Old Story - BMWWIt was an old story. The story that happened over a hundred years ago, but she remembered everything, as if it was only yesterday. She could recall with killing precision every tiny moment of it. Every word and every act of heroism and sacrifice. Every sign of admiration and affection. Every little needle of pain, which has stayed in her heart.
She remembered every time they were almost, almost something. Something more, something else. She remembered every time they were just nothing, but still something.
She remembered that one night, when she came to him. The cave was dark and damp, like usually. She knew he will be there after his patrol. He always was. He always heard her coming. He never turned around to look at her. That time neither. Still, he let her step closer.
She breathed deeply, realising fully why she'd come to him. This realisation squeezed every fibre of her already shattered soul. Shattered by life, by disappointment, by tiredness and finally
Confession - BMWWFirst time he says it, she's poisoned and fighting for her life. There is no chance she can hear him. She's laying in fever and doesn't move even one finger. And he, on the other hand, is scared out of his mind, suddenly realising that there is no way for him to go on without her. Just after the others leave and he is alone at her bed, he leans to her ear. His fingers brush the jet-black hair on a side and he whispers to her; the words so quiet that he's not sure he's actually said them.Confession - BMWW4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"I love you."
When few hours later she's awake, he does not repeat his confession. Instead he gives her a lecture how recklessly and unprofessionally she behaved, letting their enemies catch her in a trap.
First time she says it, she's standing at his grave, clasping a shred of his cape in her clenched fist. Tears are strolling down her cheeks and harsh wind is hitting her face. She is tired and broken. She never thought something can hurt that much. She kneels on the ground and to
Laughter - BMWWHe's standing still, when she comes; his back in front of her.Laughter - BMWW4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He doesn't turn around. He's not sure he can let himself. He's not sure he would resist the urge to touch her, if he looked.
His breath dies in his lungs for a one moment, when he feels her hot lips on his nape.
He tries to regain his composure. Tries to speak. Tries to warn her.
She slowly makes her way around him. Her lips move across his bare shoulder, her fingers travel down his back, passing a soft fracture of few bandages.
When she is in front of him, he's not sure he's still breathing.
He can feel smoothness of her hair when she kisses his collar bone. The tips of her fingers examine every muscle of his chest and stomach. They caress every scar beneath them.
Her mouth finds its way along his jaw. Every breath she takes is like the fire on his skin.
He doesn't move even an inch.
Some voice, painful and hard voice, reverberating in the back of his mind, tells him that this is wrong. That he should push her aw
Library - BMWWNight. She is in a library. She wandered around the mansion and ended up here. It is huge, she has to admit. She can sense dust and it smells like books. It smells like it should. For the months she's been here after the Watchtower had to be destroyed, she didn't have a chance to visit the place.Library - BMWW4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
She moves quietly, illuminated by the moonlight. She lightly touches the backs of books. She wonders, which of them were in his hands. It is not a surprise for her, that her thoughts drift to him. They've been doing this for a long time.
She reaches for upper shelf. For a book smaller than the other ones, with a simple black cover. It looks old and she can see this is poetry. She opens it on a page, which seems to be read many times. It is a short poem.
When she's about to read the first line, she hears low voice behind her back. It runs from shadows of the shelves. He moved as quiet as always, she couldn't hear him. Still she did not get scared.
Put out my eyes, and I can see you still.
The KissShe had come too close. There was no backing out now.The Kiss3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He wanted to push her away, lest she would make him act. He could've done that easily, if it was someone else. But this woman this woman was different. It wasn't just the fact that she out did him by scores with respect to physical strength. There was something else, about her!
She had taken over his mind
"Thanks for saving me!" she whispered with uncharacteristic modesty which was restricted only to her tone, and not to be seen on her face. What a perfect restraint!
"I " he tried to breathe out quickly and noiselessly, the usual technique he employed to calm down his heart. But that didn't seem to work. Instead, his breath got stuck in his throat and he struggled to swallow without wincing.
The cold expression on the face he had so practiced for years just wouldn't stick. His lips seemed to have a brain of their own, for they refused to close the gap they created, something which his original m
Good MorningShe did not need an alarm to wake her up. The soft rays of the morning sun together with hint our clouds, when filtered through the glass of the window and diffracting at the fringes of the curtain, bathed the room in an illumination of a mélange of colors. It was as though they were sent out to bless her, the daughter of Gods as she was. She squinted a bit, as her eyes failed to accommodate the entirety. It felt strange. Even though she had been sleeping there for a month now, she never had to take the sun shine in her eyes before.Good Morning3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She ducked in reflex, burying her face back into the pillow. It seemed harder than usual. Something about the scent too it smelled like musk. She turned her face to the left, without lifting herself up. She smiled with satisfaction at what she saw. Her man - lay fast asleep, unperturbed by the sunshine. It was too small an amount to disturb him. Normally, Alfred would open the curtains, and sometimes even the window, to give a rise