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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years ago

Text

Burden

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

Chapter 12: The Endless and The Forest Queen

TW: some angsty Dream, lots of fluff, Hob Gadling meets Munin and both of them are confused as hell, both of our immortals have it BAD for each other, remembering a few not so fun memories, Munin is a cute mom & Dream is the reluctant storyteller, a few very sexually charged scenes, Dream is a tease, Munin is too, and finally some tender smut for y'all. 😂 Lots of good stuff this chapter.

Just a quick note, this chapter is longer than I expected (almost 30 pages) and took a LOT to finish so I'll likely not post chapter 13 until after I get back from my break. Sorry! But now that I'm going to do a sequel I'd like to take my time with the last few chapters so it'll end in a satisfying place for everyone 🥰

This was also edited kind of poorly 😂 The website I use was glitching sooo take mistakes with a grain of salt please 🤣

She did not remember him.

Daunt, Munin stood perched upon the steps to his throne, looking at him with eyes he did not recognize. She was moonlight wrapped in wreaths of earth and golden hues that reminded him of sunshine. No longer the dark being he knew with the eyes that spoke to the darkness inside him, but instead acted as a mirror. In a puff of mist, she was standing in front of him; head tilted back to compensate for the height difference. It took everything within him not to reach out and hold her or press his lips to hers in a fervent kiss to remind her of who he was, what she meant to him, and… subsequently, what he meant to her.

In her eyes, he saw himself, golden hues swirling within them like sand while the silver and white rippled like pools of liquid metal and ethereal water. Her eyes showed him the life he’d lived. Memories pulled to the forefront of his mind almost against his will as a power took hold of him as gently as a lover’s touch. This was her power, the being that stood before him no longer the fractured and dull hum that Daunt’s power had been. This was stronger, urgent, and… other. It made him ache with an uncomfortable sensation while at the same time making him want to curl into her even more.

Her eyes lifted away from his, looking above his head as she walked around him, lips tugging up into a blinding smile. He nearly closed his eyes when she’d held her hand up, anticipating the soft touch. “Your memory is so beautiful.”

She carefully reached up, plucking something from the air above his head and pulling it back to reveal a shining star between her fingers. Cradling it in her hands as a mother would a newborn babe, she watched the light curiously as a small memory lit up within her palms and played between them. Of course, it was an insignificant memory of one of his first creations. Still, it was noteworthy how he felt as though he were reliving it as she gazed down. “How…”

Looking back up, she smiled. “Memory is always unique in the shapes and forms it takes, but I’ve never seen ones that look like this before. An endless crown of stars, all your memories displayed so proudly. It suits you, Dream of the Endless.”

This felt odd. Dream had never encountered one like you before, save his brother, but Destiny didn’t go around spouting off your life story. “You can see my memories. How?”

“I can’t see all of them. As to how memories are my function. They are me, and I am them.”

“Memory,” he whispered as the realization dawned on him. All this time, you’d been right… you’d felt incomplete because you were somehow. Memory… that was why The Forest was so connected to The Dreaming. Why Daunt had followed the voices of the dreamers into his realm and not elsewhere. Dreams and memories shared this plane, shared a purpose, and he had punished her for it.

She said nothing, simply plucking another memory and pinching it between her fingers, pulling to expand it, when a sudden and raw pain exploded in his mind. “Here in the darkness…” Old voices echoed as the memories of the small glass cage were forced back into his mind like a rush of water he couldn’t stop.

For a moment, he was back in the glass cage, staring out at Daunt as she beheld him. “For so long, you sat in silence… desperate, pleading… hoping for someone to come for you. So angry and hurt and full of sorrow that they knew and yet… no one came.” She stepped forward, pressing her hand to the cage. A whisper rattled the glass as he saw the memory with unclouded eyes.

Daunt had been there. She had come and gone, watching him with deep sorrow in her eyes. She had used what little remained of her power to help free him. And all she’d asked in return was that simple whisper. “Find me.” He’d failed at that as well. Failed you in every sense he could. This meeting only confirmed what he’d long feared. Daunt had died hating him. Though she’d told him she was not angry, she spoke softly and lovingly to him and promised him that they would reunite… She had to have hated him.

“I know this pain.” Her voice startled him out of the memory. His hands moved quickly, grabbing her wrist and forcing her eyes away from the cage in her hands to look up at him in fear. He saw that day in Fiddlers Green play within her eyes as she quickly tore away from him.

“Apologies,” He said in a strangled voice. Dream did not want to repeat his past mistakes, not with you. “That… that is a memory I’ve no wish to relive again.” With a mournful weight in his chest, he remained still as you cautiously lifted the memory back where you found it. “Did I harm you?”

He watched her hands shake, guilt consuming him. “No.”

The white wolf growled, pressing its snout to her wrist with a simple question and a threatening look gleaming in his eye. “Are you hurt?”

Munin looked down at the creature, her face slowly easing into a more relaxed expression as she ran her hands over his fur. “No. Be still, my star. I am well.”

As the wolf he’d only ever known to be cold and cruel pressed his head into your chest, Dream felt a powerful sense of loss consume him. The beast was at ease beside you, yet all he could feel was regret and disappointment that you were not her. Bowing his head, he spoke, “You are most welcome in my realm,” Daunt. “Lady Munin.”

“Thank you, Dream of The Endless.” she reciprocated the bow but a wariness held in her eyes.

“Morpheus,” he insisted. “You may call me Morpheus.”

“Lord Morpheus,” she tested, the sound of her lithe and musical voice speaking his name sent a chill up his spine. “It suits you well.”

“My lord!” Lucienbe called as she hurriedly made her way to the throne room. “Have you found the creature? Or shall I- Sirius!” She smiled at the beast as he moved to greet her, stroking his fur and shaking her head like a mother scolding her child. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you for ages. Where have you been?”

Siriys nuzzled her cheek before turning to look up at Munin. “Home.”

His librarian’s eyes cast upward and filled with tears as she smiled. She stood, moving quickly to wrap her arms around Lady Munin and pull her tightly into the embrace. For a moment, he feared she would react adversely to this intimate act from a. However, she stood still for a second before returning Lucienne’s embrace. “Lucienne…”

A pang of jealousy and hurt filled his chest. She remembered Lucienne but not him?

“Lady Daunt,” Lucienne whispered, pulling away to look at your face. She quickly noticed the differences but said nothing but, “It is so good to see you.”

“Daunt…” the lady whispered, her hand lifting to her chest, to the thin scar that remained. Dream held his breath as he gazed upon it, remembering all too well the sight of Daunt thin and weak with her chest torn open and the tree’s roots curled around her heart. “That was my name. Her

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I hope you and I can be close… like we were before.”

“You already are my friend, Lucienne. The memories I’ve seen have told me such,” Munin said gently.

Lucienne smiled, bowing her head. “I am honored.”

Her eyes shifted to the misty figures that now filled his throne room. She was curious, tilting her head and examining each one with bright eyes. “There is so much memory here, swirling in the air wanting to take form.” As you moved, the figures turned more solid, moving as though they were real as voices, memories filled the throne room.

Munin danced beside them, twirling and twisting to match their movements with a bright smile and a soft laugh that made him want to profess his lingering feelings to you. But then, you turned to a familiar figure. The Corinthian. And she stopped. Dream could see the pain and the sorrow mixed with a joyful look plain on her face, and his heart ached all the more. Yet, even in a new life, she could not bring herself to hate the nightmare that had caused this. Slowly she lifted her hand to the memory’s cheek. “I know your face.”

The golden owl swooped from above, cutting through the misty figure with its talons and an angry screech. Munin did not appear surprised by the creature’s behavior as she shook her head and turned back to face him. Her eyes trailed back to his head, to the memories she said she could see there. With a curious noise, she asked, “So many of them are locked away… Hidden even from you. Why?”

“Perhaps there are things I do not wish to remember.”

“You cannot run from them,” she said, voice reassuring in a way he’d not expected. “Memories are a part of you, good and bad. I can help you if you’d like. It is part of my function to aid in confronting one’s darker memories. I suppose I’m not unlike your nightmares in that regard.”

Her, like a nightmare? His eyes beheld her otherworldly beauty with an unfaltering knowledge that she was the most beautiful being he’d ever seen. Any human graced with the sight of her would compare her to an angel. With a light laugh, he shook his head. “You, Lady Munin, are no nightmare.”

“Thank you,” she said, a blush rising to her cheeks.

It took everything within him not to step closer, not to take those rosy cheeks in his hands and whisper the words he’d been holding onto for years. Instead, he straightened his back, forcing himself to look away from her as he asked, “If I may inquire, what is it that brought you to my realm?”

“I’ve already found much here. But I came to inquire in your library for an answer to a question.”

Lucienne’s face lit up as she stepped closer to Munin. “The library is full of information. Surely your answer will be within a book.”

She smiled. “This is my hope.”

“What is it you wish to know?” Lucienne asked, carefully leading you down the hallway toward the library.

Matthew glanced up at him from the ground. “You… uh… alright, boss?”

“Yes,” he whispered back.

The golden owl landed in front of Matthew, straightening up and beholding the smaller bird with large eyes. “You’re quite a small little thing, aren’t you?”

Matthew gulped. “Uh… I guess so.”

The gold of the owl’s eyes flared. “I like that.”

“You, oh, um…” The raven looked up at Dream and cawed loudly. “I’m gonna go do that thing you wanted me to.”

He shook his head, turning down the hallway and catching up to Lady Munin and Lucienne as she continued to explain her problem. “It seems my recollection of my past life… of Daunt is splintered. I recall some things vividly, and others I cannot find.”

Lucienne hummed, a thoughtful look passing between him and her. “It will take some time to find something within the vast expanse we’ve at our disposal.”

“Yes, I was expecting a bit of searching.”

Lucienne’s eyes went to a white book that glittered atop her table. “While we wait, perhaps it would interest you to see this.”

“The book of mists,” she breathed, slowly moving closer to gaze at it. “So few have read it.”

“I’m afraid we’ve not read it,” his librarian corrected, sparing a look at him. “It appears to be fragmented. There are only a few words, and they don’t make much sense.”

Munin shook her head and replied, “You do not read memories.” She opened the book to the first page of the tree with the simple words scrawled messily at the bottom. “You remember them.” Then, with a deep breath, she read, “In the beginning, there was a tree.”

Mist rose from the book, taking the shape of the words and bringing the memories they held to life. It twisted into a tree, small and frail looking, shifting as it began to grow, showing the progression of it throughout the pages until the first tree towering over everything and stretched up toward the ceiling.

“Memory. That was our name long before. We were not this… We had no physical form, for memory is no tangible or mere object. It is everything and nothing all at once, unique to each being.”

“How did you come to be then?” He inquired, watching the figures dance beneath the great tree.

“The first tree saw all, across every realm and every plane… We saw memories. The humans, the gods… your memories,” she breathed, looking away from the book to him, eyes swimming once again in things he’d long forgotten. He’d visited the tree before with his sister and seen these humans dancing and living their lives. “We saw so many things, but it was you… Your dreamers that created that song. The first song.” The tune Daunt had always hummed began to play all around him. “It made us... Want... For the first time, we wanted memories of our own, something tangible to hold in our hands and feel and love.”

Flipping the page, her face twisted in pain. “They cut us… The tree and we were forced… split apart from The Great Tree... Split from Memory, and so I… She came out fractured. Wrong. Distress. Discourage.” Turning toward him again with tears in her eyes, she whispered, “Daunt.”

Daunt. For as long as he’d known her, she had spoken of a feeling of incompleteness. A feeling that there was more to her and her function. He’d laughed at the notion, of course. Mocked her with whatever cruel words he could conjure at the time, and he’d gone about his days unbothered. Now he paid the price. If he had listened to her then, had done any amount of research, he likely would have discovered the origins she so desperately wished to know. Dream, with all his wisdom and power, could have helped her. Dying would not have been the only way she could recover what she’d lost at the hands of humans. And he’d denied her even that.

“Thank you. For sharing this gift with us,” he whispered, pain making the words difficult to speak.

Lucienne beheld the book with adoring eyes, as she always did. “I’ve not seen a book like this before. It is marvelous!”

“A fine addition to your library.” Munin offered it to her.

“It belongs with you. Back in The Forest.”

Munin chuckled and shook her head. “Memory has no need for books. I think the dreamers would find more use for it than I would.”

Lucienne’s hands curled around the leather, and she nodded. “I shall keep it safe and well cared for.”

“As you do with all the other books under your care,” she assured her. “It will bring me great joy knowing it is getting such attention.”

“I will search the shelves for an answer to your questions, my lady. How will we call to you once we find answers?”

“I will return in a few days,” she looked at Dream. “If that is alright with you, Lord Morpheus?”

He couldn’t nod fast enough. “My realm is open for you to come and go as you please, Lady Munin.”

Lady Munin appeared unconvinced. Her head tilted slightly as she looked at him long and hard, searching for something. “Return to The Forest,” she eventually instructed the wolf and the owl. “I’ll be joining you shortly.”

“We can remain with you, my lady,” Sirius insisted.

“It’s alright. I would like to see a location that’s been plaguing my mind. A pier, I believe.”

The pier. The place he’d spent many long nights watching Daunt from afar with a bitter look of disdain before he’d actually cared enough to see the human’s depictions of her. He squeezed his hands behind his back. This was not likely to end well. “I will escort you there myself.”

“Thank you,” she replied, looking down at her companion. “I’ll be home soon, my star.”

The water lapped beneath the sturdy as Dream walked beside the Lady Munin toward the edge of the dock. She gazed off into the mist - the mist he’d spent so long staring into, hoping to find Daunt staring back - and the calm waters below. “Though much seems to be lost within my knowledge, I still hear voices of the past. Voices mocking me… her.” Dream grew stiff, forcing himself to take a breath, preparing for her to confirm his fears, “It is your voice I hear loudest among them. It says such cruel things, but the word that seems to repeat is burden. Why did you hate her so?”

“I did not hate her,” he answered low and remorseful. What more could he tell her without letting the truth slip from his lips? How would she react to hearing a stranger, a being whose voice she only knew in insults and cruelty, tell her he loved her?

Looking up at him, she said, “Yet you spoke words meant to harm her.”

I am sorry, he longed to say, though the words would likely mean little to her. “I made a great many mistakes when you… she… was concerned.”

“Yes,” she agreed with furrowing brows as confusion replaced everything else. “And yet… it is not anger, hatred, or pain I feel when I look at you through her eyes.”

“What do you see then?” He needed to hear it. Tell me she hated me. Tell me you hate me. Say it so I might be able to use the truth of your words to finally cast me away. He was begging her, begging to receive the long overdue punishment.

“Hope,” she began softly, eyes trailing along his form like fire. “And starlight and… longing…”

When she dared meet his gaze again, she no doubt saw his tears. “Longing for what?”

“I do not know,” she replied. “But, I suppose the simplest answer I can give you is this: I do not hate you, Dream of the Endless, and neither did she.”

He wanted to let his tears fall then. Daunt’s voice, her voice, spoke them back to him. I do not hate you. It was more than he’d hoped for. More than he’d ever thought he would receive, and it only made his love grow stronger. She was not Daunt, but she was. She was all that Daunt had ever wished to be but could not. Munin was more Daunt than the woman he’d known, and he loved every part of her, old and new. “A new beginning.”

“One for us both, it would seem.”

“You are always welcome in my realm.”

“As you are in mine,” she replied, eyes turning to the water as it rippled and revealed the realm that now waited for its queen.

“Until we meet again,” Dream said, closing his eyes and bowing before her. “Lady Munin.”

“Until then, Lord Morpheus.”

I love you still.

I love you in every body, every name, every lifetime… I love you.

You’d spent the passing days coming and going from the memories of humans. You fulfilled your function with joyful pride in significant and small events. You helped humans find lost objects, helped the elderly remember bits and pieces of their lives, and even helped animals find their way home. It was peaceful and even predictable in a way you enjoyed. That is until you stumbled across one tree. It was older than the others, but the face etched within it was young. You’d passed through the roots and admired all the memories this man seemed to hold. Latching onto one among them and following it to the other side to find yourself within a tavern standing before your human and Dream of the Endless.

They sat beside one another, speaking like they were old friends. “I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling.”

“You’re giving me advice?” the man asked before you turned away, moving through the mist to find the man still very much alive in the present day. He stood at the head of a large room, speaking intelligently and showing the large mass of students multiple slides on the large screen.

You stood near the back, curiously watching as he explained the history within the book. At the same time, his memory shot out like fireworks recalling the events he should not have been alive to remember. Once his speech ended and the other bodies filed out, you descended the stairs. “Robert Gadling?”

He turned, eyes growing wide as he beheld you, white hair and flowing gown with eyes that mirrored the joyful and rambunctiousness of the man before you. “I… That… Who are you?”

“I am a being of memory,” you answered simply. “What are you?”

“Excuse me?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’m a man.”

“No mere man holds so much within him.” You moved around him, examining him closely as though you’d find something to tell you exactly what creature stood before you. “You are no demon. That much is certain. A wayward spirit, perhaps?”

The man laughed, turning to follow you through the room. “What makes you say I’m more than man, fair stranger?”

You lifted your hand to his memories, fire, and powder sparking in your palm as you pulled one down to show him. “It is as I said; no mere man holds so much within him.”

He watched you with narrow eyes. “Are you a student or some weird new professor I haven’t met yet?”

“No,” you replied, face scrunching together. “I don’t believe so.”

“Well, I could show you around,” the man offered, looking at the clock on his wall. “I’ve got some time between classes.”

You turned on your heel, vanishing from the Waking World and returning to the grove of trees. Climbing out from beneath the man’s tree roots, you examined his face carved into the wood. You’d never met a being like him, more than mortal but persistent upon being called such. The Dream King had, though, you reminded yourself. He’d been there in his memories. Surely he’d know what manner of creature this man was. You owed him another visit anyway. It would be an opportune time to discuss the oddities you’d discovered.

With Sirius remaining in The Forest while you and Kat flew through the portal and into The Dreaming, you sought out the palace, meeting the small black bird in the skies once again. This time you slowed your approach, trying not to startle the poor thing as you had last time. He took notice of you quickly, the giant shadow cast over him being rather difficult to miss. He flew beside you the whole way to the palace, where you landed in the throne room in a puff of mist and white wings exploding.

Matthew cawed beside you, hopping just a step closer. “Looks like you need to work on your landings.”

You hurriedly snatched the feathers out of the air and gathered armfuls of them up off the floor. “Landing is difficult.”

Kat made a noise, golden eyes watching the petite raven. “We meet again, little bird.”

With a nervous noise, the raven scooted closer to your side and further from your golden companion. “Yeah… uh, so what brings you to The Dreaming?”

“A few things.” You continued picking up the feathers as you spoke, “I came to inquire about a mortal as well as to see what progress has been made in the library.”

“Okay,” Matthew replied, cocking his head to the side. “Why are you picking those up?”

“It’d be rude of me to leave this mess,” you insisted. “I doubt the all-powerful Dream Lord would appreciate feathers all over his throne room.”

“He would certainly not,” Dream’s voice echoed through the ample space as he walked out from between the pillars. “Though, given the circumstances, I suppose I could simply aid you in their disposal.”

With a wave of his hand, the feathers vanished. You straightened up and bowed your head to him. “Lord Morpheus.”

He bowed his head to you. “Lady Munin. I assume you’ve come to see Lucienne.”

“Yes,” you admitted meeting his eyes as you added, “And you.”

For a moment, he seemed dazed by your confession, but then with a slight twitch of his lips, he gestured toward the library. “Lucienne will wish to speak to you as soon as possible.”

Following close behind him, you looked up at his face, watching the light roam across it as it filtered in through the windows. “I saw a memory of you.”

“Oh?” He questioned, starry eyes dropping to spare you an amused glance.

“There is a man, a tree older than it should be, with a face that remains young.” You shook your head. “He has so many memories, ones far beyond the lifetime of a normal human. You were in some of them.”

With a slight upturn of his lips, he asked, “Did this strange man have a name?”

“Robert Gadling,” you said. “That’s what you’d called him.”

A fraction of a smile lined his perfect lips as he nodded. “Hob Gadling is an old friend. It is not surprising that you’d find the number of his memories a bit confusing. He is a mortal being granted immortality from my sister, Death. He has lived many lifetimes, and I would assume he has quite the collection of memories.”

You nodded, recalling the vast array of them he’d held. “Does he not know of the powers that run this world?”

“I’ve not explained it to him,” Dream admitted. “Why?”

“He seemed quite confused to see me,” you replied. “At the time, I mistook him for another being. I may have called him a wayward spirit.”

Dream chuckled. “He’s been called much worse.”

Lucienne had found a multitude of books focusing on memory and the vast theories behind it. Though none truly answered the question you sought, they provided Lucienne with more than enough to think about. She paced around the desk for a moment. “Perhaps it is simply a defense mechanism.”

“Defense from what?” You questioned cautiously, leafing through the pages of the book she’d set in front of you.

“Well, the last portion of your, Daunts, life was rather… horrific. Perhaps when you rejoined The Great Tree, it chose to omit them from your mind to ensure you would be able to shift into your new life.”

It made some sense. “How do I retrieve them, now that I’m no longer… new?” The librarian scoured the shelves for a moment before handing you a book. You took it without question, dropping it as though it’d burned you as the sleek leather cover turned white beneath your fingers. The chair scraped against the floor as you pushed yourself to your feet, and with wide, almost frightened eyes, you turned to Dream, who’d been quietly observing. “I’m sorry. I… I forgot about that…”

His face was soft, eyes even more so as he approached you slowly, lifting your hand and placing it back on the cool leather. “It is just a book. Red or white, its pages have not changed.”

“I-”

“Do not apologize,” he insisted. “Not for something so small as this.”

The two of you stood there momentarily, lingering close to each other with his hand still atop yours. It felt soft to be touched by him… a sensation you’d not expected but one that lit a spark within your lungs. You wanted to keep touching him, wanted him to keep touching you. And as though he could hear your thoughts, his eyes shifted away from yours, and he slid back, gliding to the other side of the table and taking a seat.

You sat in the library for hours, searching book after book, roaming the shelves with the sleek black of the Dream King following you. The close proximity brought a chill to the air, something you found was normal in his presence. He was cold and often stoic, but whenever you caught a glimpse of that smile or a hint of a laugh, it felt like the sun was shining on you after a long and cold winter. Dream of the Endless was rather intoxicating to be around. You found yourself staying close beside him, enjoying each slight shift of movement that brought his coat sliding against your skin or, even better, his skin against yours.

Once you’d gone through every book you could find, with a few promising theories to test, you found yourself following Dream into his realm. He showed you everything, explaining it all and providing you an answer to every question you asked. He’d likely done all this before, but you found yourself gladdened to see just how willing he was to do it again. You’d never seen him look so proud and regal. It only added to the pit of growing fondness you seemed to hold for him.

You were speechless when the ground beneath you shifted to a small dirt path lined with wildflowers and surrounded by trees. Beside you, Lord Morpheus turned to glance your way. “This is Fiddler’s Green. One of the most beautiful places within my realm.”

“It’s magnificent,” you answered, running your hand through a patch of tall grass. “It reminds me of home.”

“Perhaps a part of you remembered it when you forged your realm anew,” he suggested.

The thought brought a smile to your face. “A gift from another life.” A final gift from Daunt.

Twigs snapped on the path ahead as a great stag leaped out from the trees and halted before you. He was large with great antlers that bowed and bent in a unique design that made you want to stare at the creature forever. Then, with wide eyes, it moved forward, craning its neck out toward you. You reached out, fingers just about to brush its soft snout when a voice angry and cruel echoed in your mind. “Was it not your touch that did this?” You stilled. “Everything you touch spoils…”

A cold swept behind you as Dream pressed his chest to your back, gently taking your hand in his and guiding it forward into the stags snout. Its fur turned white beneath your touch, spreading through its coat like frost. “I think white suits it far better, don’t you?”

