#the violence of Alexander the Great

[dragonroilz]

Judas Prime - The Kiss of Piece

Do not mistake his pale hands for purity, for he has commited the worst crime known to man.

i imagine that his flesh prison mightve been something similar to lucifer, where his head was being chewed on and his claws dug so deeply into judas' back until they went out the other side.

his mechanic might be area denial using ice walls since in dante's inferno he's in treachery. or maybe something with coins since he kissed jesus for 30 silver pieces.

no other lore for this mf tho so feel free to make stuff up if you have ideas.

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVI ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,503.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 16

The silence of the night was broken only by the soft sound of the wind blowing over the plains where the Macedonian army was encamped. Inside his tent, Alexander was studying the maps on his table intently. The King's face was lined with fatigue and dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes.

It was then that the calm voice of Hephaestion, his closest friend and confidant, resounded through the tent, cutting through the silence. "There is someone who wishes to see you, Alexander."

Alexander slowly raised his head, looking away from the maps. His eyes, tired but still intense, fixed on Hephaestion. He trusted his friend's judgment, but the question arose inevitably. "Who is it?" He asked, his voice thick with a weariness he could barely hide.

Hephaestion hesitated for a brief moment, as if the name was foreign to his tongue. "Aslan." He replied, almost as if testing the pronunciation. He knew that the identity of this visitor was not the most important point at that moment, but rather the urgency of what he brought with him.

Alexander sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to dispel the tiredness and worry that consumed him. "Let him in." He ordered, his voice low but full of authority.

Hephaestion nodded firmly, stepping down from his post at the entrance to the tent and allowing the mysterious visitor, Aslan, to enter. The man was tall, with a presence that commanded the room. His steps were firm and resolute, and his eyes, a deep, dark hue, met Alexander's. For a brief moment, the king felt as if he were staring into an abyss, an unfathomable darkness that evoked Hades himself.

Aslan bowed slightly before Alexander, a gesture of respect that, although not a Greek greeting, the King accepted without reservation. There was something about the man that captured Alexander’s attention, something that made him tolerate the cultural difference without question. In fact, he was flattered by the show of deference.

"Can I help you with something?" Alexander finally asked, looking away from the imposing figure and returning his attention to the maps, as if trying to maintain a facade of indifference.

Aslan stepped forward, approaching the table where Alexander sat, his eyes still fixed on the king. Hephaestion, who had been watching the scene closely, felt his body stiffen at the stranger’s approach. His hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to defend his friend at any cost. The tension in the tent was palpable, and the atmosphere held the promise of violence should any suspicious movement be detected.

However, Aslan seemed completely oblivious to the danger he was in. With a disconcerting calm, he stopped before Alexander and finally broke the silence. His voice, deep and grave, carried an accent unfamiliar to Macedonian ears, but the words were clear. "I have information that will certainly interest you."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the man before him. "What kind of information?" He asked, his voice a menacing whisper, thick with suspicion.

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, an almost feline gesture. "About your wife."

The impact of these words was immediate. Alexander’s body stiffened, and his expression, previously weary, became fierce. The mere mention of his wife sent his mind into a whirlwind of emotions. His jaw clenched, his posture changing to something more menacing. "Do you know anything about her whereabouts?" His voice rose, filled with an almost desperate urgency. "If you do, tell me now!"

Aslan was unfazed. His dark eyes held Alexander’s gaze with impressive calm. "She is currently in the city of Babylon, accompanied by Greek mercenaries, Persian soldiers, and... Your general, Perdiccas."

The revelation fell like a thunder on Alexander and Hephaestion. The shock was evident in the King's eyes, but he quickly hid it under a mask of skepticism. "And how can we be sure that you are not lying?" Hephaestion's voice broke into the silence, firm and full of suspicion. He still kept his hand on his sword, prepared for any eventuality.

Aslan crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze growing colder. "I have no reason to lie." He replied with a cutting calm, as if the mere suggestion of lying was an insult to him.

"Hephaestion is right," Alexander interjected, his words sharp as a blade. "You appear out of nowhere, without any introduction or assurance of your loyalty. Why should we trust you?"

A barely perceptible smile curved the corner of Aslan’s lips. He was clearly enjoying the situation. "You have no reason to trust me, that is a fact." He admitted, his voice soft but firm. "But I suggest you waste no more time with fruitless searches and unanswered questions. Time is not on your side, my dear King."

Alexander frowned, his fingers gripping the map so tightly that the paper began to tear. There was something about Aslan’s presence, a conviction that he could not ignore, even though every instinct in him screamed not to trust this stranger. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the possibility of finding his wife was an irresistible temptation.

Aslan leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Alexander’s, his voice now a dark whisper. "I suggest you send someone to confirm what I am saying, for, my King, I speak the truth."

For reasons he could not explain, Alexander felt a surge of credibility in Aslan’s words. Perhaps it was the growing despair in his heart, the pain of being separated from his wife, or perhaps there was something about this enigmatic figure that made him believe. Either way, he could not allow himself to ignore the information. If his wife was truly in Babylon, then every second lost could cost him everything.

"Fine." He said finally, looking away from Aslan and dropping the map with a heavy sigh. "I will believe your words, but on one condition." He looked straight into Aslan’s eyes, his voice lowering to a menacing tone. "You will remain with my army. If I discover that you have lied, I will personally ensure that your death is slow and painful."

Aslan nodded, seemingly unfazed by the threat. In fact, a satisfied smile played on his lips, as if he had been expecting this exact answer.

Hephaestion, however, remained uneasy. He watched the conversation unfold with a growing sense of unease. The tension in his posture was evident, and the grip on his sword only tightened.

Alexander, noticing his friend's uneasiness, gave him a meaningful look, followed by a brief nod. Hephaestion understood the message and, with quick and determined steps, left the tent.

There was a mission to be accomplished. It was time to recover his Stolen Queen.

When you opened your eyes, the world around you had changed completely.

You clearly remembered going to sleep in the luxurious room of the Palace of Babylon, exhausted after the long journey through the ancient city. The journey had been difficult, and every muscle in your body was begging for rest. Even though you needed a bath, exhaustion got the better of you, and you threw yourself onto the bed without hesitation, sinking into the soft mattress. The sheets were silk, cool and smooth against your skin, and the heavy blankets brought a comforting warmth that made you fall asleep almost instantly. You vaguely remembered a servant trying to serve you, but you waved him away before falling into a deep sleep.

When you finally woke up, after what seemed like hours of uninterrupted rest, something was deeply wrong. The ceiling you were staring at was not the same ornate and luxurious ceiling of the palace. Instead, you saw a white surface, simple and... Modern. A sense of disorientation washed over you, sleep still heavy in your eyes. You sat up slowly, realizing that you were no longer in the luxurious bed you remembered, but in an ordinary bed, without the comfort you expected.

The room around you was familiar in a disturbing way.

The furniture, the arrangement of the objects, everything was the same as your room… But not the room in the palace, but your old room, in your home, in your time. The same feeling of nostalgia and discomfort hit you hard. Every detail was exact, from the closet next to the door to the thin curtains that let the daylight in softly. Your heart began to beat faster. You were back? How was this possible? What had happened? Had the gods finally decided to end your torment and return you to your old life?

You desperately wanted to believe it, but something was terribly wrong.

A sense of anguish washed over you, your chest tightening as confusing thoughts raced through your mind. Maybe it was a dream, but it all felt so real. You forced yourself to stand up, pushing away the blankets that were still keeping your body warm. As you placed your bare feet on the cold floor, a shiver ran down your spine. Every detail seemed real and vivid, from the texture of the floor to the faint, familiar scent that filled the air. You looked down at your own body, and a wave of panic washed over you when you noticed the slight swelling in your belly. The pregnancy was real. This was not a dream.

Fear began to mix with confusion, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

You got up from the bed, your feet hesitantly touching the floor, feeling the cold that contrasted with the warmth you still felt in your body. The room around you felt claustrophobic, each object carrying an emotional weight that pulled you back, to memories you would rather forget. You slowly walked towards the door, your breath held, each step increasing the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. With one last look at the room, you opened the door, expecting to find the hallway of your house. But instead, an intense white light momentarily blinded you.

You blinked, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness, but the brightness was overwhelming.

For a moment, you stood paralyzed, your mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. There was nothing but that light, a white void that stretched on forever. You knew you should go back, close the door and get away from this weirdness, but something urged you to keep going. Against all your survival instincts, you took a step into the light. And then another. And another. With each step, the feeling of unreality intensified, but you couldn't stop. Your feet began to hurt, but you kept walking, aimlessly, as if you were being pulled by an invisible force.

Time seemed to distort.

You didn't know how long you had been walking, but the brightness was no longer blinding you as much. Your eyes adjusted, and you began to notice a shadow in the distance. It was a human figure, a male silhouette that seemed to be watching you, motionless. Fear returned with full force, but still, you forced yourself to continue. The closer you got, the more distinct the figure became, until suddenly it disappeared, disappearing into the void.

Frustration and despair took over you.

Without strength, your legs gave way, and you fell to your knees on the invisible floor, feeling more lost than ever. A growl of frustration escaped your lips, but before you could do anything, a deep, dark voice echoed around you.

"Our dreams can say so much about ourselves, can't they?" The voice reverberated in the void, cold and threatening. Your body reacted instantly, your eyes searching the space in search of the owner of that voice, but there was nothing but white emptiness.

The laughter that followed was hoarse, disturbing, and you could almost feel the presence of someone beside you, caressing your cheek with disconcerting tenderness.

"It's not time to go home yet." Shock and fear froze your body. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what was happening, but before you could react, Aslan appeared before you. His figure was imposing, his gaze cold, and without warning, he grabbed your face tightly, forcing you to look at him.

The pain was real, intense, but what terrified you most was the mocking smile on his lips.

"Wake up." He ordered, snapping his fingers with an ease that seemed to defy reality itself.

The sensation of falling hit you like a blow.

Your body was pulled downwards, as if you were plummeting from a great height. Terror took hold of you, and although you tried to scream, no sound escaped your throat. Aslan's face, with that malicious smile, was the last thing you saw before everything faded into darkness.

When you opened your eyes again, you were back in your room in the Palace of Babylon.

Your body was shaking, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as if trying to prevent yourself from falling. A scream escaped your lips, loud and desperate, before you could control yourself. The bedroom door opened with a bang, and the guard on duty rushed in, his eyes scanning the room for any threat.

Nothing was out of place, except you. As it should be.

He approached slowly, a mixture of hesitation and concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, ma'am?" His voice was soft, almost cautious, as if he was afraid of scaring you even more.

You tried to answer, but your mind was still stuck in the nightmare.

Every beat of your heart was painful, your breathing was labored, and cold sweat was running down your forehead. "Y-Yes..." You mumbled, your voice cracking. Your lips were dry, and you licked them, trying to moisten them.

The guard continued to watch you carefully. "Do you want me to call a doctor or a slave?" He asked again, his concern evident.

You shook your head, trying to sound more confident than you actually were.

"No. I... I'm fine, I just want to be alone for now." Your voice came out a little firmer this time, and the guard seemed to understand that it was best not to insist. With a nod, he left, closing the door behind him.

Relief and fear mixed within you as you observed the room around you.

You were back. It had all been a dream... A terrible and confusing dream, but a dream nonetheless. You ran your hands over your face, trying to erase the memory of Aslan's brutal hands, but the feeling was still there, throbbing. Your thoughts were in chaos, trying desperately to understand what had happened. Was it just your mind playing tricks? Had the fatigue of the last few days built up to such an extent that your psyche had rebelled?

But then, something made your heart stop.

As you got up from the bed, you noticed something strange on the sheets. A dark, red stain. Blood.

The shock paralyzed you for a moment.

— lady l: kill me if you want, but that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any theories or comments, feel free to send them! Forgive me for any mistakes. :)

Love you guys! ❤️

[sweetmariihs2]

✨️My Undertale Headcanons✨️

When they came out of the underground, most/all of the characters live next to eachother like a neighborhood. Mettaton has a big mansion and it's a little far from the rest of them, but it's still close enough to be part of it. He helped to afford a new "Blook Acres" for his cousins, Dummy, Napstablook and Mad Mew Mew (Shyren and her sister live next to them). Sans and Papyrus made their home exactly how it was when they were in the underground. Toriel, Frisk, Asgore and Flowey's house are right next to theirs. Alphys and Undyne live together and it's right next to Sans and Papyrus' house. Muffet and the other spiders have a Bakery and Grillby has a bar/restaurant.

Some of the monsters stayed in the underground. It's very silent there now that almost everyone is gone, that's one of the reasons why some monsters stayed — because of the silence. It's a bit depressing sometimes thinking about how that place is now so empty when there were so much people and happiness everywhere. Now it's just the snow and empty houses in Snowdin, waterfalls and water drops in Waterfall, and the sound of lava and the core in Hotland. MTT's resort is also closed. Monster's history is still preserved there, so some humans go to the underground to learn about history.

Mettaton loves chick flicks and that's how his love for the humans started. He found some of them at the dump, they came from different decades and not all of his collection is about romance, he once found DVDs about talk shows and quiz shows, also black n white movies from the golden age of hollywood. He didn't know the name of most of the actors or where those movies came from, except that they came from the surface. He knew at that moment that he wanted to be like them. He also found some CD's and even not knowing them so well, he absolutely loves pop singers like Lady Gaga, Beyoncé. He just never had enough information to know about their other albums or their personal lives. That was too far from his reality. Now that all the monsters are outside, he really wants do befriend them and it's a big fan of Rupaul's Drag Race. He would love to be on that show. Mettaton now has a lot of human fans now too. He loves to post things on social media, having thousands of followers in each one of them. He also has two or more shows in a human TV channel, maybe even his own MTT channel.

Mad Mew Mew ABSOLUTELY LOVES Babymetal. The RAGE mixed to that japanese kind of cuteness. IT'S PERFECT!!! Her favorite song is Doki Doki Morning (She likes meowing during the "mew mew mew" part and when the metal finnaly strikes it's just RAGEEEEE but then the song is cute again and she's all "mew mew mew :33333"). She listens to Babymetal alongside Alphys and Frisk. Now she's an otaku too just because of Alphys. They are friends. Mew Mew still has a little crush on Undyne, but it's not like she wants to date her anymore.

Alphys dances to Babymetal alongside Frisk and Mew Mew. They live in good terms and Alphys let them have the doll because she's more happy with it than Alphys was for just having that doll. She has a little crush on Mad Mew Mew by the way, because it's a living version of her anime waifu. They became good friends and Alphys watched Mew Mew Kissy Cutie with her so that she could understand the lore, because of her Mad Mew Mew is now also otaku. Alphys loves Saylor Moon, Pretty Cure franchise, Candy Love and other kinds of anime. She likes to read yaoi and yuri sometimes.

Papyrus turned out to be a big fan of Iron Maiden. Sans sometimes listen to their songs with him and both skip the songs that talk more about violence because Papyrus don't like it much. What is funny to Sans is that Papyrus' timbre perfectly matches the musical notes of the band's vocalists (especially Bruce Dickinson, who, let's face it, is everyone's favorite) and because of this it is more comfortable and free for him to sing all the notes. His favorite song is CLEARLY Alexander The Great, for obvious reasons. Sans' and Papyrus' favorite album is Somewhere in Time. Sans relates a little to the lyrics of "Deja Vu", but Papyrus likes the band a lot more than him. Undyne likes Iron Maiden too and sometimes sings them on karaoke with Papyrus, both acting and making heroic poses while they sing. Flowey enjoys it too but his kind of metal is a little heavier.

So cute

Sans reminds me of Porco Rosso. It's not a headcanon I just wanted to tell you guys. Their personality is very similar and that's how I see Sans' character.

Sans likes to listen to Iron Maiden with Papyrus but also enjoy some calmer songs. I'm not sure who is his favorite artist, but I think that he would listen a little bit to Lana Del Rey. Especially her latest albums. He really likes the instrumental ending in "If You Lie Down With Me". He knows that some people consider her too "girly" for him to listen, but he really doesn't mind, it's good music after all. He likes calm songs with good instrumental and good lyrics.

