist,      a silent curse      /      an almost prayer for relief as his last dose of morphine begins to fade.      he can feel the drilling ache in his spine again,      practically count the bruises that line his side.      there is a burning sensation that fills his lungs not long after pain begins to resurface,      double hearts skipping from time to time,      thundering in the attempt to keep him alive,      to heal faster;      gold  touch  no  longer  an  easy  ability  at  hand.      bradly swallows,      head turning when he hears her come into the room.      a weak smile finds busted lips,      swollen from injuries,          ❝      hey,      ❞          words struggle,      falling through like sandpaper.      he tries to bring himself to sit higher but something pinches and causes his spine to contort,      a sharp wince to fall through clenched teeth.

his body begs for relief,      for another dose of medication to settle the nerves that begin to feel like fire,     relax the  tense muscles at his back and shoulders,      his neck and chest,     but he is far too stubborn to listen,      wanting to bear the pain and heal on his own.      he won’t give himself relief until he is absolutely certain he needs it.      call it long time habit surfacing from his past or his own strong willed nature,      but he will not let himself have it this early into his stay.

❝      i’m so sorry,      reem,      ❞         it hurts to speak.      throat swollen,      lungs aching,      ribs bruised.      it hurts to do anything,      least of all try to assure her.      that more than anything kills him inside.          ❝      sometimes i forget our connection      ———-      it’s been a long time since something like this has happened.      ❞          was it johnathan   ?      bradly has a hard time believing that it wasn’t,      that he hadn’t either drunkenly gotten himself into trouble or otherwise.     he sure as hell hadn’t done anything,     laying in bed all to suddenly shoot up with a searing pain in his ribs,     screaming when the pain had gotten too overwhelming,     when an orange   -   red began to stain his shirt.         ❝      i’m sorry that i scared you,     that you had to wake up to      .      .      .      that.     i didn’t think this would happen.      ❞          story of his life.          ❝      but,      the good news is,      the doctor says i should be fine in a few days,      given time.      should heal nicely if i’m careful.      ❞

he wills himself to sit higher,      forgetting the pain that it brings,      wanting to give her a space to sit.      he beckons for her,      forces a fraction of a smile,      taking her hands once she is near and kisses her knuckles.          ❝      i’m okay.      we’re still okay,      i promise.      ❞

[carriedatlas-a]

❝ may i have this dance? ❞ @bradly ofc

romantic      sentences          /          @cerynitiis      .

it shouldn’t even be a question.      she knows she can take him by the hands and lead him anywhere,      even if it means embarrassing himself in front her,      stumbling over his toes until he gets used to the motions again.      he would follow her anywhere she wanted to go,      do anything to make her happy,      to see that star   -   like smile reach her eyes.

a familiar tune echoes throughout their apartment,     a soft breeze combing through the cracked window in the room in which they stand.      her arms wrap a round his neck and a smile lifts his lips,     the years suddenly flooding back to him in seconds.      funny how one swift melody can bring him back so far so quickly,      back to when they first met.

arms fold around her waist,     guiding her close.     he leans forward slowly,     forehead resting against hers.     eyes close,      a hum escaping his lips,      following the music.          ❝     of course you can,      mon cher,      ❞          he whispers,          ❝     what makes you think you have t’ ask   ?      ❞

[carriedatlas-a]

🌈 @bradly

memories          /          @cerynitiis      .🌈           -          memory   of   when   they   first   fell   in   love   .

the first time she laughed at one of his stupid jokes he always manages to screw up.      the first time she smiled at him,      truly smiled:      STARS   IN   HER   EYES.      the first time she held his hand,      sweet,      lithe digits marred with pinpricks woven with his either for support or assurance.      the first time she confided in him through a whisper a picture of her home or her concerns,      her fears.     the first time she had allowed him to really see her.     each time he fell in love,     each time he dug himself deeper into a hole he knew he was not going to be easy to get out of,      discovering later that he hadn’t wanted to.      she was a blessing amidst chaos,     an angel in the field of darkness.      reem was his saving grace,      fixing a faith he lost ages ago in the good of the universe as time went on as it always does.      she was everything to him then,      and she is everything to him now.

but   the   precise   moment   he   knew:     she was talking to one of her patients,      a small child burdened by the onslaught of horrors,      in hushed verses of french.      he managed to translate only a little as he tended to his own patient:      you’re okay now      /      i’m here to help      /      this will hurt only a little.      each time he glanced up she was bathed in light from the surviving windows:      moonlight creating a white halo to hug her figure.      hair seemed to shimmer,     doe eyes to hold the dancing flames of lanterns throughout the former palace as they made their way around once or twice.      she always seemed too pure for war,      as if gardens of lilacs worldwide breathed life into her lungs,      created her skeleton from pearls and gold,      streams of liquid roses for blood.     though she certainly had her thorns,      and that,      he knew,      was how she survived.      she had to.      it wasn’t in her nature to wilt at command,    giving to weakness.     she would draw blood from violent hands if they grabbed her before she allowed herself to die,     that was what made it easier convince himself that she would be okay.       

he thought it was a sign,      perhaps,      that light.      the universe telling him that he’d found her:      the woman to hold his hearts.     but how cruel,     per its usual self,      to have them meet at such times,      under inconceivable devastation and heartache,      only to say goodbye hours later when the sun would rise in the eastern sky.      but at least he knew he found her,      at least he had that.      a false palace and their long talks,      their time with the stars when a bombardment in the west seized and they could once again hear the crickets chirping away.      at least they temporarily released each other from the hell that came before.     at least he had the picture of her,     a face to look for when the war was finally over and he was desperate to find an old friend.      at least there was always france.

[cerynitiis]

“I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with you.” :'))

soft sentence starters.     @carriedatlas.

he’s overlooking the streets of paris from their balcony,     frame lit by the setting sun      /      his brown hair like fire in the pink light.     she approaches him quietly and lets her hand fall over his on the railing.     he likes it here.     he’s happy.     she can tell by the way he stands   –   the tension gone from his shoulders,     posture relaxed,      his green gaze not darting around in search of a threat for once.     his restlessness has gone.

i can’t imagine being anywhere but here with you.      the softly   -   spoken words make a blush rise to her cheeks,     pleased smile tugging at rose   -   red lips.      some unspoken sentiment has risen between them these last few years,     seeping into tone rather than words every now and then   ;   hushed statements,     meaningless darlings and sweethearts and honeys,      touches more frequent now than they were ten or twenty years ago.      she wonders if he loves her half as much as she loves him   &.   if so,      if he’s known as long as she has.

she looks at him,     her freckled,       green   -   eyed bradly moore,     and it takes everything she has to remember her promise,      every single ounce of willpower not to kiss his parted lips right there and then as he waits for her reaction.     her heart stutters.          ❝      i’m really happy we’re here too.     I’m-   i’m happy it’s with you.      ❞