Deep within your chest, an old lingering hurt warmed, healed by the gesture in a way you didn’t fully understand as you watched the white stag prance back through the trees. “Yes… It was a beautiful beast.”

Dream received your invitation and immediately answered. It was a rare gift to have you share your realm. It’d taken Daunt centuries, and he’d not waste this opportunity. With Lucienne at his side, the two of them walked the delicately carved path, admiring the trees and the vibrant flowers of purple and blue. With a smile, Lucienne said, “It is so beautiful here.”

“It is,” he agreed. “It’s everything she wanted her realm to be.”

“I am glad she is back,” Lucienne replied softly. “And that she is happy.”

He could only agree, even with the weight of her memory loss weighing against his heart. “As am I.”

“My lord,” his librarian began quietly. “I cannot help but notice the… fondness between you and Lady Munin.”

“Ask, Lucienne,” he prompted.

“Do you feel for her as you did Daunt?”

Dream had thought long and hard about this question, preparing for the day that someone would ask him or that she would remember something that hinted at his past feelings. The answer was always the same. “Yes. Though she’s not exactly Daunt, I can see that being within her. She is all that and more. I am fond of her.”

With a smile, Lucienne nodded. “I am glad to hear it. If it’s not too forward of me, the two of you make a fine pair.”

They came to a clearing, a large crevice separating the surrounding forest, and a large gate across a floating stone courtyard. The circular platform was decorated with statues carved of wood, each appearing to be a woman bound in different colored vines and holding braziers of glowing light. Standing tall in front of them was a gate of intricately carved bark.

The smooth surface depicted carvings, the most noticeable among them a great tree in the center, tall and etched in gold at the top, slowly bleeding into white and silver. Owls and a growing tree, and a woman decorated the surface, along with a rising sun. The middle was lighter but appeared more aged… damaged by flame around the edges. The white brought out the carvings, making Dream’s eyes linger on every part of it. Wolves and wilted plants, great clouds of mist, and a weeping woman. Daunt. The lowest part continued in white but was lined with veins of gold and the carved figures gleaming with silver. Roots and leaves with a multitude of figures gathered around a woman. Munin.

What lay before him was a history, Munin’s and Daunts alike. Beautiful and tragic and inspiring. A story even he could not have written. Two white snakes slowly emerged from the center of the carved tree, slithering down onto the stone around them, pulling the gate open with the ends of their tails. The path continuing ahead was neatly cobbled with clean white stones forming various patterns. As they moved, lush forests and blooming plants hung from the treetops, and the sound of rustling bushes and animals chittering followed them.

Out of the trees, white whisps in the form of wolves darted out, exploding against Dream’s feet and cloak in a puff of white mist that left small white particles hanging off his clothes. He chuckled as he watched the whisps lovingly weave through Lucienne’s legs. Daunt’s previous companions, their spirits at least, seemed to have also found their way to this new realm. Sirius sat at the base of a great bridge, waiting for them. He offered him no bow or grand greeting as he stood and began walking.

“My lady is this way,” Sirius instructed, leading the Dream King and his librarian across the bridge to stand before the grand palace of The Great Tree. Dream examined the markings of the bark, eyes fixing on the woman carved in black. Daunt. Her voice echoed like a song through the large doorway as Sirius continued forward.

Her throne room was a stark contrast to his. Bright with natural light and filled with the humming of spirits, beings coming and going freely. It was warm and safe and everything he’d felt when he’d been lucky to stand beside her. Munin sat upon a wooden throne of twisted and curled antlers, lounging beneath a canopy of greenery and mist that somehow created the pool that separated them. In her lap, three children clamored as more sat beside her feet, watching in wonder as she wove the mist into shapes and figures. Two sat on either side of her, happily braiding flowers into her hair.

His heart threatened to burst from within his chest at seeing her surrounded by children. Is this what would greet him should they be blessed with their own children? Dream swallowed, once again forcing himself not to shout his profession of love across the room to her. “And there standing between our mighty adventures was the winged beast.” The mist took the shape of an odd creature with giant bat wings but a bull body. “The beast reared its head, spewing fire, smoke, and ash from its mouth as it charged forward.”

“Oh no!”

“Move out of the way!”

“I can’t watch!” The children all cried out over one another.

Munin smiled. “And just as all seemed lost…” She waved her hand, building a creation of vines and roots. “The Forest Guardian caught the beast in its hand and hurled it back to the cold dungeons of the mountain.”

The children cheered, jumping up and down in her lap. “What about the adventures?”

Sirius continued across the path of lily pads. “Well, the adventures got back on their feet and continued with their mission, of course.”

“But the fairy lady is hurt!”

“Oh, she pushes through,” Sirius replied, nuzzling the children’s cheeks. “What matters is they remained together.”

Munin shared a knowing look with her companion before her eyes lifted, and she sat up straighter at the sight of him. “You did not tell me he’d arrived.”

“Dream of The Pretentious is here, my lady.” The wolf mocked.

“How helpful you are, my star,” Munin replied. “Children, our guest has arrived! Lord Morpheus may perhaps be able to entertain us.”

His head tilted as he slowly crossed the water to join you. “You seemed to be faring quite well without me, Lady Munin.”

“True, but I am no Prince of Stories.”

The children hopped to their feet, crowding around his long legs and inspecting his coat. “You’re a prince?”

Dream looked down at the child with gentle eyes. “I am a king.”

They murmured amongst themselves. “Do you have a castle?”

“I do,” he answered. “It resides in a far-off land of dreams and nightmares.”

“And an abundance of sand.”

“There are nightmares in your castle?” One child wondered. “Isn’t that scary?”

Munin smiled, carrying a child on her hip as she moved closer to him. “It can be,” Dream answered. “But I’ve found that some of the most gentle beings are ones forged of darkness.”

Her eyes sparkled as she shooed the children away from him, instructing them to take Lucienne on a palace tour while she and Dream spoke. Munin showed him the village and introduced him to the spirits that now resided within her realm. “They are those forgotten by the world. Whether that be a feeling of unfulfillment or an unmarked grave, they passed here in death and now live to help this world remember.”

“There are a great number of children,” he noted, watching a group of them bring flowers to Munin.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Innocent beings such as them are often the ones forgotten quicker. It’s deplorable… A child should never be forgotten.”

He felt a twinge of his own pain mingle with her words. A child should never be forgotten. “At least now they will know the love their lives lacked.”

She offered him a smile as they continued forward, weaving through the growing town and deeper into the forest. The longer they walked, the older the trees seemed to grow until they came upon a small grove with seven old trees, all decorated with unique things hanging from their branches. The first was draped in paper. Pages with writing as old as the world itself. The second held statues of varying sizes, shapes, and colors within them, nearly outnumbering the leaves. The third is where they stopped. Stars hung from the tree, twinkling and shining even brighter as he approached it.

“This is your tree,” Munin said. “It holds your memories.”

“The others, I assume, are my siblings.”

“Yes,” she answered. “Though I’ve not explored them.”

He looked at her with a slight smile and a brow lift. “Have you explored mine?”

She blushed. “Somewhat. Only what remains here, on the surface.”

“Is there more?”

Stepping forward, you waved your hand, the roots curling up and exposing the path down below, the memories that he held most closely to him. “Lucienne believes that traversing within your memories will help me recover mine.” You looked back at him as he hesitated to follow you into the dark earth. “We do not have to if you are worried.”

Dream merely smiled. “If you were going to smite me, it would not be in the dark.”

You would have laughed at the notion of you warring with such a powerful and ancient being. But the Dream Lord's hand slid into yours, and all thought was replaced with a memory. The two of you stood before the mouth of a cave. You smiled at him, offering up your hand with a teasing tone, “Come now, Dream Lord, if I’d wanted to smite you, I’d not do it in the dark.”

Leading him down into the deep roots of his memory, you watched him closely, hand still twined with his as he admired the jewels hanging, radiating memory. “It is beautiful.”

“Yes,” you breathed, forcing your eyes away, along with the thoughts of how soft he was brushing up against you. “The roots of your memory run deep, as do all of The Endless. Your roots are twined with the very fabric of the world just as The Great Trees.” Then, reaching up, you ran your fingers along some of the roots and crystals, causing Dream to shiver beside you. “The memories we see here are ones you hold with pride and joy. Memories of your creations and your victories.”

“I’m assuming those are not the ones we seek.”

“No,” you answered. “We are here for those you remember with great sorrow or shame. The memories of you and Daunt.”

A look passed over his face as he stared down at you, eyes glowing like moons. “Why do you wish to see them? You and Daunt are separate beings, are you not?”

You shook your head. “No. Daunt is me. A part of me that I’ve been cut off from.” With a sigh, you looked ahead to the path. “We have spent too long apart from one another. Split and torn asunder to dwell within this world feeling half-formed. I do not wish to be condemned to the life she was forced to live.”

“You will not be,” he assured you, hand squeezing yours. “I would see to it you never feel the way she did.”

“That is why we are here, is it not?”

That small smile made yours grow as he answered, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Then think of her,” you instructed. “Think of your time with Daunt so I might be able to see her life, the parts of it missing from me, through your eyes.”

Dream did as you asked, the roots shifting, leading you down further into the recesses of his mind. You gazed upon frail white peonies that lined the pathway and large vines of royal blue hydrangea that hung from the roots above your head. As you passed, the flowers opened their faces, voices echoing around you. Dreams and yours, hers. As you ascended the steps, a cold light broke through the surface ahead and emerged within Dream’s memories.

The memory before you was the first time he’d visited your realm. You remembered it, remembered the ache that had settled in Daunt’s lungs as she turned to greet him coldly. He had demanded you to ignore your function, and you’d laughed at him.

“Why must you be such a Burden?” There was that word again and the feeling that came with it. Cold prickles consumed your spine. Beside you, Dream’s face cast down into a mournful expression.

“Do you think I asked for this? Do you think I enjoy bringing people this feeling?” Your voice sounded so cold, so angry. “I am what I am, not by choice or out of pleasure but simply because it is the role that was given me by whatever fucking powers that made me. If I could trade places with you and inspire the minds of men, I would… You’ve gotten what you came for. Now go.”

“Bur-” He stopped himself from completing the word. “Daunt.”

Cold frost glossed over your eyes, quickly covering the split second of vulnerability you… she had shown him. “Leave.”

Dream took a step forward when thick roots wound around his legs and pulled him back into his realm, and everything turned to mist, shifting around both of you as another memory was built. “Why did you call us a burden? When did this name become the one you associated with us?”

“Burden is what I called you after it became clear you would not vanish.” His admittance was outwardly cold, but the depth of his words was something you could feel. “I long thought you to be a punishment of sorts. Another task for me to manage.”

“A burden upon your shoulders.”

He stepped closer to you, the soft material of his coat brushing against your arm. “I do not think that now… I do not know if I ever even truly believed it. I was simply… surprised by you and frightened.”

You looked up at him with gleaming eyes. “You were frightened of me?”

He smiled. “You are rather terrifying.”

“Only when I have to be,” Daunt’s voice layered on top of yours as the next memory came to life.

This was when you’d shown him your realm and the minor improvements it had made because of your more profound connection to it and yourself. Acceptance had been the key to Daunt’s existence within the wooded realm, so different from what you knew. Dream had given her that… given you that.

The disorder of the memories made your head spin for a moment as the pier came next, the night that had plagued your mind keeping you from a restful sleep. The sapphire waters were as beautiful as they had been the night you’d journeyed to his realm, but the two of you stood far more rigidly this time. “Daunt… please speak with me.”

“I’ve nothing left to say to you, King of Nightmares.” You had spit the title at him so venomously you’d nearly flinched yourself.

“I… I regret my actions all those years ago.” A vision of Dream standing before you amidst a forest of dark trees, his hand curled around your throat, and hatred shining in his eyes played before you. “My brother’s decision affected me more than I thought, and I was… I was looking for a way to release it.”

“Fortunate for you that you just so happened to know where the cosmic mistake resides.”

“That is not what you are,” the memory of him answered. You could feel the insult of it bubble in your chest, swallowing that grain of broken hope that he’d meant it.

“You’ve made it quite obvious what you think of me. You and Desire see me as little more than a thorn in your sides, a mistake, a burden meant to make your lives miserable.”

Dream was quiet beside you, watching you more than the memory. “Perhaps that is what I thought of you once. But I see now that I was wrong.”

“You see now? Don’t insult me.”

“Let me show you then? Please?”

As you moved through his realm into the Waking World, you watched the memory shift. You watched him show you what the creators had thought of you… a guiding hand more than a hindering one. A helper along their journey instead of a burden. And then you were back on the docks, watching everything between the two of you shift. Your wishes, vulnerability, and innocence made everything come snapping back to you. “I remember this…”

The memory shifted to the last… the one that Dream of the Endless felt the most guilty and remorseful for. “No… Even if you are, it will not be the same. It will not be you.”

“This is what I want, Morpheus… It is what I spent so many long nights wishing for… to be different. To be born again as something better, something good. I do not want to live the rest of this long life as a mistake… as a burden.”

“You were never that.” You watched tears stream down his cheeks as his hands flexed to keep from pulling you into him. “Please…”

“I wish to be as I was meant to be. I can feel something greater waiting… but first, I must surrender this form. This may not have been my choice then, but it is now.”

Looking over at Dream, whose eyes remained glued to the weak and dying body you’d left behind, you felt not only your own pain but his. He thought he’d failed you… thought he’d doomed you to your fate by not finding you fast enough. All this time, his final memory of you had been one etched in sorrow and regret. It had not been as you intended.

“May I trouble you with one last dream to lay me to sleep?” You had asked him. “Would you grant me that?”

“I would grant you everything.” You felt how deeply he meant it, felt how true the words were.

The pier once again came into view before you, a welcoming sight to a dying being. “I remember this place. It has been so long since I’ve felt this.”

He could hardly look at you as he asked with tears building in his eyes, “If you could go anywhere, where would it be? Tell me, and I shall make it so.”

“I would walk among the stars one last time,” you had answered, though now you could feel the words you’d not spoken… the admittance that the dream itself mattered not, so long as he was there beside you in the end.

Dream stepped closer to you as he watched the memory of him wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his dark chest. “Open your mind to me.”

Stars, endless shining stars, twinkled in the radiant cosmic clouds and filled the space of his memory, brighter than they had been in yours. But Dream only looked at you. He was studying everything about you, you now realized. Committing you to his memory.

You watched as the memory of you wiped away the tears of the Dream Lord. “This is not the end. It is a new beginning... Perhaps one for both of us. It is good.”

“I will not see you again.”

“Of course, you will,” you assured him. “You will see me, Dream of the Endless. You will see me in the mist over the water. You will see me in white clouds and in books with empty pages. You will see me in your precious dreamer’s masterpieces.” You reached out, brushing your fingers along the back of his hand, looking up into his eyes as he tore them away from the memory. “When I return, we will see one another again.”

“It will not be the same you that stands before me now.”

“Change is a part of life. You will also be different when we next meet.”

“Daunt… All this time... All the years I was imprisoned, all I wanted was to see you again. And now that I have that...”

“Hold onto those words, my Dream. Hold onto them and tell me when we meet again.”

Dream stepped closer to you, mimicking the memory as he set his forehead against yours and said in unison, “I will hold them forever if I must.”

You could feel your old body growing weaker as you leaned into his gentle touch, closing your eyes to listen to the last request you had asked of him. “Kiss me, Morpheus. So I might remember the feel of your lips on mine and carry it with me to whatever life awaits me.”

“I remember,” you whispered into him. “All of it.”

The memories faded, and you found yourselves back within your realm, holding one another beneath the old tree of the Endless being. The sun began to set over the emerald trees, and the two of you carefully pulled away from one another. Dream pressed a kiss to your hand as he bowed. “It is time for me to depart.”

You wanted to ask him for a kiss… Wanted to act on the centuries, eons, of memories that now filled your mind with him and him alone. “Perhaps tonight will be the one I find my way to dream,” you said instead. “Perhaps I will see you there.”

“I am but a call away, my lady.”

“Goodnight, Morpheus.” The words left unspoken hung on your tongue as both of you watched one another, now nothing barring you from speaking them but your own foolish nervousness. I love you still.

“Goodnight, Munin.” Dream’s eyes shined brightly as he took a step away, hoping you’d be able to see the words he’d been holding onto for so long now he did not know how to speak them to you without foregoing all notions of duty and function and honor. I love you.

That night you laid your head on the soft pillows, staring up at the glittering canopy of leaves and starlight. Sirius snored at your feet, curled on the bed beside you, relaxed and dreaming. You were nervous about closing your eyes. Nervous about submitting to the unconscious power of dreams and nightmares. What would you see in this dream, your first dream? Would he truly seek you out among the billions of dreamers within his care?

Foolish, you chided yourself driving your eyes to close and quietly waiting for sleep to consume you.

When it did, you were pleasantly surprised to be flying. Your raven form glided through the puffy white clouds, a gentle wind caressing your face as your soul soared. You flew for what felt like hours before landing in a meadow of soft grass, a plume of feathers floating in the air as your normal form emerged with an ethereal pair of wings hanging from your back. Smiling, you ran your fingers through the white feathers, hugging as the motion tickled.

The meadow was gorgeous. Green with vibrant flowers and a crystal clear pool of water that sparkled in the orange, pink and yellow hues of the rising sun. As you looked across the great plane, your thoughts drifted to the being behind such beauty.

“Morpheus,” you called out softly. “Are you there? Can you find me within the well of dreamers?”

From across the realms, he heard you. At first, only the sound of his name slipping from your sweet lips, but then he heard your voice whisper, “Find me.” His heart nearly stopped as fear consumed every step he took. He knew it was unlikely you’d found danger so soon after his departure, but he’d heard this call one too many times. He’d not ignore it, not after what befell you last time.

Finding your dream among the vast multitude of mortals was far easier than most would think. He knew you, knew what you felt like and sounded like. He knew what your dreams looked like better than anyone, especially after the years he spent forging them by hand.

As he entered the misty outer wall of the dream, he felt his form shift. His clothes and hair resembled that of the attire he’d worn hundreds of years ago during one of his meetings with Hob Gadling. Leather lined his body, tight and chilled with his skin, and the familiar weight of his ruby hung around his neck as he ventured deeper into the meadow of soft grass and a sky, half of starlight and deep blue night and of golden sunrise and soft white clouds. It was peaceful here, the wind light and gentle as the sound of rippling water echoed in his ears. It reminded him of Fiddler’s Green, though this was different.

There rising up from the sparkling water Munin appeared like the first glimpse of sunlight peeking over the horizon of a long night. Two wings of blinding white spread on either side of her, dripping with water as it ran off the silken exterior of the feathers. The simple nightgown she wore glistened with hues of gold and pink, and orange as she quietly rose from the water, but Dream had a difficult time focusing on anything but the sight of her body beneath the now sheer fabric.

The Dream King’s eyes slowly traveled down the length of your body, admiring every curve of your body accentuated by the sheer, wet fabric that clung to you. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing his eyes to tear away from the peaks of your breasts before the sight of the soft, ample flesh plainly visible beneath your slip made the urge to touch you grow too great for even him to contain. You were practically bare before him.

White feathers ruffled, bringing a spray of water to hang around you like frozen jewels. Your eyes were bright and shimmering like the sun over water metal his, and for a moment, he felt like you’d stolen the very breath from his lungs. “Lord Morpheus,” you said quietly. “I did not think one such as yourself would care to greet me in my first dream.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, swallowed the heated words it contained. “Apologies. I did not intend to intrude, Lady Munin.”

You smiled with a gentle tilt of your head. “Can you intrude if it is a dream? I thought such was your domain.”

“It is,” he answered, casting his eyes away from you as you ventured closer to him. “But individual dreams are intimate things. I do not venture within them lightly.”

“Then why venture into mine?”

Starlit eyes met yours as he answered, sweet and gentle. “Because I heard your voice call to me. I thought…”

The crown of stars shifted, consumed for a quick moment by memories of Daunt’s demise… Of all her calls to him left unanswered. “Forgive me,” you said. “I did not mean to worry you.”

Dream pushed the memory’s away, once again casting his beautiful eyes elsewhere. “Did you need something, my Lady?”

“Do you find me ugly, Lord Morpheus?” You asked, examining his tight face, great white wings curling toward him as though they’d wished to embrace him as you did.

“No,” he answered, eyes boring down into yours, the stars within them quaking.

With a simple tilt of your head, you inquired further, “Then why are you so adamant about looking anywhere else but me?”

“I look elsewhere for fear that if my gaze lingers too long, I shall want for more than just the sight of you.”

You hummed quietly, a thoughtful sound that shouldn’t have made him burn with want but did. “Do you wish to touch me?”

“That is hardly-”

“Because I wish to touch you,” your soft admittance nearly brought him to his knees. It was why your thoughts, your being, had called out to him in this lovely dream. Ever since he’d departed from your realm, all you could think of was him. Was the accidental touches and the way each of them made the longing in your heart ache more.

Dream forced himself to refrain as he quietly said, “This is your dream, Lady Munin. You may do as you wish.”

You wasted no time lifting a hand to run along the shining dark leather of his fine attire, the feeling of longing within your chest stilling as you touched him, replaced with a powerful thrum of want. He was soft, softer now that you’d actually meant to touch him. You moved your hand up, watching the great Endless being practically shaking with restraint beneath your palm. “You say I may do as I wish, but does this plain not belong to you?” You asked as your fingertips brushed against the skin of his neck, lightly tracing up his throat until you reached his lips. “Is this not a dream conjured into being by your power?”

“I could change it,” he admitted against your fingertips. “But this is your dream. Brought to life within your mind, and I would not steal away your control over your own unconsciousness, not ever.”

“A relief,” You said. “For I do not wish this dream to end. It is far easier to touch you here, where you’re not like to pull away from me as though my touch burns you… Where it’s not entirely real.”

Something in his eyes shifted as a slight shadow darkened over his form. He took a step forward, placing himself right up against you. The chill that swept over your peaked your nipples beneath your gown even more as you stared up at him with a gasp. “Does this not feel real?” He inquired, voice echoing… a thing of dreams and nightmares and something so entirely other you could hardly understand it.

He slowly lifted a hand to touch you, lithe fingers brushing against one of your wings, gliding along the silken feathers and bringing a rush of pleasure down your spine. “Do you not feel my touch?” His hand continued, moving down your neck to brush against one of your nipples. “Does my voice not echo through your soul as your voice did mine to call me here?”

With a soft breath against him, as your hands found purchase against the thick chilled leather of his chest, you replied, “It does… I do.”

“Was this your wish this night, fair Lady Munin?” he asked, fingers mirroring yours as they ran up the valley between your breasts and the length of your throat, his fingers brushing against your jaw. “To feel me.”

You nodded, looking up into his eyes. “I have wanted to feel you for longer than even I can remember.” With a gentleness that made Dream want to weep, you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks. “Mighty King of Nightmares,” you whispered, soft, warm breath fanning across his lips. “Prince of Stories,” you leaned in closer, drawing him into you with nothing but your sweet voice. “I would feel you, mind, body, and soul, if you would only let me.”

His hand cupping your jaw stilled you from pressing your lips to his as the shadow seeped back into him and the dream rippled around you. “I will not have you here. I will not sully your first dream with my own selfish wants. Nor will I risk you forgetting what has transpired this night.”

You merely smiled. “I am Keeper of Memory. I would not forget this… not a moment of it.”

“That may be, but my answer remains the same.”

“Will you grant me one request then?” You asked.

Dream chuckled. “I would grant you anything.”

