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#*distant evil laughter *
the-stove-is-on-fire · a year ago
Here I was thinking the ghost would be a little bean and then BOOM
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i-guesss-its-hannah · a month ago
I know no one sees these but this is my 3rd year in a row participating in Goretober and due to my recent fixation on the series that was a big part of my childhood I’m doing it with MFB characters this year
and I’m one of those weirdos that does the “the more I love a character the more I make them suffer” thing so get ready
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tina-nina · a month ago
Wait, so if you are borrowing Arya’s OC, Alyssa, does this mean that she gets reincarnated into Xehanort instead of Caelum?
You would be correct!
Dream Drop is going to be so fun >:3
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wolken-himmel · 5 months ago
In which Malleus takes (Y/n) to the Valley of Thorns, intending for her to meet his grandmother.
Although (Y/n) is very intimidated at first, the ice breaks when the queen begins telling embarrassing stories of her grandson as a child — much to the amusement of (Y/n) and horror of Malleus.
Request by anon.
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"So you are the human that has bewitched my young grandson?"
The throne room of the Valley of Thorns was large and intimidating, especially with the queen sitting on her throne — just a few metres in front of you. Although Malleus stood next to you, you still felt horribly alone as she kept her glowing green eyes focused on you, eyeing you up and down and effectively paralysing you with just her eyes.
Eventually, the anxiety got to your head, and you took a few step backwards to shyly hide behind Malleus, whose tall stature was finally of good use. Your hands clutching onto his back, you carefully peaked out from behind your cover to find an amused smile on the queen's lips.
"Uh— bewitched is quite a peculiar word. But yes, I think that's me..." you said, trailing off nervously. The corners of her lips quirked up as she put her chin into her palm, her elbow resting on the armrest of her throne made out of thorns. She made no effort to respond to your little comment, and it seemed like she liked to see you tremble under her mighty gaze. Biting your lip, you let out a few squeals. "I-I'm (Y/n), Your Majesty."
Malleus sighed, yet an amused smile graced his lips as he turned his head around as much as he could to get a glimpse of you clinging onto the fabric of his clothing like a frightened deer. Chuckling, he softly whispered, "(Y/n), you don't need to be nervous." His voice was soothing — so much that your grip on him lessened. "Come out, alright?"
You sighed, your face a bright red. "Alright..." you muttered as you carefully ventured out from behind Malleus' back — out into the open, where the queen could eye you openly once again. The expression on her face didn't change from that humoured yet slightly bored one when you finally raised your gaze to make eye contact with her.
"I'm sorry," you said, voice trembling, "Your Majesty..."
"Ah, it is no problem," she replied immediately, her voice smooth and velvety — like honey. Raising her other hand that wasn't busy serving as a chin-rest, she flicked her wrist elegantly. "People tend to be intimidated by my presence."
"You're just really beautiful and regal," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Your face heating you, immediately sought refuge in Malleus again, this time clinging to his arm like a desperate monkey. He merely laughed quietly, letting you do as you pleased since seeing you desperately seek safety in him made butterflies erupt in his stomach.
The queen quirked an eyebrow while shifting in her seat, curious about this strange human — courageous and shy at the same time — that her grandson had brought to her in hopes of gaining her approval. "Oh? You're quite the charmer, Beastie," she drawled, a mischievous glint flashing across her vibrant eyes. "I can see why my grandson fell for you."
"Fell for me?" you repeated shyly, removing your face from Malleus' upper arm to shoot her a confused frown. You tilted your head to the side. "This must be a misunderstanding; we are just friends."
The queen's eyes widened in surprise, and she immediately tore her gaze away from your confused eyes to shoot her grandson a questioning look. Malleus grew nervous when his grandmother's pressing stare landed on him, and he merely returned a look that spoke of his frustrations about courting your oblivious self.
Still, a little bit sceptical about the sudden revelation, the queen turned to you again, having quickly recovered from the surprise. "...I see," she muttered and trailed off, lost in thoughts. She had expected her grandson to present her his chosen bride that would one day rule over the Valley of Thorns by his side, not his oblivious crush; but oh well, it was much more amusing this way. So, shooting you a wide smile that showed off her pearly white teeth, she beckoned you closer. "Well, I hope you have been enjoying your stay at the Valley of Thorns so far. Think of the castle as your home, my dear."
"You're very generous!" you chimed, suddenly much less afraid of her; the ice had been broken by her realising that his son was just as hopeless at courting someone as you were. "And yes, Malleus has shown me a lot of pretty places!"
She watched you with curious eyes, especially at the way your eyes lit up like that of a child's when you spoke of her grandson. With a flick of her wrist, she waved you closer, and you obeyed — although you hesitated at first. You first shot Malleus a look, asking him if you should do as she asked, and he returned a vigorous nod, surprised and ecstatic that his grandmother would do such a thing.
Setting foot in front of foot, you eventually stood in front of her, and she gestured you to kneel down before her. With wobbly legs, you did your best to lower yourself with as much grace as you could, feeling especially bad since the young-looking woman in front of you was the definition of grace and beauty herself. You felt like an insignificant corn of dust in her presence.
The queen extended her hand towards you and grabbed your chin rather gently, tilting your face up so that she could gaze into your curious (E/c) eyes once again. "The innocence and curiosity in your eyes—" she cooed, softly chuckling to herself as she tilted your face into different directions, inspecting you closely. You stayed silent, although your cheeks heated up considerably as more time passed. A smile graced the queen's lips. "You are quite endearing, Beastie."
Malleus hummed, nodding eagerly. "I agree, Grandmother."
His grandmother briefly averted her gaze to her young grandson, causing you to exhale in relief. Yet, you were left no time to recover since her gaze quickly snapped back to you. You tensed up when she let go of your chin to instead run her cold knuckles along your cheek. "You remind me of my Malleus when he was younger," she muttered quietly, that cold and distant aura she exuded temporarily replaced by the warmth that nostalgia brought her. "Ah fond memories... You know, he used to have a lizard as a pet when he was younger—"
"Really?!" You perked up immediately, gasping in surprise and anticipation at her words. You jumped to your feet, which drew a surprised breath from the queen. That innocent and excited smile on your face radiated such warmth and happiness that the queen's eyes widened in utter surprise. Quickly, you calmed down again upon seeing her shocked expression, and you nervously muttered, "Oh— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. The excitement just got to me—" You took a deep breath and put on a smile. "But please, Your Majesty, tell me more."
Malleus' eyes widened in horror. He waved his hands around and spluttered, "Grandmother, no—"
Malleus was successfully silenced by a wave of her hand while a slightly evil grin grew on her lips. Returning her attention to you again, she cooed, "Oh, you seem quite eager, Beastie. How endearing." You nodded in utter excitement, already trembling due to your impatience. She chuckled and patted her armrest, gesturing you to make yourself comfortable before she began her tale. "Alright, there was this one time where he thought his pet lizard had died, but it was simply brumating. Of course, Malleus was but a young fae back then, so he couldn't have known better—"
You sat on the cold stone floor, your arms laying on her armrest as you looked up at her with sparkling eyes. She found the way you hung to every word she uttered like she was a great storyteller quite amusing. Malleus on the other hand was trembling in embarrassment, his cheeks a bright red whenever you turned to him to shoot him a smile.
"Grandmother, why must you embarrass me in front of my dear Child of Man like that—" he whined, reminding the queen of when he was younger and didn't get whatever he wanted. With how upset Malleus was, he even had smoke coming out of his nostrils, causing his grandmother to laugh softly.
Stroking her chin as if lost deep in thoughts, she absent-mindedly muttered, "I never thought of myself as a conventional grandmother, but even I find pleasure in sharing amusing tales of my grandson's childhood." You nodded along eagerly, not giving her words much thought; but Malleus was surprised at his usually so stoic grandmother revealing such a side of her to him and you now. The queen even extended a hand to pat your head like you were an adorable pet. "And it seems like your human very much enjoys my tales, too."
As to prove her correct and support her in her glaring-battle against her grandson, you happily bellowed, "Continue! Continue, please!" The queen let out a contented huff while the prince couldn't believe how his friend had betrayed him just like that.
"Please no—" Malleus croaked out, only to be ignored.
Taking a deep breath, the queen happily continued, "And then, since he thought his pet had died, Malleus wept for hours to no end— He couldn't control his magic yet, causing thunder storms to plague the area."
You broke out into laughter, unable to stop yourself any longer. "Aw, Malleus..." you cried out, your voice muffled since you had your face nestled in your arms that were sprawled out on the throne's armrest. Your carefree wheezes filled the room while you laughed your soul out, the queen merely running her slender fingers through your hair in amusement. "Malleus, who knew you were so adorable..."
Frustration and anger were written all over Malleus' face as he helplessly watched you laugh about the silly and embarrassing story his grandmother had just shared with you — and it looked like this wasn't even the end yet. The queen, watching you with fond eyes, continued, "Lilia told me that, when the small lizard awoke from its brumation period, Malleus thought the small creature had risen from the dead—" She paused briefly, humming. "What did he call it? I think... he called it a 'zombie-lizard'."
Her words were the last push you needed to sob uncontrollably, the laughter finally swallowing you whole and making you unable to react to anyone or anything around you any longer. Muttering incoherent words to yourself, you kept your face buried in your arms, your whole body trembling and heaving up and down rapidly.
"Grandmother," Malleus muttered, frowning at the state you were in, "I think you just broke my human."
The queen smiled while continuing to run her hand through your soft hair, as if wanting to calm you down from your high induced by laughter. "She is quite adorable. I like this one," she whispered to her the other fae in the room, whose eyes lit up in happiness at his grandmother's words. "Keep her safe, dear grandson."
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shurisneakers · 6 months ago
harmless (ix)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety
Word count: 3.9k
A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist
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Hot single in your area! 😈  Find your solemate! 
Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.
Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 
He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 
Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.
Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 
Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦
He wants to strangle you. 
“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 
“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”
He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 
He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.
“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.
“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”
His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.
He can hear your laughter even without the phone.
“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”
He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 
“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”
“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.
“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.
“I know, you told me.”
“Okay, what now?” 
“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 
“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.
You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.
You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.
His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 
It never comes. 
Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 
“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”
Just like that, the show was ruined.
He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 
“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 
“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 
He stares at you. 
“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”
Pepper would not like that. 
“That’s not even evil.”
“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”
You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.
He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 
Fuck, he really had only one option. 
He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.
He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.
“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 
“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.
You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”
The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.
“Hey man, I-
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.
“I need your wings.”
“I was right. Bye.”
It was a long shot anyway.
“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”
“ Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 
Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 
“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”
“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”
He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 
“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.
“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”
“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 
He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.
He takes a seat on the ground and waits.
“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.
 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.
“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”
“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.
“Do you not like your team?” 
“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”
“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.
He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”
Although it was appreciated. 
“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 
“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?
“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”
“Building’s dark, red is good.”
“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”
“I don’t have anything against them.”
“Then why do you do this every week?”
This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 
“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”
“No other reason?”
“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”
“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”
“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”
“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.
“My roommate.” 
“I didn’t see him when I came over.”
“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”
Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.
“He hates superheroes?”
“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 
“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 
“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”
“Not even a tragic backstory?” 
“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”
“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.
“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”
“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 
“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”
“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 
You stare at him. He stares at you.
“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”
“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.
“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”
“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”
“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”
“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.
“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”
“What the fuc-”
“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”
Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 
“Raw and uncut, baby.”
“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”
“She was a witch who stole my hair.”
He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 
Fucking finally. 
He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.
Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.
“Buck,” Sam greets him.
“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 
A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”
“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 
“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”
Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 
You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 
“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 
“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 
What the shit.
Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.
“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 
“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.
This is not what Bucky wanted.
“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”
“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.
“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 
You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 
“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.
“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”
“Very positively.” 
Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”
You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”
“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 
“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”
“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”
“Sam just get the damn-”
“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.
“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 
“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”
Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 
“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.
“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.
“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 
“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.
“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”
“After the ‘A’?”
“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 
“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 
“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 
“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”
“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”
“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 
“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.
“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”
“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 
“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.
Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 
“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”
“I like red.”
As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 
“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.
“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.
You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.
“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 
Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.
“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 
“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.
You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”
“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 
Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.
“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”
Bucky rolls his eyes.
“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 
“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 
“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.
“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”
“Got the motorcycle.” 
“See you there.” Sam nods. 
“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.
“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”
“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.
“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 
When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”
“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”
He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.
“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.
“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”
“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”
From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 
Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 
“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”
“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 
“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”
“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.