Flowey starts living with the other monsters too, like in the "flower pot au". Most of his 'friends' know that he's prince Asriel, but he asked them to call him Flowey, even Toriel and Asgore. When worried, sad or having a deep conversation, sometimes Toriel or Asgore call him "Asriel", mostly Toriel. This makes him very emotional. He's also learning how to develop emotions again and it's being hard. Flowey discovered that listening to metal can calm his nerves, letting it all out. It's very funny to watch a little flower headbanging to a death metal song. He also enjoys singing guttural and he feels better after doing it so. It's like he can express his angry side without harming anyone in the process (Frisk is teaching him how to do it).

Asgore and Toriel are getting well together. They are becoming friends again, even flirting sometimes. Both of them talked about how they felt after those events in the underground and explained their point of view, finally ending that stupid distance. Asgore feels guilty for what he did, and Toriel understands that he had to do it because he thought it was the only option. They've been recovering from the greif of their children and everything seems to be better now. Being eachother's bestfriend again really helps a lot dealing with the guilt. They understand that they had to go and it wasn't their fault.

Frisk is a big AURORA fan due to her pacifist songs. They feel like her songs give them the energy to keep being a good person, caring for other people and helping the world. Papyrus enjoys some of her songs too because Frisk explained to him what the lyrics meant. Frisk tells Flowey that "Churchyard" makes them think of him (he understands why but gets grumpy because of it)(and it also makes them think of Sans, but they never told him because these are memories from other save). Some of their favorite songs are Animal, A Different Kind Of Human, Apple Tree, All Is Soft Inside, Soft Universe, It Happened Quiet. Toriel pretends that doesn't relate to the lyrics of Midas Touch to avoid explanation (she heard Frisk listening to it one time and paid attention to the lyrics, so that's how that happened).

Asgore and Toriel enjoy some calmer songs too. Sans is one of Toriel's best friends, and one day he came to their house and Toriel asked him to put any song he likes. He choosed "Let The Light In", which is another one from Lana that he listens to, and that's how Toriel started listening to her too. Again, only her latest albums (they feel that her older albums are too sad). Because of them Asgore also started to listen to her songs. They like to make "tea parties" for their friends while Toriel brings her butterscotch pie and Asgore makes the tea, hearing those songs playing in the background. It brings such a cozy feeling.

And then the karaoke moment starts and Papyrus and Undyne are screaming on the microphone. Mettaton likes to sing too (sometimes with Shyren), Napstablook controls the audio. Asgore tries, but he knows he's not the best at singing. Mad Mew Mew wants to sing Babymetal, Alphys really wants to sing with her but she's too embarassed to do it so Undyne helps sometimes and encourages her. Frisk dances with them because they're not really into singing. Sans is too lazy to sing and he says that he's not the best at it.

I wanna add more headcanons to this list. Gonna keep updating when thinking about new ones!

[bucca2]

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

[firsttimewriter92]

No hero, just me

Captain John Price x (f!)reader

Summary: You got abducted and John, along with his team is sent to rescue you. When the get-away vehicle is sabotaged, you have to walk the rest of the way to safety. John seems unusually worried and caring towards you. Are you actually just a military higher ups daughter or something more to him?

Warnings: Abduction, canon typical violence, injuries, pining, longing, slow burn, angst, kissing, parental issues(!)

A/N: Hi everyone. This idea has been brewing for a while and upon popular demand I created the story around the lovely Captain. Please note that I not only discuss your relationship with Price but also with your family. So for those who have parental issues, please read with caution. Otherwise please enjoy :)

Words: 11.976 (Yeah, that might have escalated a little)

It was cold. So fucking cold. Your aching back was leaned against an icy brick wall, your knees pulled up to your chest. With shallow breaths you tried to stay as warm as possible but it seemed like with every day that passed, your hope of rescue dwindled. At least that´s what you were sure off. You scoffed at your abductors stupidity. Had they not done their research?

Lieutenant General August _____ was everything but a devoted father. Maybe he once was when you were a child but as soon as you became older it became clear as day to you that his priorities had shifted. It was devastating to watch your brother completely lose himself in trying to impress his father. With flying success though. He was on his way on becoming a Colonel and your father paraded him around at functions like he was his most priced possession. But Alexander himself…he was a mere shadow of a person with character, edges or a mind of his own. It infuriated you. Your mother was the same. Only worse. She clung to the respect, grace and riches your fathers position came with, with such force, that every smile of hers since you were ten years old had only been a forced grimace. The only genuine thing about her? Every proud look she gave her son, every devoted gaze she gave to her husband…and every ounce of disappointment and caution she gave you.

It wasn´t like you rebelled against your family. You weren´t involved in any sex scandals, drug problems or any other affairs. Quite the opposite. You tried your hardest to stay away from those things. But that also meant staying away from your families affairs. You didn’t want anything to do with anything. You hated the fancy dinners and balls. You hated the pretentious smiles, conversation and frankly boring as fuck people your parents surrounded themselves with. And how much they played into their cards to hold up the good family reputation. So it was no wonder that your parents became more and more irritated with you when they saw your blatant disinterest in the military, politics or any of it. How you showed up at parties and dinners, not talking much, not engaging and just waiting for the time to pass you by. It wasn’t what they were used to from your brother.

Needless to say your relationship with your parents didn’t exactly improve from then on. You´d moved out as soon as your mother didn’t throw a fit anymore and within a week, you found a flat way outside London in a quiet village. You were thankful to the great education you´d received however. It allowed you to work from home and you only had to come into the office about twice a month. You loved it. Alexander had helped you move and when it was just the two of you, you could see the very sharp and quite witty brother you had shine through. He and you have had several conversations about your respective situations and there was a mutual acceptance that the other sibling just wanted to have everything or nothing to do with it.

So why not Alec? Why wasn’t Alec sitting here, wondering what had gone wrong? Well, that was actually an easy question to answer. Because he was overseas. You groaned and hugged your knees closer. Of course your parents would receive a ransom demand for you. But how quickly would they react? It had been days. Days and you were sure that you weren´t even in the UK anymore. The ride in the van had been hours long. And the helicopter flight had been even longer.

You heard the shackles outside the door rattle once again and the panic crept into your veins as it had been each time it happened. The door opened but you couldn’t lift your head. A tray was placed in front of you and a deep chuckle reached your ears. It was cold and condescending. “Really” the voice snarled with a thick accent you couldn´t place. “I would´ve guessed your father to have reacted by now. What a shame.” The man stood up again and before closing the door again said with a much more sinister voice, “If he don’t react soon, holding you will not have much benefit, will it?”

You knew what he was trying to say with that. And even though you were somewhat estranged from your family, you´d never guessed they´d let you die like this. It hurt. It hurt fucking bad. It shouldn´t have been a problem to meet their demands with the social status and power your father held. What in the world were they asking for, for your father to wait so long to react?

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut short by a loud bang and then….shots. Shots? What the hell was going on?! You were on your feet as quickly as you could and winced from the pain your stiff legs and numb feet were in. You hears voices shout. They were coming closer. In a panic you remembered something your father had thought you. As quickly as you could you wobbled over to the door and stood in a way that would conceal you for a split second once the door was opened. A split second that could give you an advantage. You readied yourself, pounding onto your thighs with your fists to warm up your muscles and praying they wouldn’t give up on you.

A moment later it was quiet behind the door and you almost thought whoever was in front of it had left. Then, with a bang that nearly toppled you over it swung open and you pounced. Your fists made contact with a solid body and only your momentum made the man stumble a little to the side before another one grabbed your shoulders. Yelling from the top of your lungs you fought as if your life depended on it until you heard it. “Calm down, Ms.___. We´re here for you! Your father sent us. Calm down!” You halted your movements and looked around. A massive man stood in the doorway, almost cutting off all light from the corridor. Another one stood to the side and it seemed like he was the one you pounced on first. Both men were clad in heavy armour and facemasks. The one holding your arms however was only slightly taller than you. Same facemask and armour though.

You were panting and looking around wildly until the man spoke again. “Are you all right, Ms.___? Can you walk?” His voice was stern, deep and only slightly hurried. You looked at him again as a little bit of relief washed over you. You nodded slightly before you spoke. “I think so” you rasped. The man lowered your arms and gave you a once over. Seeing your whole body shiver violently he sucked on his teeth and bellowed “Soap, Ghost, make sure the path´s clear. She´s not well on her feet.” With that he quickly but surprisingly gently wound an arm around your waist and guided one of yours over his shoulder, supporting you as you began to move. He might as well have been carrying you. The way all three of them moved was nothing short of deadly precision. It seemed though they had successfully killed everyone that was inside the run down building. The scene you where stumbling through looked like a badly orchestrated film set.

Several times you´d stopped behind the men named Ghost and Soap while they checked if the way was clear. When the man next to you dragged you outside it was pitch black. You couldn’t see for a second but trusted the man who was guiding you. It felt like an eternity that you stumbled, ran and slit through the night. Only your own panting and an occasional, softly grumbled warning from the man beside you. “To your left, Ms.___. Careful” “There´s a small hill up ahead” “Hold onto me” “Don´t let go, you´re doing great”

The moment you felt like your feet couldn’t go no further you heard Ghost and Soap opening car doors in front of you. Finally, with the prospect of sitting in a safe vehicle with people that were there to rescue you, you collapsed onto the bench in the back and began hysterically crying. Sobbing, you curled up onto the seat, yet again realising that your limbs were cold as ice and aching. As the vehicle began to move you felt the soldier that had been jumping into the back with you move. A moment later a heavy warm blanket was thrown over your shoulders. Grabbing onto it like a life line you scrambled to throw it around your feet.

“Hold on” the man said gruffly and took your hands in his. “Shit” he grumbled and kneeled down in front of you. Almost hectic he pulled the blanket over you more tightly before removing your shoes. You were whimpering in protest but he just looked up at you. Pleadingly. You stopped struggling immediately. Why was he looking at you like that? Your vision blurred as you tried to make out his features. He´d removed the facemask.

A full beard, moustache and mutton chops, a full lower lip, piercing blue eyes. Blue, so blue. His hands were still moving until your feet were out of your shoes and soaked socks. Compared to your feet, his hands were scolding hot as he began rubbing your feet with them, all the while not breaking eye contact. “We need to warm them up” he whispered. You simply nodded and another tear rolled down your cheek. “I know” he said and held your feet. “I know. It´s over,___. It´s over.”

It took you a moment to realise that he´d just used your first name. You nodded your head. “Over” you whispered and began silently crying again. For another few minutes, the soldier constantly rubbed your feet as fatigue clouded your mind. You felt your body fall forward. Another moment later the soldier caught your falling and guided it onto the seat again. He gently pushed a little further so you lay down on the seats. With the last remains of your strength you felt him wrapping you up in the blanket, a little feeling returning to your feet.

“What´s your name?” You thought he hadn´t heard you because it was a mere whisper that left your lips. Then you saw those eyes again, right in front of your face as a gentle warm hand removed a strand of hair from your forehead. “John Price” he said in a calm tone. “My name is Captain John Price.”

Dull voices reached your ears and slowly you came to. “…do you mean, dead?” “It´s dead, what can I tell you?” “Bastards! They sabotaged the gas tank. There´s a hole in it.”

Holding your head you sat up realising that the car had stopped. The captains head moved towards you. Quickly he moved to your side. “I´m afraid we´re broken down. We need to walk the rest of the way to the evac-point.” He looked at you apologetically. “How are your feet?” His hand moved underneath the blanket and gently stroked your feet, checking their temperature. “I´ll be fine” you said, moving your toes. “They´ve warmed up quite well.” The captain nodded. He only seemed half optimistic.

“Here” he handed you something from his duffle bag. “Your shoes are dry now but your socks are a mess. Wear those. They…might me a bit big.” If the situation hadn’t been any different you would have laughed at the way he said it. As you moved your still aching muscles and pulled on the socks and your shoes you looked at him and asked “How long do we have to walk?” His shoulders sacked for a moment and dread filled your veins. He opened the doors in the back, threw out his duffle bag and jumped out. Turning towards you he held out his hand to help you get out of the car. When your hand moved into his, you were again astounded by its warmth. “I´m afraid it´s quite a walk” he said as you jumped and stood in front of him.

Looking up slightly into his face you were able to make out more in the pale light of dawn. His mutton chops accentuated slight chubby cheeks and a freckle dusted nose. Damn. He was handsome. You were pretty sure that his stature was not only this bulky because of the gear he was wearing. His shoulders stood out in relation to his narrow waist and big thighs. You swallowed hard when you realised that his hand still held yours. “We´ll take one day at a time. You´re safe” he repeated with conviction to make you believe.

“Price.” The massive man you´d seen before called out to him. The captains hand let go of yours and a shiver ran down your back. All three men stood in front of you, ready to leave. “It´s a three day hike. We have to cross a border for them to pick us up otherwise there´s going to be a problem. Officially-” John Price looked at you with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We´re not even here.”

You again nodded and prepared for a long walk. John stepped in front of you for a moment and as to reassure himself that you were ready, tucked the blanket you were still wearing tighter around your shoulders before leaning his head to the side for a moment. Looking up at him you tried to smile reassuringly. He didn’t seem quite convinced but nodded his head once before gesturing you to move in front of him. You followed the other men that waited a bit down the road.

Soon however you made a right and left the deserted road. The sun began to rise and you could see that the man named Ghost lead you towards a mountain range. You gulped. You weren’t nearly as fit as these three men and frankly felt bad for them as they marched on in their armour, holding their weapons and duffle bags. The paths you took gradually became more narrow and more steep. Your feet began to hurt again but not because of the cold this time. You´ve walked quite a way in a tempo that you weren’t used to and a terrain that was less than forgiving.

When you reached some sort of level ground you were panting and sweating. Trying not to make it obvious that you were out of shape compared to your rescuers, you tried to gulp down the pants and discreetly wiped the droplets of sweat from your forehead. To your left and your right, massive walls of stone reached up into the sky, making the path in front of you quite dark although it must have been midday by now. It seemed like Ghost lead you down a huge gash right between the mountain when the path suddenly fell into a steep decline. With an agile elegance that you wouldn’t have guessed coming from a man like him, Ghost began climbing down.

“Soap.” You turned around to the commanding voice and the man with the mohawk turned around right on the edge of the decline. “Switch places with me. I need your eyes in the back.” Soap nodded immediately and walked passed you. He sent you a friendly little smirk just as John Price came to a halt next to you. “You´ll need your hands for this, there´s loose rubble all along this path” he said and took the blanket from your shoulders. The look in his eyes was almost pained. “Sorry” he said as he rolled up the blanket and stuffed it in his bag. “Here, this´ll help for now. Uhm…” he rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a long sleeve, olive green shirt. Holding it out to you he looked quite sheepish. “I´m sorry I…I had to use it before we got to you so…it´s not fresh or anything, but It´ll have to-“ You grabbed it immediately and gave him a grateful smile. “It´ll do just fine, thank you, Captain.” You pulled it over your head immediately, so you didn’t see John blink several times or the curious look Soap shot his Captain.

When you emerged from the too big shirt you nervously looked at the pathway before you. “Don´t worry” John said and gently touched your shoulder. “Ghost will be scouting, I´ll be right in front of you and Soap behind. Nothing´s going to happen.” His raspy voice and still scorching warmth gave you a funny yet very pleasant feeling in your guts. “Okey” you said and took a breath. “Okey.”

So, with the captains huge back in front of you, you started climbing down. You were slow. Many times you needed the help of either John or Soap. Soap gave you a hand in climbing up and John was there to either pull you up or help you jump down, always there to catch you. Every time, you noticed your temperature rise and you felt like it had nothing to do with the workout. The callouses of his hands felt better and more comforting than any soft, warm comforter you´ve ever owned. You really needed to keep it together.

Just when you were close to asking for a break you saw the path opening onto a small platform. With a gulp you saw that it was the edge of a cliff. Several hundred feet it fell down granting you a stunning yet frightening few of a sunset over a dusty, rocky landscape only ever so often interrupted with patches of green. Ghost was standing to your right were the platform thankfully expanded. When Soap landed next to you, he lead you over to were Ghost and Price were unpacking a few items from their bags. “We´ll have to stay here tonight. Giving there´s only two ways onto this platform it´s the safest we can be tonight” Price said as he handed you your blanket. “Safest?” you asked carefully. “I thought…but, they were all dead.” Your voice panicked slightly as the three men exchanged dark looks. “At least one of them must have gotten out” Soap grunted. “Otherwise they wouldn´t have had the time to sabotage out gas tank.”

