#waters of mars/the flood

[firstofficerkittycat]

sopping wet meow meow of all time

[ohmerricat]

his waters of mars moment, foreshadowed by a million preceding events, but this time he's not doing it out of hubris or to prove some kind of point, alone and unhinged: he's doing it for love.

all the way back in before the flood ... i'm changing history to save clara.

[doctorwhogirlie]

Doctor Who: The Flood

Favourite Episode: The Waters of Mars (Only story)

Home Planet: Possibly Mars

Scary Factor: 9/10

My Personal Rating: Not a 'creature' I appreciated as a kid, but one I actually really love now. You can tell when I love a creature because I'll read their entire wiki page for funsies.

(Please don't take these too seriously, it's just a bit of fun)

[witchofthemidlands]

DOCTOR WHO || The Waters Of Mars

"Thank you. There's the other two. Hold on. Margaret Cain and Andrew Stone." "You want to meet them?" Ed asked; he was already reaching for the mic on a nearby console. "Control to the biodome. Maggie, do you copy?"

[thingsasbarcodes]

Doctor Who 2009x02 - The Waters of Mars

[benvironment]

At the height of the flooding yesterday....

[clauscielo]

✧ yearning

pairing: joel miller & reader, arthur morgan & reader.

warnings: angsty. self-conscious, touch starved men. age difference, slight nsfw for joel.

requests are open!

joel looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. it had been so long since he'd cared about his appearance… last time he'd worried about looking good was in his teens. he would've laughed if someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be worrying about this again.

but here he was. looking at himself with contempt. his wrinkles, his gray hairs… the bags under his eyes, his teeth, his skin marred by sun and survival. and when, somehow, he finally managed to find himself..., not necessarily attractive, but halfway acceptable, he'd then look at you and his whole world would fall apart.

you were beautiful.

no matter how hard he looked at you, he couldn't find a single flaw. in some conversations you had mentioned some insecurities you had, but he was unable to understand them. you were just perfect.

“are you okay? you were taking so long,” you said, concerned. and he just stared at you, pained, analyzing every detail of your face, comparing it to his own.

“i'm fine. let's go,” he replied with a heavy sigh. his voice quivered slightly, perhaps from the effort he made carrying his backpack, or from something else.

he had long ago realized his feelings for you. normally he wouldn't care about feeling something for someone, attraction, or whatever. but this was different. he wanted you, deeply. he drooled over you. every night, he closed his eyes, imagining how your bare body would look, how your bare breasts would be, how it would feel to be inside of you. god, he hated himself for it, but he loved to fantasize about you before he went to sleep, the image of you being the last thing on his mind before he drifted off to sleep, sometimes even conjuring up dreams that were exquisite to him.

but when morning came, he could hardly look you in the eye. he felt disgusted, ashamed. you trusted him, and joel felt as if he was betraying you, with all these thoughts of his.

you were too young for him. you were too naïve for things to work out between you two. you were… too good for him.

and yet, he still allowed himself the luxury of watching you sleep when you rested next to him some nights, leaning against his shoulder, your lips half-open, soft little snores escaping from them. he loved you. he really did.

“you get some rest,” he whispered, stirring on the couch, a little restless. the scent of your hair flooded his nostrils, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. he wasn't sure he could take much more of this.

“joel…” you snuggled a little more against him. “take me to bed…?” you whispered, half asleep, if not completely asleep.

“ah… sure,” he murmured. he carried you in his arms and gently, laid you on your bed. you opened your eyes a little and as he looked at you, he felt like kneeling before you and begging your forgiveness, for all the things he craved with you, for being so nasty and for never being enough.

“don't go,” you asked, your voice low. and he nodded, his gaze low with guilt.

“i won't, baby,” joel said, his voice barely a whisper, “i won't.”

you hated washing dishes. you preferred anything to this. you didn't know why, but it disgusted you terribly. the remains of breakfast mixing with the remains of lunch and dinner under water and soap... and when you touched some lump of unknown origin without wanting to, you panicked. was there anything worse than this?

being in a gunfight, maybe. you weren't so sure either.

whenever it was your turn to do the dishes, you procrastinated longer than it actually took you to clean them. you'd spend a whole hour whining, dreading the moment you'd have to face such a horrible, excruciating task. and then it would only take you fifteen minutes to get it done. it was the same thing, every time.

so arthur, whenever he got the chance, helped you. almost every time, he stood in for you, he cleaned up while you stood by his side, chattering about whatever nonsense, his gaze lost in your smile, his mind in the sound of your voice.

and of course, every time he got you off the dishes, you were so effusive with your words and gestures of gratitude.

“i sure do ‘ppreciate this, arthur. thank ya kindly,” you sighed, stroking his arm and squeezing it a little. he relaxed under your touch, a goofy grin creeping across his face, his cheeks warming.

he felt like a complete idiot. a young lady as pretty, as cheerful, as deep and intelligent as you, with a bitter simpleton like him? it was ridiculous. it would never happen.

his smile faded as he stared at the dishes he was washing. his chest ached at the thought that he could never be honest with you, could never touch you, hold you, whisper the words of love he thought every time he looked at you. he was disgusted with himself for being so attracted to someone like you. what the hell was he thinking?

arthur would do anything to make you happy. and it might seem stupid, but seeing you so relieved and grateful for something he did, even if it was as silly as washing the dishes, made him feel... important. important to you. and he loved it when you stayed by his side while he did it, telling him your stories, your thoughts.

he just wanted you to love him. and he liked to fantasize that you did, every time you touched him, every time you smiled at him, every time you got close to him because you wanted to and not because you had to.

“thank ya so much, arthur. you're the best,” you told him, with a coy smile, watching him dry his hands after he had washed each and every one of the dishes. he smiled sadly. he didn't want this brief moment with you to end.

“thank ya? the hell ya mean? that’ll be five dollars,” he replied, jokingly. you laughed.

“how ‘bout one little kiss? that enough for ya?” you asked.

he turned red and stammered, surprised by your answer.

“and what good would a kiss from you do me?” he replied, defensively, flustered. but when he saw your smile fade, morphing into an expression of embarrassment, he regretted it. “i’m sorry. didn’t mean it like that. just caught me off guard,” he muttered.

you giggled, stood on tiptoe, and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.

[shadowdaddies]

I have a request! Reader accidentally hurts themself in an embarrassing way and Rhys/cass/az(idc which one) sees the injury(bruise, cut, etc) and freaks out asking “who did this??” And reader has to awkwardly admit that they did it.

Idk if that makes sense but I thought it was a cute idea for a drabble and I really like your writing 🥰 Feel free to make any changes!

thank you love!💜 I went with Cassian for this one, as a clumsy person myself this resonated with me lol

Falling for You

Cassian x Reader fluff

warnings: mentions of injury, a bit suggestive

Lunging towards Cassian, you swung your sword in an arc, only for the wooden practice blade to hit the training mat. Cassian’s foot swiped your ankle, knocking you flat on your back as his own weapon found your throat. 

With a teasing click of his tongue, your mate smirked down at you. “I believe you yield, my love.”

Scowling, you swatted the wooden blade away, standing up to stalk over to the weapons rack, shoving your tools inside. Warm hands wrapped around your waist, Cassian smirking as he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Come now, sweetheart. Don’t be a sore loser,” he purred. 

With mock offense, you turned to face your mate, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll be sore if I want to be,” you retorted.

Mischief danced in hazel eyes as Cassian pulled you impossibly close, fingers tilting your chin so your nose brushed his. “Mm, but what if I offer you a massage, maybe a bath to help with that soreness?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, the scent of your arousal instant at his rough voice. A dark chuckle left your mate’s lips, the general giving no warning before he tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Cassian!” you yelled, swatting at him with a giggle while he carried you towards your bedroom. Your only response was a light smack on your ass, drawing another gasp as you settled in his hold.

Carrying you into the bathroom, Cassian set you down on the tile floor, directing you to undress while he moved to turn on the bath water. 

You shucked off your boots, peeling your pants and shirt off when you looked up to see Cassian staring at you, horror etched on his features. Frantically looking over your body, your eyes found Cassian’s. “What? What is it?” you questioned.

Your mate visibly swallowed, his voice thick as he gestured weakly to your leg. “Did I... did I do that?” he muttered, silver lining his eyes that bored into your skin.

You looked down to where he was pointing, finding a bruise you knew all too well, the blackish-purple skin marring a large part of your upper thigh. 

Embarrassment flooded over you, blush rising to your cheeks as you scrambled for words. You had hoped the injury would heal in time for Cassian to never know, but the way that he was looking at you right now, you needed to tell him.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “No, Cass, you didn’t do that...” you whispered. The moment those words left your lips, his demeanor changed. 

The Lord of Bloodshed stood before you, eyes alight with fury. “Who did this to you? I will make them wish they were never born,” he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his misplaced wrath.

“Calm down, love. No one else did this to me. I did it myself... on accident,” you muttered, lips pursed as you avoided eye contact.

Arching a questioning brow, Cassian’s hand gripped your chin, turning you to face him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he questioned, voice soft with concern.

You paced the bathroom, stopping at the tub where you dipped your toe into the warm water. With a smirk, you stepped into the small pool. “It doesn’t really matter,” you hummed, sending a playful splash towards Cassian. “Why don’t you come join me in the bath?” you purred, arching your chest above the water in an attempt to distract him.

Your mate smirked, and you knew that you had caught him as he removed his leathers, stepping into the tub with you. Wading to where you sat, Cassian’s broad hands found your waist, his neck dipping to your shoulder.

Warm lips found your sweet spot, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there as you sighed, rolling your hips against him. Suddenly he stilled his movements, lips moving against your neck. “Where did you get that bruise from, love?”

An exaggerated sigh escaped you. “Don’t laugh at me,” you muttered, gaze turning stern when Cassian pulled back, looking at you with a bemused expression. 

“Nyx tied my shoelaces together,” you pouted, arms crossing over your chest. “And I didn’t realize it, so when I tried to walk, I tripped.” With a huff, you glanced to Cassian, the male biting his lip hard to keep from laughing.

His joy and amusement spread through the bond, forcing a smile of your own at his happiness. A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculousness of the situation, Cassian bursting with booming laughter shortly after.

Your stomach hurt, tears in your eyes from how hard you both laughed, gasping for air as you finally settled down. Cassian moved to the edge of the tub, pulling you in his lap and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too,” you murmured. 