“Just don’t.”
“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”
“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”
“What about when you’re not?”
“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 
“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”
 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”
“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”
“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.
“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”
“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”
Adorable? Adorable?
“I hate you.”
“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”
He wants to cry. 
By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 
Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.
He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.
“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.
“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 
“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 
“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.
“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 
Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.
“She made this?” 
“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.
“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.
“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 
“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”
“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 
It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.
“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.
He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 
Tony has an idea. 
And that was generally bad news.
Next part
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haline-of-troy · a month ago
loving you is a losing game
(ignore the quality i wrote this in math class and have no desire to proofread.)
TW: Torture, Death ;)
The clouds were weeping the day the Christopher Herondale's world ended.
Christopher remembered it clearly, if not other things. He remembered laughing with the woman he called Mom and the girl he called Min-Min. He remembered falling asleep to the soft, low tunes of a violin carefully handled. Most of all, he remembers love, loving and being loved.
Then he remembered the terror and agony; feelings he has grown accustomed to in the days, months or maybe years he's spent in the darkness. Christopher remembered the ambush on his beloved house, he remembers screams, and chaos and remembers pain.
After that, of course, the horror.
(But was it even horror anymore? Christopher knew it would be to most, but now it was his life. Before was a distant memory, one he knew existed, but couldn't quite believe anymore. He never got used to the pain, it never became bearable, it just was.)
Faeries, even evil kidnapping ones, had routines. In the tavern they kept him, there was no sense of day or night. He assumed the day changed when the silver one, with her mask of gold arrived.
Almost as if on cue, the vines parted, and she did.
"Little prince," she cooed, head cocked to one side. She wore a gilded mask that covered most her face, but the rest of her was forged with silver.
"Hey, you," Christopher told her, forcing his lips into as much of a smile as he could manage. He'd been left at the altar after the last time, and it was a relief, for he could feel his feet again.
She snarled at him, pitch black eyes flashing. Kneeling before him, she tipped Christopher's chin up. "Aurelien."
Christopher flinched. Even after every single time they'd given him that name, he refused it. He wasn't Aurelien, like the Fae said he was meant to be, like his ancestor couldn't. He couldn't be Kit, the name held too many complications, too many memories or visions or dreams or whatever they were of him
He was Christopher Jonathan Herondale, and he would remember.
"What is your name?"
Christopher groaned, sliding down against the wall. "Not this again. How many times do I have to tell you, lady? What is it? Alzheimer's? Dementia? Really terrible memory in general?"
She sneered at him. Lifting her hand, where a spark of flame hovered, she caressed his cheek. Christopher could feel the heat from her palm as the flame spread steadily across her hand.
"What is your name?"
It was a simple question, really, but as with everything Faerie, it held a double meaning. Sure, he could sate her by saying 'Aurelien', but that wouldn't work. Christopher had to accept the name, because names held power. Giving them his name would mean giving himself up, and there was no way in hell Christopher would do that.
(In weaker, earlier moments, he'd considered it. Giving into the temptation of ending this for himself, of becoming the Fae's puppet, of doing anything to end the pain.
Christopher was not weak today. They had healed last nights lashes while he slept, as they so often did. If they even happened at all, that was, if he hadn't just dreamt it as he suspected he dreamt everything. Without the scars, he couldn't tell.)
"My name," Christopher snarled, tipping his chin up so it hovered inches away from her flaming hand, "is Christopher Jonathan Herondale."
She slammed her burning palm onto his face.
Agony exploded within Christopher, searing over his cheeks and knifing past his jaw. The overbearing smell of charring skin nearly made Christopher lose himself. He felt powerless, drowning in an inferno.
Tessa, he thought breathlessly. Her name was Tessa.
When the pain became too much for him, as it often did, Christopher retreated into memory. He brought forth half-heard echos of laughter and smiles and hope in his heart.
She used dance in the kitchen, he remembered, seeing the farmer's table behind his eyes. She used to sing to me, and tell me stories, but of what? She used to brush my hair away and say 'Read that book'. I called her my mother, Christopher thought, tears of equal parts pain and loss streaming past his cheeks. And she called me her son.
"Aurelien," his silver-clad captee said, forcing him upright by the collar.
With whatever voice he had left, that hadn't been seared away, he snarled, "Christopher Jonathan."
She hurled him towards the wall, and agony drove a fierce crack through the back of his skull. If Christopher could've laughed, he would.
The Fae didn't die easy. He didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse.
When the mallet swung on his knees, when visions of people he knew in a life long lost screaming from rage and despair clouded his vision, when even his family wasn't enough to heal his bruising, breaking soul - Christopher thought of him.
Sometimes, he wasn't sure if he'd dreamt the boy up.
If there was anything Christopher had learnt during his time at Faerie, or with Fae, was that one must never trust anything. Even his sight betrayed him, when he saw his beloveds groveling in pain and begging for him to give up. Even his sense of smell and touch betrayed him, when he woke up unable to move, but felt smoke cloud his nostrils and fire grow close.
His captors were hell of illusionists, that was one thing he'd give them. When - or more likely if - he got out, he'd never think so highly of Inception again.
But it did not matter, what he was inflicted with, the second his thoughts turned to Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, everything turned to confetti.
In quiet moments when his captors did not look at his mind, he dreamt of the boy whose smile put the sun to shame. The boy with ink in his hair and ink on his hands. He dreamt of laughter and smiles and touches that made him feel alive. He dreamt of quiet nights and dangerous magic and fluttering, butterfly hands. He dreamt of castles and highways and apples and twins and whispers and shadows, but could no longer make sense of them.
He thought of blue-green eyes and waves and the salty smell of the beach. He dreamt of a lilting voice and a story of love that had no end. He remembered a little girl riding on his back, and that, above everything, made him hold on.
Because they were his family, and he was theirs. They were worth every cut and bruise and scream.
Christopher woke up to clangs and crashes, swords and armor and snarls echoing across his ears.
Blinking rapidly, he tried sitting up. His feet felt as if they were on fire, but he had to see.
The din was deafening, but whatever battle was going on took place outside the tavern. Christopher closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm his haywire nerves.
Could it be that someone was here to rescue him? Could it?
The chains around his wrists and ankles had never felt so heavy. The time he spent in bated anticipation felt like eons, stretching over space and time.
Empires rose and fell, generations passed, and then finally, finally something.
Two figures stumbled through the vines, a Shadowhunter in full battle gear, her brown pigtails standing on end as she battled with Christopher's silver-clad captor.
Just when she seemed to be making a fatal blow, the Faerie twisted a dagger flashing into her hand as she threw it.
Christopher watched with his heart in his throat, but the dagger never touched the Shadowhunter girl. Instead, it hurtled towards him and with a sickening crunch, hit him somewhere Christopher was too woozy to understand.
The girl gave an enraged howl, and in a truly glorious moment, swung her battle axe forward and sliced her opponent's head clean off.
"Kit!" she shrieked, racing over to where he lay. "Kit, Kit, oh my god!"
He caught a flash of turqouise eyes as she worried over him, and some place within him where his memories of sunlit days were kept broke off.
"Dru," he whispered, unable to do anything else.
Dru's eyes widened. "You can-"
She broke off of whatever she was about to say and instead turned to the entrance.
"TY!" she screamed, and Christopher physically felt the impact of her voice slam into the side of his head.
Ty. Tiberius.
Christopher suddenly wanted to throw up, something completely unrelated to his many injuries. He was half naked, bruised and looked certainly pathetic. He did not, under any circumstances, want the boy of his literal dreams to see him like this.
In a flash, several figures stumbled into the room. At their lead was, in all his ink-haired, slate-eyed glory, was Tiberius Nero Blackthorn.
His face was creased with worry, and his widened with panic when saw Christopher. Immediately, tears began streaming past his perfect face.
Please don't cry, Christopher wanted to say. He remembered, just then, of another day when Ty had cried, by the murky waters of a lake whose name Christopher didn't have in him to remember.
I caused you so much pain. Can you forgive me?
"Kit-" he said frantically, hands roaming Christopher's chest (which, incidentally, was not the situation Christopher imagined him doing so in).
"Oh god, there's so much blood," someone else called out, but Christopher couldn't be bothered by anyone but Ty.
"Kit, listen to me. You've got to breathe, okay? You'll be fine, I promise. But you have to stay with me, Kit, I- I can't be without you. Stay, please."
I'll do anything you want, Ty.
"Come on, Kit, let's get you out of here, okay? Please, please, just open your eyes and come with me, please!" he begged, his whole body crumpled with agony.
Why was he begging? Didn't Tiberius Blackthorn know that Christopher would do anything for him? Go wherever with him?
Christopher couldn't ponder this for long. He felt so very tired suddenly.
"You were always with me," Ty was saying now, and Christopher - no, Kit - tried very hard to focus on his words.
"Even when Livvy died, you were there. To never being parted, wasn't it?"
To say Kit wanted to reply was an understatement, but there were people grabbing his shoulders and his feet and hauling him away from Tiberius.
"Ty-" Kit managed to choke out. He felt desperate, suddenly. "Ty, I- I love you."
If anything, Ty looked even more agonized at this. With a sudden strength that came from Angel-knew-where, Kit reached to out touch Ty's chin, tracing over soft lips.
"Stay with me," he whispered, and Ty mouthed Always.
But the darkness was closing in on him now, and he could no longer hear or feel whatever was happening around or to him.
With one last look at the boy he wanted so badly to stay with, to listen to, Christopher Jonathan Herondale closed his eyes.
woah-k that was a wrap-
i don't write angst a lot so feel free to give me feedback
tagging: @clarys-heosphoros @blackasmysoul @revvs-trash@kitandtyarelife @queen-born-out-of-fire @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @youngreckless @anarmorofwords @raziyekroos @blackasmysoul @ddepressedbookworm @chaos-is-my-king @coffee-fandoms-and-chaos @revvs-trash@our-insentient-touches @hardlymatters @chrysalism-sonder @beclynn-herondale @willothewhisper @shadowhuntingdemigod @amchara @ghafa-dale (lmk if u wanna be +/-)
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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 months ago
Draw your swords, pt. 23
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Summary: Learning how to move on, Y/N and Aleksander’s relationship strengthens. With a new plan in place, they allow themselves a night of reprieve.
Warnings: angst, strong language, violence, fluff, sexual content
Draw your swords - Series Masterlist
Staring up at Little Palace, Y/N’s breaths come in shuddered, strained huffs of air. Her jaw is clenched, her heart bleeding still.
The structure feels as unforgiving, as evil as it was that night Aleksander first brought her here, the distant echo of her wish to burn it down is still alive and frozen in time. She can’t though, not when so many Grisha will now find a safe haven where countless before them have found only tragedy. Her mother and grandmother and Genya would like for the walls of Little Palace to echo laughter instead of desperate screams, so Y/N decided she’d make that true.
Maybe this is what she needs, closure. 
She’ll leave, but eventually her road will bring her back right where she started – where she and Aleksander will lead Ravka to a blissful future. Anything less would be unacceptable.
Aleksander noticed her figure from the tree line as he rode in with his black stallion. It broke his chest to see her so hurt, so bitter over numerous losses she endured. 
He fought the urge to drag her back inside where it’s warm, where it’s safe, but he knows she needs to find a way to deal with her own emotions. He’s picking up the broken pieces of her damaged heart. When he met her, she was as brittle as glass but when she broke, the shards left deep cuts on him as well.
It’s impossible not to notice her troubles sleeping or her restless dreaming. He’d hold her close to his chest, but even he couldn’t chase the bad dreams away. When he’d ask what she’s dreaming about, she’d always reply the same.
“I dream of killing him.”
Knowing her family history brings a pang of guilt every time he realizes what he took from her when he had executed the cut on the emperor. Y/N wanted to kill him herself and he denied her the pleasure.
“I dream of cutting his skin and watching the blood spill from his veins. I dream of his screams as I rip into him until he’s begging me for release. I’d deny it over and over again, rewarding each scream with a new wound. I’d remind him of the ones who pleaded with him to release them and of every time he denied them their freedom. I’d remind him as I cut off his nasty little prick, as I look into his eyes while he bleeds dry. I’d tell him my grandmother’s name, my mother’s name, Genya’s. And then I’d tell him mine so he knows exactly who ended his life. I wanted him to know I ended his line, that his name would be forgotten!”
Swallowing thickly, Aleksander feels his heart quiver as he sees her trembling in the harsh night air. Taking off his kefta, her wraps her up swiftly enough that she had barely gasped before he had her in his arms. She had colonized his heart, melted the ice in his veins and healed all his scars – it’s his turn to help her.