“If they decided to come after us, we´ll be prepared” Ghost said in a level voice. Your heart was thumping in your chest and an overwhelming feeling of guilt filled your every cell. You hung your head as you carefully sat down, hissing slightly. “Your feet?” John immediately asked, kneeling in front of you. You shook your head not being able to look at him. “Muscle ache” you mumbled. John grunted and moved to hand you a water bottle. “I´m afraid I have to ask you not to drink the whole bottle at once. We´ll have to watch out for another water source.” John again sounded like he was about to punch himself. Maybe because you wouldn’t look at him? Aaaand there went another wave of guilt so you lifted your head and tried to smile. John sighed and his eyes took on a much warmer look. “There´s no need to put on a brave face,___.” Your name on his lips again sent a shiver through your body. “You can sleep. I´ll watch over you.”

Your eyes widened at his phrasing but he didn’t look away from you. Somehow his face seemed so familiar, you could look at him forever and never get enough. “Thank you, Captain” you whispered lamely because your brain wasn’t able to conjure up anything else. To your surprise John began to chuckle for a second and again looked you deeply in the eyes. With the setting sun in his back and the light blitz of his teeth you could almost forget the situation you all were in. He looked maddeningly handsome. The sheen of red in his hair coloured it almost auburn.

Along with his beard and cerulean eyes you were so, so tempted to lean forward but then John spoke again in a low, quiet voice. “John” he said and chuckled again when you looked at him questioningly. “Call me John. No need to use my title.” Your mouth opened slightly. “I can´t possibly-“ He shook his head and gave you a playfully stern look. “I´m afraid I must insist.” With these words he handed you a protein bar and pulled his duffle bag closer. “Use this as a pillow. We can´t make a fire but with the blanket, I think you´ll be alright.” He gave you a small smile that this time actually reached his eyes and you liked that one much, much more before he stood up and walked over to Ghost.

How am I supposed to sleep with his image in my head? You wondered before you tried to make the piece of rock as comfortable as possible. Your concern was futile however. As soon as your body somewhat relaxed it shut down. With your eyes on John´s back you felt them drooping quickly and exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You awoke what it felt like hours later. Not having slept longer than an hour at a time while being imprisoned, the knowledge of three soldier watching over you let your body and mind finally get the rest it needed. Still, when you opened your eyes, your back hurt slightly from the hard ground and your feet still ached from the march. Blinking you realised that the sun wasn´t quite up yet. Only a slight blue fog hung low over the land you were overlooking. Turning your head to the side you saw Ghost´s massive back standing close to the pathway you´d came down just hours before. His weapon in his arms, breathing evenly. You groaned quietly when you sat up and rubbed your neck. Soap was leaning on the stone wall to your right, his head bobbing up and down while he slept. A little further ahead you saw John. He was standing in front of the beginning of what seemed like the pathway down. You gulped. The path was quite broad for what it was but to the left it fell several hundred feet. No railing or security.

You stood and walked over to the Captain. When you were only a few steps away from him he turned his head to the side and watched you as you came to a halt beside him. “Did you sleep at all?” you asked quietly in a whisper. He hummed as he smiled to himself, adjusting his weapon in front of his chest. “ I slept enough.” It was your turn to hum, although yours sounded more disbelieving. John had to bite back a grin. “Are you rested enough? We´ll have to walk quite a way today.” He sounded concerned. You sighed. “I´m sorry” you said. John´s eyes took on an almost pleading look as he shook his head. “I must be such a millstone around your neck. I´m…I´m slow-“

“___” John said your name sternly. You didn’t dare look at him so you stared ahead while tears welled up in your eyes. When John spoke again, his voice had taken on a much gentler tone. “___. We don´t care about your level of fitness or whether you´re fast or not. We came to get you back home safe. That´s our mission. And if it takes us longer or one of us has to carry you the whole way, we don´t care. We care that we found you alive, first an foremost.”

You nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “You´re doing your job” you said and shrugged but somehow that sentence stung like hell. A flash of the same hurt crossed John´s face at the same moment but none of you saw the other. “It´s not just that” he mumbled into his beard without you hearing it.

Then he continued slowly. “We were deployed under the strict command of your father. He might…not show it much but, he´s quite worried about you.” You couldn’t help it. You scoffed pretty loudly and gave John a look that spoke volumes. “I believe he sent you. But you don’t have to say things that just aren’t true to make me feel better. I highly doubt he´s worried about me. He´s more likely to be worried about what this whole situation is doing to his reputation.” John was quiet for a while, then he said in a level voice. “I won´t presume to know what the relationship with your father is like. All I´m saying is that I saw his face during the briefing. It didn’t seem to be the face of a man that didn’t care about his child.”

You felt bad all of a sudden. Your father and you might have grown apart and distant, but did that mean that the love was actually gone? When shit hit the fan would you still be there for your parents? The answer was simple. Yes. And that made you feel even worse. You sniffled again when you thought about how low you´ve thought of your father. His role wasn’t an easy one and he sacrificed a lot for his career. You were still convinced that neglecting his family or becoming a cold and distant person was not the way to go but who were you to judge? You took the easy way out as well.

“Damn” you mumbled and wiped at your eyes. That seemed to only make it worse and the full extent of what had happened to you hit you full force. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” You started crying. In front of the most handsome man you had ever met. Perfect. You didn’t hear him move over your sniffling and your whimpers. All of it seized at once when you felt two huge arms around your shoulders. You were gently being pulled into a massive chest. The gear vest he was wearing was definitely not comfortable but you couldn’t have cared less at this point. You buried your face in it and held onto his waist with both hands, fisting his shirt. “It´s okey” you heard his low vibrato voice above you. “It´s okey. You´re safe. You´re safe” he was saying it as if to reassure himself of the fact that you actually were.

He held you against him for as long as you were still hiccupping and your forehead was pressed to his chest. He didn’t let go even the slightest.

John´s POV

Fuckin´ hell, he thought. If it weren´t for his vest you´d probably hear and feel his heart going ballistic in his chest. He didn’t blame you. How could he? You weren’t military and all that had happened to you must have been the happenings of nightmares. And still you allowed yourself only to break down now. He admired you for that.

He also didn’t blame you for not remembering him. Your meeting had been only the briefest of moments and you hadn’t really looked at him at all that night when you were introduced to him, but John? He couldn’t move his eyes away from you all throughout the festivities. He wasn’t used to nor did he like these functions much either so he very much understood your demeanour, whishing he would be allowed to show the same kind of disinterest in the glitz and glam.

The night had been dull until you were introduced to him. The moment his eyes locked briefly with yours, it felt like his world was turned upside down. He knew your disinterest wasn’t directed at him, he could feel it. John wanted so desperately to talk to you, get to know a bit more about you. He wanted to pick your brain about everything. To him you were electric, thrumming with honesty and simply radiant. So very different from himself.

And then, he´d lost sight of you. He was moving around the ground floor of the house with searching eyes trying to get one more glimpse. Just one more and he´d be happy. But he couldn’t find you again. Not in the living room, not in the tea room, not in the kitchen. His heart heavy with disappointment he bid his goodbye and left. He lay awake that night longer than usual. Your face, your grace and your dress in front of his inner eye for hours, days on end. He hadn’t seen you since then.

When he was called in for a hostage situation he thought he was prepared. The moment his eyes fell upon your father he knew he wasn’t. At first he begged the heavens that it was your brother that had been taken. It was so wrong of him, he knew that, but at least Alexander knew how to react in these situations. And then your name fell and so did his whole heart. Panic and worry flooded his system along with immeasurable anger and determination. He couldn’t let anybody know so he steeled himself and put on his mask. Your father directed some words at him in particular without knowing that John was internally roaring at him for not looking out for you. For just letting you out of his sight.

His tongue was glued to his palate so he only gave a short nod and a grunt before he turned around to collect his best men for the job. He had to collect himself. It wasn’t your fathers fault. No one could have thought that with your brother out there you´d be a high value target. You were a civilian. But then again that was probably why they chose to take you and not your brother. His blood began to boil and he knew if they found you injured or hell forbid, dead, he would wreak havoc among the bastards that dared lay a hand on you.

When they´d found you, alive and quite literally kicking, his chest had expanded with pride, relief and unbelievable affection. He was grateful that he´d had the chance to quench his bloodthirst when they´d started shooting first.

Now, here you were. Safe with them. And even though the danger wasn’t quite over yet, holding you and you letting him, made him feel more human than he´d had in years. He wanted to shield you from everything that scared you, made you uncomfortable or worried. He wanted to be your source of happiness more than anything. You might´ve been crying into his chest but he knew that some of those tears were relief. The feeling of your hands holding onto him almost desperately made his temperature rise and his determination to see you to safety tenfold.

His arms pulled you in a little tighter, hoping you wouldn’t move back. To his delight, you didn’t. On the contrary. You slowly stopped sniffling before you detached your forehead from him and turned your head, pressing the side of your head to his chest, still holding onto him. One of his hands moved on its own accord, just because it felt so natural holding you. He lay it gently on top of your head, moving his fingers over your hair. He heard you sigh and it was the most beautiful melody he´d ever heard.

As soon as you were safe and sound, he´d make sure….sure that what? He saw you again? He´d ask you out? His insides twisted painfully when he thought about it all. How was this ever supposed to work? You were a civilian. He was a Captain in the military. There were people, civilians in his everyday life that didn’t even know his actual name. Another life had never been in the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t imagine another, could he? The moment they´d all jump out of the heli and you´d fall into your family´s arms, would that be the last time he ever saw you? His heart hurt at that. It hurt.

______´s POV

His warmth. His incredible warmth, the gentleness of his hand on the top of your head and his manly, earthy scent made you feel safer than you´d had in at least a decade. A feeling of content overcame you and you wondered why it was that you could feel something like attraction and excitement in a situation like this. Maybe you shouldn’t care, maybe you should just go with it and let yourself be swapped away for once. You had a feeling that with John, you´d actually make a great choice this time. He was a man of his word, one with the ability to calm and excite you at the same time.

You didn’t want to let go. He was cozy, strong and easily made you feel like everything would be okey. Your heart was doing somersaults when you decided to get just a tad closer. Your hands that were fisted in his shirt by his waist wandered around it now. His chest slightly expanded with a sigh when you settled your arms around his middle comfortably. Something touched the top of your head and you felt like crying all of a sudden. With a feeling of monstrous affection you realised that the Captain had rested his cheek on your head. Breathing in sync you tried to calm your racing pulse and the rushing in your ears.

You stood there for another few moments before John lifted his head. You moved yours as well to look at him. Both your arms around each other not moving an inch. John was smiling but his eyes held and expression you couldn’t quite place. He looked almost….sad. When you looked at him questioningly he schooled his expression, shook his head slightly and smiled a bit wider. Ever so gently he moved one hand and softly touched your cheek. You were just about to explode, forgetting everything. A spell. It had to be a spell he´d cast on you.

“The moment you need a break, you tell me” he whispered. “No feeling bad, a´right?” The rumble in his chest vibrated through you. The corner of your mouth twitched as you nodded once gently. “Thank you” John let go of you, again with that sadness in his eyes and you were quite sure that this time you reflected that same expression.

The day was long and quiet. You made your way down the mountain and going downward turned out to be even more a strain on your muscles than upward. Ghost and John were still in front of you, Soap behind. At one point he stuck up a conversation with you. It turns out the Scotsman was incredibly funny and quite capable to distract your mind from the pain in your muscles. Still, your vision more often than not stuck to John´s back while you got distracted.

Of course Soap noticed and bumped his elbow into your shoulder playfully. “Ya kno´, I´ve never seen the Captain so focused when it comes to a hostage situation” he said with a grin. You looked at him confused. “Usually we take everything seriously of course but a hostage is usually easier to get back than let´s say…a missile.” He shrugged, still grinning. “I-I guess?” you said slowly. Soap´s gaze landed on the Captain as well before he spoke again. “On our way here, he was as focused as he would be on missions way more dangerous than this. If I didn’t know any better, I´d say he was…rigid. Nervous” he gave you a sideways look. “He´s never, never nervous.”

It couldn’t be helped, you whole body flooded with hope. It made you lightheaded. Or maybe it was dehydration, you didn’t know yet. Soap sighed dramatically and gave your already speeding heart another kickstart. “He even bobbed his knee. Never seen him do that either. You sure you don’t know each other from somewhere?” Humming you raked your brain. Surely you wouldn’t forget a face like his. That ruggedly handsome face, the stern but laid back attitude. His whole being didn’t really seem to fit into any of the functions you would usually be introduced to people. But then again he was a Captain. And aside from what his rank was and that he was gentle, caring and frankly fucking hot, you didn’t know much about the man. It could be possible.

“I-I really don’t know” you answered truthfully. “It could be possible we´ve been introduced but…” you sighed and felt your face heat up. Soap chuckled next to you with a light “Aha”.

The closer you got to the base of the mountain, the hotter it got. At this point you couldn´t even remember ever having cold feet. Sweat was rolling down your back and temples and the light-headedness slowly became a problem. With the still quite steep cliff next to everyone, it worried you. When you turned what seemed like the last corner, you lifted your head from the path in front of you to look at John and Ghost. They were waiting a few meters ahead but they seemed to sway side to side. You reached out your hand to the right to stabilise yourself as your vision began to swim and nausea rose in your guts. Faintly you heard John call out your name and the next moment Soaps arm was around you. Your legs gave out and you sunk to the ground slowly. Not a second later John was kneeling at your side touching your face worriedly. His blue eyes open wide.

“Damn it, sweetheart. You promised” he said not caring about who heard him. “Ghost! Water.” Ghost handed him a full bottle and without hesitating he opened it and poured half of it down the back of your neck and over your head. It felt incredible and you let out a huge sigh. Next, John took your chin into his calloused fingers and lifted your face towards him. “Open” he grumbled. If you weren’t still slightly delirious it would have turned you on like nobodies business how he said it. You opened your mouth obediently while John held the bottle to your lips. Taking big gulps you felt the nausea fade little by little. Johns gaze was fixed on your lips while addressing the other two men.

“We´ll take a break here. Move into the shade over there. Soap, try to reach Gaz and Nick and see where they are. We´re about to reach the evac point early tomorrow morning.” The moment you were done drinking, John released the breath he was holding quietly and carefully wiped away a stray droplet of water from your chin. The gesture so fond your mouth twitched into a smile.

He moved slightly so you could look at him better and gave you a stern look. Before being able to apologise however he spoke. “Why didn’t you ask for a break? Dehydration isn't something you just walk off.” Again his hand moved to the side of your face and cradled it, his eyes swimming with worry. “I know. I´m sorry. I was about to ask…it overcame me quicker than I thought.”

Without thinking about it you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. You heard him take in a deep breath as he moved his thumb gently over your cheek. “Alright. We´ll take a break here. Come on, let´s get you into the shade.” He leaned over and pulled you upright. Just like the night they rescued you, he practically carried you over to where Ghost and Soap sat before letting you down, sitting next to you. “Sleep a little if you´re tired. We´ve almost got it.” You felt your limbs relax and groaned slightly. Before you knew it, John guided your drooping head onto his shoulder where it rested comfortably as you slept.

The next time you opened your eyes it was already dark. You jolted upright which made your head pound and looked around wildly. “___, calm down. It´s alright.” John was still next to you handing you some more water. “It´s dark already” you groaned. He nodded and gestured for you to drink. “We´re walking the rest of the way tonight. It´s only another four hours. Can you make it?” Dragging in air after you sat the bottle down you looked at him stubbornly. “Yes” you said simply. Looking around you realised you were alone. “Where are Ghost and Soap?”