“Maybe we can buy you some button up shoes, something child-proof” Cassian mused, earning an elbow to the stomach as you giggled in his arms.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

MY BELOVED GHOST AND ME

toya x reader

you and your complicated lover have an honest talk about the future.

angst, so so much angst, guys i was so sad when i wrote this, euphoria reference if you squint

inspired by how did it end?

to mourn someone who is still with you.

mourning someone who is not just with you. who is next to you, cradling you in the arms. he is silent, a wall of solitude. he is a magnitude of grief joined together by burnt skin and piercings. he is waves of hurt and love with nowhere to go kissing your shoulder. he is a litany of fear and resentment tightening his arms around your waist, holding you against his warm body as you stare at the window of your shitty apartment.

his name is toya todoroki. he was hurt, scarred, vengeful, and already gone. his skin that screamed for salvation proved that. and you loved him.

your eyes stare hesitantly at the window. he holds you silently against his ribs, blue eyes watching you with an unreadable stare. he was taring your world apart from the roots down, and he knew it. he felt it your bones scream against him.

"i wanna burn this city to the ground." you sigh.

and you'd honestly do it. not for you, not for anyone else but him. you'd tear the soil up from the ground, wrath building up explosions from the oceans as the waters flood the ground, drowning the suffering of humanity. you'd set everything in your sight ablaze, watching as everything burns into embers, and then nothing. and in the end you'd salt the earth behind you. nothing would dare sprout on the earth toya todoroki once loved you on.

"i know." he says.

you bring his burnt palm to your face, pressing your lips to the mourning skin. he looks at you, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. "i"m not scared of you, toya." you reassure him. hands that were known for destruction, known for the eruptions of blue flames that ravaged everything in his will. you kissed them. you'd kiss them a million times over. it was funny, how hands built for death held you so good.

he hums, his grip tightening around you. he knows you should be, that you should leave. if not out of fear, than out of hate. hate for who he his, hate for the pain that he has caused and will cause. because toya knew from the moment his marred body stared back at him in the mirror, was that he was going to go down in flames. he was going to destroy his father and everything he had done. he was going to die.

and you knew that. better than anyone.

so there you were. mourning someone who lay next to you, heart still beating, lungs still breathing.

"i'd destroy the whole world for you." you repeat.

toya looks at you, blue eyes staring intently at the way you lay in his embrace. "you're not supposed to, doll. thats my job, you're the good one." he mutters into your skin.

"i'm not as good as you think." you insist, still refusing to face your lover.

a sigh escapes his marred lips. "i know you're not perfect. but..." his fingers trace up and down the curves of your waist. "you're good for me. better."

you scoff.

"whats... whats gonna happen to us?"

you don't know what you feared more. silence, or the answer.

he paused for a moment, his hands wandering down to your thigh. his gave moved away from you as a pensive look came over his face, lips pursing as he thought of an answer. after a long moment of silence, his eyes returned to you, where his gaze belonged.

"do you really wanna know?"

"yeah, i do."

toya held your gaze for a moment, making sure his face stayed unreadable. his hand remained on your thigh, caressing your soft skin.

"this isn't gonna end well, doll. you and me.." he whispers breathlessly.

"i know." you nod solemnly.

"we're not gonna survive this. i'm not. the world... ain't gonna let us."

his actions betrayed his words, pulling you even closer to him. the look on his eyes screamed otherwise. they wanted something else, but his soul knew that his burnt hands were already out of reach.

"i figured." your voice was laced with bitterness. he wanted to protest, but what was there to argue against? he made up his mind.

"what am i to you?" you ask, eyes still gazing the emptiness of the outside world. your world laid right next to you, telling you that he wasn't going to stay.

"you're... everything." he utters, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you wince. finally turning around. you needed him to see the hurt in your eyes. and you needed to find the hurt in his.

"what... what can i do to convince you? to stay?" your voice cracked when your words reached his ears. toya paused, a part of him wanting to be his usual asshole self- teasing you into making love with your body pressed against him, the physical pleasure making him forget about his troubles for a moment. but the look in your eyes told im to stop.

he lets out the slightest sigh before speaking.

"you can't." his voice was barely above a whisper.

your eyes dropped, staring out the window again. "i figured."

he felt a twinge of guilt erupt in his chest, piercing new burns through his heart. he hated seeing you this way, hated knowing he was the one who caused it.

"i'm not gonna apologize." he muttered quietly, his grip on your chin soft yet firm as he held your face. "i'm not gonna change my mind, either..."

"i didn't expect you to." you answer, tearing his hand off of your face.

toya felt his fingers reflexively tighten before reluctantly letting you remove his hand. a flicker of frustration bloomed across his burning blue eyes. he hated how accepting you were, how understanding you were. both of you felt the tension, both souls aware of the inevitable. his jaw clenched as he thought of his mission, knowing that it would finally cause his father pain, but you bring you down with it. it killed him more than the fire, than the smoke.

"i'm not apart of your plan." you sigh. "you don't have to be here."

toya let out the slightest scoff at your words. his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you. his eyes hardened for a moment before he leaned in closer, whispering: "you think i'd choose to be anywhere else when i could be with you?"

"why do you stay here if you're just gonna die?"

"do i need a reason to stay with you, doll?"

"do you have one?"

both you and toya paused at your last question. his jaw clenched as you pressed his reasoning. he knew he couldn't tell you the truth. the truth that you were the one thing keeping him alive, the one thing that kept made staying seem like a reality. no, he couldn't tell you that. he couldn't give you hope.

"maybe, i just like being with you." he lies with a truth.

you sigh again, defeated as you lay your head on his chest like a soldier collapsing on the battle field. toya let out a low, content breath as his body welcomed you wholeheartedly in his embrace.

"so... i'm just gonna sit here.. and watch you kill yourself over some shitty revenge plan... i'm just gonna sit here and lose you..?"

toya pretends to not notice the way your voice cracks. he feels a wince of guilt at your quiet words, hating the way you suffered because of him. hated the way he could do absolutely nothing about it.

he took a deep breath before he spoke. "i didn't say you had to stay, doll... you're free to leave anytime you want." his words betrayed his feelings. he didn't want you to leave, selfishly. he rubs circles into your back, doing anything to comfort you.

"if i wanted to i would've left by now, idiot." you sigh, voice cracking once more.

he felt a familiar flicker of sadness run through his veins. this wasn't fair to you. not at all. he knew he was hurting you and he hated himself for it, more than anything else did. his grip on you tightened, calloused fingers running over your skin.

"you shouldn't stay." he muttered. "you should hate me. you should walk away and have nothing to do with me." toya tells you the truth and only the truth.

"i know." you whisper, defeated. "i really hate you right now, toya..." you cry, tightening your grip on his arm.

he feels his chest tighten as you cry. he knew he deserved your hatred, but he wished he didn't. his arm wrapped around you tighter, as if you'd disappear if he dare let you go. you had to be the one to let him go.

"i know you do, doll." he utters. "i think i hate myself too."

"good." you seethe, still holding onto him like a safety net.

he heard the anger in your voice, anger he knew all too well. he could feel the way your body trembled, the hurt and frustration locked inside of you evident. he absolutely hated himself for this. his thumb continued to trace patterns onto your back, thinking that maybe it'd take your pain away. "go ahead. scream at me, cry at me, hate me. you can do anything you want. i can take it."

but you don't scream or even yell. you just lay there, almost as lifeless as he was about to be soon. you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, nothing could possibly console you right now.

"i fucking hate you right now, toya todoroki." you cried into him.

"i know doll, i know." he feels the hurt press against his lungs, and he takes it. he takes all of the darkness that comes from you to him and eats it, swallowing it whole. he knows he deserves it.

you cry and cry, your shaking body cradled into toya's embrace. he held onto you desperately, seeing the pieces of you shattered in his arms tear him apart from the inside out. he could tell by the way your broken hands hold him that you don't want him to go.

"i want you to want me to stay." you choke, messy sobs piercing your words. you hated how he let you go, how he told you you should walk away from him. you wanted the complete opposite- you wished he'd make a god damn fool out of himself, loving you and begging you to stay. but toya knew not to waste his breath.

"its not a matter of wanting you to stay." he utters. "god, i want you to stay... more than anything." he presses his face into the skin of your shoulder, trying to feel you, trying to feel if a part of you still loved him beneath all the hate.

but its not enough for you. "no i want you to tell me to stay! dont tell me i should hate you, or-or that i should leave- i want you to fucking want me to stay! fucking love me! love me like i love you!" you rip a scream from your chest, sitting up from his embrace and staring him straight into his eyes. he needs to know how much he's hurting you.

he winced, feeling his chest clench at your words. "i do love you." his words escape from his lips.

"bullshit." you declare.

you can see on his eyes that he's taken aback by your words. if theres one thing he knew for sure, it was that he loved you. "why won't you believe me?!"

"because you're letting me just watch you fucking die!" you scream.

he stands up, the hurt from your face infecting his own.

"you think i want to die!?" he snarls, an unwanted hint of vulnerability escaping with his words. "i'm not letting you watch anything. i didn't ask you to sit around and wait for me."

he immediately regrets his words.

a look of disgust contorts your face. you stand up, facing away from him fully. your completely speechless. what could you say?

toya felt his heart strings wither as he tried to rectify the situation. "thats not what i meant." he sighs, running a finger through his hair.

you cry on your own, away from toya's prying eyes. he feels his heart clench again, knowing he's the villain here. he places a hand on your shoulder.

"doll." he whispers. "turn around"

you sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

"i can't save you. i can't convince you to stay. yet i can't... leave. i can't get on my feet and leave you. i want to, but... i just can't." you admit your defeat, not bothering to fight back as toya pulls you against him, back into bed.

"i told you you were free to leave, free to walk away and never look back. not like i don't deserve it." he reminds you, pressing a somber kiss to your head.

"i want you to hold me back." you whisper, now facing him with tears pricking your eyes. "i want you to ask me to stay. but.. but you don't."

toya said nothing. he knew you were right, that he wasn't going to ask you to stay. not when he knew it was more than he deserved.

"i hate you." you mutter. toya accepted it, nodding as he gave you a firm squeeze.

"i know you do, doll." he utters.

"no, you don't." you sob. he could never know how much this hurt for you.

"you're the worst." you half heartedly laugh through your tears, tearing a dry chuckle from toya as he agrees with you. he was the worst. the absolute scum of the earth.

"you're an asshole." you trail off. "you're a fucking bastard. and i still love you." you whisper that last part.

"you shouldn't."

"you think i want to?"

he chuckles at that. you were always right.

"after you die, i might end up burning the entire world down after all." you sigh. toya's eyes widen at this.

"you won't." he warns, his voice lower. you scoff.

"you're not in it anymore. so now i can do it." your eyes and voice alike are devoid of any happiness as you speak. and it killed him. good.

"don't say that." toya utters, this sentiment corroding him more than anything else.