“You scared me”, she relaxes in his embrace without even a glance his way. She knew it’s him just by the intoxicating scent of his kefta and confirmed it by the tightness of his warm arms around her. No one hugs her quite like him, not with so much devotion and love.
Pressing his lips to her temple, he leans his forehead on it. Closing his eyes, he inhales the lilac scent of her hair. “Many tried to kill me, but no one quite as effectively as you.” Licking his lips, he turns her to face him. “What are you doing outside all alone, love?”
Averting her gaze, she places her hand on his heart. The beating of a heart filled with love for her always grounds her. Meeting his gaze, she manages a smile. Those dark skies above their heads are incomparable to the beauty of the skies in his eyes – the stars, the moon, the entire fucking galaxy she found a place in.
“It doesn’t feel right”, she frowns. Licking her lower lip, her eyes flicker to her hand across his chest. “Being alone in our room without you or Genya feels wrong.” Front teeth sinking into her bottom lip, she keeps it from quivering.
Crying tires her, irritates her. Being so vulnerable, so open with her emotions is unlike her. There was never a time where she’d keep her mouth shut about what frustrates or angers her, but what wounds her? Sharing that pain is a rarity. She didn’t want to become the woman who cries on her husband’s chest forever. If she’s perfectly honest with herself, she’s worried he’ll bore of her and look for a more cheerful companion. 
He’d be upset if he knew where her mind goes, assume she’s doubting him, but she isn’t. Not on purpose. Her mind turns on her, and in it, turns Aleksander against her.
Cupping her cheek, Aleksander lets out a heavy sigh. “We’ll leave tomorrow if you want.”
Sniffling, she nods. It’s been a week since they put Genya into the ground. It reminded her far too much of her mother’s funeral.
A single golden leaf pirouettes down an invisible spiral of an autumn breeze, spinning through the air as it allows itself be carried down to grass which already lost its vibrant green color. It shakes lightly, as if it can be whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it keeps floating down its uncertain course.
It blows past Y/N’s face and lands on the ground, its shiny color standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it just as Genya did among other Grisha. It’s so delicate, she wants to reach down and pick it up and hold it close to her heart, protect it from being trampled by a hurried passersby, but something tells her it belongs there, serving as a corpse of what was once summer. The hassle behind her is hard to ignore as yet another corpse was buried on this heavy day.
Running a hand through her hair, Y/N brushed it away from her face, letting it fall down her back and trail her shaky form. She would often describe her hair as unruly and unmanageable, but all anyone else saw were the lustrous curls that bounced as she walked. Genya always made her seem magical, but without her to advise her on style made Y/N doubt the look she chose. Genya would likely hate it, demand she rectifies her outfit and shriek about her hair, but she’s gone now. She can’t complain anymore.
Glancing at Aleksander, she notices his eyes are already on her. He always liked her hair and somewhere along the way, she started to believe him when he’d shower her with shameless compliments every once in a while.
With a heavy sigh, Y/N turns toward the ruckus and plasters on a well-rehearsed smile. It is the kind of smile that made every muscle stiffen in order to hold its position, seemingly polite and sweet, but cold and tiring in reality. She had spent hours in front of the mirror, carefully planning the exact position her lips would assume, making sure that no one, not even Aleksander, could see the sorrow beneath.
She failed though, Aleksander could see her struggling to keep her composure. He could see the tears she swallows and the shaky, shallow breaths she takes in order to stop herself from screaming.
She pulled her shoulders back, puffed out her chest and strolled her way past surrounding graves with her head held high. This is the confidence of one who has suffered into ash, been reborn in the flames of hell. Each step taken feels like a knife to her heart, but she moves closer nonetheless.
Aleksander follows her every step, admiring her strength. Even now, she’s exuding undeniable fortitude. She might feel alone, but she’s never truly alone. He’s always there to hold her in his arms, from dusk till dawn. He hopes she knows it too.
“It’s a beautiful spot”, she murmurs. “She’d like the colorful trees and birds singing”, her voice is gloomy and heavy with untold emotions.
Taking her hand in his, Aleksander gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She would.”
Swallowing thickly, she frowns. “If I died, I do not know what I’d like.”
Licking his lips, he glances at her before turning to the fresh grave. “I do.”
Looking to him, she felt her heart sink in her chest. She never wanted to imagine life without him, she’d perish in the wake of his loss.
“If I die, I’d want there to be no funerals. I’d rather there be no grave for them to desecrate.”
Pursing her lips, she moves in front of him. Placing her left hand on his jaw, she meets his empty gaze.
“You’re not allowed to die before me”, her solemn words shake him up. 
Does she genuinely believe he’d survive a single day without her? Does she think he’d ever move on from the pain of losing her?
“You are not allowed to die before me”, he repeats.
Her lips curl at the corners, wrapping her arms around him. This is how it’s meant to be, how they’re supposed to be – together and in love like no one had ever loved before.
Inhaling deeply, she clears her throat. “If we leave tomorrow, we’ll have to head to the Fold next.”
Aleksander shakes his head, “You’re not strong enough.”
“I’ll have to be.”
Sighing, he smiles in disbelief. “Always so stubborn.”
Gracing him with a small smile, she wraps her arms around his neck. “Would you love me if I was more agreeable?”
Pausing, he stares at her with a fond look in his eyes. “I’d love you even if you were more insufferable.”
She chuckles, scratching the back of his neck with her nails. “And if I end up growing old? If my beauty fades, will you love me then?”
Leaning down, Aleksander rests his forehead on hers. “Even if you’re old and senile, I’ll love you.”
She inhales, her lips brushing Aleksander’s. “Remind me”, she whispers. “If I ever forget you, remind me who you are every day.”
Swaying her lightly, he holds her close. He never imagined such happiness would enter his life, but he can’t deny he’s never been happier, not even in his dreams. A part of him worries he can lose it all, be stripped of all the good Y/N brought to his life. It’s a never-ending nightmare he fears.
So when he speaks, he speaks from the heart. “Do you think we’ll live happily ever after?”
Closing her eyes, she swallows the lump at the back of her throat. “We deserve a soft epilogue.”
Standing there in silence, they simply enjoyed each other’s presence. They enjoyed being alive, being together.
However, something weighed on Darkling’s mind.
“I have something to admit”, Aleksander pulls away. The look in his eye is enough for Y/N’s eyebrows to furrow.
“Will it make me angry?”
Chuckling, he averts his gaze. Licking his lips, he nods. “Possibly.”
Her lips stretch into a smile, “Well, that’s improvement then.”
“What do you mean?”
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she pulls his kefta forth to better secure it around her. “Usually you’d simply act and hide it from me for as long as possible. You’re offering to tell me the truth now.”
“Being able to speak in honesty with someone is the true definition of love and I love you, Y/N. No matter how unbearable you can be, I adore you. I treasure every moment we spend together.”
Letting a heavy sigh pass her lips, she nods. “And I love you. With all my heart.” She closes her eyes shut, her long eyelashes fanning across her cheeks. “Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll love you even if it makes me mad.”
“I sent the tracker to find the Morozova stag.”
Her eyes open wide, sending her husband a death glare. “You sent Mal to look for a legend?”
“The stag is real”, Aleksander takes her hands in his right one, using his left one to keep his kefta securely wrapped around her. “The stag exists and when he finds it, you’ll claim its power and defeat the Fold.”
A breathless chuckle escapes her, “I thought you didn’t want the Fold to fall.”
“I don’t”, he quips. “But I want to kill Zlatan and it outweighs everything else I want.”
Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, she watches him intently.
“Without the stag, I don’t think you’ll be able to remove the Fold without risking your life. I don’t want to lose you.”
Narrowing her eyes, she purses her lips. She’s not happy with his clear intent on risking Mal’s life, but she believes him. She is powerful, but she never truly tested her power on a grander scale. Her powers were strongest when he held her hand on the cliff, when she allowed her light to surround the armies. 
All her life, she spent every minute of every day denying her Grisha side. She put her trust in her sword and humanity, but that wouldn’t be of use inside the Fold.
“I’m angry”, she states. “But I understand.”
Letting out a relieved sigh, Aleksander’s eyes close. “That’s perfectly acceptable to me.”
Rolling her eyes, she embraces him. Hiding her face in his neck, her cold nose brushes his warm skin.
“We need to get you inside before you freeze”, his deep chuckle brought instant warmth to her heart.
He never had to try with her, just the sound of his laugh could make her happy. He brings peace in midst of a storm she always thought he caused. 
As it turns out, she was the storm all along.
Picking her up, Aleksander carries Y/N back to their room.
Putting her down brought a frown to his face as his kefta falls to the ground. He looks at her, pulls her flush against his chest, lips finding hers in seconds. 
Her back arches and her hands come up to his face, eyes closing as she melts into his touch and it feels like home.
It’s a kiss, but it’s deeper, making both of their hearts thump a mile a minute.
He pulls back, giving her an intense look and she has to remind herself to breathe. His eyes are gentle, still darker with lust but not hungry or needy. There’s no grin, just a sweet corner smile. His entire expression is soft and almost innocent, a stark contrast to the image he’s spent his entire life building.
“So beautiful.” He mumbles under his breath, but she catches the words with ease.
He sits back on the bed, letting her nestle in his lap. Gently dragging her knuckles down his right cheek, Aleksander closes his eyes and sighs in relief. 
He’s a picture of perfection, she thinks.
The moment ends and he opens his eyes, his lips kissing at her jaw. Surges of electricity jolt through her body as his lips trail to her neck.
A moan passes her lips, inviting him to reclaim her lips and he obliges wholeheartedly.
Pushing Aleksander’s shoulder, moving him flat on his back as she properly straddles him, their lips do not disconnect for a single second. Her breathing is already ragged and strangled but she’s not focused on breathing. She is utterly lost in the moment of lust, something he made her very accustomed to.
His hands slide under her nightdress, pulling it up and his hands are so warm, fitting to her sides like a perfect puzzle piece sliding into place. His hands trail up to her breasts, taking them in his hands and squeezing them, until she finally disconnects their lips with a gasp.
“Careful”, she complains. “They’re a little sore.”
Watching that usual smirk he always gets on his lips, Y/N feels a rush of heat through her body, head to toe. She matches his smirk, shaking her head.
“They do feel a bit different”, he notes. Kissing her collarbone, Aleksander draws back. “But beautiful in every way.”
Rolling her eyes, she helps him unbutton his shirt. Exposing his abs, she raises an eyebrow. “I’ll never get tired of this view.”
Aleksander’s arm wraps around Y/N, flipping her on the bed before getting on top. A laugh escapes her and Aleksander’s follows too, his head dipping into her neck before his eyes meet mine.
“I haven’t heard you laugh in a while”, his lips press at the corner of her smile. “I missed it.” Connecting his lips with her neck once more, he allows himself to enjoy her truly.
She runs a hand through his hair and Aleksander picks his head up, eyes meeting hers and he’s scared of the flutter his heart does. He’s terrified of the way he gets goosebumps and the way he never wants to stop kissing her. He stares back at her with heavy breaths as she pushes loose strands of his black hair back because she’s scared too, but in a different way.
She’s terrified of losing him for he made her happier than she’s ever been. In the last year he’s made her feel everything and she didn’t want that to be taken from her. Ever. 
She’d never allow anyone to take him from her like they took Genya.
If need be, she’ll burn the world to ash and dust, but she’ll never let a single flame touch him.
His lips are moving against hers, deepening every kiss and she’s letting herself melt into him and it’s so worth it. 
Every tear and ache of their hearts is worth it.
A/N - I’m so in love with this song right now and it makes me think of them. I’ve left a few details in the past chapter as well as this one for those who really pay attention to catch on, hope you did! Now that Genya’s laid to rest, they’re finally moving on to the Fold. Perhaps that will be easier than the Tsar?
Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr @youcantbesirius @kykymyeon @ohdolans @dritantus @measshaw @tillytillytilda @severewobblerlightdragon @auggie2000 @operation-spot @just-arandomwriter @justmesadgirl @aniia-x3@dark-night-sky-99 @kipoturtle @aleksanderwh0r3 @awesome-eccia @wnyyyy @agentstarkid @mackaywhore @yourfavoritefruitybitch @lokis-army-77 @tomhollandisabae @shadowsfawn @partiesandblurrypolaroids @cat-inthemoon @0-artemis @benbarnes-supremacy @lovinghunty @biblichorr​
Part 24
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luna-the-moth · 6 months ago
OM Character Aesthetics (SFW)
Hello hello lovelies! Just dropping a few aesthetics for all the chars. Requests are still closed, and any requests will be deleted, although my ask box is open to chat! (Luke’s Aesthetic will be platonic)
Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!