“Kiss me,” you said. “So I might once again remember what your lips feel like on mine.”

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you to seemingly grant you your request, but just as your lips brushed against his, his eyes beamed down at you, lips tugging up into the thinnest smirk you’d ever seen. “I will kiss you when next we meet, my little forest queen. But, for now,”

“Don’t,” you hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

The velvet sensation of his lips just barely sparking against yours made you dig your nails into his leather chest as he whispered, ever the smug and self-important Dream you’d once known, “This dream is over.”

You awoke in your bed, the soft canopy of leaves overhead and the wooden bed posts curling with vines and flowers. Breathing out a short breath, you sat up, the feeling his touch still lingering on your skin as you shook your head with a scoff. “That bastard!”

Sirius’ head lifted from the bottom of the bed as he turned to look at you. “Nightmare, my lady?”

“Yes,” you replied. “A very annoying one.”

If it was Dream’s hope to bait you into seeking him out… begging him for a mere kiss, then he’d be left just as frustrated and wanting as you. You’d wait him out as long as that took.

Bent over the library table, Dream listened to Lucienne’s research, albeit halfheartedly. His librarian had poured herself into finding more information on the part of you that predated even Daunt, this Memory. She had many interesting theories, but none were as interesting as the image of you, wet and wanting beneath his touch. Your dream had plagued his thoughts all day.

He’d thought you would come to his realm in search of the kiss he’d dangled in front of you, but it would seem you were either busy or too proud to give in to his teasing. Either way, he was miserable. Dream wanted nothing more than to turn back time and kiss you when you’d asked him for it, to do far more than simply kiss you… his want was little more than a sinful carnal need to have you moaning beneath him.

As Lucienne’s voice faded from his ears and he let his mind drift into the memory of the dream, making changes to improve it, you heard his voice echo within your realm. “I did not intend to intrude, Lady Munin.”

You followed the sound of his voice through the trees, walking to the ancient grove where his tree was alight with stars. Tilting your head, you ventured forward, moving through the roots and out to the other side. He was recalling your dream… though in his mind, he’d changed some aspects, added more sunlight to kiss your skin, and, if possible, made the material of your gown far sheerer. This was more than a memory, but not quite a dream.

With a smile, you watched from the edges of the meadow as events played out similarly to the event in question. Finally, when the hazed vision of you was chest to chest with the Dream Lord, you couldn’t help yourself. You assumed the memory in front of you, staring into Dream’s eyes as he played through the memory of your dream. Then, with an unscripted smirk, you tilted your head, breaking the events he knew. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Munin?” He asked softly, color rising to his cheeks as he leaned back.

With a smugness born of Dreams teasing, you looked around at the memory mixing with dreams. “Are you fantasizing about me, Morpheus?”

He pulled his hands behind his back with a thin smile. “It seems rather pointless to deny the obvious.”

“How flattering,” you purred. “And here I thought you’d take more pride in leaving me weary and wanting.”

You could see the smugness on his face. “Perhaps I did,” he admitted, watching you as you circled him. “But then you did not come to my realm in search of your kiss.”

“Is that what you’d hoped for?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I am terribly sorry to disappoint you, Dream Lord. I was merely trying to teach you a lesson.”

His eyes swirled with darkness as he tilted his head to the side, and the deep chuckle that vibrated through the very fabric of the fantasy sent a shiver up your spine. “Is that so?” Stalking forward, the dark figure towered over you, crowding the very air you breathed. “Did I leave you so weary and wanting that you would stoop to punishing me, my lady?”

You held his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes. You did.”

“My apologies,” he teased, the tone of his voice lowering to little more than a heated whisper against your skin. “I would ask for your forgiveness.”

“I would have you kneel for it,” you taunted.

With a chuckle, he tilted his head to the side. “Was my transgression so great?”

Your hands clutched one another behind you as you kept the sinful noises you wished to let loose buried within your throat. “It was. I was under the impression you’d come to make my dreams come true.” You shook your head. “And yet you cruelly denied me the simplest of requests.”

“Cruel am I? I offered you what you sought,” he countered. “You were the one that chose not to seek me out.”

“You’d have me beg you, King of Dreams?” You asked.

“I would very much enjoy the sound of you begging,” he answered.

You shook your head. “I’ve no doubt of that. But I will have you be the one to do the begging.”

He hummed, eyes dragging down your body lazily. “You forget, this is my fantasy. I can do things that would make me far more… as you say, smug.”

The thin slip was gone in an instant, your delicate skin now exposed to the slightly chilled air radiating off Morpheus as he held your gaze. The white wings on your back curled around your front, shielding you from the breeze. You answered him with an arched brow and a scoff, “You forget you are not the only being that can shift the unconscious mind. And fantasies are dreams mixed with memory.”

You blinked, and his clothes were gone. The smooth planes of his silken skin glistened in the falling light as he leaned further into you, seeking out the warmth of your body. You lifted your hand, trailing it down his throat and chest, traveling lower until his resolve broke. His hand caught yours, forcing it to settle on his abdomen, and his eyes turned wild, drinking in the sight of you, winged and bare before him. Then, with his free hand, he lifted it to your hair, running his fingers along one of the strands that framed your face. “You are a wicked thing.”

“Only when I need to be.”

“Now, who is being cruel?” He questioned, gently pulling you in closer. Face to face, chest to chest, you and the Dream Lord stared at one another until he finally whispered, “Come to me, my fair and wicked lady. Come, and I shall give you the kiss you wanted.”

Your eyes cast down to his lips. “Apologize.”

He let loose an amused breath as he raised his hands to cup your face. “I would make amends in person.”

“Ready to beg?”

“If it will get you here,” he replied. “I shall even kneel.”

You smiled wider. “Perhaps I shall show you a similar kindness.”

Dream’s hands gripped your face tighter as he closed his eyes. “Come to me. Please.”

“As you wish,” you whispered against his lips, meeting his eyes. “Time to focus now, my Dream. Lest you forget your dear librarian’s presence.”

Dream opened his eyes to find himself still within the library, Lucienne’s soft and slightly concerned voice pulling him from his own mind. “My lord? Is everything alright?”

He burned with need. “Yes,” he forced the words out. “Everything is fine. Excuse me, Lucienne. I have something I must see to.”

Turning on his heel, he quickly fled the library, using the walk to his chambers to calm his racing heartbeat and nerves. He threw the door open and nearly groaned at the sight of Munin standing in his room, white wings wrapped around her bare body, just as he’d left her. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I let myself in… I hope that’s alright.”

“It is,” he answered, closing the door behind him as he joined her in the room. “Tell me, fair Munin, what can I offer to make amends for my cruel behavior?”

“You already know,” you said, turning to close the distance between the two of you, soft eyes looking up at him and practically glowing.

“I would hear you speak it again,” he prompted, stepping closer… chest to chest with her. “Here, awake, where the sweet sound of your voice is not distorted by a dream.”

“Kiss me,” you replied. “Kiss me, and I shall forgive you.”

Morpheus smiled, hands moving to cup your face. “Is that all you wish of me?”

“For the moment,” you replied, wings falling away from you, revealing yourself to him. Your hands took fistfuls of his coat to keep him from vanishing again. “We’ll see how good of a kiss you offer.”

When your lips pressed against his, you realized why it’d been one of your dying requests. His hands slid back into your hair, securing you against him as you moved your lips against his. Soft and gentle with an underlying need that made both of you want to shake. His lips were heavenly… sinful in how they masterfully coaxed your mouth open, allowing his chilled tongue to sweep into your mouth.

He tasted rain, sweet berries, and a tang of something you couldn’t even put into words. Your breaths mingled with one another as both of your hands grabbed and pulled, desperate to become one in every way imaginable. His breath fanned across your face as he pulled away to look down at you with dark eyes. “Satisfied?”

“No,” you whined. “I want more of you.”

“You have all of me,” he answered, eyes trailing down your body with an appreciative gaze. “Am I forgiven?”

You took hold of his chin, forcing his eyes back to yours. “I believe I was promised kneeling.”

In a second, he was bare before you, the chiseled planes of his body practically glowing like some ethereal being of light. His hands trailed down your spine, gently running along the tips of your wings and then back down to grip your hips. He squeezed them in his hands for a moment before slowly dipping his head into the crook of your neck, kissing his way down your body until he knelt before you. Then, slowly lifting your leg up, his eyes flashed to yours. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you whispered, anticipation settling across your skin in goosebumps. “You are what I want, Morpheus.”

A true smile spread across his lips as he kissed your stomach. “I’ve waited so long to feel you. I shall cherish every second of this.” He lifted your leg over his shoulder, biting into the flesh of it for a minute before turning his head and licking a slow and deliberate strip up your slit, teasing the little pearl at the apex of your thighs for a moment before he pulled away a drew in a deep breath. “You taste divine.”

Breathlessly your ass hit his bed as he threw your other leg over his shoulder and dove back between your thighs, teeth, and tongue, exploring every inch of you. The sensation was far greater than anything you’d ever felt. The memories of past lovers’ touches faded beneath his. Morpheus exceeded them in every way… you’d not be able to live without his touch now, not for one moment.

His tongue twirled around your clit as his fingers pumped deep inside you, forcing lewd noise after lewd noise from your throat. You gasped and clawed at his messy black hair, pulling the roots to ground yourself amidst the continuous wave of pleasure he brought you with his mouth. You’d thought of what this would be like for so long… longer than you’d even been, and now that you were here, holding him by the hair while he pleasured you with his mouth, you could hardly breathe.

You came too many times to count before Morpheus released you from his iron-clad hold and kissed his way up your body, lavishing each of your breasts before he brushed your hair away from your face and beheld you with a gaze you could only describe as awe. Finally, you stroked his cheek and offered him a breathless smile. “I forgive you now.”

“So soon?” He questioned with a smirk. “I’ve only just begun.”

Both of you knew it had been hours already, but Dream of the Endless was nothing if not a thorough lover. He rose to his feet, bringing his hard, weeping member right into your waiting hands. You stroked him gently, watching his face twist into poorly concealed ecstasy. Then, leaning over, you licked along his slit before circling the head of his cock with a warm wet tongue.

His hands gripped your hair similarly to how you had gripped his, but he carefully pulled you back, looking down at you with dark eyes. “I am the one in search of atonement, my lady. I am the one that will worship you.”

“Very well,” you said, carefully running your hands up his abdomen. “Show me what the worship of an Endless is then, my Dream.”

He carefully lowered you onto your back with one last stroke down the silken white feathers. The wings evaporated, filling the air around you and Dream with feathers. This did little to slow him as he hovered over you, reconnecting your mouth to his in a needy and sinful battle between your tongues. You could taste yourself on him like a sweet honey.

His hands cradled your hips as he settled between your thighs, rubbing his aching member through your slick folds. Dark eyes watched you, the stars within them exploding as he set his forehead to yours. Then, pulling him back down by his dark locks, you devoured his lips, tugging one between your teeth until he groaned into your mouth. His grip on you would bruise, and you would let it, cherishing every mark he left.

One swift thrust of his hips was all it took for him to enter you. The stretch of him burned in a way that felt right. Your head fell back against his soft sheets as his settled onto your chest, his cold, ragged breaths bringing goosebumps to your skin. His hips settled flush against yours, and he lifted his head, holding himself up on one arm to stroke your face with his free hand.

Why had the two of you wasted so much time fighting when you could have been doing this? Why had you resisted so intently all the times before now where the urge to kiss him - to claim him - had been so strong? You were a fool. And so was he.

“I love you,” the words left your lips as a humble… A sincere admission that you couldn’t have stopped now even if you’d wanted to.

Morpheus smiled down at you, running his fingers over your cheek. “I’ve held onto these words for so long… I do not know if they will be enough now.”

You pressed your fingers to his lips, tears welling in your eyes. “Then do not say it… Show me.”

His head settled against yours as he began to move his hips. The friction was more than enough to bring the burning hot pleasure building in your gut, but then Morpheus guided your hands to the top of his head… To the memories that swirled there like a galaxy forming as he focused on them.

You saw yourself through his eyes. Your smile and the way your eyes lit up. You saw every moment he admired your beauty or kindness, everything he loved about you. As tears rolled down your cheeks as the emotions long denied and buried mingled with the pleasure of him inside you, moving his hips against yours as he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

His own tears filled his eyes as you lifted your head to press a kiss to his, sharing the moments you viewed him in a similar light with him. You showed him how ethereal and cunning, caring, and utterly self-important he was. You showed him your love as he showed you his.

The pressure building inside you peaked as his lips pressed to yours, the words he’d not spoken more than evident. I always have and will always love you. You came with a desperate and strangled cry that was swallowed by his greedy mouth. The way your body hummed… Sang beneath him as he continued to pleasure you through your orgasm sounded far greater than any song composed. Greater still was the sound that slid from his lips as his hips stilled against yours, and he came inside you.

He brought you into his chest, congratulation to consume you in every way. Both of your labored breaths filled the space between you as you stared at one another. His soft fingers ran through your hair as the tears finally spilled from his eyes. “I love you, Munin.”

You breathed out a laugh, relief… Acceptance… The love you'd so desperately longed for was finally yours. “As I love you, Morpheus.”

Memory and dreams collided like an eclipse, and all that dreamt that night, dreamt of the being of cosmic creation and goddess of memory. That night they dreamt of love.

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oldhabitsdiescrming · 8 months ago

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TWO YEARS AGO.

here are some things they tell you when you lose your best friend:

it's gonna be okay.

everyone goes through this.

they're in a better place.

it's commonplace. something about courtesy and sympathy, i don't know. point is, each of those things are obvious in a logical sense. yes, i will feel the sun on my face again. yes, everyone knows how i am feeling. sure, they're in a better place- if you believe in that kind of stuff.

thing is, i won't see her again.

people never know what to say to that. funnily enough, for all society agrees that we should ask about our dead more, no one seems to ask.

you didn't ask either, i know, but i wanna tell you about a wonderful person. she died two years ago today, march 19th, in a way so sudden it still jars me to think about. she died and yes, yes, of course it took a part of me with her. of course i ache and of course i think of her when i laugh. why?

because her favorite color was purple. she had these bright blue eyes that made sapphires look like coal in comparison. she loved to sing, had the voice of a disney princess and subsequently charmed everyone with it. she could make anyone feel right at home because she was so proudly herself that it made everyone feel safe in return. her face was covered in freckles even after fading with age, still visible to everyone who knew her as the grinning child she once was. she would call anyone out regardless of the lie. she always knew if you were actually fine or if you were faking it. she was chaotic, she loved to climb on roofs to prove she could, loved doing what everyone else was afraid of. she never hid how she felt about someone, there was never a reason to doubt her. she loved unicorns. she always tried to shelter her friends from the worst in the world. she didn't think she was good at much despite being one of the most talented people to ever step foot on this planet. she could say anything and make a room crack up. she held any hurting soul while they cried even though she didn't like being touched. she was made of melodies and crafted by the stars, bigger than the whole sky in every possible way. she loved her little siblings ferociously. she loved her friends the same.

if i said she was perfect, she'd come back and haunt me herself. to honor her memory i will tell you that she was argumentative, reckless, and unabashedly blunt. i wouldn't have had her any other way.

she showed me colors i didn't know the world contained. she brought a light to my life that, while dimmed with her loss, still shines. i hope she sees it from wherever she is.

i hope she knows she's in everything i write. i hope she knows, but if she doesn't, you do.

here's one thing i'll tell you about death: immortality is real. for me, for her, it lives in the color purple and stories screaming her name.

#tate.txt #grief #this is kind of all over the place but i needed to get it out there #💜

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elevatorladylady · 2 years ago

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Critical Reread - ACOFAS Chapter 15

Join me on a critical reread of A Court of Frost and Starlight

Chapter 15 - F/eyre

F/eyre shops with Elain, paints alone, and visits Amren.

“They’d earned that rest. We all had.”

I hate the idea that rest needs to be deserved, but I also don’t know exactly what any of them are doing that seems particularly challenging.

“Decadent—it felt decadent, and selfish, to shop, even if it was for people I loved.”

Maybe I’m just grumpy today, but I don’t want to hear about a billionaire having a hard time spending money.

“In the three hundred years we were wed, we never had the chance to have children.” Her fingers moved beautifully, unfaltering despite her words. “I don’t even have a piece of him in that way. He’s gone, and I am not. Void was born of that feeling.”

Previously, F/eyre mentioned maybe not being able to have kids if she waited, but this couple clearly thought they could wait 300 years, so what is actually the time frame fae are able to have kids?

The idea that their relationship was somehow less than because she didn’t have a child with him is gross and should be challenged, not used a spring board for F/eyre to decide she wants a baby ASAP.

It’s also kind of weird turning point for her on kids since R/hysand’s death would mean her own death, not a lonely life without him.

“Then there would be no Hope shining in the Void.”

Barf.

“Again, no need to apologize.”

So rarely did anyone outside the Inner Circle speak to me with such casualness. Even the weaver had become more formal after I’d offered to buy her tapestry.”

F/eyre seems so weird about when people do or don’t show her deference. It doesn’t seem like Ressina was being all that casual or the weaver being all that formal, but it’s something she is always pointing it out. And I could have sworn she thought Velaris was super cool because everyone was so casual with their high lord?

“Polina’s behalf, in case Polina’s family wants to sell it.” “We can buy you a studio space if you need somewhere to paint by yourself,” he offered, the thin sunlight gilding his hair. No sign of his wings. “No—no, it’s not being alone so much as … the right space to do it. The right feel to it.”

So she’s telling R/hys that Polina’s family wants to sell, R/hysand is saying they could buy a space, and she’s saying no despite finding a space that does appear to have the right feel to it???

“Not my painting, I mean. But teaching others to paint. Letting them paint. People who might struggle the same way I do.”

Isn’t Ressina already offering people a place to paint? Why is F/eyre acting like she’s inventing art classes/studio space?

“Rumpled sheets and askew pillows said enough about what scents I was detecting.”

The worldbuilding that sex is just this super obviously smelly thing grosses me out. I know it can smell IRL, but they take it to such a different level.

“Good thing you have Varian to exercise with.”

If only there could be one character in this series that wasn’t all about sex.

“She comes here every few days.”

I love the idea of Nesta coming to see Amren regularly. Their friendship is so good before ACOSF

“No one likes going to the House of Wind.”

Lol. I hate this house and I’m glad it’s canon that others hate it too.

“But I know she would not like me to be musing over her path with anyone. With you.”

What happened to this glorious example of loyalty to Nesta?!?

“She’s an immortal. Months are inconsequential.”

But one year is way too long by the time ACOSF starts.

#sjm critical #anti sjm #ell reads #ell reads ACOFAS

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thevoicefromanotherworld · 15 days ago

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"IN THE FLESH"

This story is based on the movie Van Helsing for 2004. What can I say, Van is one of my favourite cinema characters of all time and seeing it being portrayed by Hugh was awesome.

I hope you like it!

The city gates opened to admit a pair of strangers on horseback. One of them wore a wide-brimmed hat that covered his eyes, so his face could not be seen. The other wore a frightened expression on his uncovered face. He scanned the place with the kind of tension and distrust of someone leaving home for the first time.

The other man was the opposite. He dismounted from his horse and walked confidently to the center of the town square with apparent indifference, despite the fact that the locals surrounded him with picks, shovels, and weapons of all kinds and conditions.

Since Count Dracula had taken control of these lands, the remaining humans did not welcome outsiders in the same way as before. They were afraid that they were spies for the count, or worse yet vampires themselves, come to kill them and put them out of their misery.

-Welcome to Transylvania – greeted a man with a tall top hat dressed entirely in black-

-Is it always like this? – the boy asked the man next to him-

-Pretty much – he stated curtly looking at the locals-

Suddenly he heard a pair of heels approaching behind his back.

-You – a female voice pointed firmly – turn around

The man with the hat placed his hands in the pockets of his black leather coat before slowly turning around.

-Let me see your face – he ordered-

-Why? – he replied-

-Because we don't trust strangers

-Strangers don't usually last long here – intervened the man who had given them the “welcome” if that could be called that-

The locals narrowed the circle, cornering them towards where the girl was. - Gentlemen, lower your weapons - he ordered, gesturing towards the crowd.

-You can try - he murmured, reaching out his hand until it touched the handle of his pistol. The girl noticed that the weapon had a silver cross engraved on it.

-Do you refuse to obey our laws? - he questioned, putting his hands on his hips.

-The laws of men mean nothing to me - he said, raising his gaze slightly, just enough so that she could see a glimpse of the shine in his dark eyes.

-Fine - he muttered before turning towards the crowd - Kill them!

-I'm here to help you - he intervened before those poor people could attack him with their inefficient weapons.

-I don't need help.

-Really? - he questioned, reaching out his hand to his crossbow.

He noticed a point behind his head, where several white dots were approaching them at full speed. -Vampires - the boy next to him muttered - Watch out! - he warned the people, who ran off in all directions, panicked.

He aimed the crossbow at where the immortal beings were flying, shooting silver arrows at everyone who approached. He looked away at the woman, who didn't seem to be having any trouble defending herself.

He unsheathed a powerful sword, the blade shining brightly. The sound of metal ripping through the air as he split one of those beings in half filled the air. She felt a gaze on her and turned to face it.

-I told you I didn't need help - he said while struggling with another vampire, who threatened to sink his teeth into his jugular-

-Maybe not - she admitted, shooting one of her arrows in the direction of the vampire above her, knocking him down and she stood up without wasting time- but a little help is always good, no matter how small, given the times we live in - she murmured-

-Okay - she said, kicking a vampire who was coming in her direction- What's your name, stranger?

-Van Helsing - he answered, making her open her eyes wide-

-The man who managed to kill a vampire after 400 years of fighting them?

-In the flesh - he confirmed, shooting a silver arrow right in the center of the head of one of those beings without looking-

-Let's leave the talk for later, don't you think? -he said- now we must fight

-I agree- he nodded reloading his crossbow- we are going to take out a few bloodsuckers

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valiantsword · 2 years ago

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arthur can’t help the way he leans into that touch. each twirl of astoria’s finger in his hair sends a shiver down his spine. he never wants it to end; this closeness. this indescribable connection with someone else that has nothing to do with euphoria or body chemicals. something is alive in his soul for the first time in a very, very long time. to think that she doesn’t even know all of his yet because, yes, there are those secrets she was talking about. everything was potentially unlocked with the small immortality tidbit.

and, maybe, if that was just his secret to bear he would tell her right in this moment. lords knew he felt safe enough to do so. this went way beyond him, though. it was desi’s secret, too. vinny’s. it was joe and nicky and andy’s. for fuck’s sake, it was even booker’s. sure, arthur could omit their stories from his. part of the draw to astoria, however, was her intelligence. he had no doubt that, at the very least, she’d connect that dot relatively quickly. desi was the one who wanted the book, afterall.

“ felt very complicated at the time, “ arthur muses. the tip of his nose drifts against her skin and he can’t help but close his eyes to enjoy the sensation. he’d never told anyone about lancelot. not since myrddin way back when he was still, what, a mortal man? none of the guard knew. they made jokes from various renditions of his story but he’d never actually admitted to anything. it wasn’t their business no matter how much he wanted to connect to someone about that part of his life. “ and i fully understand that relationships look different for everyone. polyamory comes in a lot of different but i was too stubborn or stupid to see the damage i was doing. “

that’s what really made him sad. someone had to shove his nose in it and tell him he was being an idiot before it really hit home. before that he attributed all the arguments and the silence and the bitterness to the stress of everything that was happening. communicate. who knew that was the answer to all his problems.

thank you, was left unspoken. rather than break the silence he gave astoria the same courtesy she’d given him; time to think. as he waits for her side of the request his head tilts to the side to take in the way the light shines off her skin. the hidden scars come back to him making his jaw click into place. only cowards treated people that way. only cowards bent their authority to be that kind of cruel. arthur finds himself wondering again if ‘ disappeared ‘ meant dead. he’d wanted to ask on more than one occasion in their short time together but didn’t want to take astoria to that place their mention seems to take her. time would tell him either way.

the cold comment is a surprise. arthur’s head tilts to the other side as if he could get to the heart of that comment. what made her that way? what made astoria believe she had to be that way? arthur’s stupid for thinking such a thing because he was just lingering on those scars. how else would she hold the world after being introduced to it that way? at that, the immortal can’t help but lean in for another kiss. there’s hunger behind it but there’s also a gentleness that’s meant to reflect she doesn’t have to face those things alone. whatever transpired between them he’d always be there for her even if that meant coming back into her life thirty years down the road and fielding a number of questions as to why he looked like he hadn’t aged a day.