"why not?"

"because... you're better than that, doll." he states firmly. you scoff again.

"i'm really not." announce.

"thats not you.. you're not a a killer, you're not cruel. you're good. you're kind. you're... you're everything i'm not." he mutters, declarative in his words as he holds you. it broke him to think you'd throw away everything like that. but then again, he was throwing away everything to.

you sob even harder. "i wanna be like you. i wanna be angry, i wanna destroy everything because of it. god, i wanna hate everyone and hate you. i wanna hate and hate and hate for the rest of my life but i can't." you run out of breath on the cant, hopelessness lingering in your throat as you spoke.

"i know..." toya utters, speechless. he felt a wince of physical pain from his body, his burnt vessel screaming at him to finally end it all.

"i love you, doll. don't you dare forget that." he challenges you, embedding it into your skin with a kiss. he made it sound like a goodbye. it was a goodbye.

"i love you too, asshole." you utter, closing your eyes against the warmth of his chest.

for the first time, ever, toya todoroki felt cold.

[alyrasturnz]

please write an heart breaking matt angst fic, no happy ending. idk maybe she like dies of cancer or smth and he like watches as he loses her to her disease, idk but i love your work

ANYTHING

❐ summary » in a poignant tale of love and loss, matt cradles y/n in his arms during her final moments, his heart shattering as life slips away from her. consumed by grief, he attends her wake, where memories of their time together flood his mind, and he grapples with the profound emptiness left behind. this story delves into the depths of sorrow and the enduring bond of love, even in the face of death.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » death, heavy angst, mentions of a hospital, attending a wake

❐ a/n && w/c » i may or may not have shed a few tears writing this.. my macbook is a warrior for not killing itself due to water damage • 4.62k

as you lay in the sterile confines of the hospital bed, your once vibrant form now frail and diminished by the relentless disease, matt clasped your hand, attuned to the rhythmic cadence of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your breath. 

his world had narrowed to the singular focus of your presence, eschewing all other thoughts and conversations. he yearned for the simplicity of past moments—those tranquil drives where he could surrender to sleep as you guided the car, the solace of resting his head on your lap in times of sorrow. yet, those cherished days had slipped away into the annals of memory.

the fan on the ceiling turned with a mechanical precision, reminiscent of a wheel spoke in perpetual motion. he longed for the impossible—to push the clutch and pull the choke, halting the relentless march of time, just to keep you by his side. leaning in close, his voice quivered with emotion, "do you remember our first road trip, y/n? the way your laughter filled the air when we lost our way?"

your smile was faint, yet your eyes held a distant, ethereal glow. "of course, matt. we ended up at that little diner with the best pie. i wish we could go back there."

matt's grip tightened on your hand, his knuckles whitening with the intensity of his emotion. "we will, y/n. in my dreams, we'll return to that place every night."

you closed your eyes, a solitary tear tracing a path down your cheek. "promise me, matt... promise me you'll continue to live, continue to dream."

"i promise," he whispered, his voice breaking. his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his grip on your hand tightened as if anchoring himself to the moment. "but i don't know how to do it without you."

"you'll find a way," you murmured, your voice growing faint like a whisper carried by the wind. "just remember, i'm always with you, in every breath and every heartbeat."

matt forced a feeble smile, endeavoring to maintain a cheerful facade for you. he suppressed the torrent of emotions welling up inside, his eyes betraying the internal battle. he didn't want your final memory to be marred by the sight of his tears.

he yearned to believe you, he truly did. yet, doubt gnawed at him, eroding his confidence and casting a shadow over his heart. he couldn't fathom accomplishing anything in your absence. 

your spiritual presence might linger, a whisper in the wind, but it would never suffice. who would be there to hold him during his panic attacks, to anchor him when the world felt like it was spinning out of control? who would be there to tenderly run their fingers through his hair as he wept on your lap, offering solace in the darkest moments? who would believe in him when he couldn't muster belief in himself, when his own faith wavered like a candle in the storm? 

the void left behind would be too vast, too profound, for mere spiritual connection to fill.

matt's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, glistening like dew on the morning grass. he took a deep, shuddering breath, his shoulders trembling with the weight of his unspoken anguish. "i wish i could take your place, y/n. i wish i could bear this pain for you."

you shook your head gently, a soft, melancholic smile playing on your lips. "no, matt. this is my inevitable ending. but you've made it bearable. you've given me so much love and strength." your voice, though laden with sorrow, carried a note of gratitude that resonated deeply.

he kissed your forehead, his lips trembling with unspoken fears. "i don't want to let you go." the touch lingered, a tender yet desperate attempt to hold onto the fleeting moments that slipped through his grasp like grains of sand.

"you have to," you whispered, your voice barely audible, like a gentle breeze rustling through autumn leaves. "but i'll always be in your heart. and you'll be in mine." your words, though soft, carried the weight of eternity, binding your souls in an unbreakable bond.

as the final moments drew near, matt could feel the weight of the impending loss pressing down on his chest like a heavy shroud. he leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, breathing in every last bit of your presence as if to etch it into his soul. "remember the stars we used to watch? they’ll remind me of you," he said softly, his voice a tender whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the cosmos.

you nodded weakly, your voice barely a whisper, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. "and the ocean waves... they'll carry my love to you," you murmured, each word imbued with a profound, timeless resonance, as if the very essence of your love was being woven into the fabric of the universe.

matt's tears finally spilled over, cascading down his cheeks like a river breaking its banks. "every sunset, every dawn, i'll think of you. you'll be my guiding light," he uttered, his voice trembling with the weight of an eternal promise, each syllable a beacon of unwavering devotion amidst the encroaching darkness.

"live for both of us," you said, your strength fading like the last embers of a dying fire. "find me, even in the smallest things," your voice a fragile thread weaving through the tapestry of existence, urging him to seek your essence in the subtle whispers of the world around him.

with a final, gentle squeeze of his hand, you closed your eyes, a serene expression settling upon your face like the calm after a storm. he watched as the monitor flatlined, the steady beeping giving way to an eerie, unending ring that seemed to echo through the corridors of eternity. 

matt let his tears fall, each salty drop carrying the ancient essence of the ocean waves. with infinite tenderness, he planted soft kisses upon the lids of your eyes, the tears mingling with the kiss, creating a bittersweet symphony of love and loss that resonated through the very core of his being.

matt held you close, feeling the warmth slowly ebbing from your body, knowing that a part of you would forever remain with him—in every memory, every dream, and every heartbeat, a silent testament to a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death.

»--•--«

in the stillness of the night preceding your funeral, matt drifted into a dreamscape, finding himself by a tranquil river. the moon bestowed a silvery luminescence upon the water, and there you stood, casting stones across the surface. each stone danced upon the water, creating ripples that seemed to extend into the boundless reaches of eternity.

laughter intertwined with the night air as you both reminisced, weaving together the threads of past moments. the joy in your voices harmonized with the gentle murmur of the flowing river, crafting a symphony of memories and love. matt observed you, his heart swelling with a bittersweet happiness, savoring each precious second.

the dream felt so vivid, as though time itself had halted to permit this reunion. the stars above twinkled like whispered secrets between old friends, and the gentle breeze carried the fragrance of wildflowers, evoking memories of simpler times for matt. the river's song was a lullaby, both soothing and poignant, resonating with the profound depth of your bond.

but then, your expression softened, and you gazed at matt with a touch of melancholy. "i have to go," you murmured, your voice scarcely more than a whisper.

matt's heart tightened, and he extended his hand towards you, his eyes filled with a silent plea. "but i don't want to leave. i want to stay here with you," he uttered, his voice quivering with raw emotion.

you smiled gently, placing a tender hand on his cheek. "i'll always be with you, in every memory, every dream, and every heartbeat," you reassured him, your voice a soft caress against the night.

matt shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "it's not the same. i need you here, with me, in the real world. how am i supposed to go on without you?" he implored, his voice heavy with the weight of his sorrow.

you took his hands in yours, your touch warm and comforting. "matt, love is a bond that transcends the boundaries of time and space. even though i am not physically present, my love will perpetually guide and support you. you possess the strength to carry on, and you will find me in the subtle nuances of life—the rustle of leaves, the warmth of the sun, the whisper of the wind," you assured him, your words a soothing balm to his troubled heart.

matt's tears flowed freely now, but he nodded, attempting to find solace in your words. "i' miss you so fucking much. it's unbearable," he confessed, his voice choked with the raw ache of longing and sorrow.

you leaned in, your movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. your fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead before pressing a gentle kiss there, lingering just long enough to convey the depth of your feelings. "remember, matt, our love is like the river. it may change its course, but it never truly disappears. live your life fully, and i'll be there in every step you take."

as you began to fade, your form becoming a mere whisper of light and shadow, matt clung desperately to the memory of your touch, the soothing cadence of your voice, and the boundless depth of your love. "i promise i'll try. i'll carry you with me, always," he vowed, his words heavy with the weight of his unwavering devotion and the bittersweet ache of your absence.

with one last, lingering look, you vanished, your form dissolving into the ether, leaving matt standing by the river, the gentle murmur of the water echoing the warmth of your presence in his heart. the dream ended, but the love and the memories remained, like a steadfast beacon, guiding him through the uncharted darkness of his grief.

“matt! c’mon, we’ll be late for the wake,” nick exclaimed, bursting into the room with an urgency that shattered the silence. matt sat up immediately, his eyes red and tears streaming down his face, each drop a testament to his sorrow. nick’s face softened, the sharp edges of his concern melting into a tender understanding.

nick, too, had cried the night before, his emotions spilling over in the quiet hours. his eyes were dark and puffy, bearing the unmistakable marks of his grief and sleepless night.

“yeah- i’ll be there in a little bit,” matt said, his voice raspy, each word a struggle against the lump in his throat. nick's gaze involuntarily drifted to the unmade side of matt's bed—the side where you once slept, a silent testament to your absence.

“okay,” nick nodded softly, his movements gentle and deliberate as he walked out and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving the room steeped in a poignant silence.

»--•--«

in the dimly lit corner, matt sat in solitude alongside nick and chris, his head bowed in sorrow. the room was filled with a somber silence as mourners cast their eyes upon the casket, their hushed whispers weaving a tapestry of shared grief.

he had murmured a few words to your parents, their faces etched with the same deep sorrow. they were equally engulfed in the waves of devastation that swept through the room.

"um... i'm going to go say a few words," chris mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, as matt and nick gave silent nods of understanding.

chris rose slowly, making his way to your casket. as he gazed into it, tears immediately welled in his eyes, and he felt his throat tighten with the weight of unspoken words.

you didn't look that different at all. sure, there were slight changes since it had been a few days since you passed, but you looked serene. you looked as though you were merely sleeping, untouched by the passage of time.

a few tears streamed down his face, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions surging within him.