The sound of quills scratching over parchment. Ink, blooming and spreading across its canvas, forming a story of its own. Whispered murmurs of love at midnight. Blood red eyes piercing through the dim moonlight. A familiar melody, yet you can’t seem to find a name for it. Hauntingly empty notes, mourning for a lost one. A vice that can’t be removed, no matter how much one claws at it, yearning for it to disappear. Pride, a double-edged sword.
The welcoming scent of coffee, pitch black. Bitter, yet warming and comforting. Rose petals making their descent, wilting. Red wine swirling in a glass. Tears, dripping down and staining an old letter, weathered by time. An ornate mask, perfected and polished over time. Yet a small crack makes its way to the surface.
Glittering coins, cascading onto the floor, sparkling in the dim light. Brash denial, shielding a tender, starved heart. A thinly veiled mask, waiting to be removed. Yearning and infatuation, unvoiced feelings. Reaching out a hand, but being restricted by chains of fearing for the unknown. Shining trinkets, a token of affection. The assurance of a protector.
Angelic eyes, a taste of ambrosia. The swipe of a credit card. The sound of tokens, sliding across a poker table. A subtle glance, hiding your hand. Experienced, calculating eyes, watching for the slightest giveaway. Practiced movements, revealing a complex strategy. But there’s a small opening, a chance to strike, unraveling a soft hesitance.
The noise of a PC starting up. Winning a battle royal. Ocean waves, lapping against the shore. Diving into crystal clear waters, the water welcoming you.  Nostalgic video game soundtracks, bringing memories of joyous accomplishments. Hesitant, tentative touches. Frustration at oneself for not taking enough chances.
Vivid coral structures, housing various marine life; a hidden kingdom. Feeling the water pull you in, beckoning for your company. Anime OSTs, bringing a sense of life, or death. Watching your favorite character earn their happy ending, a sense of redemption. A brief spark, fingers brushing against each other. A glimmer of hope, in the vast, dark sea.
Old parchment, soft, weathered corners pliant in your touch. Crackling fires, the comforting scent of smoke enveloping you. Herbal tea, spreading warmth and healing, felt through your bones. Feline eyes, playful and charming, drawing you closer. The soft mewl of a kitten. Soft paws grasping your hand in their own. A wish to be free from one’s family, one’s heritage. Resentment.
Soft ambience in a forest, welcoming you. Innocent games of footsie under a table. Poetry written in the depths of the night, hidden away from prying eyes. The faintest hint of a fang, a reminder. A steeled mask, refined and elegant. The search for a sense of self. Layers of deception, hiding an unsure soul. A path to acceptance.
The sweet, light floral scent of roses. Fabrics rustling, being selected and judged. A steady hand, moving brushes with precision. Poised, sculpted appearances, invisible cracks of insecurity, hidden from harsh judgement. Flirtatious touches, yearning for something meaningful, perhaps even moreso, than romance. Friendship. Platonic affection, friendly hugs.
The clean scent of skincare, the cooling sensation of a cucumber mask across your skin. Shimmering jewels, delicate chains lacing around your neck. A chance encounter, meeting charming stranger, yet to be seen again. Acceptance, assurance that you’re enough. Loving someone as is.
Warmth, safety in another’s arms. Comfort food, memories of a happier, nostalgic past. Tasting the batter before it’s baked. The scent of fresh baked bread, permeating your senses, filling your home. Making double batches, yet still needing more. Indulgence in your deepest desires. The sizzling of a grill, promises of food.
Repressed grief, unresolved guilt. Mourning for a loved one. Reconciliation, finding healing. A silent promise of loyalty and protection. Warm encouragement, eyes devoid of judgement. Twilight eyes, filling with love and happiness. Loving wholeheartedly, devoted so long as you both shall live.
Grief-fueled rage, blind hatred. Helplessness, being bound by your own kin. A flash of hope. Human. A skillful puppeteer, pulling strings to his will, letting a story of loss and anguish unravel. A cruel act of murder, dragged out for his own sick delight. Witnessing rebirth. Realization. Regret. Watching as you heal, afraid to approach you once more. Aching for forgiveness.
A final offer, an olive branch. Whether to take it or not, is your decision. The lull of sleep, pulling you deeper into a different reality altogether. Lazy mornings, the comforter and promise of sleep, tempts you. Comforting scents of lilac and chamomile, blanketing you in a drowsy embrace. A dreamweaver.
Learning. Developing empathy. Emotional development, struggling to grasp emotions and relationships. Loneliness, yearning for company and friendship. A wish to be free, to embrace life without care. Diving in head first into life, treasuring the journey and experiences. The luxury of being free of responsibility, and having boundless energy to do so. Chained to responsibilities, a kingdom.
Childlike joy, curiosity in your surroundings. Rapturous laughter, echoing throughout a castle’s ancient foundation. Golden, piercing eyes, holding adoration and fascination. A chance at peace for all three realms, a treaty. Regal and powerful. Delight in the simple things. A boyish smile, followed by fleeting kisses.
Shrouded with mystery. Never quite close enough to decipher. Being held at arms length, a protective measure. Burdened with visions of the future. Servitude, loyalty to one’s master, a butler. Practiced movements, wiping over surfaces, serving a meal. Hidden feelings, masked professionalism, perfected over centuries.
Lingering touches, gloved hands touching your bare ones a second longer. Steaming tea, easing your stance and providing welcoming warmth. Pressing a stamp into melted wax, marking a letter. Polished china. Ancient grimoires, holding power and secrets beyond measure. A charming smile, an offered hand, promising more than one could wish for.
Prophecies of the future, albeit limited. Elegant writing of a script, painting a story of the ages. Carefully orchestrating a plot, extreme irritation at a single mistake. Having one’s own will. Unknown loyalties. Standing alone, with no clear master. Boundless wisdom, freedom to choose one’s own fate.
Soft healing, guidance. Words of honey, soothing and ever so sweet. Doe-like eyes, welcoming and open. Heavenly ties, an angelic gaze, wishing for your well-being. Blindingly white wings, powerful and protective. An angel, bound by not even the heavens themselves, devoted to you.
Unknown intentions, a loyalty to one’s own kind. Unlabelled potions, bubbling and frothing, almost with their own wills. Strange concoctions, inedible to most, except for the being who made them. Mysterious alliances, a lust for power and control. Friendly and teasing, yet distant at the same time. Cautious, weary from time’s hold on humankind.
Teasing smirks, playful winks. The scent of incense, and something else you can’t quite identify. Whispers deep into the night, ancient tongues being revived once more. Ancient glyphs, glowing and encompassing the room in a protective spell. A kiss on the corner of your lips, a taste of what’s yet to come.
Child-like innocence. Biased views of light and dark, evil and good. Gradual understanding, smoke-tinted glasses clearing anew. Seeing life for what it is, being able to laugh freely. Black and white, swirling to paint the world in strokes of grey. Learning how to choose your own path, to grab destiny by the reigns.
Sunshine, reflecting on and drawing in sunflowers. Flour, dusting footprints. Sugary confections, on display for all to marvel at. Fresh-baked pastries, reminders of childhood. Sweet frosting, artfully spun and woven onto a cake. Pure white lilies, a vow of protection and future guidance.
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babymetaldoll · 5 months ago
"The Sean Hotchner effect" (Spencer Reid / Reader)
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My gif 😉
Requested: Yes
Summary: Spencer is jealous 'cos reader (and the rest of the female team) thinks Hotchner's younger brother is hot.
Warnings: Cursing
Category: Fluff
Word count: 4,5K
A/N: I can' believe I actually wrote a fic! I've been so busy taking care of my grandparents I've just been updating DIWK, 'cos those chapters were long written and edited. Hope you all enjoy this little story, I'll bring you a more next week, hopefully! send you all my love!! be safe babes!
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Working at the BAU, the team was used to seeing the worst of human behavior. Murder scenes, abuse, psychopath, you name it.
That's why seeing the apparition that walked into the bullpen that morning was such a big shock for us, the team's females.
- "What are you doing out of your bunker?"- Elle asked Penelope, who was standing next to my desk. I whipped my head, surprised to see Garcia there, out of the blue, not even looking at us. Instead, her eyes were fixated on someone who wasn't Derek.
- "I was on my way to file the things that I... file?"- Garcia made a pause as Elle and I slowly turned and looked at the guy our tech analyst couldn't stop staring at.
He was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, perfect smile. The kind of guy that could definitely get every girl's attention. We didn't get many of those at the BAU that often, except, of course, for Dr. Spencer Reid. My best friend was hands down the hottest agent in the whole FBI, and I enjoyed having him near. But this guy was completely different.
- "Who is that?"- Elle asked and stood by our side.
- "The Future Mr. Garcia,"- Penelope whispered as the tall young man walked over us and cut us one flirtatious smile. I couldn't help it and returned the smile.
- "Hi"- I smiled and waved- "How can I help you?"
- "Hey. I'm..."
- "Sean!"- Derek Worst time ever Morgan ruined the whole moment as he walked over and took that hot guy away from us. Now at least we knew his name was Sean.
- "You must be looking for your brother."- Morgan said and tapped on his back.
- "Yeah."
- "Right this way"- and that's how that apparition was gone from our lives and directed straight to... Aaron Hotchner's office?
- "Brother as in?"- Elle asked and turned to us, confused- "That's Hotch's brother?!"
- "Maybe Hotch is adopted,"- Garcia whispered, not taking her eyes from Sean until he disappeared behind the door.
- "I feel scammed. We didn't get the hot brother"- I sighed and shook my head- "Well, I might have never solved a case with that smile around the bullpen"- Elle and Penelope giggled, but someone coughed behind my back, and immediately, I knew who he was.
- "Who are you guys talking about?"
Spence Walter Reid was standing right behind my back, and the look in his eyes wasn't as sweet and friendly as I was already used to. He was upset. I just didn't know why.
- "No one"- I lied and looked away.
- "Who were you all staring at?"- Reid asked. I quickly returned to my desk (right in front of his), grabbed a few files, and pretended to be working.
- "Aaron's brother"- Elle explained- "Apparently, we got the wrong Hotchner."
- "Sean?"- Spencer frowned and looked at us- "He just got into Georgetown law school. Maybe he came to pick up his brother to celebrate."
- "Who is gonna celebrate?"- JJ walked over, holding a bunch of folders, and looked at us.
- "Hotch and my future husband"- Garcia sighed and kept looking over at Aaron's door.
- "Sean, Hotch's brother is here, and believe me, he looks nothing like his brother."
Elle smiled and moved a chair across from her desk to make sure she had the best seat in the room to see Sean when he walked out. I shook my head as Elle winked at me.
- "Stop pretending you didn't see him, (Y/N). You were the one who talked to him."
I swear, I could feel Spencer's eyes on me, burning my skin. I slowly turned around and looked at him with a small, innocent smile. But all I got in return was a stern look.
- "I just... wanted to... help him"- I tried to excuse myself, but Elle laughed, and Garcia followed.
- "Sure, babe. He looked like he was hopelessly lost in the BAU. He needed your help to find his brother."- I don't know why Elle was acting like that, but she made sure Spencer would be even more upset than he already was.
- "Stop it! I just asked if he needed any help."
- "Oh! and you would have given him a hand with anything he needed, wouldn't you?"- Elle chuckled and winked again.
- "Oh sweet Jesus, I would. All he has to do is ask, and he..."- Penelope got carried away in second, and she only paused her words when Hotch's door slammed open, and we all looked at Sean storming out of the office.
- "That's Hotch's brother?"- JJ asked, surprised. Elle nodded and literally bit her lips as she stared at him, walking over. Penelope barely even blinked, and I made my best not to make eye contact with him. Instead, I looked at Reid. And he locked eyes in mine, but again, his look was cold.
- "I don't see it"- JJ stared at Sean as he clearly argued with Hotch. I stayed still, sitting behind my desk, looking at the files.
- "You know what?! Don't profile me, Aaron!"- Sean yelled, and I could only imagine Penelope's crush growing bigger with each word that came from his mouth.
- "Now I see it!"- JJ followed Sean with her eyes as he rushed out of the BAU.
- "I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you walk away."- Penelope whispered, and we all giggled.