“We spotted a stream further down. They are down there filling the water bottles. They´ll be waiting for us.” Your face fell again. “We´ve lost so much time” you whispered and leaned back into the stone. John shook his head. His face partially illuminated by the bright moon. “I´d much rather lose time than risk your wellbeing on the last stretch” he said earnestly. You looked at him again. Really looked at him. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper in this light, the edges of his face sharper and the light streaks of grey in his beard standing out more prominently. Neither of you spoke as a kind of understanding dawned in your eyes. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noticed your face getting closer and closer.

John´s POV

It was almost painful to look at the natural beauty the moonlight emphasized on your face. His breath caught in his lungs, his heart a single clump of worry and affection. He wanted to touch your face again, let his fingers feel the soft skin he feared he´d never get to touch again. Unknowingly his head moved forwards as well until your foreheads met and his nose slightly bumped yours. You closed your eyes and John swore for as long as he´d live, he´d remember this feeling. He´d treasure it in his heart until it gave out. He felt your hand on his and took it immediately. Squeezing it tightly he blew all caution to the wind and lifted it to his lips. When he brushed your knuckles he felt you take in a quick breath and saw you open your eyes again. Glittering and solely trained on him he waited with baited breath.

“You know me. Don´t you?” you whispered to him. He grasped your hand tighter again and nodded against your forehead. “Your parents´ spring party two years ago” he whispered. “You wore a pale blue summer dress” he took a deep breath and continued in a playful accusatory tone. “And you ignored me.”

Hearing you giggle made his whole world spin slightly faster. “I ignored everyone at that party” you said gently, your eyes boring into his. “Kind of whish I hadn´t now.” John´s heart nearly gave out at your confession. “I can´t believe I don´t remember you” you whined and again closed your eyes. “Will you stop putting yourself down, darling?” he asked and because he just couldn’t help himself, kissed the back of your hand again.

_____´s POV

The endearment he used made your whole body quiver. What was it about this man? It took every ounce of willpower in you not to move into him and close the gap.

“I´m just saying,” you said and slightly detached from him to look at him more earnestly. “If I´d paid more attention-“ “It doesn´t matter now,___” John said and squeezed your hand. “Besides” he bunched his eyebrows together. “I almost didn’t go to the thing. Those fancy gatherings…they´re not for me.” He smiled at you. The lines around his eyes again so prominent. You reached out and gently let your fingers glide over them. “Yeah” you said with a smile of your own. “I know the feeling.”

A few minutes later, John and you made your way down the rest of the way. To make sure you were okey, he didn’t let go of your hand until the dark shadows of his two team mates appeared. “___” Soap said quietly as you came into view. “You a´right?” You nodded and smiled at him. “I´m good, Soap. Thanks”

Without another word you started you started the last few hours of your journey. You followed Soap while John took his place behind you as you marched on. The moon was just bright enough to let you see where you were going but not much else. Which was ideal since you couldn’t use flashlights. Now that you reached level ground the last few hours went by without a hitch for you.

Eventually you heard John sigh behind you. “That´s it, we just crossed the border. If we were being followed, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to attack here.” Relief flooded your system and your pace picked up.  Another half hour later and you could see a huge dark mass in the distance. Something was moving around it. John put his fingers to his ear. “Gaz, we´re 5 minutes out. Ready the heli.”

A few moments later the massive corpus of a helicopter came into view. It sat disguised by the dark and some rogue boulders far off the road. You noticed two other men waiting by the heli. A strapping young fellow jogged over to you. “Glad to see you all in one piece, Captain” he said as he got closer. “Gaz” John said and gave the man a hefty clap on the shoulder. “Well done.” The man named Gaz looked at you with a proud expression. “You too Ms.___. Your parents will be happy to see you unharmed.” You nodded weakly, the end of this nightmare making your legs shake.

John walked over to a second man that was casually leaning against the helicopter, you following him. “Nick” he said with a grateful tone. “Thanks for helping us out. Again.” The men shook hands in a way that you were sure would have crushed not only your entire hand but your forearm as well. “Anytime, Captain” the deep, dark voice of Nick answered with a thick Russian accent.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. You didn’t quite know what happened but all five men at the same time turned their heads towards the horizon behind the casually strewn boulders. Within seconds, Nick jumped into the open helicopter, Soap and Ghost ran over to the boulders, weapons drawn and aiming them at the horizon and John whirled you around to face him. “I need you to do exactly as I tell you.” His tone of voice changing dramatically with no room for disobedience. Fear paralysed you, so you just nodded. He shook his head. “Words.”

“Yes, I will.”

With a roar the helicopter came to life and John´s face was illuminated. An ice bold bucket emptied its contents into your innards. John had a look of fear in his eyes. His face was stone hard, his jaw set but his eyes wouldn’t leave yours. And then, in the distance you saw what they´d heard way before you did. Vehicles. Making their way quickly over to your location. Your eyes snapped back to John´s but before you could say anything, the hands that were holding your shoulders pulled you in as he crashed his lips onto yours.

Shock, warmth and even more panic rushed through your veins as the rotators of the helicopter began to turn faster and faster. John´s lips were insistent for as long as they were on yours. The moment he let go, he looked at you with a guilt. Over the gradually louder becoming sounds of the heli he almost had to yell at you. Regret and something determined in his eyes.

“Two years. Two years and I finally get to tell you that I love you!”

One more time he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you. You, in all the panic and happiness that you felt kissed him back with all your might.

That was until he let go, looked over your head at Gaz and roared “Get her home, Seargent!” Confusion and hurt were the things you felt most when two strong arms grabbed you from behind and all you saw was John´s retreating back. Readying his weapon and joining Soap and Ghost.

“No! No, what are you doing?! Gaz, let go!! Wait…JOHN!!” Gaz, without even having to struggle hauled you up into the helicopter. You were about to jump out again but the determined soldier held your fighting body back with one arm before the other one hammered against the door to the cockpit three times. “Take-off, Nick!” he yelled into the radio.

“NO! NO TAKE-OFF!” you screamed as loud as you could as tears ran down your face. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? THEY´RE STILL DOWN THERE!! YOU CAN´T LEAVE THEM HERE!!” The moment the helicopter left the ground the first few bullets soared through the air, at least five of them hitting it in rapid motions. Gaz pushed you down quickly, laying on top of you until you were high enough in the air and turning direction.

You couldn’t even hear what you were screaming anymore. All you heard were shots from both sides, scattering tires and then…an ear shattering explosion. Heat and the glowing of fire in the distance illuminating your face. It couldn’t be. It was not supposed to end this way!

“JOOOOOOOOOHN!!!”

___________________________________________________________

Sometime into the flight home, your body gave up on staying conscious. Your vocal cords hurting, your chest burning and no more tears to shed, you slipped under.

You only came to when the helicopter touched ground again and the flashing lights of an ambulance illuminated your face. It all happened very quickly. You were hauled onto a stretcher, lights were shone into your eyes and irritation flooded your body. So many voices…one in particular. “___” you heard the deep rumble of your father. He sounded relieved, almost choked up. “___, darling, can you hear me?” You opened your eyes and the memories came flooding back. Adrenalin surged through your body and with surprising strength you grasped onto your fathers wrist. “It´s okey, darling. It´s okey. You´re home. You´re safe” your father said and took your hand. You shook your head trying to speak.

“Stop” your father bellowed to the paramedics that were pushing your stretcher, leaning over you. “What is it, love?” You had some difficulty finding your voice. “John” you whispered. “Ghost, Soap. They´re still…They´re still…” tears ran down the side of your face and something dawned on your fathers face. Still holding your hand reassuringly he yelled for Gaz who came running over, saluting your father.

“Seargent” your father said in an irritated tone. “What happened?” Gaz took a deep breath. “Ambush, Sir. The Captain gave the order to leave them. We were only able to escape because they stayed.” Your father looked at your devastated, pleading face and then over to the Helicopter. Propped up as you were, you saw Nick standing next to it, lighting a cigarette. Your fathers eyebrows narrowed. “Do I even want to know who that is?” he asked sternly. Again, Gaz saluted. “With all due respect, Sir. No, you do not.” Your father nodded once and again looked at you, his expression softening.

“Seargent Garrick” he addressed Gaz who still stood there with an intact salute. “I sent four of my best men on this mission” His eyes narrowed as he gritted out his next sentence. “I expect four of them back!” Gaz swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

Seemingly satisfied with this answer your father jerked his head towards the helicopter and Gaz took off running. You saw how Nick stubbed out his cigarette and jumped back inside. A few moments later, they were off again. A little spark of hope settled in your aching chest. Your father leaned over you again, gently stroking your cheek. “Now” he said in a voice you hadn´t heard from him since you were a small child. “Let´s get you taken care of. Your mother is beside herself with worry.”

It was all bitter sweet. When you arrived at the hospital and wheeled into a fancy one patient only room, you mother jumped from the chair she was sitting in with a wail you´d never heard from her and threw herself onto you. Clawing at your dirty clothes and kissing your dirt smudged forehead you suddenly realised how old she looked. No makeup, hair haphazardly thrown into a bun on top of her head, she looked ages older and somehow more human than she had in a long, long time. Not being able to hold back anymore, you clung to her like a child and cried into her chest.

When your father entered the room all he saw was his wife and daughter in the same bed, cuddling and sleeping soundly. He couldn’t help the smile on his face, took a picture with his phone and sent it to his son. “Call me now” his message read underneath.

The next time you woke up, your mother was gone but in the chair beside your bed sat your father. When you stirred, he immediately perked up and took your hand. “Hey, sweety. How´re you feeling?” he said in a low voice. You smiled slightly. “Thirsty” you rasped. He nodded and got up to pour you a glass of water while you pushed the button on your bed to sit up. You took the glass from him and downed it quickly. “They´ve put an IV in you but I guess more water can´t possibly hurt” he said when he took the glass back from you. You nodded, staring at the IV in your hand.

So many things rushed through your head all at once and you didn’t know how to even begin. Apparently neither did your father. The silence stretched but then, your father spoke in a small voice that you´d never heard from him.

“I´m so sorry, sweetheart. This is all my fault.”

Hot tears welled in your eyes again as you shook your head. “It´s not” you said weakly but he shook his head. “The only reason you were taken is me and my position. I should have looked out for you! I´m so sorry.” You took his hand and squeezed it.

“I didn’t exactly let you” you said sniffling. “I basically ran away, remember?” He nodded, looking at your crumbled sheets. “I always thought my position and the hard work I put behind it would somehow make your and your brothers life easier.” He sighed. “You know, with the reputation and the benefits that came with it. I wanted to open all doors for you.” You nodded. “Along the way however, I didn’t even realise that I closed some of these doors again myself. Because they wouldn’t fit into said reputation.” He again shook his head in disbelieve. “How foolish.”

“Please look at me” you said. Your fathers eyes met yours and something raw catapulted itself out of your chest when you saw his eyes. “Please don’t ever think that neither Alexander nor I don’t know what you´ve sacrificed. We just couldn’t understand it when we got older. You became…distant. And Mum…downright obsessed with perfection. It was hard, especially for Alexander to understand what was asked of us. And, I´m so sorry to say but in my opinion, Alec took the blow.” Your father nodded and looked more ashamed than you´d ever seen him. “He took the blow so I could be myself. So I could rebel. He took on the work, I took on the disappointment.”

“Neither of you have ever been a disappointment” came a small voice from the door. Turning your head you saw your mother walking over to you with tears in her eyes. “It all got out of hand so quickly. Your father climbing the ranks, the social responsibility that came with it. The constant questions and comparisons” she wiped at her eyes. “At one point we thought what society expected of our children, we should expect from out children. We were wrong. So wrong.” She shook her head, her mouth in a straight line. “I think none of us ever forgot the love we have for one another but…priorities shifted and we all got frustrated at some point and we all showed that. All except Alec, of course. He always just tried to…keep it all together” a sob escaped her and she shook her head vehemently.

“No more, I say” she said resolutely and looked at your father challengingly, who nodded with wide eyes, staring at her like he´d just seen her for the first time. “No more of this nonsense. I love throwing parties. But not when the people attending are trying to tell me what to expect from my family. You-” she looked at your father, “have worked yourself to the bone and it paid off. You deserve to rest on your laurels.”

Your father smiled at her fondly. “And frankly” she inhaled a deep breath while you stared at her with an open mouth. “I don’t give a damn if Bernadett What´sHerFace-worthy doesn’t approve of it. She can stick it up her-“

“OKEY, Mum. I think we get it” you said loudly. Little red flecks of rage had formed on your mothers face before she took one look at your dumbfounded face and started giggling. It felt like something huge lifted itself off of your chest. The next moment you dissolved into tears while your parents either kissed your temple or hand. “I wish Alec was here” you hiccupped a few moments later.

“He´ll be here within the next hour” your father said with a look at his watch. You looked at him confused. “I-I thought he was deployed.”

“He was” your mother said with a careful tone. “Oh, darling. You were so exhausted. You-You were out for a while.” Your heart beat faster. “How long?” you asked.

“Two whole days.”

Alexander arrived about an hour later like your father had said. Throwing down his bag he hurried over to you and hugged you close for several minutes. His black hair seemed dull and greasy and his eyes were sunken in. He looked like he hadn’t slept in several days. “You look awful” you said in a light tone. Chuckling he leaned back and nodded. “I know, I know.” He heaved a sigh through his nose. “I haven’t slept much. I was bloody worried about you. Just sitting somewhere, not being able to help. I was so glad when Dad said he sent Captain Price. That man-“ he stopped talking when you started whimpering. “___?” he asked carefully.

“There was an ambush at the evac point” you stuttered out through your sobs. “Gaz and Nick brought me back but John” you took a shaking breath. “John and the others stayed to make sure we could escape.” Alex looked at you and tried to console you. “Oh,___, I´m so sorry you had to see that. The Captain surely didn’t make this decision lightly. But trust me, he´s one of the most capable men I´ve ever-“ “There was an explosion” you whispered and looked at your brother with wet eyes. His face fell and there was nothing more he could say. Instead he took you into his arms again and let you cry into his shoulder.

“By the way” Alexander eventually said to try and take your mind off of the Captain and his fate. “What the heck did you say to Dad? He wrote me a message to call him and didn’t use any exclamation marks.” You rubbed at your eyes and looked at his face. “Told him the hard truth. How it was growing up with him and Mum. We´ve had some…conversations.” Alexander nodded and smiled brightly at you. “It was about time they heard it.” He looked grateful. “Thank you for doing the hard part. I can´t remember the last time Dad pulled me in for a hug.” You shook your head. “You´ve don’t the hard part for years. It was nothing.” Alexander gave you a stern look, almost scolding.

“I don’t want to be that person,___, but I´m not sure you realise. You almost died a few days back. The chances of getting you back were slimmer than you might imagine.”

A cold feeling ran down your back and again you were reminded of the heroes that saved your life. And quite possible sacrificed theirs to do so. Two years and I finally get to tell you that I love you.  

“They can´t be gone” you said with a think voice. “He can´t be gone” You shook your head in defiance. Your phrasing let your brother perk up and sincerely he hoped, that he didn’t give Captain Price too much credit.  

You were released quite quickly after you woke up. Other than being exhausted and your feet having seen better days, your body was fine. Your parents brought you home with them for a few days so you wouldn’t be alone. It was a little strange to be in your spotless childhood home that hadn’t exactly invoked the best of feelings in you for the last couple of years.

Now however, your family sat at the ginormous kitchen island together, drinking wine, you mother cooking her favourite Italian dish and no one caring about whether a stray spaghetti fell onto the marble countertop or you father laughed so hard at something Alec said that he spilled wine everywhere before being able to set his glass down.

You looked around the faces of the people you loved. Noticing how your brother started to look like your father more and more and for one, that thought didn’t make you sad or mad. You saw your mother smiling and giggling like she used to and not looking like she constantly smelled something bad. Why hadn’t this been possible before you almost lost your life.

“Promise me something, all of you” you said and looked at all of them. Their attention was on you instantly. “Please let´s not forget that this,” you gestured around your family and yourself. “Could have been us all along. We can´t get back to old patterns.” You looked at your mother who smiled with wet eyes. “I´m not saying I particularly enjoyed being abducted but-“ you had to grin a little. “It showed us all very clearly what was important in the end. Really important. I won´t run anymore.” Pointing at you father you said “You will stop being distant and show us that you love us, damnit.” Your father nodded his head strongly and whispered a ´promise´.