"i don't even know where to start," he whispered, his voice cracking. he took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to steady himself. "you were always there for me, no matter what. you listened to my rants, my fears, my dreams. even though you were matt's girlfriend, you treated me like a brother. you let me cry in your arms when i couldn't hold it together, and you comforted me through my worst nightmares."

he reached out and gently touched her hand, his fingers trembling with a delicate uncertainty. "i remember all the stupid things we did together, all the scars and wounds we collected. like this one," he said, his fingers tracing the scar on his arm. "we laughed so much, and every moment was worth it because you were by my side. i never opened up to anyone the way i did with you. you were my rock, my confidant, my best friend."

chris took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his sorrow. "i can't believe you're gone. the world feels so empty without you. you always knew how to make me smile, even on my darkest days. we shared so many memories, so many moments that i'll never forget. you were there for every high and every low."

he knelt down beside the casket, his tears falling freely now, each drop a testament to his grief. "i miss you so much, y/n. i don't know how to go on without you, but i'll try to be strong, just like you always were for me. you were my guiding light, my source of strength. even though you were matt's girlfriend, i miss you like you're my sister."

"when matt told me, i remember crying so hard," chris croaked, his voice trembling with the weight of his sorrow. "i even tried calling you, but then it hit me—you were gone. you were actually gone." his words hung in the air, each one a painful reminder of the finality of his loss.

chris placed a small, folded piece of paper inside the casket, a letter he had written for you. "i wrote this for you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "i hope you can read it wherever you are. it's all the things i never got to say, all the feelings i never got to share."

he stood up slowly, his legs feeling weak and unsteady. "goodbye, y/n. thank you for everything. i'll carry your memory with me always." with one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, his heart aching profoundly with the loss of his dearest friend.

nick walked up to him, his presence a quiet reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. chris, unable to hold back his sorrow, wrapped his arms around nick, burying his face into nick’s shoulder. 

as the tears flowed freely, nick rubbed his back gently, his touch a soothing balm to chris's raw grief. in that moment, the embrace was more than just a physical comfort; it was a poignant reminder of how y/n had once let him cry in her arms, offering the same silent strength and unwavering support. the memory of y/n's compassion intertwined with nick's gesture, creating a circle of solace that enveloped chris in his time of need.

"i'm gonna say a few words to y/n too," nick said, his voice gentle yet resolute. chris nodded in silent understanding, slowly extricating himself from the embrace. as he walked away, his head hung low, the weight of his grief evident in every step. the air around them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions, a silent testament to the depth of their shared loss.

nick stood by the casket, his heart shattered into a million pieces as he gazed at you. he took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to speak. "hey," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't believe i'm standing here, talking to you like this. you were my best friend, my partner in all things crazy and fun." his voice wavered with emotion.

he looked down, his hand trembling as he touched the edge of the casket. "i brought you and matt together, and i don’t regret it at all. it was the best decision i ever made because then i got to know you even better, y/n. you were my rock, my confidant, my partner in all our crazy adventures.” his voice quivered with the weight of his emotions, each word a heartfelt tribute to the profound connection you had shared. the memories of your time together flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the joy and camaraderie that had once filled your days.

tears streamed down his face as he continued, "we shared so much, from our music nights with face masks and fast food to our silly fashion shows and karaoke sessions. you always knew the right words to say, and your chest was my safe haven when i needed to cry. i’ll miss our movie marathons and the way you made everything better just by being you." his voice wavered with each word, a symphony of your shared moments echoing in his mind. 

his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. "i remember the time we stayed up all night talking about our dreams and fears. you always had this way of making me feel like everything would be okay. you were my light in the darkest of times, and i don’t know how to go on without you."

he placed a hand over his heart, feeling the weight of his grief. "thank you for everything, y/n. i’ll carry our memories with me forever. our bond over music, baking cookies that tasted like albums, and playing random video games will always be some of my favorite memories. you were always there for me, letting me cry on your chest when i felt down."

he took a shaky breath and continued, "do you remember that time we got lost on our way to the concert? we ended up at that little diner in the middle of nowhere, and you made friends with everyone there. you turned what could have been a disaster into one of the best nights of my life. that's just who you were, always finding the silver lining."

his hands clenched into fists as he tried to steady himself. "you were the best friend anyone could ever ask for. you taught me so much about love, patience, and kindness. you showed me that it's okay to be vulnerable, that it's okay to lean on others when you need to."

he took another deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "y'know, ever since you died, i would catch matt muttering some things under his breath, and whenever i'd ask him about it, he'd claim that a part of you was still in him. he'd say he could feel your presence, guiding him, comforting him in ways none of us could. it’s like you left a piece of your soul with him, a reminder of the love and bond you both shared."

he paused, wiping away a tear. "sometimes, when the house is quiet, i swear i can hear your laughter echoing through the halls. it's like you're still here, watching over us, making sure we're okay. matt and i, we talk about you all the time. we reminisce about the good times, the laughter, the joy you brought into our lives. it's our way of keeping your memory alive, of holding onto the love you gave us."

his voice grew stronger as he continued, "we've even started doing some of the things you loved, like baking those cookies that always tasted like albums. it's our way of feeling close to you, of honoring your memory. and every time we do, it's like you're right there with us, smiling, laughing, reminding us that love never truly dies."

he shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the warmth of the memories you shared. "thank you, y/n, for everything. for the love, the laughter, the lessons. you’ll always be a part of us, a part of our hearts. and though we miss you more than words can say, we know that you're still with us, in every beat of our hearts, in every breath we take."

he looked out the window, looking at the garden, as if searching for some sign of comfort. "i promise i'll try to live my life in a way that would make you proud. i'll keep our traditions alive, and i'll never forget the lessons you taught me. i love you, y/n, more than words can ever express.”

nick walked away and towards matt, his steps heavy with the burden of grief. “matt?” nick said, his voice cutting through the silence and snapping matt out of his trance.

“uh- yeah?” matt responded, his voice raspy and low, barely audible over the weight of the moment.

“you wanna say a few things to y/n?” nick asked, his voice gentle yet urging. matt looked towards your casket, biting his tongue and nodding, the gravity of the moment reflected in his eyes.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. nick nodded in silent understanding and sat down, allowing matt to stand up and walk towards the casket, each step laden with unspoken words and heavy emotions.

“hey, angel,” matt murmured, standing by the casket, his heart weighed down and his eyes red from crying. “that hits a little harder now that you’re actually an angel, doesn't it?” he added, a bittersweet chuckle escaping his lips, mingling sorrow with a touch of fond remembrance.

“fuck, this is hard,” he muttered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “the ride to the wake was so silent, y'know? nothing like the car rides we'd have whenever you were around. it's hard to believe, i know, but believe it or not; chris wasn't even yelling at nick and me for the aux. hell, he didn't even play anything. it was just quiet, filled with the soft sniffles of everyone missing you. it felt like the world had stopped turning for a moment, like everything just paused because you were gone."

he took a deep breath, his voice trembling with the weight of unspoken dreams. "i would've married you if you'd just stuck around. i dreamt of growing old with you, of us sitting on a porch somewhere, watching the sunset. we were supposed to have a lifetime together, not just these fleeting moments. you were supposed to be my forever, not just my now."

a tear rolled down his cheek as he continued, his voice heavy with nostalgia. "i remember all the memories we made, the funny things we did. like that time we got lost on our way to that concert and ended up having the best night just wandering around the city. or how you moved in with me because we couldn't stand being apart. we were the closest as close could be. we laughed so much, loved so deeply. i can still hear your laughter echoing in my mind."

he chuckled sadly, "your favorite artist just announced a new album release yesterday. i know it's gonna trend all over social media, but i don't think i can ever bring myself to listen to it. it'd be too much without you here. every song would be a reminder of what we had, of what we lost."

matt placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to capture the last essence of your presence. his voice, barely above a whisper, trembled with the weight of his sorrow. "you died with my lips against your skin. we were together until the end, but i wish we had more time. i wish i could hold you again, tell you how much i love you. i wish i could see you smile one more time. i love you, always."

he looked around the room, his eyes scanning the sea of faces—friends and family, each one etched with grief, mourning the loss of someone so dear. "we had so many plans, so many dreams," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "we talked about traveling the world, about starting a family. i can't believe you're gone. it feels like a bad dream that i can't wake up from, a cruel illusion that keeps me trapped in sorrow."

matt's voice broke as he continued, "i don't know how to move on without you. usually, i’d ask you; but now, i can’t. you were my everything, my rock. i feel so lost without you. but i promise, i'll keep your memory alive. i'll cherish every moment we had, every laugh, every tear. you were my soulmate, my twin flame. and even though you're gone, you'll always be a part of me."

he wiped his tears, his hands trembling as he tried to compose himself. "i love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "more than words can ever convey. and i'll miss you every single day, with a longing that words cannot capture.”

as matt stood there, his mind wandered to the little things that had woven the fabric of their relationship into something extraordinary. "remember how you used to leave those little notes for me to find?" he murmured, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "i'd open my lunch at work, and there they'd be—sweet messages from you, each one a testament to your love. those notes always brightened my day, no matter how tough things got. they were like rays of sunshine piercing through the clouds of my worries."

he sighed, his heart aching with the weight of the memories. "we had our own language, our own way of understanding each other without even speaking. just a glance or a touch, and we knew what the other was thinking. it's like we were connected on a level that no one else could understand."

matt's voice grew softer, filled with sorrow. "i miss the way you used to sing in the shower, completely off-key but so full of joy. i miss the way you'd curl up next to me on the couch, your head on my shoulder as we watched our favorite shows. i miss the way you made me feel like the luckiest person in the world, just by being you."

he squeezed his eyes shut, surrendering to the torrent of emotions, allowing the tears to cascade freely. "i hope you're at peace now, in a place where there's no pain or suffering. i hope you're surrounded by love and light, and that you know how much you meant to all of us. you were the brightest star in our lives, and your light will never fade."

matt took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to go on. "i know i have to keep living, to find a way to move forward. but it's so hard without you. every day feels like a struggle, a battle just to get out of bed and face the world. but i promise, i'll keep fighting. i'll keep living for you, for the love we shared."

he placed a final kiss on your forehead, his voice filled with love and longing. "goodbye, my sweet angel. i'll carry you with me, always. until we meet again, in another life, in another time. i love you, forever and always."