- "Do you think Hotch is hiding that ass?"- Elle asked, and I couldn't hold the laughter.
- "I didn't want to think of that!"
- "Oh please!! (Y/N) stop being such a goodie-goodie!!"- Elle smacked my arm and shook her head- "You stared at his ass. Deal with it. You are single! You don't have to pretend you don't see a hot guy when you see one."
- "I saw him. He was cute. I'm just... not... that... affected...."
- "You don't have to pretend,"- Spencer said suddenly and raised an eyebrow- "Your body language indicates that you are nervous. You are blinking rapidly, our pupils are dilated, and you've been bouncing your knees since you sat down. Obviously, Hotch's brother affected you."
I opened my mouth to answer, but Hotch himself interrupted us and announced we had a case. Spencer just kept his eyes on mine for a few more seconds before walking away quickly to the conference room.
- "Looks like pretty boy is jealous,"- Elle teased and stood up too- "I don't know why if he ain't your boyfriend."
- "I know he ain't my boyfriend, and I'm sure he is not jealous. You are all just acting like school girls around a hot guy."- I tried to argue as I stood up and followed them to the conference room.
- "Oh honey, when you see a guy like that, you just can't help it."- Garcia smiled and sighed- "He was the sugar that got me going for the rest of the day."
- "It's only nine am."- JJ added, and Garcia just sighed.
- "That's how good it was."
The case was in Terra Mesa, New Mexico. A clearly angry Hotch announced wheels up in thirty, and we all headed back to our desk to gather our things.
- "Hey, I brought you back your copy of The Illustrated Man"- I walked to Spencer and handed him over his book- "Maybe after the case, we can get a coffee and talk about it."
- "Maybe not"- he grabbed it from my hands and put it on his satchel.
- "Why not?"
- "I don't feel like it."- Spencer avoided looking at me. He just closed his bag and walked away from me.
- "Hey! What did I do?"- I asked him and followed him, but he didn't even look at me.
- "Spencer, I'm talking to you!"
- "And as you can notice, I don't wanna talk to you."
His answer stopped me in my tracks and left me speechless. Spencer got into the elevator and pushed the button to close the door as fast as possible.
He had never acted like that with me. He had never talked to me like that. Shit! He had never been an asshole with me before. I had seen Reid being a jerk with people when he is mad, but he had never been like that with me. And all that just 'cos me, and the girls were a little unprofessional?
Apparently, Spencer was furious with me because during the whole investigation, he kept avoiding me. Of course, it didn't help that Hotch paired me with Reid and Morgan to talk to a young girl who had been abducted from the crime scene.
- "So, pretty girl, I saw you yesterday. Your eyes were shining when you talked to Sean"- Morgan started teasing me the second we got into the SUV.
- "I don't know what you are talking about."- I whispered and looked outside.
- "Oh please, you, Garcia, JJ, even Elle, the four girls were drooling over Hotchner's younger brother."
- "That's not true"- I denied right away- "We were all surprised. I had no idea Hotch had a brother."
And Spencer just snorted at my words.
- "What?"- I turned around and looked at him. He was sitting at the back seat, alone, arms crossed on his chest, avoiding eye contact.
- "Maybe you should stop talking about Hotch's hot brother and focus on the case."- his voice was cold and distant. I tried to read him, but all I could see was anger.
- "Ok, kid."- Morgan chuckled and shook his head - "No need to get all defensive."
- "I'm not defensive. I'm just saying we have to solve a case. People are dead, and you are still rambling about how hot Hotchner's brother is. We are not a fucking gossip show. Enough with it already."
I widened my eyes as I stared at him, bitter and angry. Not really a good combo. Spencer is one passive-aggressive asshole when he is mad, and you don't want to deal with him under those circumstances. Believe me.
But Derek just laughed and continued driving. He winked at me and pretended Spencer hadn't said anything hurtful or even evil. But, to be honest, Morgan looked composed and even amused. In fact, I'm pretty sure he was actually enjoying that awkward ride.
I wish I could tell you that was all Spencer did that day, but no. He actually exceeded himself in the art of being an asshole.
- "We are looking for a cult leader."- Reid started giving the profile to the police department- "Typically men between the age of 25 and 35"- he made a pause and looked at me.
- "What?"- I whispered, thinking maybe he wanted me to continue talking.
- "Nothing. I thought you were going to start giggling or sighing."- Elle and Morgan looked surprised as Gideon frowned, not getting Reid's comment.
- "Over a sociopath underachiever with an extremely abusive childhood?"- I asked him, as I continued describing the profile- "Why would I?"
- "I don't know."- he shrugged and continued walking around the office -"I thought after yesterday, it was going to be your usual behavior around men that age."
- "Reid"- Hotch's voice was cold and severe. Spencer looked at him and turned around to find an empty seat. Aaron continued giving the profile, and I turned to my best friend, enraged. I wasn't going to tolerate that passive-aggressive attitude.
- "Fuck you."- I mouthed and stared straight into his eyes.
Avoiding and ignoring Reid was a challenging task to achieve. Hotch was nice and wise enough to keep us apart for the rest of the day, but that didn't stop him from staring. And his eyes burned my skin each time we were together in the same room.
I made my best effort and avoided looking at him the whole time. But I felt him staring. And though I was honestly mad at him now, a part of me just wondered what on earth was he so upset about?
I found out the whole truth later that night, back at the hotel. I was already in bed, trying to forget about the case, 'cos it had already been solved, and we were supposed to go back home early the following day.
I was alone, 'cos my roommate Elle was in the hotel bar with JJ and Morgan. I didn't feel like going. I just wanted my pajamas and do nothing.
Fine, that's not what I wanted to do. I wanted to be with Reid, talking about The Illustrated man, or any other book, drinking coffee, making jokes, laughing.
But he was mad at me, and now I was mad at him too, which meant things weren't going to be smooth between us in a long while. We had only fought once before until that day. It happened when we first became friends, and we argued over some random Star Wars fact. He didn't admit he was wrong, and when I showed him I was right, he got all defensive and refused to talk to me for a whole week.
Of course, this time, it was going to be a hundred times worse.
I debated whether I should or shouldn't call Reid and yell at him when I heard someone knocking on my door. Of course, I thought it was Elle, so I dragged my weary body from the bed, arguing I had explicitly told her she had to bring her key when she left the room.
But no. It wasn't Elle. In the hall, looking like shit, I found Doctor Spencer Walter Reid.
It wasn't a good sign the way my heart skipped a beat the second I saw him. It didn't get any better when the two of us just stared at each other in silence for a moment, and I felt my whole body tremble only by his presence. I couldn't control it even if I wanted to. I loved him, and it was getting too hard to hide.
- "What are you doing here?"- I made sure my voice was as upset as possible and even made an extra effort to furrow my brows as I stared into his eyes. His look had softened, and you could tell he was nervous. He scratched his hair and fixed his nerdy glasses before speaking.
- "I needed... I wanted... I want to talk to you."- Spencer finally said and sighed, looking at me.
- "Why would I want to talk to you after you humiliated me in front of the whole police department?"
I spat each word and tried to slam the door on his face, but he stopped me before succeeding.
- "Wait, please, (Y/N)"- he pushed the door open and followed me inside the room.
- "Get out, Reid!"- I argued immediately, but he didn't listen. He actually closed the door behind his back and stood behind me. I refused to look at him, 'cos I knew what would happen if I did: I would forgive him too quickly.
- "(Y/N), I'm so sorry. I know I was an asshole. I didn't mean it. I was completely out of place."
Spencer literally vomited his speech in less than three seconds and stayed wordless and silent afterward. I crossed my arms on my chest and stayed still. I really didn't want to talk to him.
- "I'm sorry"- his voice was now a tiny whisper that somehow got inside my heart, melting the fortress I kept building against him.
- "Why did you do it?"- I asked the most straightforward question, but he didn't answer. Spencer stayed quiet for at least two minutes. So I turned around and faced him. His eyes were red, and he was fighting the tears back.
- "Why did you humiliate me, Spencer?"
- "I didn't mean to."
- "So? I don't care what you meant. You did it anyway. You fucking humiliated me in front of the team and in front of the whole police office, and why? 'Cos you were mad at me for being unprofessional? Excuse me, but I think what you did lacked more professionalism than anything I had ever done."
I knew it was a mistake. I knew I didn't have to look at Spencer while I spoke. But I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to cry either, but I was already too upset and way too tired, so the tears started falling down my cheeks. And his followed quickly.
- "I'm so sorry,"- he repeated and bit his lips, staring at me.
- "Why did you do it, Spencer?"- I asked him again, 'cos I still didn't know why he had hurt me so deeply.
- "I was wrong..."
- "Why did you do it?"
I asked for the third time, and my eyes got lost in his. Spencer was holding his breath and debating himself. I could almost hear his thoughts, 'cos it was clear he was overthinking everything going on inside his head.
But he didn't say anything. Spencer just wiped off a few tears that rolled down his cheeks and shook his head. The silence in the room was overwhelming, and all I managed to do was to sigh, disappointed and broken-hearted, and walk to the door and open it. I only wanted him to leave, but he didn't even move. He just looked at me, clenching his jaw, fighting the tears back.
- "I did it because I am in love with you."
Spencer whispered in the most anticlimactic way possible. I frowned, confused, as he didn't even move. I stared at his gestures, his face blood-red in a weird mix of embarrassment and anger.
- "I love you so much it's driving me insane, (Y/N). I've been trying to tell you how I feel for weeks, but I just..."- he ran his hands through his hair, openly frustrated with his own way to deal with the situation, as I just stayed still, trying to understand what was going on.
- "I know it was stupid, and I wish I could do it differently, but I didn't know what to do. But then I saw you looking at Sean, and I knew you would never look at me the same way, 'cos I know I'm not..."
There was no bigger force in the universe than the one that moved my body unconsciously against Spencer. I grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss on his lips to shut him up. I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just did it 'cos I didn't want to listen to his rambling anymore. For once, probably for the very first time ever since we met, I wanted to shut Spencer Reid up. And the best way I could do that was kissing him until my lips felt numb.
I didn't even let him hesitate. He jumped as soon as I touched him, but he didn't reject me at all. Instead, he wide opened his eyes and stared at me as I winked at him, deepening the kiss.
Spencer's hands slowly found their way to my waist and held me closer to him. His lips were soft and warm, moving carefully along with mine, and as he relaxed into the kiss, the better it got.
I had wasted so much time (mostly at work, bored, avoiding paperwork) fantasizing about kissing Spencer. How his lips would feel and taste. If he would make any noise, if he'd be rough or soft... and now there I was, getting all the answers I ever needed.
My heartbeat faster when I opened my eyes and saw him, deep concentrated into the endless kiss. My hands played with his hair, and I felt him hum, pleased with my movements. I couldn't help myself and smiled, not stopping the kiss.
- "What?"- Spencer asked, but his lips didn't move from mine. Neither of us wanted to stop.
- "Nothing,"- I whispered and shook my head softly- "I just like kissing you."
- "I like kissing you too,"- he answered and moved his hands from my waist to my cheeks and held my face. His hands were so big I could feel him covering most of my cheek. He made me feel secure, safe. Loved. All that only from cupping my face.
- "I love you."- Spencer whispered and opened his eyes. I looked at him and sighed, trying to keep myself together, when all I really wanted was to yell and jump and act like a teenager in love.
- "Me too."
That was all I managed to answer, though I knew he deserved better. He deserved to know how much I loved him, how crazy I was over everything he did. Everything he was. But I couldn't tell him that, not at that minute at least. That night I couldn't really speak much because all I wanted to do was to kiss him. I wanted to kiss Spencer Reid until my lips burned.
But he didn't let me fulfill my dream. As soon as he heard me, he stopped the kiss and stayed very, very still.
- "What happened?"- I panicked, I don't know why- "Did I overstep..."
- "You love me?"- he interrupted me, and his eyes filled with tears. Happy tears. His smile was soft and warm as he stared at me, waiting for an answer.
- "I do,"- I murmured and blushed. Was it too late to blush? Maybe, but I couldn't help it. Not when he was looking at me like that. Like I was the most beautiful woman on earth. No. Like I was the only woman on earth for him.
- "I'm so sorry..."
But I really didn't want to listen to his apology. I had already forgiven him. All I wanted was to kiss him again. And again.
I crushed my lips against his, and this time, I felt him smiling into the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he locked his around my waist. We were so close I could feel the warmth of his body as he relaxed a little more, and his fingers started caressing the small on my back.
- "Come here."