“You” you pointed at your brother. “You will stop trying to be Dad all the time. You´ve already accomplished so much! Slow down.” Alexander gave you a mock salute. “And you” you moved your head towards your mother. “Please for the love of all that is holy, take that stick out of your arse and be your own person. Have your own mind and opinions.” Your mother looked at you proudly before rounding the kitchen island and hugging you close to her chest, kissing your head several times.

That night you lay in bed, body not hurting much anymore, slightly drunk on wine and happiness that your family found each other again. And yet, deep, deep hurt settled in your guts. You had your family back and lost the man you were falling in love with. You knew it the moment he said it. His image and touch never left your mind and you worried and cried each night, wondering if he was alive. If Gaz and Nick had reached him, Ghost and Soap. It had almost been a week since the moment he´d kissed you and you were nowhere near ready to accept that his demise was an option. It scared you more than anything. You decided to ask your father to get some inside information on the matter in the morning.

A knock on your door woke you up. “___” your mothers voice came through the door before it opened and she stuck her head in. “___, darling, please get up. Breakfast is ready.” She was grinning ear to ear and somehow that made you nervous. “What´s going on?” you asked as you got out of bed. “Nothing” you mother sang before she moved away from the door. “Hurry, though” she added before walking down the stairs. You shook your head before getting dressed, checking on your hair and brushing your teeth.

Halfway down the stairs you heard the voices of several men and halted immediately. Your heart was jumping around your ribcage as you tried to make out what they were saying. You heard a Scottish lilt and immediately started thundering down the last steps and ran into the living room. Almost running into the couch you scattered to a halt as soon as you saw the bulking mass of Ghost standing at the bay window and Soap, who had been talking to your brother before you came in. Now, he regarded you with a brilliant smirk and a wink.

Before you could do much else, you sprinted forward and hugged Soap quickly, tears rolling quietly down your cheeks. “Aww, no need for tears, now” he said and patted your back affectionately. “You´re okey” you whispered as you let go of him and regarded both soldiers with a tearful laugh. “You´re both alright” you wiped at your eyes. Soap chuckled. “Yep.”

But that would mean…You turned and scanned the room. Through the open French doors you could see into the kitchen but there was only your mother. Your brother, Soap and Ghost were all in the living room with you. Soap seemed to know who you were looking for and pointed his eyes over to the door that lead into your fathers office.

Said door opened right then and there. Your father walked out with a satisfied look on his face. Behind him, the man that had been hunting your good and bad dreams emerged. Time seemed to stand still.

You were only used to seeing him in his gear, tactical vest and all. This version of him wore washed out jeans, boots, a black V-neck sweater and a navy blue beanie. He´d never looked more attractive. His eyes found yours immediately and his first action was to take his beanie off his head before he took several long strides towards you. His arms held you the moment your knees gave out and you started sobbing into his strong chest. Finally being able to fully feel his body underneath your palms you weren’t that surprised to see that the man was actually built like a tank.

Your arms wound around his waist, palms spread across his back while you shook in his arms. “Shhh” he whispered into your hair. “It´s okey, darling. I´m here.” Your sobs became momentarily more intense before slowly dying down. Now, just sniffling, your face was still resting on one of his pecks, you felt his heartbeat strong and quick against your skin and it calmed you down like nothing else. You lifted your head and looked at him. It felt like seeing him again after years of yearning and missing him. Oh, did you miss him.

His eyes were slightly wet and swimming with happiness as he took your face in his hands. “I was so worried about you, are you broken?” he asked in a quiet voice and looked you up and down. You huffed incredulously. “Me, John? Me? You were the one we left there. Being shot at…Are you alright?” He nodded his head gently and leaned his forehead against yours again. It was a feeling like coming home. “I had to make sure you got out of there. That was my first priority. I´m sorry I put you through all that.”

Your hands moved from fisting his sweater, to gently palming his chest and finally snaking your arms around his neck. He smiled lovingly at you and pulled you closer by your waist. “Listen” he said hesitantly before he rushed out “I know this is your parents house and I really don’t want to piss off your father but damn it, my love, I missed you so much I-“

“Kiss me already, you big oaf” you said with a smile before finally pulling him down towards you.

His lips connected with yours in a much gentler way than the first time. Everything seemed better. His lips softer, the air sweeter, the day brighter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but his breath on your lips, his beard slightly scratching your skin and his earthy scent in your nose. Playfully he nipped on your lower lip before you giggled and opened your mouth.

Groaning he moved a hand into your hair and let his tongue glide over yours once, slowly, sensually before moving back slightly and panting.

“Fucking hell, baby. There´ll be time for that. I´ll make time for that but maybe not here, yeah?” Your head was spinning but you nodded deliriously and with a dopey smile on your face. It felt like walking on clouds being in his arms. He hugged you close again and you melded into him for what felt like hours. One of his big hands cradled your head, the other one gently raking over your back. John´s nose buried in your hair.

From the corner of your eye you could see your family and friends sending you smiles and some thumbs up. Grinning again you detached from John to tell him what´s been burning on your tongue for days.

“I'm falling for you” you whispered.

John´s eyes went wide and his chest expanded quickly. “You are?” he asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You nodded and stroked his cheek. “I am. I was so scared. I saw the explosion and I thought-I thought-” John looked at you apologetically. “You saw it?” he asked and rubbed your back soothingly. “I´m sorry, darling. That was Soap actually. He´s pretty good at making things go ´KA-BOOM´. Saved our arses.” He kissed your forehead. “We got out. We´re alright. I´m here and you´re with me.” Happily you nodded your head and looked at him with all the love and admiration you felt.

“My hero” you said with a grin. John pulled a face before kissing your lips once more.

“No hero, baby. Just me. Just yours.”

____________________________________________________-

Thank you very much for reading such a long oneshot :D You guys are amazing. Please consider interacting with this post. What helps most is feedback. So comments and reblogs are hugely apreciated.

Thank you all very much <3

[llflorence]

✅ It's finished.

The Blood of Bucephalus 

Dreamling, Historical AU (Alexander the Great/Hephaestion), Horses, King!Dream, General!Hob, Epic Love inspired by @murkycrush art.

RatedE, Graphic depictions of violence

The colossal animal behind the King swayed back and forth, throwing its head in the air and snorting its dominance. It remained close, however; didn’t fight against its collar. Wild and ill-mannered, untamed and uncouth, it was the absolute opposite of the man Hob most often called ‘Sire,’ but also called something else.

“She’ll live, you stubborn fool, you,” the King scolded. One knee fell between Hob’s legs to rest on the ground. That warm hand returned to the side of Hob’s face.

It was a gentler, softer man who looked into Hob’s eyes, cupped his cheek and thumbed the divot in his bearded chin. He’d never looked lovelier, not even in Hob’s dreams.

“Hello, Morpheus,” Hob said, voice shaking.

The King smiled. Leaned so very close. Exhaled. Whispered.

“Hello, dearest Hob.”

Read on AO3

[whencyclopedia]

The Sixteenth-Century Massacre of the Waldensians of Mérindol

As the Reformation developed in France in the first half of the 16th century, there were several episodes of severe repression which preceded the Wars of Religion (1562-1598). These were times of great hardship and oppression against those who embraced Protestant teachings. One notable chapter of persecution took place in the Luberon region of France against the Waldensians (Vaudois), the spiritual descendants of Pierre Waldo, which led to the Mérindol massacre in 1545.

Early Persecution

Early in the 12th century, Pierre Waldo (l. 1140–1218) took a vow of poverty, confirmed by Pope Alexander III (served 1159–1181), and became the leader of a sect known as the Waldensians. Waldo was among the forerunners of the Reformation who sought to purify and reform the Catholic Church from within through a return to apostolic teaching. Initially, he did not seek separation from the Catholic Church or the establishment of a new sect. In time, partly due to their emphasis on preaching the gospel in the local language, Waldo and his followers were banned from preaching by Pope Lucius III (served 1181–1185). Waldo was excommunicated at the Council of Verona in 1184, and Waldensian teaching was condemned at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215.

Exiled from their city of Lyon, the Waldensians spread to the valleys of Dauphiné and the Alps of Piedmont, to Languedoc, and to Spain. The Inquisition failed to stamp them out and many of the exiles settled in the Luberon region in southern France. The Waldensians sought to live in peace in the sheltered valleys of the Luberon where they drained the swamps and cultivated lands belonging to Italian lords. It is said that people inhabiting the plains feared the Waldensians who had a reputation as sorcerers. At that time, they had spiritual leaders called uncles (barbes) in their language who had authority over the people. The barbes were considered wise and venerable, and mysterious powers were attributed to them. Their brothers in Dauphiné had previously suffered persecution and many had fled to Luberon for safety.

The archbishop of Aix feared that this concentration of heretics might embrace the Reformation. Around 1530, the inquisitor Jean de Roma was sent to investigate the Waldensians where he committed atrocities and enriched himself at their expense. As a result of this initial violence, two Waldensians, Maurel and Masson, crossed the frontiers to Alsace and Switzerland to confer with Reformed leaders in Geneva. They were persuaded of the need to reform their beliefs, to definitively break with superstitious practices, and were sent back with letters for their brothers in Mérindol. Only Maurel arrived home safely; Masson was arrested and burned alive at Dijon. A decisive meeting took place in Piedmont in 1532 with Waldensian leadership from different regions. William Farel (l. 1489–1565), over six days, convinced them to preserve only two sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist, without the mystical sense given by the Catholic Church. Farel welcomed them to the Reformed faith with enthusiasm and called them “the elder sons of the Reformation.”

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[blueiscoool]

Sunken Temples of Aphrodite and Amun Found off Egyptian Coast

New discoveries off Egyptian coast reveal ‘treasures and secrets

New “treasures and secrets” have been revealed at the site of a sunken temple off Egypt’s Mediterranean coast, the European Institute for Underwater Archaeology (IEASM) announced in a news release Tuesday.

An underwater archaeological team, led by French marine archaeologist Franck Goddio, has made further discoveries at the site of a temple to god Amun in the ancient port city of Thonis-Heracleion in the Bay of Aboukir, the institute said.

The team investigated the city’s south canal, where huge blocks of stone from the ancient temple collapsed “during a cataclysmic event dated to the mid-second century BC,” the institute said.

The temple to god Amun was where pharaohs came “to receive the titles of their power as universal kings from the supreme god of the ancient Egyptian pantheon,” it said.

“Precious objects belonging to the temple treasury have been unearthed, such as silver ritual instruments, gold jewelry and fragile alabaster containers for perfumes or unguents,” IEASM said. “They bear witness to the wealth of this sanctuary and the piety of the former inhabitants of the port city.”

The archaeological excavations, conducted jointly by Goddio’s team and the Department of Underwater Archaeology of the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities of Egypt, revealed underground structures “supported by very well-preserved wooden posts and beams dating from the 5th century BC,” the institute said.

“It is extremely moving to discover such delicate objects, which survived intact despite the violence and magnitude of the cataclysm,” said Goddio, who is president of IEASM and director of excavations.

The discoveries were made possible thanks to the development and use of new geophysical prospecting technologies that can detect cavities and objects “buried under layers of clay several meters thick,” the institute said.

Relics from Greek presence, too

East of the Amun temple, a Greek sanctuary devoted to Aphrodite was discovered containing bronze and ceramic objects.

“This illustrates that Greeks who were allowed to trade and settle in the city during the time of the Pharaohs of the Saïte dynasty (664 - 525 BC) had their sanctuaries to their own gods,” the institute said.

The discoveries of Greek weapons also reveal the presence of Greek mercenaries in the area, IEASM said. “They were defending the access to the Kingdom at the mouth of the Canopic Branch of the Nile. This branch was the largest and the best navigable one in antiquity.”

The remains of Thonis-Heracleion are now located under the sea, 7 kilometers (4.3 miles) from the present coast of Egypt, IEASM said. The city was for centuries Egypt’s largest port on the Mediterranean before the founding of Alexandria by Alexander the Great in 331 BC.

“Rising sea levels and earthquakes followed by tidal waves triggering land liquefaction events, caused a 110 square kilometer portion of the Nile delta to totally disappear under the sea, taking with it the city of Thonis-Heracleion,” the institute said.

The city was discovered by the IEASM in 2000.

By Radina Gigova.

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Chapter IV.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier and as the Winter Soldier in general, flashbacks and dreams in italics like this, lots of feels, reader's being a little anxious, some stalking lol, a brief sex scene (p in v), very bad written smut, implied domestic violence (not from Bucky), murder mentioned, past lives, past 40'sreader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <;<<

You were fired, that wasn’t a surprise.

Mia Alexander didn’t sue you for every penny you had, that was shocking.

But getting a call from Pepper Potts herself, that was the real main event of your whole life.

She asked you to go and pay her a visit at her office in the Avengers tower, like if that didn’t send you in a spiral of bliss and terror, what will you wear? What could a woman like her want to talk with someone like you? Even if Sergeant Barnes –Bucky, you reminded yourself- told her what had happened in the gala, she might be mad at you.

Your head begun to think in the possibilities all the way there, considering that this was the reason why Mia didn’t sued you, maybe Pepper Potts would do it.

When you finally arrived to the tower your stomach was in knots, not even your lucky outfit made you feel better but like every other day in your life you sucked it up and walked to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here to see Miss Potts?” you said, making it sound more like a question and the receptionist stared at your vintage midi skirt and blouse like he understood your hesitation. You offered him a smile before telling him your name so he looked for it in the screen in front of him and gave you a visitant pass.

“Third floor, follow the hall, last door in your right” he said and then went back to his screen.

“Oh, ok, thanks” your neck was hot with embarrassment when you reached the elevators and just became more evident when you got in and someone else did too.

“Good morning, third floor too?” Scott Lang, THE Scott Lang, asked you and you could only nod like an idiot. He did a double take on your face and smiled “hey, I know you; you are the girl who throws champagne at evil bosses.”

You were turning purple, it was a sure thing.

“What?” it was all you said.

“Yeah, the other night you did an incredible stunt, Sam told us everything” so Captain America knew too, great. Scott must saw something in your expression because his changed “is ok, seriously, when we hear what she did no one blamed you for it, I was sure Hope was about to kick her ass and don’t let me start with Yelena” your head was spinning “I think it was brave and more subtle than ruining your boss company and driving a car to his pool”

That earned a strangled laugh from you.

“Are you going to see Miss Potts too, Mr. Lang?” you asked when the elevator doors opened again and you walked with him.

“Actually I’m going to see Maria Hill but I’ll see you later” he smiled at you with such honesty that you relaxed for the first time in all day, making your way to your destiny you noticed the front desk for Miss Potts assistant was empty and you were just on time which was as good as being late.

Without not knowing what to do, you knocked at her door.

“Come in”.

Taking a deep breath, you did it squaring your shoulders and trying to tell yourself everything would be fine.

“Good morning, Miss Potts, I hope is ok I called, there was no one and-“

“It’s completely fine” she said gesturing for you to sit in front of her and went to address your formally even if contradicted her next words “Please call me Pepper, everyone does.

There was something about her, a professionalism that was inspiring but also made her approachable and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Only if you call me by my first name too”

“It’s what you like to be called? Because Sam told me about your friend calling you Ace when he went with Sergeant Barnes to the hospital, I think it fits you” at her words it was impossible not to blush again; first of all because of the mention of Bucky, the recurrent thought of your head the last days and then because of the nickname Harper gave you.

“I mean, yeah, my friends call me that” it was an exaggeration, you only had one friend.

“Maybe we should stick to it, between me and you Pepper is not even my name but I think is perfect for me” there was something like nostalgia in her eyes but she didn’t let you think too much about it “and I like that my employees feel comfortable when we talk.”

“Excuse me, what?” it was really embarrassing how you couldn’t form a decent sentence in front of her.

“I would like you to be my assistant, Ace” she said and then your life really changed.

Bucky still could tasted you, the other you, the one who reincarnated and was born in a rich Italian family in 1950, the one that somehow found him when he was The Winter Soldier.