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr

[myun-saidthoughts]

Why She Fell In Love: 4th/8th/12th Synastry Edition:

Because he looked into her eyes and she felt the ease she's always wished for. Because she feels an absence where love should be. Because she feels that her soul knows him. Because she is searching for the answers of what it means to feel peace. Because she never felt loved in the place she has to call "home."

Because when she's with him, she doesn't feel that dire wish for someone to be called hers. Because his whispers to her feel like a song. Because every time she closes her eyes, all she see's is him. Because he is the key that allows her to feel the depth of love she craves for. Because when she looks at him her irises dilate. Because her fingers feel safe between his.

Because she doesn't love herself. Because when she's with him she can love herself. Because she relies on others for the love she is too afraid to self-develop. Because those cigarettes burns touched a little too close to her heart one too many times. Because his smile directly stares into a void she doesn't know she has. Because with him she finally feels acceptance. Because she allows herself to feel comfort when he is around.

Because she can't help it. Because he fulfills the void of where love once was. Because with him, she feels peace. Because her eyes tells him a story that he can only read. Because his arm around hers feels like a comfort blanket. Because his presence reminds her of the worth she once felt as a child.

Because her childhood home walls reeked of fear. Because her father's yells still echoes in the hallways. Because her mother cries flooded into her main airway. Because her father left one day before she came home for school. Because her mother became an empty vessel. Because no one showed her it's possible to feel peace without another.

Because she feels like she has no one else. Because without him, the cries for love that she tries to ignore sits inside her bones. Because his green eyes told her "I won't let you go." Because she for once, gets to call someone her home.

P.S

This interpretation is more for those who struggle with a harsh upbringing/past either from parents or partnerships. If you struggle with a disorganized attachment style or have harsh placements such as:

Scorpio/Cancer/Pisces/8H/12H Sun, Moon, Venus, or rising + heavy earth placements/planets that fall in your earth houses

Virgo/Capricorn Sun, Moon, or rising with heavy water placements/planets that fall in your water houses

7H stellium in a water or earth sign with 2+ more of these listed placements/aspects (there likely need to be contradictions in your natal chart that go against your 7H stellium)

If your Sun, Moon or Venus make oppositions/squares/conjunctions with Pluto/Neptune/Uranus (sometimes Mars if you also have 2+ of these listed placements/aspects)

Your IC (4H) is in: Aries, Virgo, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius with Saturn/Pluto/Neptune/Uranus/Lilith/Chiron

8H/12H stellium/placements with asteroids falling in there such as Lilith or Chiron (especially if those placements make oppositions, squares or conjunctions to your Sun, Moon, rising, Venus or Mars)

Any natal placements that are in Fall/Detriment (such as planets falling in weak houses e.g., 10H Moon/4H Saturn etc or your natal placements are poorly placed e.g., Scorpio Moon/Libra Sun/Virgo Venus) that make aspects to your personal planets Sun/Moon/rising/Venus/Mars

North Node in the 8TH house (with 2+ polarized aspects listed above)

Then this post might resonate with you. Generally if you have any contradictions in your chart where there is a polarization with wanting love but also fearing it; then this would be for you.

If you do not struggle with a broken attachment style this may not resonate. 💫💫

If this resonates with you I have an eBook that perfectly depicts and explains if you are in a karmic relationship. It's about 8th/12th/Pluto/Neptune/Saturn/Vertex/Nodal synastry. I give insights, exact transits, exact synastry overlays, natal chart interpretations and more advice on what to do in these situations. More information is pinned on my page.

[prythianpages]

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

“y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[ohmerricat]

time is a body of water innit . some kind of turbulent ocean, always in flux, forever shifting. that's why it must be traversed in a ship (or you risk seasickness – a vortex manipulator is a leaky dinghy?) the current is strong but it is possible to sail again it, theoretically, though not without losses and not without fear.

pond. river. flood.

calm and playful one second and the next there's a storm at sea. oncoming on the horizon

[jymwahuwu]

Ever since the 1.2 update released and the storyline continues.. I remember the scene were blade and danheng met. Blade said he was loosing control when he saw danheng and his mars urges to kill him.. and I immediately thought of something when he said those..

So like.. what if we're one of the people who will pay the price? And the same situation where blade is loosing control over his mara strike.. and instead of trying to kill us.. he noncons you instead in a more feral state. Not giving you any mercy nor stopping until we're a sobbing mess and covered in white cream... (Man I don't even know what I'm thinking of...😀)

CW: non-con, recording without consent, others are watching, revenge, yandere, afab reader

I've thought about this too…if we're going to pay the price🫣 but Blade doesn't want to kill us, just wants to see us suffer or be ravaged…it must be that he loved us in Xianzhou, but…we betrayed him.

You are now forced to transform into immortality, just like him. Blade is chasing you. He does not control your freedom. Just putting a collar around your neck for a few days pushes you out, allowing you to walk around any planet. However, no matter which planet you visit, the Blade is destined to find you, pin your head to the ground, pounding you in the back, hitting sensitive spots. He knows your sensitive parts and forces you to orgasm. No matter what new friend, bond, or even new lover you have now, the end result is - you are strapped in front of them and have to sit on him and ride his cock like a dumb slut. "Blade…I'm sorry…" The tears of fear in your eyes were as stinging and sour as the ruthless betrayal you had brought him.

Will Silver Wolf and Kafka join? 🤔Silver Wolf may be more sympathetic to you and persuade Blade to play some games instead of chasing you endlessly, but she won't do much. Blowing bubble gum while recording and saving some videos of you sobbing can still be done. Afterwards, she refuses to do anything, and leaves to play the game. Kafka…she'll fuel or stop Blade in his Mara state, watch you get ravaged by Blade, and be like- "Bladie, listen to me: unleash the mara."

Those painful and hateful memories flooded into his mind, the scarlet eyes staring at you deepened, and the balls pressed against your sore and wet cunt. "Blade…don't…don't…I was wrong!! Stop…" You don't know if it's an illusion, feeling the already terrifying dick thicker and harder, buried deep inside you, against the opening of your uterus. And the white cream that had been pumped in couldn't bear this size, accompanied by the loud sound of soaking water, and some flowed out, dripping along your butt on the bed.

After it's over, you're lying in bed, exhausted, even your tears have dried, panting slowly, your body filled with cum, every hole fully cared for. The lady with the violet eyes and hair, remind him. "Bladie? Don't go too far. Take your little pet to take a bath." In the blurred vision, you watched the bandaged hand reach out to you, then hesitantly picked you up and took you into the bathroom.

[blurredcolour]

We'll Meet Again

[One-shot]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Nine hours is all it takes for Eugene Roe to realize that his hesitance to share his feelings for you was completely misguided.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Pining, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: The title of this fic is based off the song We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (I recommend the version where she is accompanied by Sailors, Soldiers & Airmen of His Majesty's Forces). This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7578

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

“Roe it’s not mine, I’m alright. Roe.” Eugene was vaguely aware of your voice as he pulled at your blood drenched field jacket, fingers fumbling slightly as he fought with the buttons before he was able to delve beneath, beginning to tug at your sweater and wool shirt, desperate to find where you were hit. “I’m fine, please…Eugene!” You grabbed his wrists forcefully, your blood-slicked fingers sliding against his skin, but it was enough to finally pull his attention to your face. “It’s not my blood, I’m alright.” You repeated gently as his eyes met yours and he exhaled at last.

He frowned anew as he lifted a hand to wipe at the splatter of arterial spray across your cheek, succeeding only in smudging the scarlet across your beautiful skin, marring it further. You sighed and gestured with your head to the SS officer laying on the table behind him, his now-unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, the wound at his neck obviously the source of all the blood you wore.

You tugged at his left wrist, which you still held within your grasp, and he looked back to you quickly, following as you led him over to a bank of sinks at the back of the room. As you released him, he watched you grimace slightly at the sensation of the blood growing slightly tacky between your skin and his. You took both his hands in yours and gently began to wash them.

Eugene’s heart throbbed tenderly as he watched the warm water sluice pink before your fingers thoroughly coated his skin with soap then rinsed it clean. Looking up to you with a soft smile, he was reminded of the state of your face and quickly swiped it clean with his wet thumb, lips stretching hopelessly wider at your warm grin.

“Nine hou’s.” He sighed, jaw clenching as his chest constricted painfully, the terror and anguish he’d been desperately trying to hold at bay all day flooding back to him.

“What?” You asked, confusion painting your face and he swallowed roughly, having to fight to focus while standing in your presence after so many months apart.

“Ya were missin’ – a hostage – fo’ nine hou’s.” He pressed his lips together, struggling to hold back the depth and breadth of his feelings on the matter.

He watched you swallow and put on that brave smile you wore for the sake of soothing your patients. “It was just like any other nine hours, except there were German patients and machine guns.”

“Please don’ give me tha’ smile.” He muttered sadly. “Are ya really alrigh’?” He pressed, eyeing you meaningfully.

Your brow twitched, mouth opening, looking about answer his question when the door to the room opened and you stepped back to grab a towel, handing it to him. “I’m just fine, Roe, thank you for asking. The rest of the SS patients are through that door there.” You gestured, nodding to the latest arrival, Webster, who quickly went through to secure the next room with Liebgott hot on his heels.

Roe watched as you assumed your professional mantle, leading him into the room where seven SS men, prisoners now, were being looked after by the rest of the nurses that had been in your hospital convoy when the 6th SS Mountain Division had decided to take you all hostage to provide them with medical care in this abandoned nursing home near Juchen. The women immediately flocked to you for direction and Eugene realized that you now wore a silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia on your collar, promoted since he’d first met you that night in February of last year in Swindon.

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

“These heels are killing me…” You muttered as you finally escaped the dancefloor to sit at the table next to Eugene’s, wedging yourself into the corner defensively.

He’d been watching you all night. Watching as trooper after trooper of the 506th from Able right through Item asked you to dance, barely giving you a moment to sit despite how tired you looked, behind that beautiful smile of yours, and how time and again you accepted, too polite to refuse.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your combat boots.” One of your tablemates teased.

A mischievous grin crossed your features and Eugene ducked his head as he found his lips twitching automatically in response to it. “Well, I would have except every time I upend the things, I still find sand from North Africa.”

A chorus of laughter flitted around the table and Eugene was convinced that yours was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, finding himself thoroughly annoyed when it was extinguished by a couple of men sidling over to pull a few of your fellow nurses onto the dancefloor again.

“What was it like…over there…” A timid voice piped up as the band began to play that Vera Lynn song the Brits were crazy about and Eugene risked a glance at your face as you addressed a young woman, she could not be much older than twenty, only the two of you remaining at the table.