“ we are what the world makes of us, “ he tilts his head forward so his forehead presses against her cheek. the immortal goes silent again, giving astoria the decency of really thinking through what she’d said. whether he was alone or with the guard he dealt with lying and cheating pretty commonly. with the sums of money they were often paid it was common for someone to try and weasel their way out of paying the entire amount. even desi thought lying was more kind than shoving a pike in someone’s face. arthur personally felt it depended on the circumstances. if the coffee’s terrible then someone absolutely needed to know the coffee’s terrible. no sugar coating that one, so to speak. broken hearts or saving life? much more wiggle room on that one, especially where lying and cheating are concerned.

arthur shifts, using an arm to pull astoria as flush as both their bodies would allow. an arm goes around her waist to anchor himself down. “ there’s no reason not to believe you, “ the immortal whispers. he was the last person to judge another what they did to survive. considering the mission they were on together he also couldn’t imagine what lying about any of this would get her. if she wanted to steal the book she could’ve done it without saying anything at all. no, this was more than that. this felt more like two people being thrown for a loop by a connection they never anticipated. “ and i am more than okay with every part of you. whatever you deem to be good, bad, and ugly. “

shifting his gaze over her expression, arthur finds himself smiling a little wider. two lost souls finding solace in each other. sounds like the stuff that asshat malory was trying to capture when he got the whole king arthur bit wrong. “ i take you, astoria, “ he lets one of his hands flatten over her heart. “ and all that you are. there is no perfect version of you in my head. i haven’t known you long enough to even build one. i want you as i’ve seen you these past few days. i want all the honesty you’ve blessed me with and everything you haven’t said yet or might not ever say. everything else we’ll figure out as it comes, yeah? “

She is so far out of her depth. There is something between them, and she swears she can see it: delicate, shimmering, like one of her gossamer threads tying all the magic in the world together. If she wove her fingers into it, she could pull it tighter. There is an urge, wild and self-destructive, to wreck this before it can really happen, to say something callous or to hint that this will fail and plant the seeds of doubt. It's easier than it usually is to ignore.

(Iain is gentle; Iain is always gentle, even when he's furious with her, and it always makes her feel a little sick, like she's lashing out against something defenseless. It's not your fault, he's saying, and his tone makes it clear that he really doesn't blame her. You're just—Ast, you're not built for it. It's okay. Some people just aren't. She wishes he'd yell at her, or call her a bitch, or at the very least, stop sounding so fucking kind about it. Maybe someday you will be, but don't we both deserve better than to wait god knows how long until that happens? That's not love. That's masochism. She's barely felt anything since calling it off, but she feels it then, a disquieting rush of self-doubt, and Iain, damn him, has the decency to leave so she can cry in peace, and worst of all, he doesn't even blame her that the only tears she sheds have nothing to do with him.)

Arthur falls silent, as if confused by the question, and Astoria simply waits. She's always enjoyed physicality, but this feels different, somehow. It's almost electric. There aren't any butterflies in her stomach but she feels wonderfully warm, like a cat curled up in a sunbeam. Her fingers slip into his hair, curling aimlessly in the blond strands, and she takes note of every visible scar on his face, his arms, as if she's trying to map out the story on his skin. There's no more guessing, now—the mention of a wife still comes as a bit of a surprise, though the thought of a marriage bed shared with their friend doesn't. Something in the back of her mind whispers that Arthur must have lost him, too, perhaps at the same time he lost his wife and son, or maybe in the aftermath, their bond severed by grief rather than death. A story for another time, she's sure. He's bared enough for her tonight, and she won't push.

And, shit, she could get used to the sight of that smile, warm and real as it is. "Loving one person like that is rare," she says quietly, and her lips curl up in an answering smile. "Loving two is miraculous. It's not that complicated. I'm glad you had that." But you're not answering my question, she wants to point out. This is about what you need, not what I might. Then again, it's a deceptively difficult question to answer, and she imagines it's even worse when it's asked of a man who carries that much concern for the people around him.

(I mean—what did you expect? He's a nice boy. Her mother waves a hand in her usual way, casual and callous in one breath. Count yourself lucky it lasted four years. A man with better self-preservation instincts wouldn't have made it through one. If it occurs to her that the words might be hurtful, she doesn't show it; instead, she stands, graceful and lithe, and weaves around the sofa where her daughter is curled up to refill her glass. You're like me, little one. We're not capable of it. She means it as an observation, maybe even a compliment, but it feels like a condemnation. Astoria doesn't speak much the rest of the night. Her mother doesn't notice.)

"But—yes. I can do that." She's not shy; she doesn't bite her tongue for anyone else's sake anymore. She had enough of that long ago. The fact that he's so willing to confess to his faults before he's had a chance to show them, to head off any failure of communication or any lapse in partnership with that kind of honesty, very nearly has her dizzy. It makes sense, if she thinks about it; probably from a military family, probably even with a father who prioritized self-sufficiency over vulnerability. The weight of the world is so much heavier when you know you're holding it alone. The wound opened even by a well-intended parent takes time to heal.

What does she need? Patience, understanding, good faith. What everyone needs. She means to crack a joke and try to change the subject, almost as if out of fear that she'll find some way to explain that she decided years ago that needing something from anyone was an unforgivable weakness, and one she's spent years trying to train herself out of. Instead, when she opens her mouth to speak, something else falls from her tongue.

"I'm cold." Yes, that's the best way to describe it. "I'm not fishing for compliments. It's a statement of fact. I'm not bothered by it." Cold and alive beats out soft and dead every time, but truth be told, she's been this way for longer than she's been hurt. "One life for hundreds, like you said, that's how I think. And if it comes down to someone I care about, then I'll choose them over any number. I don't lose sleep over it. There are lines I don't cross—and I don't have the stomach for cruelty, most of the time—but I also know that I'm probably capable of it if the need arises.

"And it's not just me being awful. I mean, sometimes, I am." She's rambling. She stops, takes a breath, lets her smile quirk into something crooked. "Everyone is. But I have reasons for what I do and you don't have to like them and I'll be happy to debate all goddamn day, and I'm not opposed to being convinced when an argument is good."

The fingers in his hair tug gently, playfully. "With your work being what it is I don't see it being that much of a problem if I'm willing to bend rules and lie and cheat to get a job done. And by some weird and wonderful miracle you are the first person in ages I've been so consistently honest with, so just—I don't know. Believe me when I tell you who I am. There's no selfless and morally sound version of me to uncover, no matter how soft I inevitably become with you." She pauses, shifts nearer to him, as if any distance right now is too much. She isn't used to this kind of vulnerability; what a wonder to find she enjoys it when it's with him. "Is that okay?"

#softersinned #thread: softersinned 002 #✭ ㅤ interaction ㅤ ››› ㅤ for those who kiss the ring ㅤ .#✭ ㅤ main verse ㅤ ››› ㅤ we’re not meant to be alone ㅤ .#it didn't come out as long as i wanted but i #had this on my brain forever

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shineemyheart · 7 years ago

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#im having such a hard time tonight and i cant even articulate it #i dont have words for this feeling #its a lot of things at once #regret #sadness #emptyness #guilt #sorrow #but i know those things and this is different #i dont have any tears left but my chest is heavy and tight #this is so difficult #i had a terrible semester #i hadnt felt that bad in like three years #and i spent all my time writing papers and doing assignments and readings #and i fell so far behind with shinee #and during finals week i couldnt listen to all of Jonghyun's concerts #i should've made time for him #i should have spent time with him #i never thought this would happen #i always kind of felt like everyone in shinee was immortal #like there was no way thay they'd be subject to the rules here #they're all too good #and i knew Jonghyun and i knew he wasnt okay #but i thought he was getting better #he seemed happy #and i saw myself in him #and i thought i could be happy too #and I've been trying #for a long time #but now i dont know if i can be

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alice-angel12x · 3 years ago

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Scarabia x Daimond! Reader

Crystal reader masterlist

The Al-Aism family head recently heard a rumor of immortal crystal beings, many have them as servants or simple decoration. Wanting to protect his family and household, and wanting to see if this rumor was true, he ordered one as hard as diamonds. But when they arrived he was surprised that they were made of real diamond, he originally believed that people were simply exaggerating about these supposed beauties.

He would have never thought that they were made from actual precious stones. The sellers of this being bragged how because of the beings diamond body, they would be impervious to most human attacks. Plus they can be put back together with great ease, and they were immortal. From that day on, they were called Y/n.

Kalim stared in awe of the diamond person standing before them. He and his many siblings loved to watch Y/n from distance and watching them sparkled in the sun as they made their rounds through the large estate. The rich family for the most part saw them a nonhuman being made to serve.

Yet the servents that lived in the estate would say otherwise. They have seen the humanity within them, they were a strong, yet kind and gentle soul. Always willing to help servent with tasks, despite their only job is to be a guard.

Jamil would remember that most about this diamond person. When he first saw Y/n was when the family announced them to be the estate's new guard, everyone was in shock at what they were. A being made out of complete diamond was unheard of. Jamil at the time didn't think too much of them, but that changed one day.

As young Jamil tried to sneak his way past Kalim, by hiding in an upside-down vase. Then suddenly, someone scooped up the vase causing him to fall inside. He looks up to see the shining hair of Y/n, smiling softly down at them. Before he could say anything, he heard the pitter pater of fast-approaching feet of Kalim.

"Ah, Y/n have you seen Jamil anywhere?" Kalim asked.

"Oh, I'm afraid not. Have you checked the kitchen?" Y/n suggested.

"Thanks!" Kalim smiled and ran off.

Y/n nodded as they turned to walk in the opposite direction. Soon they put the vase down so Jamil could crawl out.

"Your safe for now Mr.Jamil," Y/n smiled as they walked off.

It's not an exaggeration to say that Jamil gained a bit of a crush then. Even if he wasn't ever going to admit it, but he would turn to Y/n for all sorts of help. From hiding from Kalim, or asking them for protection from the bugs. Y/n was more than happy to protect him, and he felt important and was happier to monopolize their time. But things soon changed.

____________

One night an assassin tried to tale Kalim's life. But Y/n was quick and fought them off, thou at the cost of their foot.

From that day Y/n was stationed as Kalim's bodyguard then on. Once again, Jamil felt like Kalim was always going to take everything from him.

Y/n was ordered to remain by their master side.

______________

As time passed, as they grew. Y/n seemed to remain the same and unchanged by time. So was Jamil's feelings for Y/n, for it remained as strong as stone. So he was a bit saddened when it was time for him to leave for NRC, and leave Y/n behind. Yet Y/n smiled gently and handed him a can of bug spray, wrapped in a bow.

"Well since you will be on your own now, I can't be there to save you from all bugs anymore," Y/n giggled.

Jamil sighed, yet smiled as he stuffed it into his suitcase. " I am not a child anymore, I can handle myself," Jamil said.

Y/n gave him a knowing smirk but let Jamil have his moment. As Jamil continued to stare, he noticed something was off about Y/n today. Some of them appeared to be cut off!

"What happened to your Hair?" Jamil asked.

"Oh, the shopkeeper would sell to me, he said he would give me what I wanted if I gave him some of my hair," Y/n said simply.

Jamil was shocked, " Why would you agree to such a thing?" Jamil demanded to know.

"He wouldn't accept the human money I was trying to give him. Saying that he doesn't sell to my kind," Y/n said with a slight frown. " Though I doubt he has seen many of my kind. Not even I have seen many of my own."

"What do you mean, Surely your previous masters hand more of them if they were selling?" Jamil asked.

"Sadly I can no longer remember. My memory is stored within my body, and If I were to lose any pieces of myself. The memory stored in it will go with it," Y/n explained.

"I see," Jamil said sadly.

"Y/N!! Jamil !!!" Kalim called out.

"What is is Kalim?" Jamil asked with a sigh.

"Father just told me, that I'm going to NRC with you!" Kalim said with excitement.

"What?!" Jamil asked in horror.

"Yeah, I'm coming to NRC with you. Were going to the same school, isn't it great?" Kalim asked with a bright smile.

"T-that is surprising, so Jamil is going to watch over you the entire time?" Y/n asked, feeling slightly sorry for Jamil.

"Ah, no your coming with me Y/n, as my familiar," Kalim smiled. " It will be just like old times!"

__________________________

NRC's life was interesting, Y/n was surprised to see other gem familiars like her all various kinds of gems. Yet they were not allowed to follow their masters around all day, so Rutile tasked everyone with chores around the school.

All was normal till one day a strange foe from the sky attacked and tried to harvest the gem people. Luckily with the fast work of some, they were able to fight off the creatures. Though not completely unscathed.

"Y/n! What happened to you, are you all right!?" Kalim asked as he tackles hugged Y/n.

"I'm fine, luckily all my pieces were collected and Rutile put me back together. Good as usual," Y/n smiled down at their master.

"Please, promise me you won't do anything reckless again," Kalim asked with tears in his eyes.

"Alright, Kalim," Y/n smiled softly.

"Kalim, it's late. It's time to go to bed," Jamil said from a few ways down the hall.

"What? I'm not a kid," Kalim sighed.

"Well, you do have an important test tomorrow, so rest is something you will need," Y/n said agreeing with Jamil.

With a sigh Kalim left with Jamil, leaving Y/n to patrol the dorm. The cool desert wind blew through their sparking hair.

"Y/n," Jamil called out.

"Oh, good evening Mr.Jamil," Y/n greeted." Shouldn't you be in rest also?"

"I'll rest soon, but I want to ask you something," Jamil said slowly. "Why did you run toward the danger. It was obvious that they weren't after the humans, but you. Why did you put yourself in danger?"

"I... I didn't want them to take away too," Y/n said as they looked out at the dessert.

"Too?" Jamil asked.

"Something, in my cloudy memories. They... There was... Others, just like now. Then they were gone, some were just pieces. I'm not sure, but I couldn't just let Ruby and Aquamarine get taken like that. Also, you and Kalim could have still gotten hurt in the crossfire," Y/n said as they turned to leave.

"I am so much better at many things than Kalim, you don't need to worry about me. I came here to ask you something," Jamil stated.

"Alright, what is it Mr.Jamil," Y/n asked with a worried look on their face.

" Have... Have you ever wanted to be... To not be in Kailm or his family's shadow? Have you ever wanted to be more than just a servant? Even wish to never have been sold to, or at all," Jamil asked. " Go somewhere and be something more."

"Ummm, I've never really thought about it. But If I wasn't given to His family, I would have never met you," Y/n said with a smile.

"That was just cheesy, but that's not my question," Jamil said simply.

"I never think about such things, even if... I would have nowhere to go. Like I said, most of my memories of the far past are mostly cloudy or gone. A lot about myself is a mystery to me and for some reason. A part of me doesn't wish to remember. Even if I can't remember why," Y/n said, staring up at the moon in the sky. " So I try not to think like that Jamil."

Jamil stared for a while, seemingly disappointed.

"I see, Well goodnight Y/n," Jamil said simply as he turned to leave.

________

Jamil slowly became closed off around the second year of NRC. Y/n sadly wasn't truly able to understand fully what Jamil meant that night. Yet as of late Y/n began to wonder, when the time came. What would they do when Master Kalim and Jamil passed on. And was there anything they wanted for themselves?

One day the strange student from Ramshackle came to visit, just around the time Kalim was starting to act strange. Y/n tried to figure out why he was acting this way, but because of Kalim's actions, many of the students thought they were just playing devil's advocate. Jamil commanded Y/n to stay put in the dorm and away from the students, knowing full well that Y/n would never disobey an order from Kalim. Hypnotized or not, they cannot get in the way of his plan.

_________

One night, when Y/n was doing their usual patrol, they noticed Yuu and Grimm trying to escape the dorm again. As they were about to apprehend them, an Idea stopped them in their tracks. Every time that Ramshakle student came to dorms, especially in rough times, things would suddenly get better. At least according to the other gems in the school.

But Jamil said that they were the cause of many troubles, so would he welcome in the dorm in the first place. With conflicting information, Y/n trusting their gut decided to help them escape. Hoping that they could figure out the problem going in Scarabia, and save Kalim and Jamil.

#twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland

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shitgotpersonal · 11 months ago

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Being a goddess was an easy job, that's what Leiza always said to everyone and anyone who asked her about it or who complained about their own divinity, it was an easy task, you just needed to remind yourself of your place: Above humans, below the creator, it was rather easy when you followed this rule and just kept yourself going in a straight line heading forward instead of down into the abyss of isolation that came with immortality. Being a god was easy in many different manners, but there was a particular hardship in being immortal, watching every sinner and saint have the same faith: Death. While you stayed behind, alone, watching from above, too good to touch humans, too precious to be touched by them, it was a mixture of things that couldn't be explained if not lived, and after thousands of years living through it, Leiza wasn't sure if she knew how to explain it anyway.

Immortality was always her struggle, till Alexiares came into her life, all of a sudden, with no warning whatsoever, putting every piece of her mind set on fire and consuming her daily thoughts like no other being had ever been able to. Alex was a force of nature that needed to be worshiped, her body was a temple made for him. And her eyes were only made to gaze upon his features. She always told him that she didn't need words and truly she didn't, nor actions as far she was concerned, she knew deep down his feelings were as strong as hers just by the way he would look at her, by the way, his soft smile would grow bigger when talking to her and by the way he always listened to whatever she was ranting about. Would she complain about being pampered? Of course not.

She never did and she always felt a certain kind of power in being indulged by her dear husband, even if it was with gifts, money, and food, she liked smiling around humans strolling around letting everyone know that it was her husband's money that was being spent. And she had done just that, first, she had her nails painted, her hair done, a relaxing massage and then she went shopping, she wanted to make him proud, he had told her to get a dress and she would do just that, but with a dress comes a lot of other things, so she did buy a dress fit for a queen, and also shoes, and a purse, and had her makeup done and got herself a new coat because she wasn't a slut - of course not -, she needed to cover up till the moment was right.

The way home was quietly anticipating, of course, she had made sure to be all dressed up and ready for whatever waited for her at home, she didn't want to have to wait, and getting ready all by herself would have taken ages especially if she was distracted by having Alex around. She had a long black fur coat covering all of her outfit except for the shoes, her neck was adorned with diamonds and her wedding band shone on her finger like the was trapped around the golden band. The doorknob was slowly turned and she walked in with her shoes still on, she could forgive herself for the mess and disrespect later, tonight she wanted to impress and even tho she didn't need high heels, she liked the feeling and she was lucky that Alex didn't mind being smaller than her.

It didn't take more than four steps to reach where Alex was waiting for her, the delicious smell of food hitting her first and then his cologne, the sight of him made her lose her breath. ❝ Have I kept you waiting for far too long, darling? ❞ She looked at the clock, it was twenty-past seven, and she knew he was a very punctual man, but beauty took time. With a smile she peeled her black coat off, carefully letting it sit on one of their expensive chairs, her long red dress was revealed, a silk one shining with the light, her chest was almost exposed and there was a slit on her left side that was a bit too high to be considered modest. There was a smile on her face. ❝ Did you like it? ❞ She would be lying if she said she didn't choose that specific dress having him in mind, his favorite color, his favorite fabric, the lack of space for underwear, the slit that gave easy access to her core while still maintaining the elegance that a romantic dinner required.

Alexiares was maybe one of the younger gods. He was somewhere in the middle, not too young, not too old. He was the first of the death paintings, the first at everything: To be made, to be born. He had to understand life, feelings, his duty in hell too fast. He had to become someone too fast. The fact that he wasn't really chatty and didn't understand the things said to him made him a lonely god for too long. So, when he managed to steal the heart of someone like Leiza, life started making sense, but he never understood why him. And never asked too. He didn't want to discuss her love, he wanted to feel it, and he was addicted. The more he had, the more he wanted.

Even if he learnt how to be affectionate, he wasn't really a pda person. Alex adored his girl like a devotee, but sometimes he felt like he didn't do enough to tell her how much he loved her. Thereby, once a week, he would give her a special day, the kind of day that he paid everything he could to her. She could spend the day at the spa, do her hair, her nails, buy expensive clothes, or just have a simple meal and come back home. The choice was hers. The special day arrived, and as always, he gave her his credit card and told her to have fun. Alex only asked her to be back home at 7 p.m., and that she buy the nicest dress she could find, "a fit for a queen like you" he said.

When she left, his mission begin. He decided to cook for her, and he chose one of her favorites. The problem was: He was a disaster in the kitchen. He could burn ramen noodles if not careful enough. But he wanted to try, he wanted to do something really special for her. The god of curses wasn't a big fan of humans, although, he had to see a bunch of them at the open market, the place he went for the fresh ingredients for his main course. It was easy to find an octopus and the mint, but it wasn't easy to choose the best. He trusted the vendors, asking them to teach how to cook it all properly.

Looking like a housewife with how many bags he had in his hands, the way home was way quicker than the normal. He bought some good red wine, a pecorino cheese to go with the pasta and some more because he really loved cheese and it was his guilty pleasure. Assembling all of the ingredients at the table, he sighed, not delaying his work. Wearing an apron and having different kinds of knives made him feel like a real chef. First it was the octopus, the hardest part of the recipe. He never saw an octopus this close, and without the internet, he'd probably start to cry thinking he ruined the octopus, when it was perfectly cooked.

Heavily sighing, Alex finished washing the last dish, after assembling all the ingredients of the recipe, who were supposed to be mixed only on the plate. He organized all of it on the table, alongside with the red wine, two glasses, some candles and a cold cuts board he improvised with the cheese and some other snacks they had at home. Looking at the clock, he only had a few minutes before the scheduled time. Mumbling a fuck fuck fuck to himself, the god ran to the bathroom, taking a quick shower, but making sure he washed himself properly. In front of the mirror, he put on some cologne, brushed his hair and decided to let it down, touching his shoulders. Finishing tying the tie's knot, he looked at himself in the mirror, not really happy with how he looked. Alex looked like a living dead man, because he was one. All of the death paintings were dead, and could only live if they had a host.

Going down the stairs, he could feel butterflies in his stomach, and it wasn't because of Leiza, it was because he wanted to really make her happy with the surprise. Now, he only had to wait for her.

#━━ ⟢ ( LEIZA ) inters #━━ ⟢ ( LEIZA&ALEXIARES ) inters #━━ ⟢ ( LEIZA&ALEXIARES ) nsfw;;smut

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years ago

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If I Never Knew You Pt.1

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.

a/n: This is going to be a six part series. I’ve never done a series before, but I write so much anyway I thought why not make one. I’ll probably upload each part daily unless there is demand for them to come faster. I hope you enjoy. Requests/asks will be open if you wanna send smth to me! Although I will admit I am kinda slow in finishing requests. I have a lot to balance in my life so my apologies if I don’t get to them immediately!

Word count: 1.8K

Loki x female!reader

The sun shone through the window of your home, the golden rays warming up your cheeks and waking you from your slumber. Sitting up, you stretched, feeling the sleep vibrate out of your body. Tossing the sheets off your body, you swung your legs out of the bed and walked to the bathroom to begin your morning routine. Finishing with tending to the mass of hair on your head you trailed back into your bedroom to change into clothes appropriate for the day. An array of dresses always leaving you indecisive about what to wear.