He wasn’t supposed to fuck you in your fiancée’s car, well ex fiancée, you couldn’t marry a dead asshole. His mind couldn’t know why he needed you that bad but his body did, Bucky was sure it was the conditioning what made him be such a caveman with you but the truth was, you were his mirror back then.

You wanted him since Lucas bragged about his connections to Hydra and how they lend him their best asset to protect the arsenal his father’s company will provided for them. Your whole attention was in the silent assassin who looked at you like you were everything he could ever want.

Lucas wasn’t great with you, his little bird, that’s why he snapped his neck and took you away, sometimes his nightmares will let him breath and remember you surrounding him, riding his cock, high in pleasure, telling him that you loved him before you both were found and he was dragged back to Hell.

As a small blessing, he didn’t remembered that while dreaming, Bucky was too lost on you, in the salty taste of your skin against his tongue when he traced the valley of your naked breasts with it.

“Give me one more, little bird” he ordered, thrusting in and out of you with an incredible skill considering the small space “drench my cock again.”

His english was perfect with you, no sign of hesitation, not remembering he wasn’t supposed to speak it so naturally when it wasn’t necessary; the Brooklyn accent showing up without effort.

“I- I can’t” you sobbed, drunk on him, your body asking for more.

“You will” his metal hand let go your neck to play with your clit, the cold metal sending you to your climax once again, taking him with you.

The softness of your skin against his was the last thing he remembered before waking up.

Harper called you when you got back home and screamed when you tell her the news; she made a joke about coming to work with you so she could see Sam Wilson every day, making you feel better. Since you convinced your parents go and have the retirement they deserved, Harper was the only one you had and she was more than what you deserved but sometimes you wished for more, for someone to go home to.

Like a fool, your mind went to Sergeant Barnes; you needed to thank him for what he did for you.

If not for him, you would have be ruined but how could someone put that in a thank you card?

Maybe you could bake something for him.

Bucky likes apple pie.

The thought came out of nowhere with an intense hint of pain between your eyebrows, what was that?

Maybe a nap would help, your new job waited for you and this was the chance you dreamed of, ruining it wasn’t an option.

When Bucky went to check on you that night, you were already sleeping in your couch, making very difficult for him to let you there. Of course he could break in and carry you to your room without waking you up but it would make you feel unsafe.

It was hard for him to go back to a civilian life, or the closest he could have, his actions needed to be careful, especially around you. It was also torture he remembered almost everything and you nothing at all, that he couldn’t tell you about that night on your porch in 1943 or your breakfast with him, Steve and the Howlies when your unit was sent to Europe and destiny brought you both together again, he couldn't tell you about that time in Italy.

Bucky wanted you to know everything but you will never believe him, in the best case you'd believe it was a joke or a proof of him losing his mind but you could also believe him dangerous –which he was- and get away from him where Bucky would not be able protect you.

Sited there in your fire escape, he started to memorize every part of you he could see through the darkness, if that was all he could have from you, he would make it be enough.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick

Next chapter >>>

Hello lovelies! Sorry for bringing this short chapter, I tried to start going through their past lives but witout giving so much details so this don't gets very confusing, if it still is please tell me so I can work on it, what de you think? I'll love to read about it in the comments!

Love, Lily.

[sforzesco]

@cutesilyo's tags: #reblogging this bc i never tried to see the ghosts of ancient rome in ph history before but now i cant get it out of my head#like this specifically fucks me up a bit because#yknow how ph is always seen as like. asian but not too asian? a blend of east and west cultures?#and how we're like that SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE spain always made sure their cultural influence came first over using us for economic gain?#in a complete reversal of how other asian nations — especially other southeast asian nations were colonized?#and how this has translated to the observation that#time and time again our historymakers have resorted to western thought and philosophy for guidance and inspiration?#im just thinking specifically of like. ph revolutionaries who modeled statehood from contemporary liberal politics in western europe#and patterned revolutions and independence from south america#i think thats something that gets forgotten a lot in ph history tbh: that among the spanish colonies we were one of the last#to declare independence and separate from mother spain#and that is 300 years of spanish influence baby. 300 years of european thought at the height of when europe was fighting over#who gets to be the best imperialist and earn themselves tbe weight of the roman empire's legacy#imagine dragging around old blood and crumbled marble in the darkened shadows of a house that isnt even yours#thats how i imagine the weight of rome bears down from spain's shoulders to the philippines.

yes YES!! I think so much about how the Battle of Tirad Pass was compared to Leonidas at Thermopylae and how horrifying it is to valorise what was objectively just a catastrophic failure of leadership and cowardice in Aguinaldo’s part, like, two burials happened there.

the men who were slaughtered, and a second burial that appropriated the language of the classical history and it’s associated glory to cover it up. maybe a third burial of self, because those kinds of comparisons were made to claim for the Philippines the same kind of glory that the Europeans used to justify their violence, and it’s just. sad.

Tirad Pass, like Bataan, is a bad shrine for Filipinos, because there we feel absolved of the faults that lead to such disasters as Tirad and Bataan, or for that matter, Pinaglabanan and Caloocan. […] And because we think heroism can cover up for our botches, we are always very eager indeed to acclaim our defeats as ‘moral victories,’ Tirad was such a 'victory’; Bataan was such a 'victory.’ Ours is a most mysterious progress because we make it on disasters. In shambles will we acclaim our next 'moral victory’?

The wrong thing to do about to do about Tirad is invoke Leonidas and Thermopylae, because we would be invoking to our hurt another people fatally flawed with the inability to unite and organize. Besides, the parallel with Leonidas, king of the Spartans, is neither exact nor flattering: It was not Aguinaldo who fell at Tirad.

[…] But so that Aguinaldo can flee in futile flight, 60 men are sent to pay with their lives for the monstrous botch he has made of the Revolution.

-A Question of Heroes, Nick Joaquin

When you talk about Philippino history and then Roman history, as a Venezuelan it's been making me think about our history and like, I've always thought there's a lot of similarity there but now it's like...its so similar. Your house is haunted too! I always think about how we won wars against the colonizers but their ghosts are still there, and they still sit at the dinner table with us every night. Your work is so cool, I feel like I can extend that train of thought further through time. I've never been interested in Rome but now I kinda am!

Venezuela 🤝the Philippines: being haunted houses (colonized by Spain)

also that is so SO real, the ghosts really are with us!! THEY ARE AT!!! OUR DINNER TABLES!!!!! ngl, once you start noticing it, it's impossible to NOT notice how they've crawled into the spaces and just. stayed.

ancient Rome is so weird for it too, because if you asked me about it, I wouldn't immediately put ancient Rome down for haunting the Philippines, except for the fact that like Catholicism, it's fucking everywhere. it's gotten in the cracks and spaces between the walls. On the stage of theater, Nadres' Hanggang dito na lamang at maraming salamat: the main character is named after Julius Caesar

Closet Queeries, J. Niel C. Garcia

and so many people are named after figures from ancient Rome (I know enough Mark Anthonys I've run out of differentiating nicknames for everyone) that it rivals Catholic saints for naming conventions. neo classical architecture had it's moment in the sun in Manila, our ilustrados brought some of it back when they returned from Spain to call for reform, and then independence, and I am struggling to hold back a plague-infection comparison about that. like, something else crept in with Spain, and like Spain's ghosts, it Did Not Leave.

but on the other hand! there's a long, centuries long, tradition of using the events of the Fall of the Republic to discourse, discuss, to vent or call for action, current events. it provides a interlocutor when something hurts too much to say directly, it provides a stage to explore a tragedy that echoes in our own histories, it gives a script to voice an ideal that a government might otherwise put down. how many centuries have we used Brutus (and Cassius) to rail against Tyranny, and how many centuries with equal enthusiasm have people used Julius Caesar as a martyr to justify the rights of Kings and Empires? these things are equally as important (in a different way) from the ancient events that actually transpired. (this specific topic, of Brutus & the Assassination of Caesar and it's literary revivals in history, are the focus of The Brutus Revival, Manfredi Piccolomini)

and the cores of these things conflict with each other, but in that friction, it's like there's an invitation to sit down and think for a minute. to look back at history and feel it's immediacy in the present.

ANYWAY I got carried away, but I am glad!! that my stuff could make Rome interesting!!! I hope that you find new doors of thoughts to explore!!!!!!!

[aphroditelovesu]

Ok, so In your response to my last spiel, you mentioned that Alexander will have a zero tolerance policy towards anything that may harm Reader and her the twins, including other wives.

It does make me wonder how Alexander would react to one of the wives (aka Roxanna 👀👀👀) trying to kill our girl. I keep picturing this scenario where it's a banquet, feast or some sort of get together with Alexander, Reader, Roxanna and maybe some of the generals. Long story short, Roxanna hands Reader a cup with a 'special' drink (ie she says promotes health, will help with the pregnancy etc). Reader, being as smart as she is, and knowing Roxanna's history, is automatically suspicious. To see if it's safe she either asks Alexander to 'taste' if for her or insists that Roxanna take the first sip. In either case, it results in Roxanna frantically slapping the cup out of Reader's hand before either she or her husband gets poisoned. At that point, everyone has noticed the commotion, and have realized that Roxanna has just tried to poison the Queen.

My question to you is this: what does Alexander do next? Lets assume reader is pregnant just to make thing extra spicy.

Since requests are open again, perhaps you could do it as a reaction blurb? I'll leave that up to you though. I'm just curious as to what you think would happen next.

Thanks, and hope you feel better ❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this was longer than I thought and I don't know if it's good, I liked it, but let me know your opinion, anon! Forgive me for any mistakes, love you! ❤️

❝tw: attempted murder, mention of poison, domestic violence (??), physical punishment and perhaps torture.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝ 📜word count: 1,246.

It was supposed to be a happy and fun dinner.

Needless to say, that's not what happened.

You were sitting next to Alexander, being shown off as his beloved Queen and heavily pregnant. Everyone was hoping for an male heir and was happy for you, everyone except Roxanna who looked at you as if she wanted to stab you or, in this case, stab you in the stomach.

That scared the shit out of you.

You were already familiar with her story, about what she had done to Stateira and Parysatis, and you were afraid that she might try to do something to you and the baby.

You wouldn't let anything happen, though. Although you weren't excited about the pregnancy news at first, you warmed up to the idea and began to look forward to holding your baby in your arms. And you'd be damned if you let anyone try to take that away from you.

''Are you alright?'' Alexander leaned over and whispered in your ear. You looked at him and smiled, it was still strange calling him your husband, but you were getting used to it.

You gave a weak nod to his question.

Alexander frowned and placed his hands on your swollen belly. It was just a few months until the birth and he was so excited. He did want an heir, but he couldn't help but want to have a girl.

A little princess to love and spoil.

''We need to start choosing names.'' He joked, trying to ease your obvious tension, although he didn't know what was making you tense. Yet.

''I already gave you some choices.''

Alexander grimaced, ''Yes, you did and they are all horrible. What kind of name is Augustus?''

You laughed loudly, attracting attention. Augustus, yes, you had given him that option as a joke. Obviously you weren't going to name your child after the first Roman emperor, but it was fun to play with your husband about historical things.

''It's just a common name where I come from.''

''Hm...'' He half-closed his eyes and you touched his face gently, caressing him. Alexander purred and leaned into your hand.

This earned you a look of compassion and a furious, jealous look from Roxanna. You didn't notice and neither did Alexander, both too busy in your affection for each other.

''I love you.'' He murmured, looking into your eyes intensely.

You smiled at him, ''I love you too.''

''Let's make a toast!'' Nearchus' amused voice sounded and everyone turned to the admiral.

''A toast?'' Cassander asked with a loud voice looking into his cup of wine.

Nearchus laughed loudly and slapped his friend on the back, ''Yes. In honor of our beloved Queen, (Y/N).''

Nearchus didn't notice Roxanna's withering look at him. But you did and the pure hatred you saw in those dark eyes gave you goosebumps.

You knew that look and you knew nothing good was coming.

Everyone raised their cups, even your husband's second wife. You were the only one drinking water, even Hephaestion was drinking wine, and he was loose and happy. And that made you happy, you liked him and he was one of his closest friends and you hated seeing how haggard he seemed lately.

''I dedicate this toast in the name of our beloved (Y/N). Our Queen, sometimes soldier and friend.'' Everyone laughed as they remembered what you had done in the Indian Campaign, ''And the child she carries in her womb. May it come healthy and, regardless of gender, we will love and protect this child. To (Y/N) and the baby!''

''To (Y/N) and the baby!'' Everyone repeated and drank the wine in your honor, you laughed, feeling loved and took a sip of water.

You took a piece of bread and bit into it, satisfying your hunger. Roxanna looked at you and smiled. She took a clay jug and poured the thick, dark liquid into a cup and handed it to you.

You raised your eyebrows in doubt as you picked up the cup.

''It's for you. My doctor told me that it helps with pregnancy and helps the health of the baby and the mother.'' Roxanna explained, biting into a piece of bread.

You mentally scoffed. She didn't think you were that stupid, did she? It was insulting that she thought she could poison you in such a blatant way.

You decided to act quickly, ''Why don't you take a sip first?''

She furrowed her dark eyebrows, ''Excuse me?''

''It's a custom among my people that the person who gave you a cup must taste it first.'' You explained, handing her the cup.

Roxanna looked at the cup in your hands with hatred.

''Take it'' You encouraged her, ''or is there some reason why you don't want to drink it?''

Alexander turned his eyes to you and Roxanna, before he could ask what was going on, Roxanna slapped your hand, making you drop the strange liquid on the table.

The noisy room fell silent in a matter of seconds as Alexander stood up from his chair and fixed his eyes on Roxanna.

''What do you think you're doing?'' Alexander's voice was so cold, so lethal that you stiffened. He ignored you, focusing entirely on his second wife.

Hephaestion, who was sitting on Alexander's left side, stood up and touched the thick liquid on the table. He grimaced as the liquid stuck to his finger.

''That's...'' Perdiccas started to speak but couldn't finish.

''Poison?'' Ptolemy finished for his friend.

''How dare you?!'' Cassander growled, also standing up and glaring furiously at Roxanna. He never liked her, he wasn't oblivious to the hateful looks that Alexander's barbaric wife sent to you, to his friend. And now she tried to poison you.

Cleitus was still sitting, watching everything with a stony expression, but his hand was on the dagger stuck in his chiton. He was prepared to act, one word from you and Roxanna would be eliminated from the world.

Alexander still didn't take his eyes off Roxanna, but he spoke to you, ''Go to our room. I'll be there in a few minutes.''

You wisely decided not to disobey.

You stood up carefully and quickly looked around, watching all your friends, your husband, stare at Roxanna who looked terrified. You should have felt bad for her, but you didn't.

Not when she threatened the life of your unborn baby.

Once you were out of sight, Alexander addressed one of the guards stationed at the entrance to the hall, ''Take the whip.''

Roxanna's small body shook in fear at her husband's words. Her shaking legs gave way and she fell to her knees on the floor, feeling hot tears fall onto the dress she was wearing.

Alexander did not feel sorry. And neither do the others. She had brought this on herself.

Actions have consequences and punishments must be applied. And Alexander would not tolerate anyone threatening your life or that of his unborn child.

Alexander felt satisfaction fill his body as the guard brought out the whip and positioned himself behind a desperate Roxanna's back. He watched with satisfaction as the whip hit her sensitive skin and felt satisfaction when he heard her screams of pain.

Roxanna was to blame for her own pain and the scars that were forever marked on her skin were true proof of that.

[fallowhearth]

Nanaya-ila’i and her daughter were just two of the thousands upon thousands of victims of the Assyrian Empire, most of whose names have been lost over the centuries. The Assyrian Empire was just one of the many aggressive polities that has produced victims by the thousands over the past several millennia: The Romans did no better in Gaul or Dacia. Alexander the Great razed Thebes on his way to far more expansive conquests. The crusaders who took Jerusalem in 1099 waded ankle-deep in blood, Timur Lenk left behind towers of skulls marking his conquests. Pizarro slaughtered the Inca by the score. The Nazis left behind millions of corpses. As long as grasping rulers and would-be warlords have sought to expand their power, common people have suffered the consequences, just like Nanaya-ila’i and her daughter.