“Well, Barbara,” You paused thoughtfully, eyes focusing on some distant memory, the hints of fatigue he’d seen lurking beneath your smile coming to the fore for a brief moment before you turned to your colleague with a reassuring warmth. “It’s exactly like they say it’ll be.” You nodded firmly.

The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled in relief, nodding in renewed confidence as you each took a sip of your drink. Eugene swallowed, wishing he could hear your real thoughts on North Africa, not just the canned propaganda reels put together to show before the pictures, but the firsthand account of a medical professional. There was only so much training could prepare them for, and they all knew as soon as the weather was right, they were headed for France.

Despite the longing he felt to do so, Eugene did not ask you to dance that night. He drank a few beers and smoked more than a few cigarettes as you forced yourself onto the dancefloor three additional times before you and the youngest of your companions decided to call it a night. Eugene felt that was a sensible idea – the number of buses back to Aldbourne was growing increasingly limited by the hour.

As dictated by the blackout, clumps of people were walking on either side of the road with their flashlights pointed downward, barely lighting their way as vehicles with their headlights reduced to mere slits wended their way through the crowd of inebriated celebrants. Eugene could not help but feel like it was a recipe for disaster, but your laughter, like the peal of bells, pulled his attention from across the darkened street.

“It’s snowing!” You declared with a wonder-filled gasp, and he blinked up at the sky to feel the kiss of melting snowflakes on his cheeks, his breath curling and hanging in the notably colder air.

The peace of the moment was shattered as an unruly group of men from Fox company bolted across the road, trying to reach the same bus stop he was heading for, a drunken straggler not seeing the delivery van and unfortunately the driver not seeing him either – until it was too late. There was a squealing of tires, a ‘crash’ as the load within the van was displaced, and a sickening ‘crunch’ followed by a wail of pain. Eugene lunged into the street, surprised to find you already kneeling beside the victim as you looked him over.

“What’s your name, trooper?” You were smiling warmly, your colleague hovering behind you nervously as the driver had begun pacing anxiously.

“Robert Boye, Ma’am.” He replied through clenched teeth.

Unlike the calm look on your face, your hands were a flurry of movement, honing in on the compound fracture on the man’s leg, lifting your fingers into the slim beams of light to reveal blood from where the bone had broken through his skin. Eugene was already undoing his belt when you turned to him, and you graced him with a brilliant smile that had his adrenaline-fueled heart skipping a few beats.

“I’m a medic, Ma’am. Tourniquet?”

“On his thigh, please, trooper.” You nodded, shrugging out of your overcoat to drape over Boye. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, alright Robert. Just hold on.” Standing quickly, you walked over to the delivery driver though Eugene wasn’t able to hear your conversation as he finished checking over the man in the road, confirming there were no other apparent injuries.

“You’e from Fox company, righ’?”

“Yeah, that’s right…Easy?” He replied, shaking from the cold or shock – or both, most likely.

Eugene nodded in reply, lifting his eyes as the delivery driver raised his voice at you, the sound of crates and empty milk jugs hitting the sidewalk filling the night air.

“Ya crazy Yankee cunt, what in god’s name d’ya think yer doin’?!”

By then quite a crowd had gathered in the road, and the slur hurled your way had more than just Eugene’s hackles up. Undeterred, you stepped forward, looking the rude and careless man directly in the eye. “You’ve struck an innocent pedestrian and now you’re going to make it right, sir. Your cargo will be right where you left it.”

He returned the look coldly but seemed increasingly aware of the looming threat in the darkness about you, eventually huffing in agreement. You provided directions to a hospital Eugene recognized as the nearest American hospital, surely that was where you were stationed, before sending several men to help him load Boye into the back.

“Medic, please come with me?” You looked to him as you climbed into the van and Eugene nodded quickly, jumping into the back with you as you looked to the wide-eyed young woman standing at the curb, watching you in awe.

“Barbara, go back inside and find Fran. Get her to walk you home.”

“Y..yes Ma’am!” She nodded quickly before hurrying back toward the dance hall as the back doors of the van were closed, leaving the three of you in darkness as the van lurched into motion.

“Medic…” You huffed and introduced yourself properly before asking him his name.

“Eugene Roe, Ma’am.” He replied quickly, turning on his flashlight. He was rewarded once again with one of your heart-stopping smiles.

“Wonderful, you have a flashlight. Thank you. How’re you holding up Robert?” You turned your attention back to the patient, checking his pulse at his wrist, pressing a hand to his forehead – most likely to assess for temperature and perspiration.

“Hurts an awful lot, Ma’am.” He grunted as the van hit a rut and you nodded sympathetically, kneeling on the floor beside him in your dress uniform, balancing easily as the van wove its way through the crowd outside the dancehall with more care this time.

“Thank you very much for being so brave for me. Where are you from?”

“Yakima, Washington.”

“Tell me, Robert. If I were to visit Yakima, Washington what is the food I absolutely must try?” You asked, bracing yourself against the roof as the driver took a wide turn.

“My momma’s cherry pie, without a doubt. My father grows bing cherries. Best in the state. And then my momma makes the best pie you will ever eat in your life.” Robert replied with relaxed smile, conversation taking his mind off the pain in his leg.

“Cherry pie – that sounds positively heavenly. So, you grew up on a cherry farm?” Your practiced smile and encouragement prompted the injured man to ramble on about his childhood playing amongst the cherry blossoms, gorging himself on ripe fruit, and skiing in the mountains whilst you the pair of you subtly kept an eye on his wound and vitals. Ever vigilant for a sudden change in demeanour that might signify a head injury or internal bleeding – your patient management was effortless, and Eugene could only feel his affection for you growing.

He was admittedly a little disappointed when the van came to a stop, the flustered driver opening the doors as a duty nurse came outside and gasped to find the three of you in the back of the unassuming vehicle.

“I’ll be right back with a stretcher!” She called out before dashing inside, returning promptly with two orderlies to help load the injured Boye so he might be carted inside.

The pair of you rushed behind into the temporary hospital in a building that looked like it had begun its life as a warehouse of some kind. The shift Doctor appeared from down the hall, and you quickly provided all pertinent information related to treatment.

“Well, you two had best inform the MPs as well, before that driver disappears on us.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied quickly, shooting Eugene an apologetic look before leading him to the MP office at the front of the hospital to make your report, pulling your garrison cap from your head, reminding him to do the same.

You’d barely started your tale when the MP told you both to ‘take a seat’ and dashed out of the office to try and stop the driver and you looked to him with even more pronounced regret. “I’m so sorry, Roe, I’m sure you were just trying to get back to your billet.”

Your use of his last name undoubtedly came from place of professional courtesy, however a part of him ached with the longing to hear how your mouth might form his first name.

“Not at all, Ma’am.” He gestured for you to take one of the empty chairs, only sitting once you had sunk into it with a soft sigh.

“Thank you very much for your help. I was feeling quite adrift with no supplies but then the universe sent me you.” You smiled warmly and he swallowed thickly.

“Ya did all tha work, Ma’am, I was jus’ there.”

Shaking your head stubbornly, he frowned a little as he watched a small shiver roll through you, belatedly realizing your coat had long since vanished with Boye. He started to pull at the jacket of his dress uniform, and you lay a hand on his arm.

“I’m alright, just tired. Based on your accent, I’d say you need your jacket more than me.” You smiled teasingly and he huffed a laugh, looking down at his shoes briefly as he straightened his uniform before lifting his eyes to meet yours quickly.

“It was impressive, Ma’am, how ya stood up ta tha’ man.”

You looked to him earnestly then, not sugar-coating your expression, or your answer, as you had for Barbara. “If we don’t stand up for our patients, Roe, no one will.” You spoke with breathtaking sincerity and all he could muster in response was a firm nod.

The door banged open as the MP hauled the very man in question into the office, his expression going livid as he once again came face to face with you.

“Goddamn Yankee cunt.” He spat at you, making Eugene surge to his feet to stand in front of you protectively, the scent of liquor potent on the man’s breath as he brushed by his rigid frame.

“I’ll be right back to take your statements, one moment.” The MP muttered, putting the uncooperative driver in a back room.

“Could this night get any longer…” You whispered and pinched the bridge of your nose, making Eugene turn back to you.

“How long ya been in England?” He asked, trying your own trick of distraction on you as he resumed his seat.

“Hmm? Oh, landed two weeks ago, I guess. Thought a break from the heat would be nice, hasn’t been quite as quaint as I was led to believe.” You laughed softly and shook your head. “You?”

“Las’ Septembah.”

“Well, I bet you know all the best spots by now then, hmm?” You smirked and he shook his head with rueful smile but did not have the chance to elaborate on his lack of free time as the MP returned to finally take your full statements.

It was nearly two in the morning once all the paperwork was done, the driver of the van turned over to the local police while the MP summoned a subordinate to return the pair of you to your billets.

“See you in a few hours.” The nurse who’d first greeted the pair of you poked her head out of the doorway to the treatment room.

You laughed without much energy. “For sure, Betty. Thanks for your help.”

“You work weekends?” Roe asked quietly, offering a hand to help you into the back of the jeep and you nodded as he settled next to you.

“My days off are Monday, Tuesday.” He must have frowned visibly as you shrugged with a weary smile. “It’s alright, I was the last to arrive here and someone needs to do it.”

As you hugged your arms around yourself tightly in the open back of the vehicle, overcoat still nowhere to be seen, he shifted to try and block the wind with his body. As you shuffled closer, huddling against him slightly, he swallowed thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You’re going to do great out there, Eugene Roe.” You smiled warmly, the vehicle pulling up outside a nearby shop with an apartment on the second floor.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He murmured quietly, taking a shaky breath as you climbed out of the jeep, pausing to wave at him from the curb.

He ought to ask to see you again, to write to you, something, but a part of him was reluctant to start anything he might not be able to see through with his future so very uncertain. He lifted his hand in return as the MP pulled out to drive him back to Aldbourne, regret immediately settling into his gut, leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Eugene was surprised when his belt arrived at his billet the following Thursday along with a note from you, once again thanking him for his assistance with Robert Boye’s care. You also assured him the patient was doing well and would be ‘fighting fit’ within a few months. He was impressed to see not a trace of blood on the woven fabric, indicating that you had obviously taken the time to clean it for him. Unable to stop the fond smile from unfurling on his features, he quickly hid the note in the pocket of his ODs as he heard Spina’s footsteps on the stairs.

“You coming to London this weekend, Gene?” He asked, sitting heavily on his bed in the corner and Eugene found himself shaking his head in return.

“Too much to do.” He replied vaguely, recalling one of the posters from the hospital hallway calling for blood donations.

“You’re missing out.” Spina teased in a sing-song voice, laying back on his bed once he’d taken off his boots.