Settling on an olive green one you walked towards the mirror and fastened the ties around the back of your neck. The loose sleeves draped over your shoulders, cascading down your back, and gold accents adorning the neckline. Finding your shoes, you slipped out of your bedroom, closing the door behind you, and walked down the hallway, the chatter of your family becoming more clear as you near the entrance of the main room.

“Good morning, mother. Father.”

It seemed you had slept in quite a bit, given your parents already eating breakfast. Your mother piped up

“There’s a portion left for you on the counter, my dear.”

Eying the food you decided you weren’t all that hungry yet. You had just woken up and your body had yet to settle. Declining, you grabbed your satchel and began to walk towards the door.

“But Y/N, you should really eat something before starting your day.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I promise. I’m just not that hungry right now. I’ll eat when I get back.”

Finally reaching the door, your father chimed in,

“You know, Y/N, just because you try to avoid the obvious, doesn’t mean it’s going to go away any sooner.”

Dropping your head, you sighed. You couldn’t seem to escape the duties of being a young woman in a world where royal obligations were something you were expected to partake in. Upon reaching the age of 18, you were supposed to be on the lookout for a decent suitor of a husband. The fact of the matter was, you were now approaching 22 and had yet to find someone acceptable, not only by your standards but by your parents.

For this uniting of peoples would also be a uniting of families. You had until your 21st birthday to find a man suitable to everyone's liking and if you didn’t, arranged marriage was the next option. No one wanted to be known as the woman in Asgard who couldn’t get a man to offer his hand in marriage, yet here you were in all your glory. It was frustrating.

If only they knew.

“I know, Dad. Things are a little bit harder when I have to seek my parents' approval for my marriage.”

Your tone became short, frustrated at the entire situation. You already had someone, for a while now actually, but you hadn’t the guts to inform your parents because you knew they would shut him down. So you loved in silence. It was more than painful, not being able to be truly open with your lover, but you had yet to find the right time to pour out your heart to your family. Taking a deep breath, your grounded yourself and turned towards the door,

“I’ll be back later, I love you.”

Your mom got to responding before your father did,

“We love you too dear. Make sure to pay attention to who you’re around. Be safe.”

Smiling lightly you finally walked out the door and stepped into the fresh air that was Asgard. It never got old. The scent of the trees and freshwater that surrounded this place sent one into such serenity. Just being outside could allow your mind to drift elsewhere and forget about the troubles in your life. Walking as far as you could from your home you spaced out in the direction you were going.

Coming back to when you accidentally kicked a pebble across the ground. Looking up you found yourself in one of the many gardens that surrounded Asgard. Walking to a marble bench, you scrunched up some of your dress in your hands, folding one leg under you before sitting atop it. Crossing your other leg across it and letting the fabric of your dress fall to the ground.

Pulling your satchel into your lap, you grabbed your journal out of it and began to sketch the garden in front of you. Paying special attention to the detail of the flowers, wanting to make sure you entirely captured the essence of their beauty on paper. Lost in concentration, you failed to hear the footsteps approaching behind you. It wasn’t until you felt a hand rub small circles into your shoulder that you turned around.

Hair fell in your face, obscuring your view of who was in front of you. Bringing your hand up to place your hair away from your face you dropped your pen on the ground. You went to reach for it, but a separate pair of hands grabbed it first.

“You seem to be quite the mess today, my darling.”

A genuine smile stretched across your features before looking up into the enchanting blue of his eyes.

“Loki, hi! What are you doing out here?”

Sitting down next to you, careful to avoid your dress he spoke,

“Well, I was informed that a beautiful lady was sitting in the garden in front of the palace so of course, I had to go inspect the situation. And upon seeing a stunning shade of green draped over the bench, I had to introduce myself.”

An airy laugh left your throat, blithe being showcased across your being.

“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you fancy this beautiful woman.”

“How could I not? Her beauty extends beyond the physical. She's incredibly intelligent and the only one to unconditionally show kindness and love to those who deserve it. It’d be incredibly injudicious of me to not be aware of that.”

“Alright, alright Loki, you’ve buttered me up enough.” you chuckled

“It’s never enough, darling. And it’s not buttering you up if it’s true, which it is. So, against your wishes, I shall continue to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. Looking down at his hands, you placed yours on top of his and gazed into his eyes once more. Glancing down to his lips and back up to his eyes, you slowly leaned in, Loki meeting you halfway. A kiss so tender you forgot it was Loki whose lips were tangled in a dance with your own.

Loki moved his hand out from underneath yours and placed it on your cheek. You pulled away from the kiss and nestled your head into his hand, his thumb caressing your cheek allowing you to relish in the moment of being with each other. Flashing your eyes back up to his you asked,

“Shall we go for a walk?”

“Why not?”

Stuffing your journal and pen back into your satchel you untangled your legs and got up from the bench, Loki helping you stand up so that you didn’t trip on your dress. Taking your hand in his own, you two walked through the garden on a path that would eventually lead you to the entrance of the palace.

“I’ve missed you Loki. I always miss you, I hate being away from you.”

“I know my love, I do as well, but you of all people know our predicament.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned in haste to stop him as well, making him face you. You brought both your hands up to cup his face, an idea flashing bright behind your eyes,

“Well, maybe we can change it! We can be the change to get rid of this stupid rule. I can’t imagine my life without you Loki. I don’t want to have to share my world with someone else. It’s only ever going to be you.”

Bringing his hands up to your wrists, he looked deep into your eyes, sorrow and hope swimming behind his facial features.

“Maybe we can, although we have to prepare for the worst...but that doesn't mean we can’t try.”

Giving a small smile, he moved his hands to the back of your head, thumb caressing your temple, and leaned in to kiss you. Giving you all the reassurance you could’ve asked for. Pulling away from each other you continued down the path hand in hand. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, serenity washing over you.

Opening your eyes, you realized you were closing in on the front of the palace meaning you would now be in the public eye and the last thing you wanted was more gossip to fall upon you. Looking at your lover, you stopped walking, halting him in his tracks. Forcing him to turn around and look at you.

“What is it?”

You sighed, suddenly being overcome with emotion.

“Well, if we walked any further, everyone would see us and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you…”

“...Trouble? For me?”

Loki scoffed, his signature smirk following.

“Love, all I’m known for is for causing trouble, I wouldn’t mind another notch on my belt.”

You were hesitant. You loved Loki and you knew your feelings were reciprocated through him, but it was difficult breaking from the chains of what you ‘were supposed to do’. It left you in such dissonance and yet you felt in your heart to rebel so fiercely that Asgard would immortalize your change. Your silence alerted Loki and he spoke again,

“Y/N, if we are to ever make any sort of change we cannot hide in the shadows anymore. We cannot separate and scatter like roaches when the light is shined upon us. We must bask in it. That is the only way we can possibly aspire to reach our goal of loving one another in true fulfillment.”

“You’re right.”

“I always am.”

You placed your hand back in his and Loki smiled down at you.

“Ready to have the target on your back, Y/N?”

“As long as you’re by my side, I can handle anything.”

Walking out of the secluded area of the garden, you finally stepped into the light. For the first time in the last year being open about your courtship with Loki. Asgard’s God of Mischief and your parent’s worst nightmare. You felt armored for anything to be hurled in your direction with Loki was by your side and always would be.

The anxiety of it all had yet to drain from your bones and you couldn’t help but draft up ‘what ifs’ in your head. As if Loki was scavenging through your brain, he gave your hand an inspiriting squeeze, bringing you back into your body and out of your head. If only you knew how the whispers of your choice in partnership would rain the fires of hell all too soon.

#loki #loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #marvel fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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riotwritesthings · 4 years ago

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I'll cave in (whenever you see fit)

A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! to @warmachinesocks

thanks for being you that’s big sexie of you. Here’s a thing.

Winteriron, M, 5k - Vampire!Bucky, human!Tony, an abduction, a rescue, and some dry humping