But those ambitious politicians and conquerors didn’t do the dirty work themselves. They had underlings, generals and officers and common soldiers and bureaucrats, to enforce their will. Those underlings participated in acts that, by any reasonable standard of moral behavior, range from the merely distasteful to completely abhorrent. It would be comforting to think that those who murdered children, burned houses with the residents inside, committed acts of sexual violence, and enslaved the survivors were uniquely evil. It would be easier to believe that these participants had somehow forfeited their humanity somewhere along their path to organized violence. We would prefer to fool ourselves into thinking they formed a special class of malefactors separate from the farmers and shopkeepers and laborers who made up their societies as a whole. These ideas would be wrong. The agents of empire and conquest were not a marked group of sadists; they fit quite comfortably within the mainstream of the societies that produced them and benefited from their actions.

Patrick Wyman, Perspectives: Past, Present, and Future Substack, 2024

[sweetvamp03]

Where you really belong

Word count: 2881

Sam Winchester x Female reader-no smut-light violence-fluff

Summary: You and Sam haven't seen eachother in months, when suddenly the Winchester boys show up unexpectedly. You miss eachother but don't know if you can work out your issues.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unlocking your front door, you waved at the car still on the road, waiting for you to get inside. You stepped in, flicking the light on and throwing your jacket and purse on the entry bench. You made your way to the kitchen to scavenge for something to snack on. Your boyfriend Oliver had taken you out to dinner at some fancy restaurant where the portions were almost as insane as the the food they offered. You politely ate what you ordered and prayed that he wouldn't want to come in so you could pig out. You were surprised to see the overhead light on, as you were usually pretty anal about the electricity bill. Turning the corner you were greeted by two rather large men, sitting at your dining table. Eyes glancing from one to the other, you blurted out, "Dean, Sam, what are you doing here?". The tension between you and Sam was thick in the air, Dean was well aware of it. Trying to focus mainly on the shorter one, you tilted your head, silently repeating your first question.

"Just saying hi, checking up on our favourite girl" Dean finally responded with a smile on his face, that was slowly fading when he looked at sam, obviously very uncomfortable.

"Oh well it's good to see you! Both of you." You meant it, your heart hadn't stopped racing since you saw Sam standing there, it took everything in you not to wrap him in a tight hug.

"You were out late! Not tracking any vamps are you?"

"No not in months dean. I was just out at dinner- with a friend." your eyes quickly darted to Sam and back, trying to gauge his reaction.

Raising his eyebrows and grinning ear to ear he exclamed, "Oh is she coming in? I love to meet any friends of yours."

Rolling your eyes you rebuttled "Yeah no. As much as I'd love for you to sleep with more of my friends, they had to get home."

Heading to the fridge you offered the boys some drinks, only one of them accepted. You had some beers left over from a party you had a few weeks ago, you knew if you were going to get through this you were going to have to be inhebreated.

"Okay so what's the real reason you guys are here?"

"Oh y'know, a demon threatened sammy here, if he didn't help him, he'd kill you. Don't freak out though, you're not dead so that's a good sign."

Taking a large swig out of your bottle you swallowed and let out a sigh. "Oh great."

Just then your phone started to ring, you fished it out of your dress pocket and glanced at the screen. Oliver. Of course. You knew that if you didn't answer he would just call back or worse, come check on you.

Picking up the call, you glided out of the room so your conversation hopefully wasn't overheard. "Hey Oli"

"Hey babe, just making sure you're okay, I'm sorry again that I couldn't stay over, apparently my boss thinks holding meetings at 5am is a fun way to boost our spirits."

"Heh yeah, it's all good, I have some stuff I need to do tonight anyway."

"I'll see you for lunch tomorrow though right? at Alexanders?"

Alexanders was your guys' go to restaurant, he took you there on your first date. "Yeah sure, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you baby" your heart ached, not because it was happy but because that wasn't the person you wanted to be telling you that.

"Love you too, babe." you choked out.

You hung up and hurried back into the kitchen, where you saw both boys silently looking in your direction. Apparently the walls in this little house were thinner than you had thought. Your lips parted, letting out an almost inaudible sigh, looking apologetically towards Sam. Your head started stiring, trying to rember what you had said, to understand just how bad it actually was. The words "Love you babe" echoed through your thoughts. Understandably Sam started out of the room, looking more upset than mad. Your eyes followed him out, then went right back to Dean, he probably hated you for hurting his brother like that.

"Dean I'm so sorry, I-"

"I know, don't mind Sammy he's just been a drama queen these last couple of months. We arn't here because of him, just to make sure you're okay."

Part of you felt dissapointed, but understood. "Well, thanks."

Sam rushed back into the room, with a burning question. "Hey uh do your neighbors usually stare out their blinds into your living room?"

"Uh not that i've noticed." you rushed to the window near the front door to take a peek.

"Yeah didn't think so" Sam grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the blinds. "Where do you keep your guns?"

"Under my bed" you replied.

"Show me."

You lead Sam into your bedroom, getting on all fours and reaching under your bedframe, and pulling out a few different cases. You sit up while opening the cases, you look back at Sam, it was so quiet as if he had left. You noticed his eyes trailing over the photo on your nightstand of you and Oliver. You turned back pretending to not have noticed. You kept the photo there because you thought you should, if you saw him every night when you fell asleep and every morning when you woke up, maybe your feeling would start to feel real. All of your friends have told you that he's perfect for you, and you know it too. So you gave it everything you had to try and make it work. Unfortunatley every moment you spent with him, you were thinking of someone else. It was't fair to him, you knew that, but you didn't know what to do at this point. You knew you'd never be over Sam, but you had to move on, trying to fake it til you make it.

You finally decided to fill the silence with something you had to get off your chest. "I don't love him you know." you confided in him, standing up.

"You don't have to lie to me Y/N, I heard you on the phone." Sam tried to let out a sarcastic chuckle, but you could tell how crushed he was.

"Doesn't mean I meant it. I haven't meant it since I said it to you." you lowered your head, embarrased to be oversharing with him like this. You used to tell him everything but things were different now.

"Then why did you leave? Why haven't you talked to me since that night?" he blurted out while grabbing your arm, pulling you closer to him.

"You know why Sam. It just doesn't work, you and me." You felt like you could hear your heart actually crack.

He slid his hand down your arm and intertwined it with yours. Slowly moving his other hand up to your jaw, tracing his thumb along your cheek. You were only inches away from eachother now, finding it hard to steady your breathing. You slowly leaned in to have your lips meet his, and he reciprocated in slow, passionate, loving, kisses. You pulled away abruptly.

"No, Sam. I can't do this."

"Why not?"

"I've spent all these months trying to forget you, trying to fake love with someone else so that maybe someday it won't hurt as bad as it does right now. And it has gotten me nowhere. This is only going to set me back further and I'll never be able to move on." you rambled on not knowing what you were going to say next.

"But why do you have to get over me, why can't we be together? I love you Y/N, and you've made it clear you still have feelings for me, so please just tell me what happened to us." he grabbed your hand back, pulling it up to his mouth to plant a light kiss on the back.

A tear started to form in the inner corner of your eye, you couldn't let yourself go like this, not right now while you were under some sort of supernatural attack. "We should get take the guns out to dean." you said while wiping away the tear that was trying to make its way down your face.

Dean was waiting impatiently wondering where the two of you had been. "Guys c'mon, nows not the time to get all touchy feely, if you didn't know before, theres kind of a bunch of demons watching us."

"Yeah sorry the case was jammed and we couldn't open it" you replied, realizing that Dean had noticed the red in your eyes from the almost tears.

"But they haven't done anything? Haven't made a move at all?" Sam questioned curiously.

"Nope. I don't know what kind of orders they got but they don't really seem to be in attack mode."

You didn't really feel like fighting if it wasn't necessary, so you headed to the couch.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm not gonna stand around all night waiting for them to pounce, go ahead and get comfortable." you laughed.

Sam sauntered towards the couch as you had moments before, taking a seat on the cushion right next to you. You noticed Dean had just taken a seat in the chair by the window, staying on look out. Your phone lightly pinged in your pocket, you grabbed it out and saw a text from Oliver reading "Goodnight baby, see you tomorrow and sleep well <3". You tried to turn it off as quickly as possible but were unsuccessful. Oliver sent a goodnight text every night, it was very sweet but it annoyed you a little bit.

"Not gonna reply?" Sam inquired.

"I already said goodnight earlier." you barked back at him.

He lowered his voice to a hushed tone so it would be difficult for Dean to hear everything. "Why are you here? With him? You don't love him, if you did truly love him I'd leave it alone. I just want what will make you happy. That's all I've ever wanted, you know that Y/N."

You couldn't talk here, not with Dean so close. You abrubtly stood up and grabbed Sam by the hand dragging him back into the kitchen.

Once you were defintely out of earshot you opened up to him, not wanting to, but needing to.

"Sam, that night, with the Wendigo, you almost died."

"I almost die like once a week, and I actually die quite often too." he let out a pained chuckle.

"You almost died because of me. You wouldn't have if you weren't trying to protect me, I can't be the reason you die Sam, I just can't. If I ever lost you I don't think I could cope. I thought if I left and tried to distance myself that it would be better for the both of us."

"Y/N, I know. I felt that way every time you left the bunker. But what good are we if we stay apart? We are just as hurt and destroyed as we would be if one of us lost eachother. I'll do anything for you, that inlcudes dying. But I know how hard that would hit you, so I try my very best to stay alive. For you. Every morning I get up and I remember I need to make it through the day because you are still out there, and one day you could come back to me."

The tears you tried so hard to battle earlier were coming back, flooding this time. Sam grabbed you up, his arms wrapped around your waist, while yours framed his neck. Burying your head into his shoulder you couldn't hold it in any longer. "I love you Sam" it came out muffled as your mouth was pressed to his red flannel.

"I love you too baby." You could feel tears hitting the top of your head, they were slowly running down his face and your heart pounded with love. Something you hadn't felt in awhile.

A loud creak behind you made you jump, luckily it was just dean. You were still wrapped in Sam's arms and Dean looked relieved. "Hey guys, uh sorry to interrupt what was probably a very heartwarming moment, but I think they are making some sort of move-" He turned to walk back to the front of the house then paused and returned to meet your faces. "But not the kind of move that was about to happen here" he smirked.

As he bolted out of the room you threw a bag of chips that was on the counter beside you, towards him. Something light enough that wouldn't hurt, but that would still get the message across. "Ow" he mumbled.

Sam let out a laugh, he loved it when you stood up for yourself. Looking back into his puppy dog eyes, you silently agreed to let go of eachother and prepare for the fight that was upcoming.

Guns in hand, you waited by the front door, when quickly an old man and woman burst through it, eyes black as coal. You and Sam fired shots, slowing them down a bit, while Dean was hiding behind a cabinet. When opportunity struck, he lept out and stabbed the woman in the chest, quickly removing the knife covered in blood, and driving it into the mans back. There was silence.

"Uh was that it?" you said flatly.

"I have no idea. Those were the only two I saw watching us. Seems weird that they didn't have more on babysitting duty." Dean was looking around waiting for another attack from a different angle. You all waited and waited but nothing came. After 10 minutes, you sat down on the couch, if the demons were going to try and kill you, they better do it soon because you arn't the most patient girl in the world.

"Maybe we just got lucky?" Sam sounded confused at his own explanation.

Just then, the back window was completely shattered and before you knew it, the demon was inside and making his way towards Sam.

"Sam!" You exclaimed as you jumped up. Horror in your eyes. You looked over to Dean who was knocked unconcious from the blow.

You grabbed the demon knife out of Deans limp hand and stuck it in the bloody demon faster than anything you've ever done before. He fell to the ground and you stepped over him to make your way towards the long haired man you loved so dearly. "Baby are you alright?" you whispered to him.

"Yeah don't worry sweetheart I'm okay, are you okay?" he was looking you over.

"I'm fine, see this is why I left." you both let out a little laugh as he kissed your forehead.

Just then Dean gained conciousness and looked at the two of you, "Alright we did it!" sticking out a thumbs up.

Both you and Sam rolled your eyes once again and went back to looking at eachother. You knew you weren't staying here any longer, so you tried to remember where you stashed your suitcase. The two of you let Dean take care of the bodies while you packed up your sad little life here in Sioux Falls. All you really needed was Sam; and maybe your clothes. You left everything else behind. Except a little box you kept on the top shelf of your closet. Inside, pictures and memories from you and Sam, even though you tried to move on, you couldn't just forget him completly, you had to keep some things. He came up behind you to take a peek inside to see what you had in there, his eyes softened as he wrapped his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your hair, taking in your scent, something he truly missed. He would never admit it, but he had one of his sweaters that you used to wear around the bunker, he hadn't washed it since you left because he didn't want to forget how you smelled.

"What am I going to tell Oliver?" you took a deep breath, feeling horrible that you were doing this to him. But not so horrible since Sam's thick arms were holding you tight.

"Just tell him, it's not you, it's me"

You laughed, "Oh yeah that's clever, nobody has ever used that one before."

"Just tell him you're going back to where you really belong."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

The engine of the impala sounded as Dean pulled into the driveway, "I'll take your bags out, I'll give you a moment" Sam offered.

"No thanks, I don't need any more moments here. I want to spend all my moments where I really belong from now on." You smiled up at him.

He took your hand, and you each grabbed a bag, heading out the door without looking back. You knew that your life was just getting started now, it felt stalled before, but this is where you were truly meant to be. With the WInchester brothers, saving people, hunting things. And most importantly, being with the only man you ever truly loved.

[zielenna]

Always historicize?

For my work, the new historicism does a lot to explain how and why historical fiction, narratives of the historical past, have taken over the contemporary literary canon and the English department of the last four or five decades. A very simple way to put it is if your favorite tool is a hammer, then you're going to canonize a bunch of nails. And so if we love using literature to teach us about the historical past, we love that literature can be placed back in that past, then a new generation of novelists writing stories about canonical moments in history or amending our sense of American history is precisely what we want to put at the center of literary study. And I think that's exactly what's happened. But you can see by the end of the book, I get impatient with this idea that the best way to make an argument about the present in literary fiction is by way of historical analogy. If you want to write about mass incarceration, you couch it in the kind of historical parallel of the period of enslavement. If you want to write about anti-Asian hatred in the present, then you write a novel about Japanese-American incarceration during World War II. … these analogizing claims, I think, have run out of steam. As I argue at the end of the book, knowledge of the past is a necessary but ultimately insufficient condition for making change in the present. So I think it's less that we need to write about the present, but rather I think we've maybe overestimated what learning about the past can do. And you see this also in contemporary political discourse when we say this or that political actor on the right is going to be judged harshly by history. It's a kind of like speculative historical fiction where we project ourselves into the future and we say, what if I was reading a historical novel about the 2020s and this would be the villain? Injustice in the present or violence in the present or tragedy in the present stands on its own. We don't need to imagine the historical novel about ourselves in order to recognize that fact. But there are writers who are trying to play both sides of this, and they're writing about events of the very recent past. The quote I always laugh about is Zadie Smith saying when they sunk the Lusitania, was the great Lusitania novel eagerly anticipated? But it's almost like as soon as something happens in the present there's this question of what will the great x novel look like. We saw this in the early days of covid people saying we're already working on our covid novels or we're dreading the covid novels to come and now a few years out we're actually starting to see this first wave.

Alexander Manshel, author of Writing Backwards. Historical Fiction and the Reshaping of the American Canon on American Vandal.

[midnightsapphire]

Longing

Masterlist ~ Badlands Masterlist 

Previous || Next ||

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤 : In which Jake Sully was always the object of your desire from the moment you laid eyes on him, but when he gets thrusted head-first into the Avatar program in replacement of his deceased twin, you fight your hardest for him to desperately see you the way you see him.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 : pining, slow-burn, beginning human!jake x human!reader, eventual smut, violence, heavy angst, requited unrequited pining, jake is an ass sometimes, reader gets emotional, everyone is emotional tbh, mentions of jake and neytiri, oblivious jake, canon divergent (may add more)

- No Post Schedule -

vv special thank you to @darksxder my love for dealing with my madness writing this 😩

—-

Jake was never the most studious, finding more excitement in ditching his own studies to chase whatever thrill he could find. He found himself falling behind in his academics, not that he minded much, allowing his twin brother, Tommy to receive the glory, the praise, the achievement in being the smarter, better twin. Oftentimes, Tommy would find himself filling into Jake’s absent spots when he could, picking up the slack for the both of them as Jake galavanted with his pointless cheap thrills. 