I took a few steps back, and he followed, keeping as close to me as possible. Finally, I dragged him to my bed, and he laid by my side. Our legs were intertwined as we melted on that mattress, just kissing.
I honestly never imagined I would kiss Spencer. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it and tasted him (and the moment) in slow motion. He sighed and smiled as his lips and tongue played with mine. One of his hands held my waist as the other played with my hair.
It was heaven. I didn't imagine anything better than being on that bed kissing Spencer Reid. He whispered he loved me again, and I sighed. For a second, it felt I was in a dream.
- "Ok, mama, get out of that.... WHOO!"- Derek, JJ, and Elle stormed into the door and caught Spencer and I kissing on the bed. I felt like a teenager all over again.
- "What the..."- Elle asked was holding the key in her hands, eyes wide opened, in shock.
- "My man!"- Morgan was about to start clapping when JJ grabbed him and Elle's arm.
- "The guys need some privacy. Come on, let's go. You can sleep in my room, Elle"- JJ smiled and closed the door behind her back, but less than a second later, Derek walked in again.
- "Smile to Garcia!"- Derek waved, holding his phone. Spencer closed his eyes and covered his face, embarrassed as I grabbed a pillow and threw it over him.
- "Get the fuck out of my room!"- I shouted, and JJ had to pull Morgan's sleeve to get him out of there. Once the door was closed (again), we waited a few seconds in case Derek tried to interrupt us one more time. But he didn't. Spencer's cheeks were burning red, and he looked so embarrassed it was too sweet. So I leaned over him and kissed the tip of his nose.
- "Hi,"- I whispered and smiled. Reid chuckled and moved closer to me, reaching my lips.
- "Hi."- I sighed, strangely relieved to feel his lips on mine again. I was like my body had already gotten used to kissing him and wanted to do nothing else from that moment on.
- "Hi,"- I repeated and smiled.
- "Hi,"- Reid said again and wrapped his arms around me, moving me until I was sitting on his lap. Life was perfect.
- "I'm so glad Hotch's brother came to visit. He should come more often,"- I murmured and giggled. Spencer frowned and shook his head.
- "I think we are good."- he answered and narrowed his eyes.
- "If he hadn't come, you wouldn't have gotten so jealous, and we wouldn't be kissing right now."- I added, and rubbed his lips with mines, just to make a point. Spencer smiled and fully kissed me.
- "I will send him a muffin basket to George town, then."
- "That's very thoughtful. I love that about you."
- "I love everything about you,"- Spencer whispered and sighed, staring into my eyes.
- "Does this mean we are dating?"- I had to ask. Spencer wide opened his eyes and didn't move for a few seconds -"I'm just asking 'cos you said you loved m and I love you, and if you love and I love you, I'm pretty sure dating would the logical thing to do. But if you don't want to, I would totally understand. I mean, maybe I am assuming..."- Spencer's lips against mine ended with my senseless rambling, and he chuckled into the kiss.
- "What?"- I asked him but didn't move my lips from his. Already that might have become my favorite way to talk to him.
- "You are adorable when you ramble."
- "Shut up"- and Spencer smiled
- "Would you be my girlfriend?"- he simply asked and rested his forehead against mine as he stared at me. I smiled and sighed, pretending to be considering my options. I didn't have any. I wanted to be his.
- "Yes,"- I whispered and kissed him one more time- "I would love to, just promise me you will never be a passive-aggressive jerk with me."
- "Never"- Spencer kissed me, and his hands held me tighter- "I'm so sorry."
- "Just kiss me a few more times so I can properly forgive you"- Reid smiled and crushed his lips against mines.
- "Anything for you."
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imagining-in-the-margins · 9 months ago
Lily of the Valley (S.R. | Part 1)
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Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Request: Would you be able to make a fic where Reid is the unsub? Like kidnapping and stuff? A/N: I really love this piece, and I look forward to writing and sharing Part 2; he is much more Unsub-y there. Some backstory that is briefly mentioned - he was hospitalized after killing several men who killed several members of the BAU team. If you enjoy let me know to motivate me for the next bit! 😝 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (Smut in Part 2 - NSFW 18+) Content Warning: Unsub!Spencer, institutionalization, state hospital, forced sedation/tranquilizer use, Doctor/Patient, Major Character Death (not shown), Mentions of death/murder Word Count: 6.8k
What makes a monster? Some would say it requires evil. Others would argue psychopathy boils down to a matter of nature vs nurture. But as someone who dedicated their life to understanding them, I’ve never found a simple answer. I am confident, however, that monsters are not born that way. They are created through pain, torment, and greed. Whose suffering is another question entirely.
That is why when searching for a new life, I chose this state hospital. It wasn’t the scent of the dogwood trees or the safe suburbs that drew me in; it was a patient.
His name was Spencer Reid.
I had heard of him before I’d come, but only ever in generalities and newspaper articles. I wish I could say that it was normal scientific curiosity that drove me to him. I wish I could convince myself that it was boredom and the perfect combination of conditions that brought us together.
But that wasn’t what happened. The truth was that I threw myself into his life without much thought at all about what it would mean. I heard the story of the tortured agent turned mass murderer and I wanted to know him. There were few things in this world that would drive a man so clearly defined by his honor to abandon all faith in the system he helped defend. The brutalization and death of the ones he loved was reason enough.
I wasn’t supposed to sympathize with him, but I did. That wasn’t like me, either. I hadn’t even met him yet, but I saw something in mugshots and journal entries that wove a fantasy in my mind that was so clear that I started to mistake it for reality.
Of the two of us, I wondered which was really more out of our mind.
It was raining the first day I laid my eyes on him. He sat idly on a couch, only half covered by a blanket as he stared out the window. At least, that was what I thought he was staring at. But upon closer inspection, his eyes were trailing after each individual droplet that hit the glass. He followed them all the way to the bitter end, where they all pooled together and dripped out of sight.
“Hi, Dr. Reid,” I said with more trepidation than I’d hoped, “Do you mind if I sit here?”
He didn’t answer. That much was expected— he hadn’t spoken in over a year. The rumors say the last words he’d spoken were when he requested a guilty plea, but attorney-client confidentiality made it impossible to know for sure.
Still, I expected him to at least acknowledge my existence. Even just a slight shift of his eyes from the windowpane. I waited for a second, but when it didn’t come, I took the seat beside him anyway.
“I know you already know who I am, but it feels rude not to tell you,” I chuckled at the sound of my voice that spoke more to the pane in front of us than the man beside me. “My name is (Y/n). You don’t have to call me Doctor.”
As if he would call me anything at all. I inspected the statuesque man beside me to try and understand anything about him. The first and only indication I saw that he was still alive was the gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
“I have a feeling you don’t need much of my help. So, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to just sit with you,” I explained, finally turning to look at him when I spoke again. “It’s a nice break to the day, no?”
Then it happened. Slowly, like breaking from his stone casing, Spencer turned to face me. That enough to make my heart race. His eyes almost made it stop completely.
What I knew to be toffee brown eyes seemed almost black in the overcast light, and they burned through me with an intensity so overwhelming that I was grateful to be seated. If I had been standing, my knees surely would have buckled under the weight of his gaze.
I looked away, if only for a second to catch my breath, but his eyes remained. I took it as a challenge, and although it was regrettable, I wasn’t ready to meet it yet. My eyes and my mind flickered back to the window.
“I wish there was a way to enjoy the rain outside without getting wet,” I said through a sigh. The energy between us shifted again, and the challenge waned to wariness. I knew that because I was looking at him again, drowning in the reflection of the window caught in those shark-like eyes.
“And don’t tell me to carry an umbrella, because I always get soaked even when I’m holding one,” I joked. That is, if you can still call it a joke when neither of us laughed.
I smiled, but he remained seemingly stoic. The only thing that gave him away was the briefest twitch of his hand that rested on top of the blanket. I only saw it from my peripheral, but I was absolutely certain that I had seen it.
I wondered what he might look like when he smiled. I wondered what his voice would sound like when it was mixed with laughter. I’d never heard his voice before, but I still questioned whether it would sound sweeter when made after the darkness he’d endured.
Would he sound like a monster? It seemed unlikely. He didn’t look like one.
I sighed again at the thought, but I think he could tell this time it was born out of frustration rather than humor. I looked away from him in order to maintain any semblance of sanity and professionalism.
“Although…” I started to mumble, “Maybe getting drenched is part of enjoying the rain.”
Spencer moved again, his eyes joining mine at the window. Just as he looked away, I looked at him. The first thing I noticed was that his eyes were no longer fixated on the droplets, instead, they stared further out to the clouds rolling over the horizon.
The second thing I noticed was that his hand had clenched around the fabric stretched over his lap.
I don’t know how long we sat there, silently tracking the layout of the sky. What I do know is that at one point I nodded off to the lullaby of rain and distant thunder. When I awoke Spencer wasn’t there. However, draped over my shoulders was the same blanket that he had held onto like a lifeline.
It wasn’t raining anymore.
The nurse’s station was busier than usual, and if you’ve ever met a nurse, you know that is saying a lot about the current status of the hospital. But for all its frantic commotion, their words were whispered.
As I approached, I recognized the pharmacist among them. The pieces were starting to come together as an eerie hush fell over the space at precisely the same moment my presence became known.
“Dr. (Y/l/n)?” she started hesitantly.
“Yes?” I returned, trying not to look as nervous as I felt under the scrutiny of far too many eyes. It only got harder when she lifted the chart in her hands.
I knew whose it was. I didn’t even have to ask.
“Is this order... correct?”
“Why do you ask?” I shot back in a rather defensive manner. I’d write it off as the cutthroat demeanor required of women in my field, but I think we all knew there was more to it.
“You want to stop his antipsychotics?” she asked with a blatant disbelief that made my stomach churn.
“That’s right,” I said.
“... Why?”
The room felt smaller, or perhaps the others just felt bigger. I stared back at them with all the confidence I could muster, trusting myself to be able to at least explain my rationale. Whether or not they believed it or agreed with my reasoning was another thing entirely, but that wouldn’t be my problem. I knew what I saw in Spencer Reid, and it was not psychosis.
“I don’t think they’re necessary. A major tranquilizer is an extreme treatment, and I don’t think it’s warranted.”
I could hear the ticking of the clocks on the wall and the gentle humming from the computers. And as they looked at me in that silence, I felt an even stronger kinship to Spencer.
Was this what it felt like for him? Was this how we all looked at him? Was this what he saw whenever he looked to the only people available to him?
“You... you know what he did, right?” she asked, her voice filled with something more similar to rage than fear, “He hunted, tortured, and killed four men. Two with his bare hands.”
I held tighter to my clipboard to hide the way my hands trembled with a very similar emotion to the one she displayed.
“I’m not afraid of him,” I replied confidently.
“Yeah?” she mocked, “Well, you should be.”
Holding my head as high as I could, I ended the conversation the quickest way I knew how, “The order is correct. Stop the antipsychotics.”
As I turned to walk away, I heard the chatter in the background to my pounding heart. The clicking of heels broke through that noise. It reminded me of the rain.
It was sunny the next time I saw Spencer. I’d come to his room this time, since the nurses insisted that they were too afraid to put him in a position with the other patients without his antipsychotics.
Their fears seemed so silly when I saw him, though. There was absolutely nothing intimidating about the tall, lanky man dressed in the typical scrub-like uniform and rubber-soled socks.
I was so unafraid that I almost immediately pulled out my keyring, marched over to the window, and opened it the three inches the safety design would allow.
His eyes followed me the whole time, although he stayed seated at his desk. I didn’t look to see what he’d been doing. It felt rude to ignore that he might have been busy, but it also felt intrusive to peer into the only private thoughts he was allowed to keep.
So, I stayed at the window, taking in a small yet dramatic breath before I sighed.
“Even through my allergies I can tell that it smells like Spring.”
The only certain indication he’d stopped writing was the sound of the felt tip pen being placed on the desk. Of course, I also felt when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I could feel him looking at me, but I was too scared to look back. Instead, I just continued to watch the shaking leaves of distant trees.
“You know, a man asked me my favorite flower the other day,” I mumbled, knocking the tip of my shoe against the floor like it would maintain an appropriate rhythm to the story. “I think he was planning on buying me some, but cut flowers aren’t really my scene. I also have a terrible habit of killing houseplants, so…”
There was something in the breeze, the fresh air flowing into the room and shifting the tension into something new. I leaned forward towards the window and rested my elbow against it as I sighed, “Maybe I’m just not meant for flowers, Dr. Reid.”
