ATOM.

aithreachas:

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“Ah dinnae care.” Thumbs pressed a little harder, following the curve upwards until Atreus slipped his hands around the broadness of Stephen’s shoulders.

“Dinnae make me pick ye up ah’n throw ye over my shoulder because mark my words ah will.”

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              his tone of voice was not lost on him, and wordlessly stephen sighed — shaking his head, before groaning lowly once more at atreus’ touch. silently he hung his head forward between his shoulders, shaking his head.

  you wouldn’t.  



shadowsurrounded.

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            ❛      everyone deserves a compliment on occasion, even the sorcerer supreme.       she offers him a smile, an arch in her back to shake stiffness from her limbs. the peace of the moment makes her ache in the strangest of ways, and clea’s fingers come to brush his cheek, touches him as though he is nothing but a dream.       i love you.       soft and barely audible, filled with affection, lips still quirked upward, for it needed to be said at some point.

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              he shouldn’t be surprised to hear those words whispered between the air between them —- it had been far too long, since either of them said them audibly. eyes immediately soften and his expression shows a look of pure and unadulterated adoration; the epitome of a loving husband, in this moment.    i love you too, clea.   ”   with this he pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, a slow sigh leaving him.



aithreachas.

       If Atreus had his way he wouldn’t stop touching Stephen’s scar—to see his friend in pain and discomfort was not something Atreus wanted. He cared deeply for the sorcerer—more deeply than Atreus was willing to admit at this moment in time.

They were near pressed together, Atreus lightly nosing the slope of Stephen’s neck into his shoulder, heart pounding so hard against the curve of his ribcage he was fearful Stephen could feel it aching with a longing he could never put into words.

It was too much, too much power, too much feeling, too close..too intimate but Atreus wanted more..alas he knew he could not have it no matter how much he wanted it.

“Ah’m going t'slowly move away now…” Lips near brushed Stephen’s skin when Atreus’ spoke and Atreus had to make sure to put some distance between them after that—it was getting dangerous. Stephen knew nothing of his affections for him and he did not wish to ruin their friendship.

Slowly, bit by bit Atreus began to ease away, first his chest and arms then one hand, until finally the only thing touching was the tips of Atreus’ fingers trembling between Stephen’s shoulder blades.

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“Are you ready?”

              at the indication of atreus’ moving away the sorcerer immediately tensed in figure, eyes closing as he visibly readied himself for the pain that was about to be gradually inflicted upon him ——- whether or not he wanted it, well, that was out of their hands. he would bear the pain of the scar upon his back, as atreus could not touch him forever.

when atreus’ chest detached stephen lurched forwards with a gasp, eyes squeezing shut automatically as he braced his hands upon the desk in from of him. arms detaching left a light sheer of sweat upon his brow, and gradually the sorcerer tensed up and slammed a fist against the desk that he sat at daily. 

his body shivered on its own from the pain he knew that was about to be released upon his tender back, the pain more so than it was all those years ago from how long the scar has been weathered upon his spine.

taking in a deep breath stephen clenched his fists, eyes opening and adjusting to the light coming through the window before him. he felt almost dizzy, but he knew he could not get used to the feeling of not being in pain.

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  get it over with, atreus.   ”



ancientisms:

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                perhaps that is true where you come from, however, despite our many disagreements i assure you that here you are among friends..  

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              “   friends that are known for doing the very thing i mentioned, hm?   ”





xstrange incanted.
´͈ ᵕ `͈ tbh

shellshead-arch-deactivated2019:

smth about hand holding ll accepting ( @xstrange )

           How’s this?  

There’s a mess of sheets around them; bodies sprawled on the bed, facing each other, feet barely touching - just around the very tips of their toes - and Tony’s shoulder feels a bit numb thanks to the way he uses his arm as a pillow. Despite being this close to Stephen, Tony’s eyes are captivated by another thing entirely - just above them, he’s got their hands pressed together: his own stretched neatly, fingers spread wide ( and there are faint marks on his skin, marks that time had left, that past experience had scarred him with; reminders of what he had done, how far he had come - and they are nothing, he thinks, compared to the rough feel of Stephen’s skin. Compared to the way his fingers - bent, shaken - feel against his own ), supporting, almost, of the weight Stephen offers against them. 

         His voice is quiet, not hesitant, but sympathetic; a tone, he hopes, would give Stephen comfort to speak on.  Does this hurt? 

shadowsurrounded:

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           for a moment she feels as if she can’t breathe. as though her lungs have seized up and she is but two seconds away from choking on her own air. her forehead drops to his shoulder_;_ she needs a minute or a hundred to regain control of herself in the aftermath of this conversation. the mere of touch of him helps her, keeps her grounded, reminds her why she has bared her soul to him over and over, in spite of her better inclinations to keep parts of herself secret. she cannot hide from him any more than he can from her, and there seems to be a strange comfort in that. her breathing steadies, though she still keeps her hands on him for fear that he’ll vanish if she lets go.

           ❛      if you’ll have mei’ll stay.      is this why she had come here? had her subconscious already yearned to right the wrongs of years past, in spite of fears of how she might be received? clea had ruled an entire dimension, fought her own family as often as she’d fought enemies, and those feats seem so simple in comparison to the agony of this entire encounter. and yet, she doesn’t mind it. it reminds her that this is real, and not a dream. 

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              this was it —— the moment he had dreamed of for years and years on end and yet.. why did this feel too good to be true? why did clea wait so long, to come back to him? some small part of him wished to not be so dubious in regards to clea, but.. he couldn’t help it, having been burned to the core by the one woman who could, when given the chance. he loved her with all of his being, so why did it feel like he should wait? —— simply nosing against her silken white hair stephen gave a soft sigh, eyes closing as he held clea impossibly closer. he’d need time to think this over, but for now he’d be content with just having her there.

  i can’t just.. continue where we left off, clea.     he murmured, voice tired to match how his mind was running a million miles a minute to try and figure out why he was feeling this way. nothing she said or did could make him forgive her fully, especially for asking the divorce in front of bloody everyone —— given that she knew, how he felt about his personal life being aired to the public.