Bucky knows better than to get involved with a mortal, and he pays the price when Hydra kidnaps his boyfriend. Tony is human, he's questionably in distress, and he is Handling It. (minor violence, surprisingly soft all things considered.)

~~~

Bucky should have known this would happen. Fuck, he should have known.

An immortal should never get involved with a human, that’s rule fucking one because it never ends well for anyone.

Especially not for the human.

But he’s selfish, so fucking selfish, and the first time Tony smiled up at him, open and happy, Bucky knew he was doomed.

He knows something is wrong the second pushes the door open to find the basement apartment completely dark. The only light is the weak streetlight pouring in through the one tiny window, near the ceiling in the kitchen.

Even in the dark, Bucky can easily tell that the place has been trashed, though it is only a subtle difference from the organized chaos Tony usually keeps his workspace in.

The apartment is too quiet, too still, and he knows instantly.

Bucky fucked up. Badly.

Because it had been entirely too easy to get used to the warmth of Tony’s smile, of his skin, the way he so easily made a space for Bucky in his life.

It had been so easy to let himself get comfortable in Tony’s weird basement apartment that’s half home and half machine shop, perfectly Tony. The way the apartment is brightly lit with industrial lights at all hours of the day and night so Tony can see whatever brilliant new invention he’s working on next.

Bucky never had a chance at not getting attached, because in all his years he’s never met anyone like Tony.

Tony is perfect, and brilliant, left with nothing after his father's company was stolen out from under him and Tony just built himself a new life, tries to help wherever he can. He keeps erratic hours and never minds that Bucky comes and goes at all hours of the night, that Bucky can't go out in the daylight.

Bucky hasn’t been in the sun in nearly a thousand years, but with Tony in his arms, so warm and bright and alive, he could almost remember what it felt like.

And now Tony has been taken.

Bucky knew who was responsible even before he found the symbol burned into the wall. It’s Hydra. Of course it is, and those bastards won’t care that he’s human, that he never should have been involved in any of this, all they’ll care about is hurting Bucky as much as they can.

And they picked exactly the right target.

Hydra has been after him for nearly as long as Bucky has been not-alive, determined to wipe out all vampires at any cost. Even once the war was over, even after all the other hunter’s guilds signed the peace treaty, Hydra refused to give up their mission and for some reason they’ve taken a personal vendetta against Bucky. Probably because he’s evaded them so many times.

And now they have Tony.

The thing is that Bucky hasn't really known Tony that long, not even by human standards, but he is completely, irretrievably in love. He’s ready to burn the whole world down to get Tony back, even if Tony never forgives him for it.

But he’s not going to be able to find where Tony is being held, not on his own. Not in time.

The downside to immortal friends though, is that Bucky hasn’t actually seen any of them in years, because what’s a couple decades between centuries old beings? Steve is back in Europe for a while, working on his painting, and Bucky hasn’t seen Natalia in nearly fifty years now, which means she probably won’t turn back up for another fifty.

There is one more option, Bucky is just less than thrilled about it.

It’s no secret that the other hunter’s guilds don’t approve of Hydra’s methods, the amount of collateral damage they leave in their wake. The lengths they’re willing to go to.

Like kidnapping innocent humans.

It’s definitely still a stretch to hope they’ll be willing to help someone like Bucky find Hydra, but he has to try.

And he does have one idea of where to start.

Bucky and Sam don’t like each other very much, and that’s been the standing opinion for the last decade. Which for a hunter and vampire, is basically a lifelong friendship.

It’s at least enough that Bucky can show up at Sam’s door without immediately getting himself staked.

The door flies open and Bucky blinks, because it never fails to surprise him how old Sam has gotten. Every time, Bucky is a little bit expecting Sam-as-he-met-him, still a kid, on his first hunt and clearly terrified but so determined to save the world, so idealistic. And now he’s so jaded, older and tired and it’s just one more reminder of just how badly Bucky has fucked up.

Tony is going to go cold and tired and it will be all Bucky’s fault.

“You’re here about Hydra,” Sam says flatly, no preamble, and at least that answers Bucky’s question about whether or not Sam even knows that Hydra is setting up camp in his territory.

"Tell me where they are," Bucky demands, resisting the urge to flash his fangs just yet because he's not here to threaten answers out of anyone. Not unless he has to.

Although he doesn't find it encouraging that Sam doesn't answer, just clenches his jaw and swings the door open a little wider, letting Bucky see that the extra heartbeat he hears belongs to Clint. Standing in the hallway with a crossbow in hand.

Bucky lets his lip curl up a little, because apparently this is going to be that kind of conversation.

“What do they have against you, anyways?" Clint asks conversationally, like he's not holding a loaded weapon with an expression that says he'd really like to use it. "Seems very personal at this point."

“What, you want the entire list?” Bucky snaps and finds that he is more than willing to give the whole sordid story if that's what it takes.

But he doesn't have the time for that, Tony doesn't have the time.

Instead he grits his teeth and demands “Tell me where they would take a human hostage."

It has the desired effect, both of the hunters tense and Clint’s eyes go wide, and maybe now they’ll realize that this isn’t about him.

The only thing that matters is Tony, and Bucky doesn’t even care that he’s not just admitting to that weakness, he’s basically screaming it from the rooftops by telling them. Doesn’t care that Sam’s eyes narrow in painful understanding.

“We can’t tell you that,” Sam says and he really does sound regretful, but Bucky snarls because that is not what he wants to hear. “Even if we don’t agree with what they’ve done, they’re still—“

“If you don’t tell me, I will kill you,” Bucky interrupts, his voice low and harsh and it’s gratifying to hear the spike in heart rates, it means he still has a chance of convincing them, whether by threat or force.

“Barnes—“ Sam tries to interrupt, but Bucky doesn’t have time for this.

“And then I’ll find out where he is anyways,” Bucky promises, “the only thing you’ll accomplish is slowing me down.”

“You wouldn’t,” Clint says, but he doesn’t sound sure and his grip on the crossbow is white-knuckled, “you’ll start a war you can never come back from.”

“Try me,” Bucky hisses, flashes his teeth and lets his eyes flare. He wants them to know how deadly serious he is.

Clint raises his crossbow, but Sam sighs.

“In the old warehouse district,” Sam says, shoulders tight with anger and fear, “on the far west edge of the city.”

“You’ll regret this,” Clint calls after him as he stalks away, but Bucky knows that he won’t.

Not if he can just get to Tony in time. Nothing matters beyond making sure his selfishness doesn’t get Tony killed. He doesn’t care what it costs, Bucky is more than willing to leave everything and go on the run again, all he cares about is making sure Tony is alive to hate him.

Sam’s information is good, so at least Bucky won’t have to go back when he’s done here.

He’s been dealing with Hydra for centuries now, and Bucky can easily identify the abandoned factory as a Hydra base. It’s the new bars over the windows, the reinforced doors, the impression of movement just below the surface of the dilapidated building.

He only has a couple hours before the sun comes up, and then he’ll be trapped in the building with who knows how many Hydra hunters. He has to find Tony and get out as quickly as possible.

He has to make sure that at least gets Tony out.

Hydra are still setting up their bases more or less the same way they always have, the same holes in security, and getting into the building is easy. Finding the makeshift holding cells is even easier, on the south-most side of the building, but the problem is that all of the cells are empty.

The entire wing of the factory seems to be empty and there’s fresh blood splattered across the walls and the floor, still wet and shining in the fluorescent lights.

The building is too filled with the smell of mold and decay for him to tell whose blood it is, for him to have a hope of picking out the familiar sweet tang that means Tony.

He can hear the sounds of commotion in the distance, what sounds like screams and gunshots further into the factory. It’s the same direction the trail of spilled blood is leading, and Bucky grits his teeth as he follows it.

The base is nearly deserted. Bucky only sees a couple hunters as he follows the sounds of the fight. Everyone he runs into is scrambling for weapons or the exits, and they don’t seem to be expecting him at all. They seem like they’re afraid of something else entirely, like they’re trying to escape.

Bucky doesn’t let them.

They took Tony, and he doesn’t even want to let himself imagine what they’ve done to him. On the slim chance he manages to get Tony out of here, Bucky can’t have any of them going after him again.

He has to make sure they never even think about going after Tony again.

The sounds of screams get louder as he moves into the heart of the warehouse, up the stairs to the offices. The blood is thicker here, splattered across the walls and the floors with evidence of a struggle. Smeared like someone has been dragged down the long hallway kicking and fighting.

With every empty room and bloody handprint he passes his rage grows, and by the time Bucky reaches the last door all he can see is red.

He slams in the door so hard that it splinters apart, chunks of cheap plywood flying everywhere. There’s a smell in the air like acrid smoke, like melting electronics and fire and blood, nearly overwhelming.

Bodies litter the room, dead and dying, but all he sees is Tony.

Bucky has spent the last four hours trying not to let himself imagine all sorts of horrible things. Tony hurt, Tony dead, bleeding, tortured, screaming. Rightfully cursing Bucky for getting him into this mess, rightfully wishing they'd never met.

He’s not prepared for what he actually finds.

Tony is alive, bloodied and bruised but so vibrantly alive, a knife in his hand and a vicious smile on his face as he plunges it into the chest of a Hydra hunter.

Bucky freezes uselessly in the doorway, watching in awe as Tony rips the knife free again, paying no mind to the spray of blood as he spins on his heel. Buries his blade in the gut of someone trying to creep up behind him.

And all at once it’s over.

The room goes still as the last hunter falls with Tony’s knife in his neck, Tony’s knees against his chest baring him down to the ground.

Bucky doesn’t even need to breathe, but still he finds himself choking on air as he watches Tony slowly right himself again, looking over all the destruction he’s caused.

Then Tony looks up, catches sight of him, and the expression on his face shifts from cold and vicious to warm and happy in an instant. Bucky’s cold dead heart lurches in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, about time you got here,” Tony says, tossing him a jaunty wave with the knife still in hand.

Bucky crosses the room almost in a daze, headless of the blood that slicks the floor and the bodies he has to step over. All he can see is Tony and as soon as he’s close enough he traces his fingers reverently along the line of Tony’s jaw, ghosting over the dark bruise starting to form.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, nonsensically, leaning into Bucky’s hands on him like Bucky isn’t the most dangerous thing in the room.

And hell maybe he’s not, Bucky certainly doesn’t feel dangerous. Not faced with Tony’s bright eyes and warm skin.

He feels weak, feels completely undone.

Bucky laughs, soft and strangled, and he hasn’t been cold in centuries but his hands are shaking as he cups Tony’s face in his palms.

“No,” he chokes out around another laugh, because he’s not okay, not anywhere close. “I thought- I didn’t know if you were- Tony--”

“Hey, hey,” Tony cuts him off, pulling him in closer and tucking Bucky’s face down into the curve of his neck. Where Bucky can hear the rapid thump of his heart, smell the adrenaline and the sweat that clings to his skin beneath all the blood.

And oh god there’s so much blood, covering Tony’s skin and his clothes and the room around them. Bucky can barely smell Tony through it and he tucks his face a little harder into the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“I’m okay,” Tony promises, fingers of one hand pressing into Bucky’s hair, his other hand resting on Bucky’s side and still wrapped tightly around the knife. Still prepared, and Bucky has never loved him more.

He drags his tongue up the line of Tony’s neck, through smears and splatters of blood. It’s almost a disappointment, definitely a thrill, that none of it is Tony’s.

“What did you- how did you even-“ Bucky keeps interrupting himself, can’t get a full thought out. He’s too concerned with lifting his head and pressing his lips to every inch of Tony’s perfect, unharmed face.

“I keep telling you, I’m a bad bitch,” Tony says, that beautiful smug grin on his face and Bucky just has to taste it.

Tony melts into it so easily when Bucky kisses him, his hands demanding but so gentle, like the room around them isn’t full of carnage. Like Tony isn’t the one who put it there, like he doesn’t have a care in the world except letting Bucky lick into his mouth, taste the adrenaline and determination and life straight from his lips.

Bucky has never tasted anything like it, has never met anyone like Tony, and he could have lost this.

He has to get closer, closer. He doesn’t even realize he’s backing Tony across the room until the back of Tony’s thighs hit a metal table, and Bucky just keeps pushing. Until the table clangs against the wall, until Tony is bent backwards over the surface.

Bucky follows him down, breathing him in, pressing between Tony’s thighs and still trying to get closer.

The table clatters, covered in knives and crossbows and stakes and Bucky doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. It doesn’t matter how much noise he makes now, Tony is the only living person in the warehouse, the only heartbeat on this rundown block. The only thing Bucky needs to worry about.

He certainly doesn’t give a fuck about the bodies that still litter the floor except that none of them are Tony, thatTony put them there.

Bucky doesn’t care about the bridges he’s burned, has never cared less about the impending sunrise. All that matters is Tony.

And Tony isn’t pushing him away, isn’t complaining. He just hooks one leg over Bucky’s hip and arches up against him, finally dropping his knife to drag both palms up Bucky’s back, pulling him in closer.

Tony is so warm beneath him, wrapped around him, always pulling Bucky in when he should be pushing him away.

“Fuck,” Tony sighs against his lips, one hand in Bucky’s hair again. Tony’s legs tighten around his waist, entire body rolling against Bucky’s, his voice shaking slightly as he says “I was so worried about you.”

Bucky wants to laugh again, because that’s soTony, worrying about Bucky while abducted and fighting for his life. Caring about Bucky in the first place when he should have run, should still be running, should leave Bucky far behind and never think about him again.

Nevermind that the idea has pain lancing through Bucky’s chest like he didn’t even think was possible anymore. He’d take the pain of losing Tony happily if he knew it meant Tony would be safe.

He will walk away, once they get out of here, that’s what Bucky tells himself. He just has to breathe Tony in this one last time and then he’ll walk away.

If Tony will let him. Which doesn’t seem likely, so far Tony has seemed determined to stay by Bucky’s side no matter what, and Bucky can never deny him anything.

The warehouse might be empty now but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before more hunters show up, and they should be getting out of here, Bucky knows that. But he can’t tear himself away from Tony’s warmth, from Tony’s hands moving over him.

Bucky can’t stop thinking that he could have lost this. That if he hadn’t found Tony alive and well Bucky would have made an even bigger mess. There would be no end to the carnage.

When he pulls away from the kiss Tony is panting raggedly and if Bucky had the spare brain power he’d feel bad about that but oh, he really doesn’t right now. Doesn’t care about anything but pressing his lips to Tony’s blood-splattered cheek swearing “I never would have stopped looking for you, never.”

“I know,” Tony promises, still trying to pull Bucky back into another kiss despite the way his words come out weak and breathy, his chest heaving against Bucky’s and his heart thundering.

So alive, alive, alive.

“I’d have done anything to get you back,” Bucky growls, dragging one hand down Tony’s side to his hip, digging his fingers in and shifting them until he can feel the hot brand of Tony’s cock against his hip.

“Fuck!” Tony gasps and the scent of his adrenaline spikes higher, turns sweet and warm as his fingers tighten in Bucky’s hair. “I know, I know, c’mon honey--”

And Bucky can’t say no to that, can never deny Tony anything.

Still, even as he lets Tony haul his face up again Bucky can’t stop the words from spilling out, his voice an awful snarl as he says “and if they’d hurt you--”

It’s probably for the best that Tony slams their lips together again and cuts him off, he doesn’t need to know all the monstrous things Bucky would do in his name. Much better to just let Tony kiss him, let Tony flick his warm tongue over Bucky’s blood smeared lips and the tips of his fangs, like he doesn’t have a fear in the world.

Tony’s heart rate kicks up harder, his next inhale weak and ragged against Bucky’s lips and Bucky forces himself to pull away. He lets Tony catch his breath and moves on to biting his way along Tony’s jaw, not enough to break the skin, just enough to get the taste of his skin on Bucky’s lips.

He tastes like sweat and arousal and need, so much love pouring off of him that Bucky can practically taste it. He’ll never get enough of it, doesn’t ever think he’ll stop being caught off guard by it.

“I told you,” Tony pants out when he finally gets his breath back and for a second Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, too distracted with the wet drag of Tony’s lips over his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Tony says, one of his hands landing on Bucky’s ass to pull him in closer, harder, arching up into the demanding roll of Bucky’s hips as he moans out “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you either.”

Bucky laughs raggedly, grits his teeth, presses his face into the curve of Tony’s throat and the craziest part is that Bucky believes him. As crazy as it is he has no problem believing that Tony is equally ready to burn the world down. That the bloodbath around them is only the start of what Tony would have done.

The heat building between them is so intense that even Bucky feels warm, feels like he’s burning. Like he’s absorbing all that wonderful warmth and still Tony has so much to give, never runs out of it, never pushes him away.

Bucky growls, lifts his head to make it easier to resist the urge to sink his teeth in and instead rolls his hips against Tony’s, swallows Tony’s shaking moan with another fierce kiss. “You’re so- fuck, gorgeous, the way you looked tearing thorugh them--” Bucky can’t even find the words to describe it but Tony’s scent spikes, proud and smug and fond.

So damn addictive.

He can feel the needy throb of Tony’s cock against his hip, against his own when Bucky shifts a little more, and he grinds himself down against Tony. Chasing the shocks of heat and pleasure that shoot through his system everytime Tony jerks beneath him, everytime Tony cires out and drags in a ragged breath and then clings to Bucky harder, pulling him in and rocking up against him, so alive. Tony’s heels digging into the back of his thighs, hands moving restlessly over Bucky’s skin, sliding up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and leaving burning trails in his wake.

Tony feels so amazing wrapped around him, so alive, warm and demanding as his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin, his breath escaping in gasps and moans. The impossible heat between them continues to grow, until Bucky is sure it’s going to burn him away entirely, he can’t possibly survive something like this.

He can’t possibly keep it, not something like him.

“Bucky,” Tony whines and he’s shaking now, blood roaring through his veins. So close to Bucky’s fangs as he drags his lips up Tony’s throat.

“C’mon baby,” Bucky growls, clenching his teeth against the urge to bite, “lemme feel you sweet thing, wanna hear you.”

“I’m-” Tony gasps and then cuts off with a keening moan as Bucky pins him down more firmly, grinds against him harder. Tony tries to wiggle a hand between their bodies but Bucky grabs his wrist, presses Tony’s hand to the table beside his head.

“Just like this,” Bucky pleads, his own cock throbbing as he slows the rock of his hips, dragging his cock firmly along Tony’s until he shakes. “Just like this baby, wanna watch you make an even bigger mess of yourself, wanna fuckin’ lick you clean when we get home.”

It’s a nice thought, even if Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll actually get a chance, has no idea what’s going to happen next. At least the idea of it has Tony moaning louder, arching up against Bucky’s grip on his hip and on his wrist, always trying to get closer.

“Bucky, Bucky-” Tony wails beneath him, nails digging into Bucky’s skin, thighs tightening around Bucky’s hips, and Bucky can feel the way Tony’s breath catches in his chest. The way his heart pounds as he drags in one more breath and then breaks.

And this, this is Bucky’s favorite sound, the way Tony’s voice cracks on a loud moan as he falls apart, the stuttering jump-skip of his heartbeat. Hundreds of years wandering the earth and he’s never heard anything like it, could happily listen to all the sounds Tony makes for the rest of his endless life.

“Bucky,” Tony sighs, dazed and slurred, fingers still tight in Bucky’s hair even as his entire body shakes. “Fuck, c’mon honey, I’m right here, let me have it, let me feel you.”

He can hear Tony’s thundering heartbeat like it’s his own, can practically taste it on his tongue, and a feral sound rumbles out of Bucky’s chest as he tips over the edge, snarling against the all too delicate skin of Tony’s throat and clutching at him tighter, tighter.

“I love you,” Bucky confesses in a voice that’s so broken it’s practically a whisper, like his greatest secret. The worst thing he’s ever done.

They need to leave, need to get the hell out of here. Bucky should probably leave the city entirely, go back on the move, leave Tony far behind where he won’t get hurt.

That’s the plan.

He knows all that, but Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to let go, can’t stop kissing Tony over and over and over, feeling the warmth of Tony’s skin beneath his hands. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“Come on,” Tony breathes against his lips, “we gotta get out of here before the sun comes up.”

Bucky groans, but he knows Tony is right. He can feel the approaching dawn in his bones and the last thing he wants is to be trapped in a Hydra base full of corpses all day. Or to still be here when more hunters show up, to have to leave through the sewers.

So he reluctantly pushes himself upright, mourning the way Tony’s lingering warmth starts to fade as soon as they’re not pressed together anymore. Tony’s hand is so much steadier than his own as Bucky helps him to his feet, so warm and alive and unafraid.

Bucky wants to pull him into another kiss. Wants to drop to his knees and press his face to the wet patch slowly spreading across the front of Tony’s jeans, taste him, lick him clean just like Bucky had promised. Doesn’t want to face the real world just yet because that means facing the fact that he has to leave.

That he doesn’t get to keep this.

Tony’s hand is still steady in his, his smile small and fond and he leads Bucky out of the warehouse, through the room of bodies and the bloodsplattered halls. Bucky pulls them to a stop just outside the heavy door he’d ripped his way through, paying no mind to the lightening color of the sky.

Burning to dust would hurt less than this.

“I need to leave,” Bucky says, the words tearing their way out of his throat, “I may have... made some threats. In order to find you. And Hydra isn’t going to stop as long as I’m here.”

He hasn’t even told Tony why Hydra is so determined to ruin his afterlife, not entirely, and now he doesn’t have time. Tony has been dragged into Bucky’s mess and he’ll never know why, and the only upside is Hydra will blame the bloody mess inside on Bucky. They’ll hunt for him more furiously than ever, and the best thing Bucky can do is lead them far, far away.

This is why not getting involved with humans is rule fucking one but Bucky doesn’t regret it, knows he never will. And as much as it kills him he can’t ask Tony to come with him.

Tony nods, like he expected it, and then asks “where are we going, and how long do I have to pack whatever’s left of my apartment?”

Bucky gapes at him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t need to ask, and Bucky knows he should be relieved but all he feels is guilt. He loves Tony, but at what cost? He would do anything for Tony, and Bucky is ruining his life.

“You- your home,” Bucky tries to protest, his entire body going cold, colder than anything he’s ever felt before. “Your workshop--”

“You saying I can’t rebuild?” Tony interrupts, “I’m insulted, honestly. How dare you doubt me.” His smile is wide, and cajoling, like he’s trying to cheer Bucky up. Like he’s trying to convince Bucky.

“You’ll have to leave everything,” Bucky insists and maybe he does need convincing. It feels a little like he’s lost his mind, like he’s dreaming. He had a plan. “Your entire life, to hide with me, I can’t- I can’t promise the next time you’ll even see the sun.”

Bucky doesn’t need to breathe but he’s wheezing for breath now, his empty chest aching it’s so full of confusion and guilt and hope. He can’t let Tony do this, he can’t ask for this, he can’t--

Tony grabs Bucky’s face in his warm hands, palms calloused and still tacky with blood, as steady as they are when he’s building the future. As steady as they were around the knife, as when he was leading Bucky out of the bloodbath.

“Bucky,” Tony says simply, dark eyes so impossibly bright even in the sickly fluorescent light that spills out of the warehouse. “Bucky,” he repeats, low and sweet and amused, his voice wavering slightly as says “You are my sunshine.”

Bucky laughs again, can’t believe how much he’s laughed on a night that started out with his absolute worst nightmare. Even if it is a little hysterical.

He had a plan, but he also knew better than to get involved with a human, knew better than to stay in one place this long in the first place. Tony has been wrecking all of his plans without even knowing it for months now anyways.

What’s one more.

“You’re stealin’ all my lines,” Bucky accuses but he doesn’t mind, oh he doesn’t mind at all. He gets to keep this, keep Tony, the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you,” Tony says, so matter-of-fact, and it almost knocks Bucky’s legs out from under him. Every single time.

“That’s my line,” Bucky says, and he smiles, and his hand is steady as he wraps it around Tony’s wrist. “I love you,” he says anyways and tangles their fingers together, doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. “Let’s go.”

#my fic #bucky/tony #winteriron #starkbucks #everybody loves vampire bucky AMIRIGHT #anywhooo HAPPYBIRFDAY 😘

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elliehase-blog · 3 years ago

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It’s typical for me to set up a story or drabbles around my drawings, but I’m not always confident enough to share them with you due to my lack of knowledge in the English grammar. This is a foreign language for me, therefore I still make a lot of mistakes and not noticing them.

For this redrawing of Crawly I wrote a little prelude for my story “Don’t Stop Me Now” on AO3. I have finished two new chapters already, but unfortunately my friend (who has corrected my stories in the past) is too busy with her work. If there’s anyone out there, who enjoys to proofread stories, please contact me!

Prelude

It was lo-... something at first sight.

The angel of the Eastern Gate stood atop Eden’s outer wall, facing the deserted land with a concerned glance. His wavy fair hair reflected the setting sun, some soft rays gently embraced his contours. Gray clouds were piling over the garden. With his white robe and the dark atmosphere forming around him, he looked bright and shining like a star in the night sky.

He was the most fascinating thing Crawly had ever seen.

And Crawly had seen a lot of things in his immortal existence. In the old days he had been an angel himself, a builder of blazing stars and astonishing constellations. But none of his creations ever radiated in such a wonderful warm glow, giving him satisfaction and ease at once. There was something magical about the other man, which is why Crawly couldn't avert his gaze.

Strictly speaking, Crawly didn’t cross a line here. He wasn’t in close contact with the angel, staying at the apple tree most of the time, fulfilling his demonic duty. No one ever said he couldn’t sneak away occasionally and admire his new encounter from afar, though. Nothing wrong in it. At least until it became his favourite occupation of the day.

So the serpent observed the beautiful chubby angel quite a while. From a safe distance, of course. As a demon he had straight orders from Hell to cast some trouble in the Garden of Eden. It was highly inappropriate to reach out to the opposition by whatever means, he guessed, or even conveying interest in an angel in the first place. Probably it was forbidden as well. Something demons ought not to do.

He did anyway.

Crawly watched the serene beauty and listened carefully to every word that emerged these rosy lips, straining to find out more about the angelic guard, trying to get the whole picture. Every piece of the puzzle dragged him closer each day. He liked the way the blond angel yielded his flaming sword when he was practicing some quite impressive combat moves. He liked the way how politely the other man was talking to God’s newest creations (especially the animals), just like he really cared. And he absolutely adored the way the angel’s name rolled off his tongue. Aziraphale... The demon whispered it a couple of times just to listen to the melodic sound.

After seven days Crawly came to the conclusion, that the angel of the Eastern Gate wasn't a threat or dangerous at all, only confirming his initial impression. In fact, there was something tragically lonesome about him. It was almost like looking into a mirror, finding someone as isolated as yourself. No other angel came to talk to him, even God never answered his prayers. That situation felt strangely familiar. Crawly wanted to get closer to the other man straightway, literally craved for a conversation with every fibre of his body. If there was the slightest chance, that the blond angel could truly understand how he feels, that they both are broken in some way, maybe they could feel wholesome again by being together.

They barely knew each other, but as they started talking, it felt like they had known each other for far longer than just a minute. Aziraphale treated him as equal, even though Crawly had revealed his black wings, openly showing his demonic nature. There was no loathing, no rolling eyes, no distrust in the angel’s voice. It was ... odd. Something, Crawly had never experienced before.

So Crawly had stood frozen in indecision for what seemed like forever, thinking of the right way to approach, the right words to say. A feeling of nervousness overwhelmed him. The first impression counted, after all.

And the foremost thing that popped into his mind was, “That one went down like a lead balloon.”

Well. Could have been worse, right?

From up close he could study the other man’s face even better. His far too cute button nose and his ridiculously bright blue eyes, just to name but a few. It completely captured the demon. The way Aziraphale smiled, chuckled in a warm tone as Crawly mentioned their possible misstep, finally tipped him over the edge. It seized his chest with something deeper than admiration.

When raindrops started to pour at the very first time on earth, the demon gazed insultingly upon the sky. It felt cold and wet and absolutely annoying on his skin. The snake-like part inside of him immediately wanted to curl away and hide somewhere safe and warm. The other part clearly wanted to stay right next to Aziraphale, cautiously coming closer. Without a second thought or expecting any kind of counter-performance, the blond man stretched his impressive white wing to shield Crawly.

And that was when the demon had fallen for the angel completely.

Crawly knew on the spur of the moment that he had met the kindest person in his godforsaken life. Cheesy but true. He remembered clearly what Heaven was like. Not as nice as everyone thought it would be, though. On the one hand, he was bored stiff all the time. No temptations or decent drinks, for instance. But worst of all were the conceited archangels and their stupid duties and expectations they placed on every low-ranking angel.

Curiosity and self-determination were two words that simply didn’t appear in Heaven’s vocabulary. As well as ‘Thank you for your hard work’ or ‘We really appreciated that you’ve done this whole crap without questioning it in the first place’ or just a simple ‘Your last nebula was mind-blowing, you incredibly talented angel’.

It’s not that Crawly was demanding or so. Really! But for some kind words you’d wait in vain.

To be fair and square, in Hell they won’t offer you cookies either (Crawly really tried to convince his fellow demons to put more effort into the right acquisition, but incomprehensibly it never fell on understanding ears). Demons don’t trust each other, they don’t even have a single feeling for one another except suspicion. You certainly don’t make friends in Hell. It is a place full of loneliness.