The smile you greeted him with Saturday morning when he arrived to donate blood thoroughly convinced him otherwise.

“That’s very generous of you Roe, follow me, I’ll get you set up.” You turned to lead him past a few of the occupied beds and he nodded warmly to Boye as he looked up from a letter he was reading. “If you could take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve please, I’ll be right back with the supplies.” You said as you gestured to a cot, unfolding a privacy screen before turning to fetch the necessities.

Eugene complied, swallowing thickly as he watched the way your hospital dress swished around your hips as you walked away, quite frankly preferring this outfit to your dress uniform. Returning with a collection bottle, needle, and some tubing, you lifted his arm to search for a vein. He swallowed thickly at the goosebumps that rippled across his skin, able to smell the scent of soap lingering on you, the proximity nearly killing him.

“I never did ask, Roe, where are you from?” You glanced at him with your professional smile, fingers settling over their target in the inside of his elbow.

“Loosiana, Ma’am.” He murmured softly, watching you insert the needle so smoothly he barely felt more than a pinch before his blood began to fill the bottle in your hands.

“Louisiana.” You repeated warmly, eyes flicking between the bottle and his face, listening while monitoring the volume you were collecting. “Famous for Mardi Gras, yes?”

He nodded quickly. “Tha’s righ’, yes.”

“A lot warmer than England, hmm?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Did ya get you’ jacket back?” He tilted his head. “Thank ya fo’ returnin’ ma belt.”

“I did, yes. And again, it was the least I could do.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled this time, his heart swelling as he was becoming more skilled at discerning your real versus polite expressions. You pressed a piece of gauze over the needle before pulling it from his arm, the bottle now filled with the crimson fluid from his veins. “Could you apply pressure to that for me please?”

He nodded, fingertips brushing against yours as he took over, a jolt of electricity sizzling through him. Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the task at hand, and he could not help but wonder if you had felt it too. As you lay your fingers over his to lift the gauze and take a peek at the puncture in his skin, Eugene bit the inside of his cheek trying to maintain his composure. Replacing it with an adhesive bandage, you handed him a cookie to eat as you jotted down his information on the label on the bottle.

“Thank you aga–” Your gratitude was cut short by a loud crash over by the nurses’ station that had Eugene quickly on his feet though he noticed you barely reacted. “Sorry about that.” You sighed and urged him to sit back down with the gentle pressure of your palm on his shoulder. “I keep trying to fix that darn shelf, but the screws won’t stay in the wall.”

“Sorry!” Called a timid voice Eugene recognized as Barbara from last Friday’s dance and he looked up to you.

“I’d be happy ta take a look at it fo’ ya.”

You eyed him a moment, clearly weighing your desire to impose on him further. “Eat your cookie and then we’ll talk.” You ultimately said and he nearly inhaled the thing.

“I like fixin’ things.” He murmured once he’d swallowed, rolling down his sleeve and following you over to inspect the carnage Barbara had unleashed.

You helped her stack the last of the clipboards and manuals that were scattered across the floor onto the edge of the desk as Eugene looked over the shelf before eyeing the screws and finally the holes in the wall.

“You’ screws are stripped. Needs some new ones an’ maybe a few anchors.” He added as he eyed the weight of what you intended to store up there.

You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before grabbing a key from the desk. “Maintenance room is this way, shall we see if they have what we need?”

He followed you down the hall and around the corner to a room that was no more than a glorified cupboard. You pulled the cord on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and he began rooting around, collecting tools in an empty toolbox before nodding to you to signal that he’d secured everything necessary.

“Don’t carry that with the arm I just took blood from please.” You reminded gently and he nodded again, walking back with you. “How can I help?” You tilted your head, nurse’s cap barely hanging on by the pins in your hair, presenting quite possibly the most adorable sight Eugene had ever seen.

“Could you an’ Miss Barbara hold tha shelf up fo’ me, please? Show me where ya’d like it?” He set the toolbox on the ground, grabbing the pencil he’d prepared as the pair of you positioned the shelf on the wall. He made a series of marks beneath it where he would drill new holes and marked the end placements. “Thank ya both, kindly.” He nodded and you set it down with a smile.

The sound of the door opening signalled the arrival of the doctor to do his midday rounds and you glanced at him, looking ready to apologize but he shook his head. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, you’ workin’. I’ll get this fixed an’ get outta you’ hair.”

“Thank you, Roe.” You nodded warmly before grabbing the clipboards from the desk and hurrying over with Barbara in tow.

Eugene did a thorough job of re-installing that shelf for you – putting new holes in the studs with the hand drill before tapping in a set of anchors to ensure it would never let you down again. It may have taken him a little longer than necessary due to the numerous glances he stole at you over his shoulder, but when his eyes met yours around the fifth glance, he turned back to his work quickly, cheeks burning, and did not risk another.

Once he was satisfied in the shelf’s structural stability, he began to place the manuals back onto it, hazarding a guess that you would want them in alphabetical order, glancing at you as you stashed the clipboards – now neatly back in their rack – beside them, rounds clearly complete.

“This looks amazing, Roe, I am once again in your debt.”

“It should hold alrigh’, even if ya get mo’e manuals.” He nodded humbly. “It was ma pleasu’e.”

“Well, I assure you we are extremely grateful.” You nodded firmly and he was unable to stop the slight smile that snuck onto his lips, watching as your own grew brightly in return. “Now I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d much rather spend your days off than our boring little hospital.”

He swallowed tightly, quite convinced that was utterly untrue but was unable to verbally disagree. “I’ll leave ya to it then, Ma’am.” He nodded, putting the tools away before shrugging into his uniform jacket once more and heading out into the drizzly afternoon.

It became a habit, spending his Saturdays at your hospital, fixing up little things that were broken but not priorities for the regular handyman. Donating blood every few weeks when you’d let him. It was, of course, all a thinly veiled excuse to see you – not that he would ever reveal that to you. As winter melted into spring, training and preparation for what was to come only intensified, and the potential outcomes remained at the forefront of his mind. If he were to speak honestly, Eugene, like many men, did not expect to survive the assault on France. Hitler had been there too long, had had too much time to get dug in snug as a tick. What they were planning to attempt was nearly impossible – just like his chances of survival.

You deserved better than that. Better than to open your heart to a man like him, if you even cared to, only to have him wiped from the earth by some piece of artillery or some such horrific ending. Eugene had a sense you’d seen enough horror first-hand in North Africa and he wanted no part in inflicting more upon you. So, he remained cordial, friendly, holding his breath and biting his tongue when your hands would brush, when you’d gently fix his tie after he’d gotten it crooked under the sink and when you’d swipe the sawdust from his shoulders before he put his uniform jacket back on.

The domesticity of your care and concern for him made his heart ache something fierce but he bore it stoically, silently, repeatedly like some kind of martyr. A smarter man might have stayed away but Eugene needed those few hours with you every week as badly as he needed the comforting nicotine of his Lucky Strikes. The news that they were shipping out to Upottery in late May was thus a rude reminder that his time, his life, was no longer his own.

The entire time he was packing, Eugene debated with himself before ultimately deciding to jot off a quick note of apology explaining his absence for that coming weekend and wishing you well until ‘next time.’ What a terrible expression it was. Forcing himself to take it to the post office, he sent it to the hospital where you worked before boarding the transit truck to move out. The days passed in almost a blur, the frenetic pace of preparation and practice jumps all leading up to the inevitable.

Eugene was dressed in full gear, having just secured his leg bag when he heard Vest call out his name, waving a letter addressed to him. Settling back down on the tarmac to open it, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Eugene was so taken aback he nearly missed Meehan’s announcement that the jump was off due to bad weather that night, spending several hours re-reading your letter, thinking about the things he wished to write to you in reply. Vowing to put them on paper if he ever saw the end of this thing. By the time he made it back to Aldbourne in July, he made a visit to the hospital where you had been stationed only to be informed by Barbara that you’d left for France with the 47th Field Hospital five days earlier.

He swallowed his bitter chuckle while Barbara kindly scrawled your post address now that you were deployed. “If you’d like to write to her.” She murmured timidly and he took it with a soft thanks before heading back to his billet.

It made perfect sense that you had been sent to France; nurses with field experience were hard to come by and you were obviously too talented to loiter in England. Thus, he had taken the time to reply to you, a proper letter this time, though still withholding his true feelings now that his eyes were well and truly opened to the rapidity with which a man’s fortunes could change.

 Mail was slow, your replies taking a frustrating amount of time to reach him, and Eugene was certain you felt the same, especially as it became increasingly apparent that your paths through Europe were remarkably similar and yet did not cross again. Not until Easter Sunday of 1945.

2nd Battalion had left Belgium that morning, crossing the border into Germany in the grey light of dawn. It had been deeply unsettling to pass so close by their former positions in Bastogne, Foy, and Rachamps the day before. Memories, thick as winter fog, had put a damper on the mood of excitement amongst the men at being on the move again, a hush that persisted into the morning. It was a quiet that allowed them all to hear the frantic honking of a jeep horn, many of them, including Eugene, sitting higher in their transports to see a vehicle painted with the Geneva cross pull up beside that occupied by Winters, Nixon, Speirs and Welsh, bringing the entire convoy to a halt.

Craning his neck, Eugene strained to hear the conversation, but his attempts were futile as they were simply too far away. His brow furrowed as the rest of the batallion’s Lieutenants were called up by Speirs, a map was then unfurled on the hood of the jeep, intense conversation occurring amongst the huddled officers. Like some kind of silent movie without the title cards.

“What the hell do you think that’s all about?” Heffron griped beside him, and Eugene shook his head, completely at a loss.

It wasn’t until Lipton returned to the back of their transport, hauled up with the assistance of Luz’s friendly hand, that Eugene understood the gravity of the situation.

“Hospital convoy has gone missing, boys. Left Aachen over four hours ago and should have arrived in Juchen by now. There’s no trace of them.” He began putting on his gear, a silent signal for everyone to do the same.

“Nobody just vanishes in Germany, Lieutenant.” Heffron muttered grimly, securing his webbing.

“Major Winters’ thoughts exactly. We have eleven nurses and four ambulances unaccounted for somewhere between here and Juchen. So, we’re going to find ‘em.”

“What hospital, sir?” Eugene piped up as he secured his satchel around his body, the men glancing at him, reminding him that he rarely spoke.

“Uh, the 47th Field Hospital I think, Doc.” Lipton replied before getting the men off the truck to begin combing the roadside for clues.

The 47th Field Hospital. Your 47th. He stood rooted to the spot, blind to all that moved in front of him, sound muffled as he felt like the only thing he could be sure of – your safety – came crashing down around him.