“I wish I had picked Tommy to be my partner instead.” Jake heard next to him, tearing his eyes from his poorly doodled drawing of Alexander The Great to glance at the girl next to him, hair loosely tied at the back of her head, eyebrows furrowed in disgust as she poked and prodded at the lifeless body of the frog with her scalpel. Jake knew, her words held no malice as he smirked in response, swiping his finger along the slimy amphibian’s body to poke at the girl’s cheek with. She shrieked in horror, earning a harsh scolding from their teacher as (Y/N) shoved at his shoulder. 

“Not cool, Sully.” She hissed, elbowing his arm as he laughed to himself, wiping his finger on the paper towels that littered the surface of their shared desk as he leaned his elbows along the edge, his eyes fluttering over her face as she held back the dry heaving from having to do all the work while he relaxed around. 

“I said we could visit the cool recom facility but you were the one who insisted we show up.”

“We ditched last week-”

“And the week before that, and before that.” Jake droned on, earning another swat to his arm as he burst into laughter. He was never the most studious, but he made an effort for her. Tried his best to one up Tommy by raising his hand quicker- albeit giving the wrong answer every time, but he was still first. 

It made everything worth it listening to her melodious giggle being muffled behind her hands. 

“It makes me wonder if you’ll ever graduate, Jake.”

“Even if I don’t, I’ll be cheering the loudest for you and ‘lil Tommy.” 

And cheer he did, letting out several hoots and hollers from his spot at the bleachers when (Y/N)’s name was called, the girl giving him a bright smile as she waved her folded diploma in the air. Jake sighed fondly to himself, earning a nudge from Tommy as they stood clad in their graduation cap and gowns. 

“You have to tell her eventually. All those heart eyes you send each other are starting to make me sick.” Tommy teased his twin as Jake never ceased to tear his eyes from her, watching as she excitedly made her way to her seat a few rows away from them both, only turning around to shoot Jake a playful wink as she mouthed to him. 

‘I’m so proud of you.’

—

Jake never did learn. 

Opting to use his physique to join the marines, much to (Y/N)’s dismay as she followed alongside Tommy’s footsteps, jumping headfirst back into their academics and earning their PhD’s in almost no time. But never did (Y/N) cease to leave Jake behind, dragging him along to her study sessions, being the shoulder she needed when she stressed over her assignments that she neglected to finish before they piled too high for her. 

It was a surprise to both him and Tommy, who had accompanied him in his little farewell, when he heard a screeching voice yell out Jake’s name. He barely had enough time to turn around before he was barreled into a tackling hug, thanking his own stability to steady the both of them as his arms wrapped around (Y/N)’s figure. 

She had panted heavily, chest heaving to meet his own as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. “You can’t leave.” She whispered, nudging the skin of his neck with her nose as her hands held an iron grip on the back of his shirt. It had broken his heart, ripping it at the seams as he kissed the side of her head affectionately. 

“I would never.. Not without saying goodbye to my favorite girl.” He whispered against her hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to memorize the shape of her body, the scent of her floral perfume that he would tease when she “sprayed so much he could taste it”, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears. 

“I better be your only girl.” (Y/N) whispered back, their voices hushed, as if only meant for each other’s ears despite the ringing of the planes behind them and the chartered voices of other loved ones departing from their families. Jake only let out a breathless laugh as he dared to glance at his twin brother, who only shot him a knowing look as Jake solemnly pulled away to cradle (Y/N)’s face in his hands. 

“Sweetheart.” Jake cooed, grazing the calloused pads of his thumbs against the apples of her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers as he heaved out a sigh. The words merely died at the tip of his tongue as he reeled back to lay a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“I promise you. I’ll come back and your face better be the first I see.” He said earnestly, his heart fluttering as he managed to pull a shaky giggle from her lips. 

“Just.. Do one more thing for me.”

“Anything.”

“Would you please close your eyes? There’s.. no way I could walk away with you looking at me like that.” His voice was pleading, dropping to nothing but a whisper as she slowly did what he asked of her, his eyes painting every feature of her face into his mind as he slowly pulled away, letting his hands linger on her skin for just a little longer until the warmth slipped past his fingertips. 

‘Take care of her.’ He mouthed to Tommy as he hurried to catch his plane, hands clenched along the straps of his backpack as he willed himself not to turn around, knowing all too well that he would drop everything to run back into her arms for just a bit longer. 

—-

Parts of him wished he had. 

The letters started frequently, almost every week. A new letter from (Y/N), the occasional one from Tommy as they updated him on their life back home. He was proud of everything they had accomplished, the things she had done to earn significance to her name. It made his heart soar whenever he had skimmed through her scribbled handwriting, tracing each letter carefully before rereading and rereading them in his moments of loneliness. 

He kept every letter, every picture, tucked into the deepest parts of his pillowcase, opting to spend his sleepless nights gazing at the bright smile that crossed her face in every frame, showing off the laminated name tag on her lab coat with Tommy lingering in the background. They had done it, made names for themselves in their career while Jake? 

Jake suffered more in silence, listening to the never ending beeping of the hospital monitors as they recorded his vitals, at least making sure he was alive and well. 

 ----

To Jake, it didn’t seem like living any longer when he ignored the sympathetic looks of the soldiers as he wheeled himself up to the plane with his belongings weighing heavily on his lap. He had deemed himself too strong, too proud, practically untouchable. 

But oh how the mighty fall just as hard, just as quickly. 

He couldn’t face any of them, not after he heard the echoes of gunfire, the screams, barely feeling the sharp pain at the base of his spine before things had gone black. He had only remembered waking up to several doctors lingering at his head, breaking the tragic news to him that spiraled his life for the worst.

The letters soon stopped, not having the heart to break the news to the girl. His girl. Not having the heart to listen to the endless praise she held for his accomplishments, how proud she was of him for pushing through all his endeavors. Jake could no longer remember the last time he had spoken to her, hiding the withering pages under the bed in his single roomed apartment. 

Jake only knew she had ventured along with Tommy to explore the legends of Pandora, something he had heard in the lingering conversations she shared with his twin brother that they assumed he tuned himself out of. He had heard from the whispers in the bars, surprised he had even bumped into old colleagues from high school as they bragged about (Y/N) and Tommy, the geniuses that were granted access into the famous Avatar program. 

He felt envy seep into his heart, filling the cracks that were left the moment he had stepped on the plane. Parts of him wished he had tried harder, been better in his past to be able to say he could follow behind them. 

But he couldn’t.

Jake could only watch the world wither along with himself as he spent whatever money he had on alcohol, gambling, anything to rid his mind of the lingering self pity he had felt for himself. Over the years, his upper body only grew leaner, never neglecting to increase his physical physique, but not much could be said for the lower half of his body. His legs that dragged him around for miles on end now skeletal, almost sickly as he heaved them to and fro whenever he needed to rise from bed, to dress himself. 

He felt pathetic. 

Women no longer looked at him with interest, not the kind he wanted. The moment they had seen the wheelchair in their view, pity only overtook their glances as they excused themselves from their conversation. Although, he never truly cared. His heart only yearned for the woman that had now been lightyears away from him, even more out of his reach as she traveled to another planet, leaving him behind.

He could have sworn he was losing his mind, blinking at every corner of his small apartment to see almost a shadow of her figure, almost haunting him, taunting him on what he could have had if only he wasn’t so hellbent on pushing her away. His eyes betrayed him when he had felt her hands on his chest, tracing small shapes onto the base of his pectoral, her smile radiating brightness that the large screen that took up a majority of his cramped apartment never could.

“What if we moved away? I saw some apartments down the block that weren’t as dingy and suffocating as this one.” (Y/N) giggled, her fingertips playing with the dog tags that dangled loosely on his neck. 

“Can’t afford it, you know that.” Jake mumbled to her, glancing at him as he swore their noses almost brushed when he faced her, sculpting every part of her face that he could remember. She looked almost the same as he had last seen her, her features more sculpted, matured as he tried to visualize how beautiful she would be to him now. 

Her hair was longer, just as he always told her he liked to see since he loved running his hands through them, how they tickled at his arms and cheeks when they stood too close for them to simply be just friends, her cheeks fuller, letting him know she was taking care of herself, her body growing into itself, her chest wider, legs thicker and longer, but still short enough for him to rest his chin upon. 

At least before. 

“We can do it, you know. Get out of here and make something of ourselves. A home for us. Wouldn’t you like that, jar-head?” She asked happily, resting her head against the spot above his beating heart, his head tilting down to bury his nose into the crown of her hair, inhaling her scent for as long as he could. 

“I’d like that a lot.” He whispered into the air as he moved to glance down at her, his mind bringing him back to reality.

Leaving him in a cold, empty apartment again. 

—

But it was a new day.

A new day, but the same repetition as Jake listened to the drunken cheers around him, balancing himself on the hind wheels of his wheelchair as he expertly balanced the shot glass in between the creases of his eyebrows. He listened to the deafening hollers as he downed the shot, allowing the familiar burn to sear down his throat as he held the empty cup in the air triumphantly. 

He waved off the pats on the back, brushing them off behind him as he set the empty cup onto the counter. As the years passed by, Jake grew more aware, more attentive of his surroundings. He listened to everything around him, eyes narrowing as a heated argument between a woman and- who he guessed- was her company along the bar. 

The moment a blow was sent along the woman’s cheek, Jake felt a blazing rage seep into his veins. His head tilted in contempt as he narrowly wheeled himself closer to the couple, not knowing what came over him as he grabbed the leg of the barstool, sending both him and the burly man to the floor as punches were thrown, screams were heard, and Jake again found himself being thrown out of the bar, hissing as the heavy metal of his wheelchair slammed against his back. 

But he had no regrets, once again feeling the adrenaline course through his body as he turned to lay on his back, laughing to himself as the rain pelted down on his face. 

(Y/N) would have been proud. 

He opened his eyes when he had felt the rain stop cascading down his bruising face, a shadow looming over his body as he saw a shadowy figure towering over his laying frame, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes adjusted. He blinked away the droplets out of his eyes when he had seen (Y/N)’s radiating smile, something he couldn’t mistake. “Must be really fucked up in the head to see you, sweetheart.” He whispered under his breath, smiling to himself when he felt the ghost of her touch against his skin, tracing the growing stubble lining his jaw as he instinctively leaned into her. 

“You’re being stupid again.” She giggled, crouching down to his battered body, brushing her fingers through his hair, and for once, Jake felt selfish, allowing himself to indulge in her presence even if it wasn’t really there. 

“I thought I told you to take this easy, I need you in one piece, you know?” (Y/N) teased as he let out a breathless laugh, hand reaching up to trace her cheek with the back of his hand, the softness of her skin burning at his knuckles as she beamed down at him, the corner of her eyes crinkling, eyes almost shut and he feared her jaw with hurt with how wide she was gleaming at him, like he held her world in his hands, like she was his world. 

“Miss you so much.” Jake whispered into the air, eyes fluttering shut once again when he remembered the touch of her forehead against his, reminiscing in the warmth that radiated her off her skin, the gentleness that he knew only she held for him. 

“Then come back to me.” And just like that when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

—-

Jake didn’t know what he had done in his life, or any past life to deserve the karmic disbelief the world had given him one after the other. Not long after the adrenaline had left his body, he found himself wheeling down the grueling halls of the recom facility, being led by two RDA agents that informed him about an incident that had happened to his own twin brother. 

He could only watch as his own face stared back at him, lifeless, cold, empty. “Oh, Tommy.” Jake mumbled under his breath, only helplessly watching as they wheeled Tommy’s body into the incinerator, watching as the orange flames roared to life as he was escorted out of the facility, the questions lingering at the tip of his tongue. 

“(Y/N)? She’s a scientist too, and worked alongside Tommy for as long as I’ve known them. She alright?” Jake found himself asking as the agents simply brushed off his questions, only informing him of Tommy’s life work, the life he had ripped away from him, the funds that were put into the project, and how yet again it had to fall into the hands of the only other person closest to the man. 

A second choice to fall back on.

—

For three grueling years, Jake trained day and night, letting his body readjust to the lack of physical strain he had put on himself throughout the years. Day and night his questions went unanswered, only returned with more exercises and tasks that weighed heavily on his body. But he endured, knowing how much was at stake, how much was compensated for him, how much closer he could be to the woman he had left years ago. 

Five years, nine months, and twenty-two days later, Jake could only find himself awoken on a ship along with a few others that were granted access into the Avatar Program. He felt out of place, outcasted from the rest that thoroughly earned their ways into the facility while him? He had it fall into his lap at the expense of his deceased brother. 

His mind grew blank at all the information thrown at him, barely had time to register anything before exopacks were thrusted into his chest, the dangers of the planet itself, the natives that inhabited it, much to his obvious distaste. He was a soldier, not easily swayed by the natives and the threats they faced, by the incredulous looks of the scientists that he knew looked down at him though they never said it to his face.

But he knew the looks. He grew up with the same distasteful and hesitant looks thrown at him all his life.

Jake could only glance around the lab in wonder, the many machines and tables scattered around the room as scientists darted in and out. He was only followed alongside a lanky man, introducing himself as Norm Spellman, not that Jake would ever bother to remember it. 

“I knew your brother. He was- He was a good man.” Norm had said, giving Jake a tight lipped smile that he could only return with a nod of his head. 

“He was great-” Jake started, only interrupted by a gust of air, scientists pushing past him hurriedly as a woman emerged from the chamber. He had known nothing of anyone, of anything happening around him as he followed behind, looking on in confusion as the woman, who was important enough to leave Norm speechless, glared down at the two of them as she had lit a cigarette in between her lips. 

“This is what they give me to work with?” The woman spoke, blowing the smoke into the air as Jake fought the urge to cough, waving the vapor away from his face as Norm whispered in awe. 

“That’s Grace Augustine.” He mumbled, in shock at the confusion still written on the ex-marine’s face. 

“She’s the leader of the Avatar Program.” Norm gushed, falling onto deaf ears as Grace closed the gap between them, her features distastefully narrowing in on Jake as he sat up straighter in his hair. 

“This is the replacement they give me? Do you even have any experience in the field?” She scoffed in disbelief as Jake shrugged his shoulders, a lazy smirk gracing his features as he laid his hands on his lap. 

“I dissected a frog once.” He said simply, leaning back in his chair as a baffled Grace threw down her cigarette, her eyes enflamed with disbelief and rage as she moved to saunter closer to the wheel chaired man. 

“I think you mean I dissected it. Last time I checked, you only watched.” Jake heard from behind him, his head nearly snapping as he reeled to look at the voice, the source only giving him a small half smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. Jake felt his chest cave within himself, lips parting as he met with the familiar eyes he longed to see in anything more than photos. 

His girl.

“Hello to you too, Jarhead.”

---

Taglist : @perseny ; @goddesslilithmoriarty​ ;

[llflorence]

Dream of the Endless and Pegasus @murkycrush painted with my intention to write the hell out of it.

The Blood of Bucephalus 

Dreamling, Historical AU (Alexander the Great/Hephaestion), Horses, King!Dream, General!Hob, Epic Love

Rated: Explicit, Graphic depictions of violence

The colossal animal behind the King swayed back and forth, throwing its head in the air and snorting its dominance. It remained close, however; didn’t fight against its collar. Wild and ill-mannered, untamed and uncouth, it was the absolute opposite of the man Hob most often called ‘Sire,’ but also called something else.

“She’ll live, you stubborn fool, you,” the King scolded. One knee fell between Hob’s legs to rest on the ground. That warm hand returned to the side of Hob’s face.

It was a gentler, softer man who looked into Hob’s eyes, cupped his cheek and thumbed the divot in his bearded chin. He’d never looked lovelier, not even in Hob’s dreams.

“Hello, Morpheus,” Hob said, voice shaking.

The King smiled. Leaned so very close. Exhaled. Whispered.

“Hello, dearest Hob.”

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