Aziraphale was the first person who ever cared about Crawly at all, noticing things no one noticed, really looking at him and not at the demonic shell. A pure angel as people believe angels should be, with kind and untainted affection. And that was truly something remarkable, because after six thousand years with a troublemaker like him, a demon, his hereditary enemy, Aziraphale never stopped caring.

Read the rest of the chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945739

#good omens #good omens fanart #good omens fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands

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kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

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Just Breathe

I originally planned to write this one for Elriel month but then it kind of spiraled into something else entirely, so I'm posting it a few hours late.

Summary: Elain falls into a pool of water. Azriel saves her. Things happen.

TW: character experiences symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress

Elain was lost... well not lost, she knew exactly where she was. One moment she was walking through her garden, carrying a bag of new soil and her watering can, watching someone fly above Riverside Manor, the and the next moment, she was in the Cauldron.

She was so cold. So unbearably cold. She could hear screams far away from her, above the water. She could her him. She could hear Nesta and Feyre begging. She could hear Feyre’s friends' screams.

For her. They were screaming because she was in the Cauldron. And the winged male had an arrow In his chest. And it was real - The Cauldron, the Fae. It was all real.

Elain gasped, her lungs filling with water- she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t-

And then she was in the Hybern camp. Her lungs weren’t full of water, but she couldn’t move. Her arms and legs were shackled. She was holding a bit in her mouth.

She could hear the girl - Briar’s, no, Feyre’s- cries. Or were they Nesta’s? Her sisters were here, which meant this time, there would be no rescue. He wasn’t coming to save her this time. Her sisters wouldn’t find a way. No one was coming.

And then, she heard felt arms around her, moving her, and the words that she had been hoping to hear, the ones that meant she was safe, that the nightmare was over.

“Are you hurt?”

Elain opened her eyes. She was looking into kind hazel eyes, as a warm hand brushed her hair out of her face, the sun shining behind him.

“Elain?”

She was still surrounded by something wet. Elain tried to catch her breath. “Where- what? The Cauldron? And Hybern? They had my sisters. He wasn’t coming for me.”

“Elain. Breathe.” He said softly, his hand was picking things out of her hair.

She tried, but when she closed her eyes her lungs were still full of water and she couldn’t move and she was so damn cold.

“Look at me” Elain opened her eyes at the command in that voice. “Breathe.”

She obeyed, completely ensnared by those hazel eyes. He looked absolutely ethereal, wings splayed, the reds and golds shining in the sun, shadows around his shoulders swirling.

“Just breathe.” The kind voice said “Again.” She took a deep breath, again. She was in a garden.

“And again” Elain breathed. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She wasn’t cold anymore, but her dress and hair were soaked. She was by the reflecting pool. In the garden. At Feyre’s Riverside Manor.

She was safe. She was home. He was here.

“Azriel” she said as recognition ran through her. He wasn’t hurt, wasn’t screaming. There was concern on his face. “You saved me.”

Azriel reached a hand out, helping her sit up from where she lay on the chaise lounge.

“I saw you fall in.” He said, somewhat teasingly. “I flew down as quickly as I could."

Elain felt her whole body flush. This was embarrassing. She fell into the fountain and was triggered. And of course Azriel had saved her, from a 3 foot deep pool filled with water lillies. Immortality wouldn’t be long enough to get over how utterly embarrassed she was. She moved her hands to cover her face.

A few minutes passed. Azriel said nothing, watching her, as if he were waiting for something, for her perhaps.

“Did you have a vision?” He asked carefully. “You said someone had Feyre and Nesta. And someone wasn’t coming for you.”

Elain shook her head, “It wasn’t a vision. My sisters are safe?” She asked. He nodded in response. His shadows must have found a way to check. “It was a flashback, like a nightmare.”

“Of when you were captured?”

“Yes.” She rasped. “Sometimes it’s different. I was in the Cauldron. And I heard y-... I heard everyone scream.” She corrected quickly. “And then they had Feyre and Nesta instead of Briar, and then you....” she dropped off, realizing what she was admitting to, what she was about to say.

“What did I do?” He asked, in a tone Elain imagined he used to interrogate people.

Elain shook her head, dismissing the question.

His gazed softened, as he placed his hand over her arm. “Elain. Talk to me. Please?” His voice was almost pleading.

Elain looked down at his hands, shaking her head. She always thought they were beautiful. The siphons, the scars. All of it. All of him. Telling him about this wouldn't help her. It would only make it harder.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, moving his hands back to his sides, as if afraid of the answer. He turned to look out on the garden.

Yes. She thought. But that wasn’t what he was asking, she realized, as he hid his hands behind his back. His voice wasn't the voice of the interrogator she had just heard, she realized... he was afraid. He was asking if he ever harmed her in her nightmares, if she was scared of him.

“No." She shook her head. "Of course not. Never.” She said as she reached for his arm. She should have lied. Said it was Grayson who wasn’t coming for her, said anything else. Now she had no choice to tell him what she feared, what found her in her nightmares. “You weren’t coming for me. To save me. From the Hybern Camp. That’s what I saw.” She clarified.

He looked at her with an intensity she wasn’t wholly prepared for. “I know you still struggle with everything that happened during the war, no matter how much you want us to believe you’re okay. And I know that it's my fault things are odd here...” He gestured between them.

“But know that I will always come find you. They’d have to cut my wings to keep me from saving you. And even then, I’d still try, whether it’s a pool or the Cauldron or a godsdammed army. No matter what happens between us. I would come for you.”

Us. If only - if only there was an us. If only the Cauldron had- “You know that don’t you?”

Ever since Solstice she had feared, worried in her nightmares, that she had done something to push him further away. But the way he was looking at her, she knew. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded her response.

He frowned, as if unsatisfied with that. He held her chin to force her gaze to meet his. “Promise me that you know that, Elain”

“I know.” She said, her voice rough. “I promise I know, Azriel.” She said, blushing again as she met his eyes, although not from embarrassment.

She'd known Azriel to be many things. Mysterious. Stoic. Strong. Quiet. Competitive. Surprisingly funny. Endearingly shy. But it was when he was like this... when he let his masks fall, and he looked at her with such intensity, she felt stripped bare before him.

Azriel was...he made her wish for things she’d never wanted with Grayson. Made her wish for things she was too proper to say out loud. Made her wish things that were impossible.

Elain felt her body react to that gaze, and Azriel stiffened, pulling his hand from her chin. His cheeks reddened as he looked down at her, as if he was just realizing how he was holding her face, as if he was remembering the last time he had touched her.

She followed Azriel's gaze, which had gone to her dress - the thin fabric clung to her every curve, doing nothing to hide the clear effect Azriel had on her. She looked like an absolute mess, mud and vines from the pool tangling in her skirts. She reached for her hair, pulling it forward to cover her.

“Azriel...” she whispered, not knowing what she could say. She knew that what she smelled was evidence that she was affecting him the same way he had affected her.

"You're okay?" He asked, his voice rougher than it was moments ago, as he quickly pulled something from her hair.

She nodded, "I am".

“Then you should get out of that dress.” He said, clearing his throat. He raised his finger to tap her nose playfully - something she’d only seen him do with Nyx. “Unless you want to be the one fishing me out of the pool.”

“I wouldn’t want the spymaster whispering any secrets to the water lilies.” Elain smiled, returning the gesture, before she stood and made her way to the house.

"I don't mind the company of flowers" he called from behind her.

She turned to face him, not knowing when she’d see this version of him again. When he’d look her in the eyes again. When he’d say such nice things. Azriel remained by the reflecting pool, his hand on his nose, where her finger had just been.

“Az?” She said.

“Yes?” His gaze snapped to hers, as he let his hand return to his side.

“I’d come for you too.” She said. It was confession as much as anything she’d said to him, but one she wasn’t embarrassed of. She would do everything she could to keep from hearing his screams, seeing his wings ruined, ever again.

He smiled broadly. A smiled she’d never seen before. On anyone else’s face it would have looked ordinary, but on Azriel it looked... boyish. She fall into a million reflecting pools to see that smile again.

“I’m glad.” He said, before launching into the air again.

#elriel #elriel fic #elrielmonth #azriel #just breathe #acotar series #kp writes #elriel fluff #does Az sound like Cas or is it just me?

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

You like soulmate aus? 44 with a soulmate au where there are countdown timers for important events and if you concentrate you can see the lifespan of your romantic and platonic soulmates except immortals. MK realizes he can see Red Son's life countdown and he only has 1 year left

ANON I WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS WAS THE SADDEST PROMPT I HAVE EVER BEEN GIVEN AND I HAD TO TAKE IT OUT OF THE WAIT LIST TO FILL IT ASAP. Just. Damn. You came for my heart and crushed it. @kitkat1003 you helped make this sadder so I wanna make sure you see this.

WARNING: I mean, look at the prompt. It's gonna be a depressing read regardless. Read the tags for a major spoiler if you want to know about the end in advance.

The Lunar New Year special is mentioned in passing but NO SPOILERS.

Why are you still awake?

MK never made it a point to concentrate and look at his soulmate timers unless he really felt he had to, tempting as it may have been. Especially not their life countdown timers. The colors one saw differed from from viewer to viewer, some people even saw only one color in varying shades, and no one knew why the colors were chosen the way they were for each individual. But to MK the timers were a whole swath of colors.

It was easy with Mei, her platonic bond with his allowing him to see the bright green (green for all platonic bonds, not just Mei) countdowns to major events (some bad but usually good, like a major race being announced or taking part in a game tournament spontaneously). The familial blue bond he had with Pigsy and Tang went much the same, as well as Sandy's own platonic bond. He didn't learn that immortal beings had their own color, brilliant gold tinted in whatever the proper bond was until he met Sun Wukong, his gold-green timer slowly changing into a gold-blue bond of family found.

It wasn't until Red Son that MK realized his romantic bonds were a brilliant red (which, in retrospect, could have been seen as funny), shining brilliant and bright and almost blinding him when he caught sight of him properly from far above him (and it nearly made him fall before Wukong forced him to, the traitor). He'd mistaken it for some kind of antagonistic bond before he learned that that was also a type of platonic soulmate. So that was something he shoved deep deep deeeeeep down inside to think about later, especially since a lot of people now a days rarely went after their first romantic soulmate and instead waited for a platonic to change in time.

He never told anyone.

It also wasn't until he tested concentrating on timers with Wukong, for fun and out of sheer curiosity if he really was super immortal, that he realized that immortal's life countdown timer just looked like a mass of rapidly changing numbers screaming in confusion and he decided to never do that again.

Until... the Lunar New Year celebration.

He was curious, scared, and Red Son was there and he let his curiosity get the better of him. He wanted to see if Red was still immortal and if his timer did the same thing.

361 days, 17 hours, 8 minutes, and 42 seconds.

That couldn't have been right.

He tried again.

361 days, 17 hours, 7 minutes, and 30 seconds.

And again.

361 days, 16 hours, 56 minutes, and 45 seconds.

And one last time, after everything was over.

361 days, 12 hours, 1 minute, 29 seconds.

Red Son... had less than a year left to live. Red Son, The Boy Sage Prince, the one who almost defeated Sun Wukong on his journey and eternal thorn in his side... was going to die.

MK hadn't ever really imagined that he could die. He had believed that Red Son was immortal, and maybe he still was. There were ways to kill immortals who weren't all powerful Monkey Kings. But he'd always imagined that, maybe, eventually, they could possibly at least work things out and get to know each other eventually after what happened with WBS.

Now he was plagued with the thought 'what if I'm the one who kills him' and he couldn't handle that so he made up his mind then and there and before Red Son could leave he grabbed him by his jacket collar in front of everyone and changed that thought to 'fuck it' and kissed him and pulled away and looked DBK in the eye and announced "I've known Red is my romantic soulmate since day 1 and I am not wasting anymore time with stupid feuds".

Apparently that was just enough to startle the other man into not attacking and to send Sun Wukong into a frenzy of cackling "I KNEW IT"s.

Red Son turned as red as his jacket on his cheeks and just looked at MK in awe. They had-

361 days, 10 hours, 2 minutes, 16 seconds.

Red hadn't left his parents, not immediately, but the sudden relationship that have been revealed between the successor to the Monkey King and the son of the Demon Bull King had forced everything to a standstill. DBK wanted revenge, PIF wanted her husband to be happy, Sun Wukong wanted to be retired, and all three of them were too stubborn to not insist the two men court each other anyway because tradition dictated that when a romantic soulmate pair revealed their bond no one could force them apart.

352 days, 14 hours, 34 minutes, 18 seconds.

MK felt back constantly checking Red Son's timer, but he didn't want to waste a single second. They had less than a year. He'd seen just how smart and resourceful and, as much as he didn't want to admit it at first, protective and caring for the people he had grown close to he was.

By the end of the month they had moved into Red Son's apartment (he had an apartment?).

322 days, 2 hours, 28 minutes, 50 seconds.

MK learned that Red Son was a fantastic chef, on par with Pigsy even. His food was spicy but over time he learned that MK would suffer through food that was hurting him just to try his food and make it less so. Just for him.

315 days, 2 hours, 45 minutes, 34 seconds.

They kissed for the second time well after they had moved in together. Despite rushing into this they had both been too nervous and flustered to do more than hold hands and sleep side by side in different blankets.

They started sharing a blanket by month 2.

292 days, 8 hours, 1 minute, 12 seconds.

DBK was still pissed at Wukong. No one thought his grudge would ever fully disappear. But he and PIF had stopped attacking. For now. For their son. The best thing they had ever done for him was let him be with his soulmate without fighting.

MK never felt more guilty than when he realized he was never going to tell them. He tried once, after they moved in. After he had truly fallen in love with Red Son. He'd cried too hard to get the words out and PIF had looked torn between telling him to leave and comforting him before she put a shockingly gentle hand on his shoulder.

He could never tell them.

267 days, 18 hours, 59 minutes, 2 seconds.

Red got along amazingly well with Mei and Sandy. The three of them together were a mechanical nightmare for anyone on their bad side and the most amazing team for anyone they made anything for. Red was also the new favorite among Sandy's cats. No one was surprised.

He and Red ended up adopting a little one eyed kitten they found outside Pigsy's Noodles. They named her Bao-Bao. They loved her.

245 days, 7 hours, 29 minutes, 34 seconds.

Naturally nothing was going to be calm for the Monkie Kid. Eventually demons far and wide came to attack either him or the city. The only difference was that, now, he had Red Son by his side.

Every time Red took a hit MK felt no fear. He knew that would not be the hit that killed his soulmate. His soulmate had-

208 days, 19 hours, 78 minutes, 21 seconds.

Red and Tang were fast friends. Red and Mei and Sandy were faster. It had taken longer for Pigsy but he came around fast enough.

Sun Wukong, though. Even after 5 months he was still slightly tense and terse and short with Red. But he had been coming around, slowly. Just like with everyone else, Wukong was hard pressed to open up to anyone who wasn't MK.

They visited Flower Fruit Mountain from time to time, and it was one day when Red had wandered off to enjoy the scenery at MK and Wukong had heard the pained screech of a small monkey in the distance.

When they saw Red calming the little one down, tending to it's wound as best he could, MK saw Wukong properly smile at him for the first time. Soon they had-

157 days, 22 hours, 28 minutes, 59 seconds.

There were still fights. DBK and Sun Wukong didn't get along. But things were better.

There were family game nights. Red and Pigsy and Wukong cooked together. Bao-Bao had grown into a beautiful Tortoise Shell cat (with tortitude included). Everyone promised to try to get along and things were going well. Red Son and MK were truly in love, it seemed. At least MK was. He was certain Red was as well.

That's why MK asked him to marry him that night.

Red said yes.

140 days, 19 hours, 34 minutes, 34 seconds.

Was 7 months too fast? Yes. Did MK care? No. Did anyone object?

Only the demons that showed up to fight. They were taken care of quickly. DBK was not entirely happy about how fast things were but for his only son it seemed he would not allow anything to ruin the day.

He'd changed over the 7 months. Not entirely, not enough for MK to completely forgive him for everything since he had awoken. But seeing him punch a demon into the stratosphere for Red Son was a pretty good marker of how much he was trying.

6 days, 37 hours, 8 minutes, 12 seconds.

Everything was amazing for those few months together. They fought demons. They kissed. They spent time with their family. No longer two families but one family.

Then Macaque came back.

MK had thought he was gone for good, he had been so quiet. But apparently he was planning something the whole time.

Something to kill an immortal.

That was when MK learned he was immortal. And wasn't that ironic?

Macaque had meant to stab him. MK didn't move in time.

Red Son jumped in front of him and there was red.

Macaque wasn't seen again after what MK did to him.

They bandaged the small wound in Red Son's shoulder. They would find a way to fix this. They had to. MK knew what would kill Red Son now, it wasn't that he wasn't immortal it was whatever poison had been meant for him. He knew people had beaten death clocks before.

He had to try.

5 days, 12 hours, 29 minutes, 56 seconds.

5 days, 12 hours, 29 minutes, 55 seconds.

5 days, 12 hours,. 29 minutes, 54 seconds.

That was what MK saw when Red Son coughed up blood for the first time.

4 days, 1 hour, 12 minutes, 13 seconds.

Sun Wukong found out where Macaque had gotten the poison.

There was no cure.

Red coughed more red and MK screamed at the Monkey King to look again. Do something. Anything. Anything...

They didn't see him or DBK for over 2 days.

1 day, 17 hours, 34 minutes, 14 seconds.

1 day, 17 hours, 34 minutes, 13 seconds.

MK watched the countdown timer tick down.

"Why are you still awake?" Red Son had asked him as he held his head in his lap.

"I don't want to miss any more seconds with you," MK answered softly.

"Am I going to... die?" Red Son asked softly.

"Not if Monkey King does what I know he can do," MK answered again. "I know he'll be back soon. I know it. I-"

"MK! MK I'M BACK!" Sun Wukong yelled through the apartment, bursting into their room looking disheveled and like he hadn't stopped moving since he left. But smiling. DBK looked much the same as he came through the door behind him.

"I think we found something!"

1 day, 17 hours, 32 minutes, 2 seconds.

MK prayed that Sun Wukong was right. He was Sun Wukong. He had to be.

1 day, 17 hours, 32 minutes... 3 seconds.

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illyrian-lover-flower · 3 years ago

Text

Crow of hope

Hey @duneska I want to wish you a Happy and full of delight filled Birthday, you truly deserve it 😊.

You have become a wonderful friend over the little time I knew you and you just brightened up my whole day with even the littlest message. The conversations we had were always so bright and funny to me, and I just bonded with you over similarities I always believed no one would get.

But I am so glad I was wrong and I was able to form this friendship with you, you were after all one of the persons who brightened up my tumblr experience the most.

And like I said, you brightened up my day with even the littlest message.

I hope I could also brighten your day a bit and wish you a lot of fun with this piece I’ve written.

It might not be your taste as it is rather angsty at the beginning, but I’ll promise there is a lot of fluff making up for it. Something I also want to apologise in advance for is that it turned out soo long, but when I tried to shorten it - I just wasn’t happy with it. So buckle up and enjoy this fic with a well deserved piece of cake 😊

However, I have brabbled enough - enjoy your Birthday present and your B-day😊

Words: ~8.5k

„Alright, put the daffodils right there – yes, to the Dahlias.” Commanded Elain in a soft voice as fae of all kinds bustled around the grand hall – her voice a drowned-out whisper in all the other murmurs which echoed off the sleek white walls. Bustling skirts, hurried steps, exhausted breaths, and small conversations all around her lithe body, while everyone -female, male, old and young – worked together to make their High Lady proud.

No one knew that it wasn’t their priced High Lady who organized all this; the flowers, the decoration, the cluttery – it was all chosen by Elain, though the main idea really came from Feyre and perhaps that was all that mattered, but right now there was no time to frown at that.

Tables were still in the need to be placed by the walls, so everyone could dance to their hearts content in the middle of the great hall with tapered ceilings, the last bits of food needed preparation and mostly had the decoration to be finished -the colours a special order from Feyre herself when she had approached Elain two weeks ago. Telling her sister in a rushed afternoon, which the seer spent working in her greenhouse, that she would love to have an garland of flowers – rowed in the colours of the rainbow – stretching all over the room.

Considering the fact that the hall was at least thrice the size of the river Estates living room and mid-January – it was a miracle that there were even that many flowers available in Velaris. Many florists had given their last flowers to the charity event of the High Lady, once Elain’s begging voice whispered through their ears, having to close for the next couple of days as they had no other arrangements to put on display, but no one of the shop owners seemed to care.

And honestly, Elain didn’t either -having put the blooming part of her spacious greenhouse to good use – as the last flowers were braided into a river of poinsettias, orange Dahlias, daffodils, Jasmines, light blue Delphiniums and many, many more. If the seer was truly truthful, were it a bit too varying shades of colours to her, as they nearly seemed to jump into one’s eye, but who was she to care. Feyre was the artist who wished to paint this dull hall into a sea of happiness and surely knew what she was doing – hopefully.

Thought Elain while her delicate hands smoothed over the sea of flowers, a coughing fit crawling from her throat the moment all those different smells hit her flaring nose thrills – giving her already a headache – while she ordered for the garland to be pulled up.

“It’s just … magnificent.” Breathed Feyre next to Elain, a swirling cloud of dark chiffon skirts swaying to her feet, as she watched how the rainbow expanded over their heads in a bow, like a real rainbow. “It sure is.” Coughed Elain, while she tried to hide her coughing fit and tearing eyes behind the back of her hand – this was just too much for her nose!

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay till the party starts? You know, my students keep nagging me to bring my pretty sister back to the art lessons.” Mocked her carefree voice the tearing seer, who just shook her head – to more she wasn’t able anyway as Feyre already rushed off to Rhysand, who strode into the grand hall as if it was a catwalk, together with Nyx on his hip. Smiling sadly to herself did the seer shake her head and avoided to gaze at the happy family, safe, together and alive – unlike many other families who had fallen victim to the war.

The cold luring song of death pulling all those warriors and innocent fae away from their loved ones. This evening was for those loved ones, who stayed in the charts and rubble of a past life. This evening was supposed to be giving them hope – hope of a healed life as they were to laugh to their hearts content again. And Elain should have been happy for Feyre and Rhys – is happy for them – but somehow this was never all she felt, somehow there was this pinch. Twisting and stabbing her guts whenever she thought of all of the happiness, the freedom – all which she denied herself and did not dare to believe in anymore, as it was taken from her. Her freedom – her choice. Given to a male she nearly did not change a word with and did not even whish to have a bond with as her happiness vanished in the puff of a stary night as a ravenous voice declared to her: ‘It was a mistake.’

Never would she forget those words. Never would she ever be able to hear them from him again -whispered, yelled, breathed, or just told in a voice as cold as a grave – as no matter how, they would always be her end. Always send her heart bleeding in a flood of scarlet red while her eyes cried the river of a thousand seas binding together.

But it was no use- mourning after someone she was not supposed to be with. After all immortality awaited her and right now were the things on her mind far more important than a male – no matter how charming, generous, kind, patient and good looking he was. Elain tried to shake her head at those silly thoughts, her bleeding-heart wandering in a mine of salt with them, as her golden locks flew around her like a spinning skirt of the finest silk twirling under the glimmering lights of a chandelier. Sparkling and sprinkling as if a thousand stars lived in those heavy strands of hair. But those stars would not shine, would not rise as she hurried with silent steps away from the last preparations.

Past a happily laughing Rhys and Feyre as they listened to Nyx blabbering and let her pass without a second glance into the dull hallway.

‘She forgot!’

‘Of course, she forgot!’

Raged her mind while she waltzed over the marble in a barrel of sky blue chiffon skirts; ‘Why would she remember?’ , asked her heart her, this traitorous head of hers silently answering her ‘She has many things swirling in her head right now, she just forgot this year – there are millennia’s to come, don’t be too hard on her.’

Lie! Screamed her shattered heart, as tears dreaded to fall from her doe eyes, waiting like brave sailors at a plank end for the final push of the captain, while her delicate hands gathered the soft material of a dainty blue chiffon. But this last push never came.

The words in her head and memory those of a salt dipped dagger, but she did not cry, did not bend as her cruel heart sang to her, that her sister had not only forgotten this years Birthday, but the one of last year and the one before that and even before that.

Feyre forgot Elain’s birthday for the fourth time in a row and if things were going to continue like they were now, her younger sister would surely wonder in a century, if Elain was truly born or just popped out of a seed on some nameless day. Though Nesta was not of much difference, her number of rows only a three, while her pretendence of knowing her beloved gardener sister hurt just as much as Feyres.

Both seeming to know what was best for her.

Both seeming to know that a rainbow would wait to be spotted in her life – funny thing was just, that instead of letting her watch out for the numerous colours painted in her fate, did those two stand in front of her. Clouding her vision and senses with their good believed thoughts as they were ready to fight for this miraculous happiness of hers with a shield, dagger and sword, and bow and arrow. Never letting anyone past them, as they watched out for her, believing that this suffocating grip they had on her heart was something non-existent.

But they didn’t know that she felt about them this way, after all – Elain never really spoke a word of discomfort to them, never truly. All that spoke for her was her body – lithe a pale swaying from time to time under the glowing sun, whilst her last meal had been days ago. A peaceful sleep seemingly something which mocked her from a century long distance as it escaped her over and over again.

But no one noticed -except for Nuala and Cerridwen, who tried to nurse the delicate fawn silently back to health with heart sweetening friendship and occasional baking lessons, in which they all ate the results after wards.

Though did another name occur in her mind, as she raced through the long, sleek corridors and farther away from the shining stomach of the bustling manor. Grabbing her lilac cloak in a hurried way, while she repeated that same name over and over again in her head. The smile she wore stretching itself impossibly wider on her lips the more often she thought of him and his dazzling smile. Him and his gleaming eyes and sun lightening laughter.

And it were those thoughts which made her rushed walk to her home so much lighter, almost jumping from one step to the other as she hurried past chatting fae on the cobbled street. Only noticing with a distant consciousness that each house she passed grew darker and darker. Colour fading, whilst walls crumbled under the broken roofs.

Her nose didn’t even scrunch up at the rotten smell which wafted through the air, unlike she had done before, because she knew -just knew- that this was a familiar scent. One which would come without suffocating sisters, one which would come without an always smiling gardener but one which would come with a light sweet hearted boy, who lived among greys and browns.

Only a few houses stood crumbled, but proud, under the sinking sun of the night court. Rags and hastily put-up tents dominating the dark paths far in the outskirts of Velaris. Though some did not want to acknowledge that they were still part of this shining city, feeling out of place and unheard, whilst the high fae and lesser fae lived in glorious peace with their High Lord and Lady, who believed to have restored houses and families of their city. The healing of the peoples hearts a process which started long ago. The charity ball of Feyre was a part of this process too.

Her cheery and optimistic self, which also understood the pain and grief of the fae, made them all come together for those in need -mostly for those at the rainbow. Little did one of them know that those who needed the help the most, suffered in silence under ruins, and decayed bodies of their loved ones. Skeletons of delicate fae females, bulky males, Illyrians and even children resting in dreading ivory colour among crumbled walls and roofs.

Fortunately, he was not one of them, luckily, he was brave enough to get a hold of her skirt one fateful day on which she got lost. Mortified by the skeletons, ruins and death singing streets, did her heart nearly leap out of her chest once this little hand brought her to a halt. This traitorous muscle already readying her to meet the empty eye sockets of a dead being. But those eyes glittering and shimmering like a mountain lake at her were pretty much the liveliest she had ever seen. Specks of brown and green swimming in those eyes of his, that one could think they were fishes enjoying the warm presence of him.

Just like Elain would do now, as she reached a small house. A cracked door -rotten and hanging off on one hinge- was all which kept her from seeing him again. Eager to see his blinding smile, did she knock three times: one short and two long, just like she had told him.

“Elain!” squeaked his voice already from the inside, as he hurried to haul the door open. The seer could only smile at the little boy standing in front of her with this dazzling grin – one of his front incisors gone. “Hey Amel! Would you let me in?” “Of course!” beamed the boy and crushed the seer into a warm hug once she closed the door behind her. “What did I miss while I was gone?” spoke her voice softly, once she had picked him up and carried him towards the rag of a couch only a few steps away. His little wings twitching up for the shortest of moments, when she accidentally brushed the base of his wings with a slightly calloused hand. “Nothing much.”, mumbled Amels voice into her shoulder, “though I did miss you. Does that count?” Elain giggled at his hopeful eyes and could only plop his little nose; “Of course it does! I missed you too after all.”

Amel nuzzled into her at those sweet words and enjoyed her warmth like a giant cat, which curled up on the seers chest. Though he did not purr, but did the boy fold his wings neatly back in – almost as if he were ready to fall asleep.