I only jumped a little when his chair scraped against the floor, but I tried to maintain my position. Fear wasn’t the emotion that dominated my thoughts when I noticed his footfalls were coming closer.
I was... excited. That was the only way to describe the way my solemn smile turned bright when he simply stood beside me at the window.
“I’m not sure I could pick one favorite, anyway,” I posited, “Those kinds of questions are usually meant to figure out something about the person you’re asking, but I feel like I don’t know enough about myself.”
Call it wishful thinking or pure madness, but when I turned to Spencer, I noticed a new life in his eyes. But there was a scientific explanation for that, wasn’t there? I’d taken him off a major tranquilizer; of course he had more energy. But that wasn’t the only thing that I saw. There was some kind of intrigue, a fascination that was less morbid and more childlike in nature.
“I’m a terrible psychiatrist, aren’t I?” I asked with a quirk of my lips.
I swore he almost smiled. The twitch in his lip was so subtle that any other person might have written it off. But I was, first and foremost, a hopeless romantic.
“I wonder what someone else might tell me. How other people see me.”
It was bait. He knew it, too. His silence was accepted as an answer only because I saw the wheels turning in his head.
And then I realized that he’d come up with an answer. He had it hanging from the tip of his tongue, which he bit down on. I figured it simply wasn’t a powerful enough answer to justify breaking the silence. I could understand that. I wouldn’t waste my words, either.
Which is why I stood up as I asked, “Would asphodel be too grim for you, Dr. Reid?”
Just as I stood, he lowered himself into the position I’d abandoned. He gazed out the window so carefully that I had no choice but to believe he was trying to see the world through my eyes.
Yet in that moment, the only thing I saw was him.
“I mean, I know it’s supposed to mean ‘remembered beyond the tomb,’ and is found in the fields of Elysium but does that have to be all it is?”
Is that all that you are? A madman? A monster?
“After all, Persephone found it beautiful enough to wear on her crown, and the roots sustained the shades.”
I didn’t see evil when he looked at me. I saw tears burning glazed over eyes. I saw wrinkles around his laugh lines and wondered how happy he must have been at one point to develop them. I heard the tension leave him in the form of a shaky breath that sounded just like the trees rustling under the stress of the spring breeze.
“It is a lily first, no?” I asked.
Spencer’s mouth opened. It was the first ever blatant display of a desire to share something with me. I quite literally couldn’t breathe. We locked eyes both filled with disbelief. He almost looked disgusted at his inability to control treacherous lips, but they stubbornly remained parted with breaths that gained speed with the wind outside.
I took a step back from him just as his mouth closed.
“Yeah, I suppose it is too bleak. Don’t listen to me,” I said with a small, nervous wave of my hand, “I’ll find another flower for you.”
I couldn’t explain why, but I felt the distinct urge to run. My legs trembled so badly I was convinced they wouldn’t be able to hold my weight any longer. So, I swiftly turned on my heels and bolted.
I almost made it, too. Freedom from the room and the hope for something greater was right in front of me. My hand was already on the turned handle when I heard it.
“Lily of the valley.”
I turned to the sound. It was a strained, scratchy sound of ill-used cords. It still sounded like music. The gentle thrum of an old record-player that was being played for the first time after years of gathering dust. Slowly and cautiously, my eyes met his as they burned through the specks and sparkles of the dust scattered around the room. It caught the light pouring through the window between us. Not a single one of his muscles so much as twitched as we stared at each other with an uncanny understanding.  
Spencer had never touched me, but I still felt his presence surround me like the sweetest embrace as he repeated softly but surely, “You’re a lily of the valley.”  
It was strange stepping into Spencer’s room again. Perhaps it was silly to think that so much had changed from a few words, but it really did feel that way. Like there was an entirely new man seated in the same chair, scrawling secrets with a felt tip pen.
“Good morning, Dr. Reid,” I announced with more confidence than usual, “I was hoping you might like to do something fun with me today.”
Spencer turned to look at me, cautiously but at a normal speed. Almost like he’d been waiting for me. Which, I suppose that was normal, considering it was my job to check in on him. But there was something in his eyes, beyond the somewhat apathetic stare, that told me he hadn’t just expected my visit, but anticipated it.
It was a paralyzing feeling. My hands clutched tighter to the cardboard box in my hands until the silence stretched on too long to be comfortable. I suppose it was stupid to think he would always answer now just because he’d said a few words once.
The puzzle pieces clattered behind the cardboard as I held it up to display the front of the box to him with a frazzled laugh, “I’m terrible at them, but I figured you could help me. And if we finish it, we can glue it and frame it.”
I looked down at the picture just to avoid looking at him any longer. It turned out to be a mistake, because no sooner had my eyes left him had he stood from the chair and taken a step towards me.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to hang it in here,” I continued, refusing to grant my desire to keep the distance between us that grew smaller with every second.
When Spencer did reach me, he still stretched out the silence. I listened to the way the floors creaked under his feet and his breath came out in a burst akin to a laugh. There was no doubting his presence was real and remarkable, but I still jumped when his knuckles brushed over my fingers gripping the box.
“I like Monet,” he said simply.
“Me too,” I mumbled back.  
Then, the way it always seemed to happen with him, time simultaneously sped up and slowed to a stop. As the two of us sat hunched over and silent, we scanned the one thousand pieces to hopefully find the one we were looking for. I tried not to linger on the way it felt like an analogy for us finding each other.
Instead, I just watched him work at three times my speed until I couldn’t contain the one thought running through my mind any longer.
“I wonder how different the world must look through your eyes.”
Spencer looked up at me, but he didn’t answer. He just let the very same eyes I’d spoken about roam over me like I was nothing but familiar territory before they fell away again.
I wasn’t satisfied with just a glance. Like an addict stuck on him, I chased after the high I experienced from the sound of his voice.
“Is it lonely?”
He knew what I was doing. With a sharp glance that felt a lot like a warning, Spencer also stubbornly refused to partake in my one-sided conversation. Naturally, I felt the need to defend my terrible and transparent attempts of getting closer to him.
“I only ask because if you were to say yes, then we’d have something in common. Beyond lilies, anyway.”
Spencer smiled in response, stopping the scanning of puzzle pieces to look up at me, instead. He didn’t stop when I started to show discomfort, either. In fact, he almost looked harder, standing just enough to drag his chair closer to me before he relented.
I hated the way it felt when he stopped looking.
“I could pretend like it’s my job’s fault that I’m lonely, but you’d know I was lying, right?” I blurted out, hoping to get stuck in those molasses eyes again.
But he didn’t even bother looking up to me as he finally answered, “You’ve never lied to me.”
“No, I haven’t,” I agreed. Then I waited. I waited for his hand to brush over mine in its pursuit of filling a void of pieces that had been cut and torn from their rightful place. I didn’t hold him or stop him in any way. I enjoyed that brief moment of contact with tensed muscles and shaky breath.
Spencer must have been impressed by my self-control, because when he looked to me, I could see a vague admiration and a pity in his eyes.
“Why would I lie to you?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t do much of anything. I had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to give anything away, but I couldn’t be sure. Who knows; maybe there was more to him than anyone had ever guessed. I also got a feeling that was true. They could tell me he was evil and cruel until their breath ran out, but I would never be able to see it like they said it was.
That was why I couldn’t look at him. I focused my mind on anything else that I could think of, trying to drown out the sound of his voice once more. So when a song came to mind, I let it take over all other thoughts that might have come.
I didn’t even realize that I’d started to hum until I saw him from the corner of my eye. He halted all movement at first before dragging his hands down to the edge of the table. From there, he tapped along with the familiar, solemn melody of Swan Lake.
I almost stopped as my lungs emptied at the sound of soft noises against the wood, but I managed to keep it up long enough to carry us to the conclusion. But as that final tone filled and fell from the air, Spencer’s voice began again.
“The first performances of Swan Lake were such a disaster that it almost ruined Tchaikovsky’s reputation. It didn’t become famous until after his death.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling any longer, no matter how hard I tried. And I did. I wanted him to think that it wasn’t a tremendous and life-changing thing to hear his voice, but I had also just told him what a fruitless effort it would be to lie to him.
“I wonder how he would feel knowing that Barbie made a movie of it,” I suggested with a bit of a giggle at the way he scoffed. Then, to add insult to injury, I tagged on, “I like to think he would love it.”  
“Doubtful,” he deadpanned almost immediately. He kept his straight face, but I could see the other emotions starting to spill into his expression in the most subtle ways. A twitch of his lip and a light shining through the almost obsidian eyes were all I needed.
“I’m going to have them convert the movies to VHS, just so we can watch it together,” I replied with my own cheeky but false seriousness.
“I think I’d prefer jail to that punishment.”  
It wasn’t until I pouted in response that Spencer actually, honest to god, smiled. He saw the puckered lips and knitted brow, and he felt the similar overwhelming need to share the joy it brought him. Unfortunately for me, that smile robbed me of any logical thought seconds later, leaving me once more victim to his desires. Whatever those might be.
“Fine. No Barbie movies,” I sighed, “But we could watch Swan Lake, though. If you want.”
With a small nod, Spencer’s eyes and smile dropped back down to their neutral position. His focus might have seemed to be purely on the puzzle, but there was no doubting the sudden and stark decrease in speed and accuracy that followed.
I certainly said nothing of it. But Spencer did in his own, unique way, because the next time that our hands were parallel, he paused, letting the shadow cast over me but refusing to look me in the eye.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, low and cold and not all vulnerable.
But regardless of the walls he’d maintained, my answer remained the same.
“No, Dr. Reid. I’m not afraid of you.”
That wasn’t the full truth, but it was the only part I felt comfortable sharing. Because I feared that if I told him everything, if I announced to the world the way my heart leapt at the very sight of him, I knew there would be no going back.
But then why didn’t I stop him when his hand slowly lowered and covered mine? Why did I spread my fingers to allow his to twine between them? I suspect it was for the same reason that the door to my heart remained cracked open to him, displaying a fireplace perpetually burning with the promise to protect him from the cold.
Whatever the reason was, it did not change over the course of the visit. If anything, our bodies only grew closer and our hands more comfortable sharing the space with one another.
When we did finally have to let go, we did it silently and slowly. We abandoned that comfort like a bitter goodbye, trying to prolong the contact with outstretched fingers and gazes that were too intimate to be excused.
“Have a good night, Dr. Reid.”
“You too, (y/n),” he said, and I prayed it wouldn’t be the last time I heard him say my name.  
There were some aspects of my job that were remarkably humbling. Usually they were terrifying, or at least very uncomfortable. But the day I came to hang a framed puzzle in Spencer’s room was an entirely different level of humiliating.
It wasn’t so much the action of climbing onto his bed in my bare feet as it was how much I struggled to do it. And of course, Spencer wasn’t exactly allowed to help me, considering the tools I had to use to hang the piece.
Truthfully, I’m not sure he would have helped me if I had given him the option. Because as I teetered back and forth with the frame much bigger than me, I swore I heard Spencer chuckle behind me.
“How does it look? Is it straight?” I asked when I finally managed to get the damned hook on the ever elusive command hook poorly affixed to the wall.  
“It looks wonderful,” he said. But even before I turned around, I could hear the grin on his face.
“You aren’t talking about the picture, are you, Dr. Reid?” I asked with my own little smile that I tried, and failed, to keep to myself. “Because it’s horribly crooked.”
“Crooked things aren’t that bad.”
He definitely was not talking about the puzzle.
I felt his presence before the floorboards creaked under his feet. Although I should’ve turned to him, I didn’t. I stared ahead at the frame that hung an inch too low on one side.
I should’ve turned around. It was irresponsible and dangerous for me to put myself in the position I was, only barely balancing on his bed while he stood mere inches away from me. But I didn’t want to. I wasn’t afraid of him. I wasn’t afraid of anything, really. It was almost like there was something in the air; something docile and warm and... gentle.
Gentle were his knuckles as they brushed up my almost bare leg. His palms went flat against my thigh, but he didn’t grab me yet. He just hovered there, allowing his body heat to seep through the fabric of my skirt and leave the skin beneath burnt with a memory of his touch.
I hadn’t taken a breath in so long, but I still couldn’t be certain if that was the reason that I was lightheaded. That drunken feeling was growing more and more common with every encounter.
It certainly wasn’t helped by the feeling of being literally lifted from the bed and back into his arms. My little yelp clearly amused him, but it didn’t encourage him to put me down. No, he kept me a few inches from the ground for a few seconds longer, undoubtedly enjoying the way I squirmed in his hands.