“Hey Doc, you coming or what?” Heffron called up to him and Eugene blinked rapidly before hopping out of the back of the transport to follow quickly.

Eleven nurses missing. Field Hospitals had roughly eighteen nurses, if fully staffed, meaning there was more than a fifty-fifty chance you were among the missing. He shoved his balled fists into his pockets and began searching. Searching for what, he had no idea. The infuriating feeling of helplessness rose within him like the tide, relentless and uncontrollable.

It took a further three hours of driving, stopping, searching, until finally a farmer reported having heard machine gun fire earlier that morning near Titz. A yawning pit of dread opened deep within his stomach as all manner of possible scenarios played out in his mind. The three companies split up then, with Easy heading into the town of Titz while Dog continued on the road to Juchen and Fox turned towards Gevelsdorf.

He was not able to lay eyes upon you for another two hours, and to find you soaked in blood had sent him immediately into a frenzied state of triage, desperate to keep you alive after finding you at last. Calmed only by the proof that you were unhurt, at the reasonable explanation for the state of your clothes lying dead behind him, Eugene had never been more annoyed with Webster and Liebgott than when they had interrupted his chance to speak with you.

The rest of 2nd Battalion arrived, taking over the building for the night and securing the prisoners until MPs could arrive the next day to take them to a nearby prison camp. Winters had ensured a wing was reserved exclusively for the nurses, though you had assured him a guard would not be necessary. Eugene had offered himself and the other Battalion medics to help with the schedule you were drawing up to watch over the patients, but you politely refused, insisting he had done enough. Eugene certainly did not feel that way.

Finding himself unable to sleep that night, he slipped out of the room he shared with Spina, Heffron, and Ramirez, making his way down to the makeshift treatment space you had set up to see if he could be of any use. He stopped at top of the stairs as he nearly ran into you, making your way up to the nurses’ wing with your wet field jacket in your hands.

“Roe!” You breathed, startled, before smiling at him tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Ya neithah?”

“Wanted to try and get this somewhat clean for tomorrow.” You murmured, gesturing to your jacket before glancing at him. “But no, not really.” You admitted softly.

He motioned with his head for you to follow him to sit on the ledge beneath a large bay window opposite the staircase. You draped your damp jacket over the back of a wooden chair that had seen better days, turning to look out over the landscape as raindrops began to patter against the glass. He slid a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering it you and only once you had declined with a shake of your head and kind smile, lit it for himself.

“Nine hours isn’t a long time considering the years I’ve spent away from home.” Your hushed voice, a continuation of your conversation from hours previous, broke through the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane.

Eugene exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips. “It only takes seconds ta die…”

You eyed him sharply in the dim light, shaking your head. “You of all people know how little control we have over that.”

Swallowing tightly, as you did have a point, he nodded. “Sorry Ma’am.”

You huffed a little. “Eugene, every time you call me Ma’am I feel like my mother.”

“But ya outrank me, even mo’e so now 1st Lieutenan’.” His nose crinkled in confusion.

You hummed noncommittally, an uneasy silence falling over the pair of you as Eugene finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the windowsill behind him. Neither of you seemed certain of what to say or do next. Of what you were anymore – no longer just acquaintances, colleagues, or pen pals. Despite his best efforts, Eugene was terrifyingly convinced you were a great deal more.

“What’s something you wish you had done before you came over here?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply before giving you his answer without hesitation.

“Shoulda asked ya ta dance tha’ nigh’.”

He heard your breath leave your lips with a shudder, watching you stand with the sinking feeling that he’d misjudged the entirety of your relationship. It was only when you turned back to him with your hand outstretched that he remembered how to breathe.

“Dance with me now, Eugene.”

His eyes widened, confusion surely evident on his face even as he set his worn and battered hand in yours. “But there’s no music.”

Your fingers closed around his, tugging him to his feet as you began to hum that Vera Lynn song, bringing a smile to his face as he set his other hand on your waist to begin dancing with you in earnest. Your fingers laced through his, a shiver running through him as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder before laying your head against his collarbone.

“Cold?” You whispered and he shook his head.

“It’s nice.” He replied as you started humming again, the repetitive nature of the song making him grin slightly. “Finally got ta dance in you’ comba’ boots.” He murmured, discreetly inhaling the scent of you.

You giggled softly against him, leaning back to look over his features in the low light. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Eugene?”

He swallowed roughly. “Ya looked tired, Ma’am. Didn’t want ta make ya suffah any mo’e.”

“Dancing with you is not a hardship.” You whispered, the pair of you still moving to the ghost of the song in the now silent hallway. “I would have said yes with one of those smiles you like.”

He laugh softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “I was worried, too. Worried I’d do somethin’ stupid like make ya care ‘bout me an’ then get myself killed. But then I thought I’d lost ya today…did lose ya fo’ nine hou’s…” His throat clenched with emotion, sealing off his ability to say anything further.

Your feet came to a stop as you eyed him intensely. “Eugene Roe, you have no control over that either.” You admonished gently. “I do care about you, whether you like it or not.”

The sound of his heart frantically pumping blood through his body filled his ears as he stared at you in wonder, awestruck by your fierce determination to bear affection for him despite the risks.

“M..may I…” He struggled to speak through the overwhelming adoration he felt for you, and you sighed fondly, leaning in to press your lips to his.

His grip tightened on your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, your soft mouth feeling like the finest silk brushing against his. He sighed dreamily as your fingers abandoned his shoulder to wend their way into his hair, drawing him tighter to you. He indulged in the impulse to slide his hand up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, the feeling of your back arching in response headier than any liquor he’d ever tasted.

Your fingers gently unlaced from his, hand shifting to cup his jaw as you pulled back to press featherlight kisses across his brow and down his nose. “You didn’t lose me, Eugene.” You sighed against his skin, lips traveling across his left cheek. “I’m just fine.”

As you made your way along his jaw, he turned his head to kiss you fiercely, tongue darting past your startled lips to communicate all the things he could not seem to be able to say, holding your body so tightly against his as though he wished he could absorb you into his very being. You clung to him, matching the ferocity of his embrace with a reassuring tenderness of your own that had him melting against you, face burrowing against your neck.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He sighed with a bone deep weariness and felt your body shake against his as you laughed softly.

“Call me something better, Eugene.” You chided sweetly, kissing his temple. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me like that.”

He smirked before pressing his lips to the column of your throat, trailing kisses up towards your jaw, reveling in the way your breath hitched in your throat in response. “Alrigh’ cher.” He smiled warmly before kissing you gently.

“Cher.” You repeated softly once he released your lips.

“Cajun for darlin’.”

He watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, a grin stretching over your face as you looked to him through your lashes making the muscles of his abdomen clench.

“That will do quite nicely, Eugene.” You sighed before your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him in to kiss him deeply.

You were both short of breath by the time you pulled back, hand caressing his face as your features contracted apologetically. “I should go before someone finds us.”

Eugene nodded begrudgingly as you were once again speaking the truth. “Goodnigh’, cher.” He said softly, loosening his hold on you.

“We’ll meet again, Eugene.” You smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth in the not-so-dark hallway as the light of pre-dawn began to seep through the tracks of rain cascading down the window, and his eyes widened as he realized that was the name of that damn song.

“You’d bettah not be covered in blood nex’ time, cher.” He admonished playfully, freshly addicted to the way your lips ticked up at the corners every time he said it.

“Likewise, Eugene.” You laughed and blew him a kiss before grabbing your surely still-damp field jacket, walking backwards as far as you could until you absolutely had to turn around.

He stood on the porch the next morning, hiding from the rain as he watched you load the nurses in your charge into newly arrived ambulances to complete your journey to the field hospital in Juchen. He barely looked up as he heard the scuff of jump boots on the worn brick beside him, Heffron leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, trying to soak in every last moment of your presence before you were inevitably parted once again. It was a great comfort to know you’d be just twenty-five kilometres behind him, perhaps a sign of kinder times ahead.

“So, you get your hands on some tits in Titz?” Heffron asked with a sly grin, making Eugene turn to him sharply.

“Heffron, watch you’ damn mouth.” He snapped at him brusquely, making the redhead’s eyes widen.

“Sheesh, Doc, she must be somethin’ special. Sorry.” He squawked and pointed at the road. “She’s looking this way.”

Eugene looked back quickly to see you, drenched by rain, waving at him with a bright smile he could still see despite your helmet, and he waved back, cheeks aching a little as his expression automatically mirrored yours.

“You’d bettah keep this to you’self, Heffron.” Eugene rounded on him with a serious look that he hoped was intimidating as soon as you pulled the backdoor of the vehicle shut behind you.

“Your secret is safe with me, lover boy.” Heffron winked, and Eugene did not believe him for a second.

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

Read the Sequel - Born To Be Yours

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos

[demigoddessqueens]

i just found ur imagines and one shots, i love them! wondering if i could request an angsty something with percy de rolo where the male or gn!reader got kidnapped by dr ripley during a battle, and it took vox machina weeks to find where she was keeping them (and experimenting on them with residuum). reader is alive but barely, and it brings back memories for percy?

if not no worries! i’m just a sucker for angst haha

Sure!!!

And thank you

Masterlist 10

A/n - tags, mentions of slight blood, allusions to violence

You had been blinking in and out of consciousness as the dull pain throbbed in your wrists. The tiniest bit of sounds or water dripping into a puddle made you flinch, expecting the sound of footsteps.

It’s quiet. Please let it be quiet for a while…

Mentally, you tried to focus on anything else if you could muster it.

The wind blowing through your cramped space and iron links burning into your skin was a perverted distraction but it was worth more than any of the “sessions” Ripley inflicted on you.

Was there a chance it would end today? Could you muster enough strength if she put gloved hands on you again?

A loud noise to the far end of this dark space sped your heart. You were about to get some sort of answer to your question.

Inches of this prison were scoured countless times when Ripley imprisoned you, and desperation could make for a surprise weapon in the most distressing of situations.

The door flies open and light from a hallway pours in. For a while, your eyes are blinded from the sensation.

“Percy! They’re in here!”

A loud “clang” takes off the chains. Your mind told your legs to move but they refused as you felt yourself fall into a heap.

Through the blurred vision of sweat and blood that clouded your eyes, you saw tufts of white hair and a marred reflection in spectacles. Colored eyes are wide in horror and sorrow at your state.

Was that…you?

Blue and dark clothing enveloped you as your body was held gently. The voice reverberated through your chest and that of the individual who held onto you.

“I found you…, thank the gods!”

There was a croaking noise and for a while it took you time to register that it was your voice calling his name.

Relief flooded your chest as your eyes burned with tears.