“I have a surprise for you!” spoke up the little Illyrian in a rush, once Elain sat on the slightly mushy pillows of the couch, as if he had just remembered the surprise himself rather than to tell Elain. “And which one is that?” But she did not even receive an answer, as the little Illyrian had long scurried to the kitchenette in the back of the giant room, in which next to the sofa and a kitchenette stood an old table, with two chairs, accompanied by an old cask, which worked as a bathtub and an ancient fireplace. The in grey stone set cleft gaping at her, whilst the heavy stones crumbled, but the important parts of the old fireplace were still intact. The empty blackness reminding her that she had to feed it with wood and light them up in order to have some warmth in the perforated house.

Kneeling in front of the ancient fireplace did she fed log for log and lit the stack of wood with cold shaken fingers up, silently listening how Amel dragged a chair over to the kitchenette and climbed on top of it.

It were mere minutes which the seer had spend here, yet had the sun sunken that low already, that the stars begun their twinkling evening dance atop of their heads – bringing chilly January coldness with them, that let her breath fog. And that was the sign for Elain to start the nightly preparations with a whistling wind around her shaking shoulders, picking up various piles of blankets, while Amel still bustled around in the rotten kitchen cabins.

Blanket after blanket were strained atop of the clumsily, over the holes nailed wood. Blocking out any roaring sound of cold gusts and any light. And whilst the seer put the last blanket over the gaping slit of the broken door, did Amel sit down eagerly on the couch. “Come on, Elain! You are going to miss your surprise!” She smiled then, nailing the last blanket for today against the old wood and strode over towards the young boy with two thick wool blankets in her hand.

Once she sat down on the slightly warmed pillows, did Amel pull something to the front, from behind his back, the happiest smile he ever wore stretched on his thin lips: “Happy Birthday, Elain!” Exclaimed his cheery voice and let her gaze on a plain little muffin, which was topped with a half burned Birthday candle. “You shouldn’t have, Amel.” Whispered the seer as tears welled up in her eyes and hugged him with all her blazing heart.

She had only mentioned the day of her Birthday once, in a bedtime story she told him, and here he was – this young soul, full of happiness despite all his pain, who presented her a sweet little muffin as if it was a great Birthday cake. And it was, for her it was everything she ever asked for. Elain did not need any gowns or jewellery on her Birthday as presents, she just wanted a soul which remembered her.

And Amel was together with Nuala and Cerridwen the only souls which truly remembered her. Perhaps Azriel remembered the date too, but after the Solstice a few weeks ago it was probably clear that he would not wish to speak his congratulations to her, after all – she was a mistake. One he was likely to never do again, as he seemed to avoid her like the plague – only letting her catch one accidental glance at him while he admired the work in her Greenhouse from afar.

“You have to blow out the candle!” cheered Amel. Though did his eyebrows raise once Elain told with a slightly stern voice, that he was the one to eat the muffin. “I already ate lots of cake Amel, one more bite and I’ll explode!” joked the seer, but the Illyrians wings only lowered itself down on the brown pillows “I knew it is not good enough…” “It is, Amel. This is all I could ever ask for and I bet it tastes delicious,” Elain rested her cold hands over those of the little Illyrian, cupping the muffin together with him “but you need to eat more than me. You are still growing.” He nodded at that and let the seer blow out the striped candle.

She did not have a wish then, but after Amel devoured the baked good and went to take a bath with her, did he ask her sleepily “What did you wish for?” Elain tugged the blankets around them impossibly closer, a cocoon of warmth, “I can’t tell you; it won’t come true otherwise.” “Pleaseee…” “Alright.” Chuckled Elain at the Illyrian, whose wet black hair stuck out as if it were hedgehog spikes and leaned down to him: “I wished for your Mama and Papa to come home and that you three live in a cute little hut together.” “Without you?” “I’ll come by to visit – verry often.” spoke Elain once she saw his sad blue eyes, that lit up the moment she announced her regular visits.

It made her smile, when Amel cuddled closer into the pillows of the large couch and into her warm side, his arms and wings sleepily drabbed over her while he tried, even in his sleep, to protect her and hold her close to him. Elain could only draw calming circles over his wet hair, as she too pulled his little body closer. The sad awareness of her lie chuckling behind the sofa leans at her.

She knew that Amels parents were to never return. Their broken bodies one of the first she had found and buried, after she decided to come and help those who needed it. Fae of all kind had helped her burry those which did not survive the Hybern attack and had taken her advice on going into the starlight kissed city. Only this little boy stayed.

She had met him the week after she buried the winged female and in rind covered male, the descriptions he made to her sending chills down her spine as she realized that he was the child of those two lovers. An orphan now – though did he not know it, as he eagerly waited for his parents to come home after their grocery shopping and Elain did not have the heart to tell him of his parents passing. The only thing she had told him, was that they were asleep and that for a verry, verry long time – forever-she had told.

But Amel did not understand the meaning of those words and simply waited for his parents, in their house, to wake up and get him back. Elain couldn’t count the times she had asked the boy to come with her anymore. His reason of stay always the same – “Mama and Papa won’t find me, if I’ll leave.” And so, all she could do was visit him, as often as she could and if one considered that her presence at the river estate was barely acknowledged, did she spend almost all her time here. The only ones which knew about her whereabouts were Nuala and Cerridwen, who occasionally send her with a basket ‘into town’ to get something for them, if Feyre ever asked. Though did the basket never come back filled – it was always empty. The smuggled loaves of bread and wheels of cheese always staying at the little hut together with Amel, who had fallen soundly asleep next to her.

His little snores pulling her under too, whilst wind and darkness raged outside and slowly let the fire die down.

A heavy knock on the door was what pulled them awake. Sleep mused and dry did the Illyrian boy and Elain look at each other and waited for another knock, which followed soon. The seer already wanted to go and check the door herself as Amel only hurried past her, to haul the door open again. Letting her poke the dying ember glimmers in the ashes awake.

And then he just stood there at the door, wings dropped and mouth wide in amazement, did the boy not even shiver when coldness cloaked his in rags covered body. “Who is it, Amel?” shouted Elain from the fireplace, as her eyebrows furrowed together. At this time of day no one had any business to attend here. The worry she felt overtaking her once no one answered her. And as she saw the one standing on the other side of the threshold, did she nearly lose the black fire poker in her hands. Shock, delight, and pain all suddenly exploding and chasing around in her heart.

Amel only took her free hand, once he saw her frozen face – widened eyes and a slightly parted lips. “He looks like the one you always describe in my bedtime stories.” Stated his happy voice in a hushed tone, as if he feared the person at the threshold – chunky as a cupboard – was just a ghost. He was certainly not the only one believing that, as Elain herself could not process the picture in front of her.

Azriel stood there, in flesh and blood, with a heavy breath fogging the air as his murky coat and wind mussed mass of dark hair stood black against the stary night. At first glance one could believe he was one with the darkness, but at second glance one saw the broad shoulders, tugged in wings and tousled hair standing darker than the shadows against the sky. A silhouette painted in the depths of a night blooming sky in one of Feyres paintings.

And he was just that, a painting whose face lit it up in a golden hue with surprise once he saw the little Illyrian hauling the door open with his yet dainty fingers, now clutching to the seers hand. His breath halting the moment he saw her -just like hers had flogged itself away in her chest once she saw his eyes again. Dulled and almost entirely hazel, the specks of grey and green which she had spotted over a year ago, nearly gone as they seemed to hide away from pain and hurt.

“Elain.” Tore her his ravenous voice away from his empty eyes. She felt shocked, to say the least as they were always warm and seemed to sing of companionship and appreciation whenever her gaze wandered into them, but now there was nothing – just a murky sea of hazel, empty and without a feeling. “Can I come in?” “Of course!” chirped Amel before she could even lift her tongue for an answer. Sending the boy a stern look -accompanied by a suppressed smile – when he left her delicate hand and placed his little palm against Azriels large one, dragging a stumbling Shadowsinger into the little hut, as they left the seer to close the door.

Elain could only smile and shake her head, once she saw how the two took their seats on the coach, a strong wind- piercing and shivering- flickered through the rotten walls and send the fire dancing, whilst the seer merely shook at the gust. Hazily closing the door after this howling bite reminded her of the gaping opening in the wall.

“Are you really the Shadowsinger?” whispered Amel at the gigantic male by his side, as if he were afraid to accidently summon an ancient creature. “I am.” Azriel inclided his head, “At your service little lord … .” “Amel.” The Shadowsinger send a rare grin to the boy and repeated his name, which set the Illyrian giggling “But I am no Lord!”

“Really? But I thought you had the heart of one.” Mused Elain as she stepped back to the two again, her arms loaden with wood and those delicate shoulders covered in a sheet of wool. Amel watched her with raised eyebrows feed the fireplace. “How do you know one has the heart of a lord?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Smiled the seer to herself once she sat down with the two curious males. Amel a small curious bundle of wings between her and Azriel – watching her with the same curious stare as the Shadowsinger. “A lord is one of a noble kind, though I do not mean the kind of nobility you are born with. I mean a kind of nobility you grow over time, one which is not defined by money or jewels, but by the weight of the heart and one’s decisions.” Whispered her small voice at him and poked the spot above his heart with a teasing finger. “A lord is -for me- not someone born with the claim of a throne or a higher stance in society, only minding his own business and his alone. A Lord is someone who is kind and generous, with a heart as bright and pure as the sun.” And somehow her gaze wandered over the ash black locks on Amels head and into the curious eyes of the Shadowsinger.

Specks of life and colour returning to these irises in green streaks once her words had settled into his heart. A shy smile stretching on her lips after she had spotted the faint blush in his cheeks, under the glowing light of fire.

Amel only hummed at the words. “So does that mean I am a Lord?” “To me, yes!” smiled Elain at the boy and wrapped him into the wool blanket beside him. Afraid that the wind which rattled at the planks and blankets would bite into his warmed body. Tucking him away with a careful hand and slowly pushing him down on the spacious couch. “Come on, Amel, it is time for bed.” “But I don’t wanna go to bed! We have a visitor!” Protested the young boy with an uprising of his wings and voice.

Making the Shadowsinger uncomfortable as he was brought into the argument. “I can go … if you need your rest little boy.” The little Illyrian jumped at that – not on the floor to have a temper tantrum – but to the Shadowsinger. His little fingers holding on tightly to Azriels’ neck as he sat in his lap, “No! Please don’t go! It’s nice to have you around!”

“You are certainly the only one who is thinking that.” Grinned Azriel at his head. Somehow laughter and sadness lacing those uplifted corners. Those twisted ties drawing in the seer so much, that she could not prevent those childish words from slipping; “That is not true. I like your company very much.” Only when his head snapped to her, those eyes widened and brimming with green and grey again, did she hear her own words pounding against her ear and nearly punching her heart out of her chest, as she got lost in the forest in his eyes.

Only catching herself once a last crack of wood screamed in the flames, making the burning ember jump out of the chimney and onto the rotten wooden tiles. It had the seer nearly jumping to her feet – pushing the glowing ember back with the heavy fire poker, as if she were stabbing a chicken.

Or a king for that matter, as suddenly not the gleaming heat of the fire covered her hand, but the warmth of freshly spilled blood. Elain shrieked at the sight, eyes wide and mortified did she throw the iron poker in front of the fireplace. Wiping her ash covered hand at those chiffon layers of sky blue.

Azriel was there the moment her back hit the old couch. Setting Amel on the old cushions and picking up the slightly heated fire poker with a careful, scarred, hand.

He took the space beside her the moment his ears heard the Illyrian boy shuffle to lay down, trying to give them at least the imagination of privacy with his back turned to the two fae. “El, are you alright?”

Her heart jumped at her nickname on his tongue. Rolling off of it so easily, as if he had done it a hundred times. “I am fine.” Croaked this silent voice of hers at him. Making her laugh at her ruined try of steadiness. “It’s fine Az, really. Nothing to be worried about.”

He didn’t answer her.

Hearing the lie a mile away even if he were deaf.

But he gave her time to sort herself out and collect all the silent thoughts she did not share with him. The moment she wanted to, his words flowing into hers as they were to interrupt each other’s sentences; “What are you doing here Azriel?” “I wanted to wish you a happy Birthday.”

They looked at each other then, really and for the first time in weeks. Those brown swirls in the seers’ eyes drawing him in, as if he were a child yearning for chocolate. Whilst the seer wandered into those streaks of green in his irises as if they were a mystical forest, she long wished to discover, but never dared to.

It had them still, yet throwing their heads back as laughs, as sweet as the first flowers in spring bloomed from the seer’s mouth. Whilst those frail petals slithered down Azriels spine, had the rich ravenous sound of his laughter goosebumps emitting on the seer’s skin. Amel merely turned around, peeking at the two adults merely sitting inches away from each other. The Shadowsingers wings slightly extended to Elain’s side as content silence wrapped around them as a warming blanket.

Even after weeks of silence did not change a thing of their companionship.

Even after all this time, after all the mistakes, had nothing changed.

There was a bond, buzzing and glowing, as warm as a hearth between them. But something dimmed this radiant glow.

Though it was no shadow which touched this magnificent bond. Enthralled by this golden glow themselves did they sneak around it like curious snakes, watching and gazing, tracing and tickling.

But neither of the two fae acknowledged this bond, this tether between night and day.

And so Amel saw it upon himself to cut through this thick silence, once no one dared to utter a word, not even a heave of a silent breath. “Elain, I am tired. Can you tell me a story, please?” “Of course!” jumped the seer to answer immediately, as she turned to wrap him up. Snuggling onto the couch close to his fragile body, to prevent him from freezing, and put another blanket atop his frame.

It didn’t take long for the boy to nuzzle into the seers side, pressing his rounded ear next to her left ribcage -listening to the thundering sound of her heart. “Do you want to listen too, Shadowsinger?”

“Please, call me Azriel. And only will I stay if your mother is alright with it.” Elain stiffned at that, barely noticeable -at least for Amel- as the little boy merely answered him “Elain is not my Mama – but she is waiting, together with me, for her to come back.”

Dread immediately filled Azriels guts as he saw the almost invisible shake of her head. He was an orphan. Left in the rubble of Hyberns attack.

He had to chock down a small “I am sorry.” For the boy did not yet know of his parents passing. But even though this was a message as dark as a shadow, did he still feel a spark of light inside this black mist, when he remembered how long ago the attack was and Elain was still here to watch and guid him. “Before you ask, Azriel, I don’t want to go into the city. Mama and Papa won’t know where I am if I leave.” Yawned the boy tiredly, surprising the Shadowsinger ever more, as he seemed to have known his next question.

Elain merely smiled at the boy and caressed his back protectively, whispering to no one in particular “I have tried to convince him for months now to come with me into Velaris, or at least a little hut -not a ruin- but this stubborn Illyrian doesn’t even give me a chance to reason with him.” Her gaze shifted then, from a warm fire to a cold batch of earth “But I am already used to that.”

Azriel didn’t know if she meant the incident on solstice, or if she was talking about her lack of choice in general, but he did not dare to pry any further as the shadows whispered of her uneasiness to him.

Amel seemed almost fast asleep in her arms, lulled in by the beat of her heart -how he would have liked to switch places with the little boy – barely noticing anything around him as he carefully got up from the creaking floor. “I better get –“ “Stay.” Interrupted him Elain before his heavy booted feet could even make one tentative step towards the door.

The Shadowsinger was torn between leaving and staying. The High Lords words,as well as his own ringing in his rounded ears. ‘You are to stay away from her.’ ‘It was a mistake.’

Did these words hunt her just as much as they chased him?

Letting him grief and nearly cry out in anger at a love he was denied being with, as his brother -His High Lord- assumed him to be driven by the need of his lusts. But this was by far the furthest thing from reality. He had long admitted to himself, that the taste of the seer on his tongue would send him to heaven and hell all the same.

But what he carved more than any taste of her, was just the feeling of her. The warmth of her lithe body seeping into him, whenever she would hug him. The sound of her voice giggling at one of his dry jokes – whilst her smile brightened up his world. Her smell a perfume of Jasmin he wished to smell for the rest of eternity.

And driven by all that -his hearts carvings- did he give in to the temptation of her company and settled to rest at the other end of the brown couch. One of the woollen blankets Elain had carried before resting atop his massive frame with slight scratches, but they gave him warmth and something other to concentrate on than the seers smell.

„All right. You settled in, Amel?” “Uhmm.” Hummed his young voice at Elain, sleep already drenching from every little sound. It had the seer giggling, whilst the Illyrian only nuzzled into her. Merely peeking an eye open when he had heard nothing of the silent Shadowsinger. Only to see the picture of darkness at the wrong spot.

Elain was sure, that if Feyre, or any other artist was to capture this moment, it would not be the taunt reality with a shy Shadowsinger trying to hide at the other end of the couch. For anyone else it would be death peering down on his next victims. The shadows behind him seemingly lashing and wiping at those preys, whilst the truth was one of shyness. The shadows not knowing what to do with themselves as their master was fully at ease and their presence of needlessness. But the curiosity they harboured, for the story that was to come, made them stay. Shyly settling down by Azriels wings and shoulders as they waited patient as dogs for the seer to begin.

But apparently was Amel not happy with the arrangements. Huffing a loud puff of air at the seer when he had realized the uncomfortable shyness with which Azriel gazed at them. “Azriel, please come here too – I wanna cuddle with you too!” It had the Shadowsinger go stiff as a board, the calm shadows beside him suddenly twitching alive again. But instead of lashing out to protect this cupboard of a male, did they more seem to gather behind his back. As if trying to push him.

“Traitors!” muttered the Shadowsinger under his breath, making the seer giggle ever the softest at his stern gaze into the black void. Amel hadn’t heard this word, which echoed through the seers pointed ear, but was delighted when he saw the dark male standing and gathering his blanket. The fire beside them dancing and seemingly caressing the stern panels of his face and gigantic wings.

Every other kid would have trembled in fear at him. Afraid that those painful eyes would hide a volcano of rage and violence, but Amel knew it better. And Elain couldn’t help as to smile at herself, with the knowledge that this better knowledge of the boy was her fault – telling him every night a tale of the Shadowsinger, which she herself heard from Nuala and Cerridwen.

“Scoot over.” Ordered Amel with the try to push the seer at the sofa lean. Even though the seating was rather large considered to regular couches, it still was not enough to fit all three next to each other.

Azriel already wanted to see it as a cue to finally go. A sigh of relief, but also exhaustion flooding him, as his heart yearned for the company of the seer. But also was afraid to come too close to her. Hurting her perhaps. He didn’t wanted to do that.

To his relief or unluck, he wasn’t sure, grabbed the seven year old his tainted hand and pushed him into the space next to Elain.

The seer, as well as the Shadowsinger, gazed at each other in a moment of surprise. Their widened eyes searching the company of each other as Azriels wings twitched beneath him, adjusting ever the slightest to his new form of rest -trying to make them some space.

But as it turned out was the only option to let Elain slightly lean up and let the wing pass under her. Cradling this lithe body of hers, while Amel crawled on the males chest and snuggled between the two. His own wings a warm cocoon around him. “Comfortable?” asked Azriel the boy and had his heart leaping in his chest at the bright smile the boy offered him. Hugging him close as if he were not a monster, as if he were not covered in the blood of hundreds and hundreds, but as if he were a male like everyone else. With a heart and a life and a mind which could make generous decisions.

It was the case that he did, but right now, even this moment seemed too innocent to weigh against all the bad decisions he made. Sensing his discomfort snaked the seer an arm around the little Illyrian between them, and let her palm silently rest on his drumming heart. She felt every nervous pump of blood on her skin, yet she merely smiled and tugged the blankets -which were shortly discarded- up to cover all three of them.

The fire still crackling happily in its pit. Whilst those three souls lay in comfort there.

It was the physically closest they had ever been. Even with Amel between them could the seer not say were his heaving chest ended and her calming hand started, connecting them as if he were a vibrant tree sprouting out of her calming earth. Somehow this coaxed a smile out of her and using the situation shamelessly by snuggling even closer.

But it did not like as if Azriel minded, as his scarred hand grabbed a hold of her waist. Steadily keeping her against him.

“Ready for your story?” whispered Elain in the warmth before the fire. “Yes!” declared the boy and too, snuggled closer to the Shadowsinger. In whose chest seemed to bloom a flower of happiness, nurtured by the appreciation, patience and love of those two in his arms.

Elain merely smiled and started a tale which the quiet Shadowsinger was to remember even in the passage of centuries.

“Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She was of utter beauty and kindness, pure and entirely unstained. Something her two sisters wanted to prevent from ever happening, as they searched the truest, kindest and sweetest soul for her sister to marry. Promising her hand to him at a time she had not even met this mysterious man. The bubble of solitude and guarded safety her sisters kept her in, stifling her chances of ever getting to know him before their wedding was to happen. Promising her forever to the hand of a stranger, who did not even own her trust.” Azriel noticed, that during sometime at her telling – had slipped a sting of pain in those normally bright shining eyes. But Azriel assumed to know why this was the case, her fingers starting to rub unconscious circles over his heart – chanting searing circles through his burning skin as his heart thundered and pumped in response at them. At even the softest of flame rings did this beating muscle in his heart not miss a chance to capture this circle.

And then she whispered again -at the night, at Amel, at him or at the fire, he wasn’t sure. “But this marriage was a trap. Not for the lovely sister, but for the poor man -who would spend his entire life in the fear of losing his wife to a so believed demon inside of her. This creature inside of her -so it was told- capturing her and leaving her eyes in a mist of grey whenever he was to talk to her. “

“Her sisters had worried for their beloved, lovely sister ever more with the passing years, as this haze of grey seemingly hunted her day and night. Fearing that this beast might kill her, had they locked her up, far, far into a tower with barred windows. Her entire freedom taken away from her, when her sisters had sent a guard to watch over her.” Elain chuckled, and sneaked a glance at the Shadowsinger, who cradled the tired Illyrian, as if her were worth an entire court. “At first, she believed him to be a statue, one created without emotions displayed on his looming face. But over the time she got to spend with him – she saw it was actually a massive cauldron brewing beneath his bronze skin. Mixing happiness, kindness, gratitude, sadness, anger and so much more into one pot that he just didn’t know how to express them.”

“But over time -even when those hazy moments possessed her- did they grow to know each other. Finding more similarities in the other than it was ever believed of a guard and a princess to have. Her sisters however were blind to the obvious trust between the guard and their sister and kept the engagement to the other man. It was when she first saw the male, so in contrast to the guard who had her trust, that this demon overtook her. Not just her eyes, but also her mouth. Speaking of a riddle which was to occupy the entire Kingdome of the princess for years: ‘The one with the deepest of values, shall be able to set her free – the one of the greatest of powers. The one having fate at her hand, a two-sided blade -one old and one new- wielding at her will. A mist of grey laying ahead of her eyes, whilst the path behind her, shall be paved forever more. The stone to rest, one which she can’t move.’ “

Her eyes glazed over at that – when her voice talked almost sacredly about those prophecies – as if she were in a memory only months away. Absently starting to trace Amels ash black curls with a tentative finger. His deep snore vibrating through the Shadowsingers chest as both watched in trance the rise of his little body. When she realized that Amel had long gone into the depths of sleep, she withdrew her hand, closing her eyes for the rest of slumber. That was until the Shadowsinger asked, a careful edge lacing his voice, “Could you please continue? I wanna know the answer to the riddle.”

Her eyes snapped woken at that, a shy smile stretching her lips, before she used the hand to cradle the felty matt of Amels hair, to caress his lightly stubbled cheek “I assume you already know the answer, Shadowsinger.” “Still. Please.” He wanted to hear her voice just for a little longer. Wanted to enjoy her embrace as long as he could – savouring every searing fingerprint of her on his skin.

Elain did not argue father than that, simply letting her words lull him in again; “Her sisters believed, that the one who had the deepest of value, was the betrothed of their beloved sister. Claiming that her love was his. But to their disappointment had he no clue, no answer with could free the lovely princess from her haze. And so, she stayed locked up, in the tower and murky depths of grey, her hand free to take – as the sisters saw that the man they chose, was a choice for another princess. The riddle, which was spoken, carried near and far. Surprisingly, luring a lot of man into the trance of the cursed princess, so it was said. “

“Her beauty had man forget the oddity ,this curse seemed to be, and made them simply wish to take her hand with the freeing of her haze. And yet, determined they all were, no one had the ability to free her from those murky grey depths. The only soul loyal by her side -unafraid- was the devoted guard by her side. Watching and protecting her like the human she was before. “

“Year went by, beforethe guard got fed up with presenting the princess constantly as if she were an animal in the zoo. A mere attraction, not a living being. The guard had heard the riddle so many times, he himself was able to recite it as if it were his own words, yet it took time too, for him to realize the meanings of the words.”

Elains brown orbs gazed deep into his then, a bright smile seemingly lightening each freckle and trace of colour in her eyes, when she recited the words he once declared “A seer. That was what the guard had told. Freeing the princess from the grey murky depths of future and past with two simple words. Spoken as if they weighed nothing. But the world rose at that day, colour, smells and feelings returning to the princess. The cry of happiness was roaring through the entire castle, as the two sisters wanted to hug their beloved sister, though had she heard nothing of that. Running past her extended arms and down the pedestal on which they kept her. Jumping right into the guards’ arms and clinging to him, as if he were her air.”

“Is that what you would have liked to do?” grinned the Shadowsinger. The tenseness of his shoulders -of his entire being- seemingly vanished into thin air within this stolen moment. Elain blushed a little, but nodded nonetheless – snuggling a bit closer to his warmth and body – whilst his wings drew in tighter and tighter around the three. As if they were the boundary between the world and their peace. “If Lucien wouldn’t have been there -as well as my sisters- I would have done so. I would have weeped into your arms out of joy.” Admitted Elain with crimson cheeks. But Azriel merely pulled her tighter with the hand around her hip.

A silent understanding that he, too, would have liked to change this moment now. But the past is paved and set in stone – no matter how many mistakes one might have done, they could only change the future. And Azriel knew the moment a loud snore left Amels lungs, that he wanted a future where this was not a stolen moment – where this was their life. And one in which this would not be a ruin, but their home.

Their home.

How he liked that sound. Making him feel all fuzzy and warms as he imagined it, not even the cold reality of the story able to catch up to him. He was with Elain in her embrace he could dream – he always did. It should have been a warning- that his mentality had went from cautious and professional to this cotton candy sprinkled mind of happiness and without boundaries – but he would take the consequences for that on another day, in another setting.

“Where did you even know from where I was?” whispered Elain into the dimming light. “I didn’t. The shadows had guided me.” And as if on queue flickered a whisper of darkness over her cheek, caressing her, as if they were a ribbon of silk. Fluttering briefly over the snoring Illyrian between them too.

“They seem to like you and him.” “I like them too.” Smiled the seer. “They are you after all.”

Azriels heart nearly burst at this as blinked away the prickling sensation in his eyes. Never, not in 500 years, had one spoken of him and his shadows like this. Never had he felt those words more than now as he was on an emotionl edge. Torn between his High Lords command and the calming presence of this beloved female. But as she hugged him impossibly closer, he knew that he no longer was torn – that he no longer had to fight against a wish he wanted fulfilled.

Azriel was sure that he wanted Elain, courts and everything be damned, as he only hugged her closer too. She and Amel, right now the only ones which counted to him. And he was ready to die for them – if Lucien or Beron insisted on the blood duel.

“I am sorry I haven’t gotten you a Birthday gift, El.” Exclaimed his strained voice suddenly, when he noticed the seers eyes glaze over with tiredness – believing that she could not answer him anymore.

“It’s alright Az, your company is gift enough.”

And it was in that moment, when silence and sleep rested on the wind’s breath, that he didn’t know if it was the seers Birthday or his. As this was the greatest present he ever received.

The wind sored loudly around them, as a curtain of honey whipped in front of his face -the seer having once again not listened into braiding her hair- clouding his vision on the small hut. “We are almost home!” yelled Amels voice next to the two. His yet delicate wings carrying him carefully on the gusts of wind, as if they were lifting him up into the arms.

Azriel and Elain merely smiled, once they saw the little hut. Hidden away into a garden of wildflowers and trees, as Elain had planted them there. Around their home. Around their secret.

It was yet a story to be told to their family, of how the crow -how Azriel translated Amels name to her- had connected death and the fawn. Letting them soar high into the sky in the arms of each other. Away from responsibilitys and fate.

They knew it would all come to an end eventually -spilling the secret – but until then they had this.

A life full of sunshine, yet covered in the shadows, as they flew further and further to the wooden hut. The sun guiding them their path with a shining smile.

Whilst the Seer and the Shadowsinger could only smile as bright as the rise of a new day, “Yes, Amel, we are almost home!”

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