Once he did release me, I had a lot more to fix than my wrinkled coat. I cleared my throat to try and right the... crooked thoughts on my head.
It didn’t work. He could tell.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, nonetheless.
“You’re welcome.”
“This might be the most talkative you’ve been yet,” I pointed out. Although he didn’t exactly smile, he did seem pleased with the observation. Almost like he hadn’t realized it himself.
“I guess you’re not as bad of a psychiatrist as you think you are,” he playfully, almost sarcastically, suggested.  
It wasn’t a laughing matter, though. He was trying to deflect from genuine and earned praise, and I wasn’t going to let him. “I’m not the one who should get the credit for your growth. It’s yours, Dr. Reid.”
But Spencer was smart. He knew that I was helpless to his touch. From the second his fingertips brushed over my cheek, I was his. All he’d done was tuck a strand behind my ear, and I couldn’t breathe under the weight of his stare.
Then he was gone; like he had never been there at all. Like he didn’t feel the way the air sparked with the tension between us, threatening to leave me a pile of ash in his hands.
He’d forced himself to move on from the moment, so I tried to do the same.
“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. I put in a request for Swan Lake,” I called cheerily. When I was met with a distrustful stare, I clarified, “Not the Barbie version.”
It was enough for him to smirk. I’d wished it was a smile, but I tried not to be too picky in my demands.
“It’s been a while since I heard Tchaikovsky. I guess the institution agrees with the original critics that said it was too fast paced to be beautiful,” he replied.
Unbeknownst to him, the tidbit he’d chosen to share sparked a dangerous but fantastic plan. The kind of thing that should have never entered my mind at all. But once it was there, there was no getting rid of it.
“I have an idea!” I said too loudly for the little distance between us.
He didn’t mind. His eyebrows jumped in intrigue as his eyes tracked me through the room. He stepped closer when I pulled out my phone, tapping frantically on the screen to find what I was looking for.
By the time the music swelled for the second time, Spencer had caught on to my plan. The Waltz of the Flowers had filled the room so quickly, and this time I didn’t shy away from the realization that it was an analogy for us.
“Dance with me,” I offered, extending my hand for him.
Spencer rarely smiled. Granted he’d been doing it more as of late, but its rarity was not the only reason the sight robbed the breath from my lungs. It was the slight dimpling of his cheeks, the way those large, expressive eyes were hidden like there was no more room in him for the darkness they usually held. And when he took my hand, I felt a similar warmth bubbling through me in the form of a laugh.
With more force than necessary, Spencer tugged me forward until I crashed into him with absolutely no grace. He still caught me, though, quickly transitioning his hold so that his other hand was pressed against the small of my back.
We didn’t speak. Our bodies that had begun to sway to the sound did the talking for us. As the melody swelled, so did our laughter that continued each time we bumped into furniture in the much too small room that felt less like a prison with every note.
“I think he would have liked Fantasia,” I hummed.  
“I think that one is a closer call.”
The tempo waned, the song reaching its midpoint while the two of us drifted closer together. There was practically no space that remained, our stomachs pressed together, and our eyes firmly held with a similar intimacy.  
“Do you like the Nutcracker?” I asked, recalling the colorful sets and delicate movements that typically accompanied the song. I didn’t dare say it, but despite the beauty of ballet, I think I preferred ours.
“I love everything associated with Christmas,” he answered quietly.  
My hand on his shoulder gravitated to his neck before I could even think to stop it. My fingers wove between the curls that lined his face. For the first time since we’d started dancing, I looked away from those amber eyes, watching the way his pulse shifted the longer I brushed against his skin.
“I didn’t know that about you,” I returned with a shaky timbre of an unknown origin.
“I prefer Halloween.” The words were accompanied by his own movement, his face feeling free to move now that I wasn’t watching him. He pulled me closer, his hand on my back raising between my shoulder blades. His lips brushed over my ear as he whispered, “It’s the one day a year everyone stops pretending like they aren’t interested in monsters.”
“I never pretend. I made it my life’s work,” I said with a chuckle. If I’d had a clear head, I would’ve considered the implications. But there was nothing sensical about my thoughts with Spencer. Every single thing I’d ever learned left me swiftly and without reservation the moment he so much as looked at me.
Thankfully for me, he hardly seemed offended. Amused was a better word for it.
“Do you think that’s what I am?” he mumbled, his mouth straying from my ear to rest against my jaw, “A monster?”
I couldn’t be sure if it was doubt or desire that made him retreat, but Spencer pulled back from our embrace. My face, though flushed, felt so much colder without him. But then he was looking at me again, scrutinizing every thought and feeling displayed in my eyes. Just like the first time he’d spoken to me, I felt his presence in the deepest recesses of my mind. I practically fell limp in his arms, but somehow maintained the wherewithal to repeat once more with feeling, “Not you.”
In that quiet moment where the music started to fade, he looked like he wanted to say something. His lip trembled, presumably from the weight of the words trapped behind it. I brought my hand to his cheek, resting my thumb over those same lips and wishing they would move. It was terribly selfish and naive, but I felt so strongly that if he could just say whatever it was, things would make sense again.
But then the song was over and a new one began, the jovial tune replaced by the sullen melody of October.
“They’re listening to us,” I said with a shy smile, my eyes falling down to our fingers intertwined. We were barely moving, but his thumb drifted back and forth against the back of my hand. It was almost hypnotic, and my eyes were barely open when I heard him speak again.
“Let them,” he said.  
We had no other choice, I reminded myself. While I was free to feel and leave, he would be locked behind me in a cell that I held only one of many keys to.
“You were born in October, weren’t you, Dr. Reid?” I asked, trying to find my way out of the terribly painful place I’d found myself while still in his arms.
He said nothing else. He knew why I’d asked, but that didn’t stop me from saying it out loud anyway. From making it real. Resting my head against his chest, I listened to the gentle thrum of his heart. “It sounds so sad,” I stated without knowing whether I was referring to the rhythm of him or the song, “Is this how you feel?”
“That’s too simple a question for a psychiatrist as skilled as you.”
It was a safe answer, but it wasn’t a real one. He’d avoided the question, and in doing so, answered it in the positive.
This was how he felt. Trapped in a cage that I could free him of, Spencer didn’t ever try to fight me. He’d taken my hand and led us in a waltz in a cold, sterile prison cell. We moved as far as we could with the music, but we couldn’t be free.
I could go. I could leave him behind and find something else. But I didn’t want to.
“I’m not asking as a psychiatrist,” I said without anticipating the next answer I would have to give.
“Then why are you asking?”
“I just... wanted to.” It wasn’t a lie, but he didn’t accept it, regardless.
“Why?” he pressed. I knew there was no other escape besides the truth, so I gave it to him.
“I’m asking as a friend.”
Feeling Spencer’s laugh rumble against my chest was a new and exciting experience. Another reminder that not only was he actually here with me, but we were also close enough that there was simply no existing without impacting the other.
“We’re friends now?” he said, ending the question with a happy little hum, “You must be lonely.”
“Less so when I’m with you,” I corrected. He must not have expected something so clever to be returned so quickly, because his laughter ended just as abruptly. And in that new quiet, I heard something else among the orchestra. I felt it, too. It was the subtle, gentle thumping of Spencer’s heart returning to the forefront.
“Do you feel it, too, Spencer?” I asked without clarification.
He didn’t need it, anyway. We didn’t need any more words at all, it seemed. Because once the question faded from the room, Spencer let go of my hand. It didn’t stay away for long, though, making its way to my chin and leading me back to him.
Although the distance between us closed fast, his lips were inexplicably gentle when they pressed against mine. It was a tentative and timid kiss; one full of insecurity and anxiety that I’d never seen from him in any other capacity.
He was showing me what he felt the only way he knew how.
He was lonely. Just like me.
And I realized then that there was nothing fair about any of this. There was no explanation for why a just world would abandon him in such a cold place. Those hands that clung to me as if I might float away were never meant to be lonely. He was never meant to be alone.
Spencer Reid was meant to be in someone’s arms. Preferably mine. I wanted to hold him until all of the pain faded so I could replace it with nothing but love. I tried to tell him when the kiss finally ended. I looked into treacle eyes and tried to sing his praise, but I was drowning in the bittersweet taste of his lips.
“You’re poisonous,” he whispered in unison with my thoughts, “You make me want to do unbelievably stupid things.”
I was almost too scared to ask, but the possibility of never knowing the answer felt equally paralyzing. So I did.
“Like what?”
But even with all of my training and the heaviness in my heart, I wasn’t prepared for his answer.
“Like fall in love with you,” he said with an honesty that couldn’t be questioned. With a hardness that did not allow for any bend. He told me that he wanted to fall in love with me with no question or hesitation. Yet his hands fell away before I ever had the idea to run. And when my body sensed the freedom, it took it without a second thought.
I ran, abandoning my phone, my sanity, and my heart in the middle of his room.
I ran from him hoping that it would stop the desire that burned in every place he touched me. I cursed the world for being too quiet to drown out his voice. I hated the way the backs of my eyelids somehow still matched the color of his eyes.
I ran from Spencer Reid, but it didn’t work. Because from the second his lips touched mine, I knew he would always be a part of me.
(Read Part 2 here)
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yumehoxo · 9 months ago
⚠️WARNING⚠️ 18+ content (contains, sex, face fucking, cream pie, vaginal sex, oral sex, degrading, etc..)
Eren fucks the reader dumb after they’ve been bratty/made him jealous...(but don’t worry we get revenge 🥰)
~The whole time during the party Jean was hosting you thought it would be funny to completely ignore Eren and talk to Jean instead~
You can’t even remember how long this has even been going on for, the smell of sex in the air makes your heart flutter, you guys must of been have been going at it for hours (or at least that’s what it feels like).
“Yeah is this what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck you dumb?” Eren said while his hips thrust into you at a violent rate.
“I- eren-” you breathed out his name, barely even able to talk from all the impact.
“Come on speak up, you were able to run you mouth all day today, weren’t you?” Eren said with an evil smirk on his face. You can see the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the lose strands of hair that fell out from his lazily tied manbun.
You could feel the knot forming in your stomach.. “I- I’m going to-!” You choke while trying to hold back your moans.
“Beg for it.” Eren said while he stopped immediately and look at you straight in the eyes.
“Come on you want it don’t you? So fucking beg for it.” Eren said while slapping the side of your thigh that was wrapped around his waist.
“Ere- Eren please fuck me!” You whine. You face all red, lips swollen from kissing, and the thin layer of sweat that has formed around your body from over time.
“That’s right, your a slut for my cum” Eren said while thrusting his hips back into you.
The lewd sounds of slapping skin and wet noises was enough to make both of you cum on the spot. The room was filled with both of your voices.
“I bet Jean couldn’t fuck you like this, could he y/n?” Eren said while speeding up his pace.
“N-no h-he can’t” you almost scream while trying to fight back your moans.
The spot he was hitting was just right, causing you to see stars in your vision. You could hear distant grunts and curses from Eren as you hearing faded. Your legs started to shake and you reached for Eren’s hair, his immediate response was to grab your hands and pin them over your head, while watching your breasts bounce up and down, this did it for him. Eren grunted loudly as you felt his warm liquid fill your insides. Your body slumped back down onto the bed and he released your wrists. You could still feel that he is still hard inside you. He pulled slowly out of you revealing his veiny cock with a perect pink head. It was still throbbing as if he hasn’t even came once yet. Mischievous thoughts filled your mind as he laid next to you, you slowly put your hand on his cock and started moving up and down at a slow pace, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. After you break contact you slowly get on your knees purposely pushing your ass up. You slowly circled your toungue around his head and made eye contact with him,
“Fuck don’t tease me like that or you’ll regret it later” Eren panted.
“Yeah, sure I will” you said back as you kissed the top of his tip.
Before he could do anything you took his full length in your mouth and using your hand for whatever you couldn’t reach, causing him to groan loudly and subconsciously putting his hand on the back of your head grabbing a fistful of hair. He pushed your head all the way down making you to gag since you weren’t ready. You pushed your head back up licking the sides of his cock while making eye contact with him again. The view was like eye candy, you could see his perfectly sculpted abs and v line, and his hot and flustered face. You immediately start bobbing your head up and down while covering the rest with your hand. This obviously wasn’t enough for eren since he thrusted his hips into your mouth making you gag again, he continued to do this while pulling on your hair even harder and muttering more curses. You could feel him twitching in your mouth for a good minute until you felt his hot seed shoot into the back of your throat. But you weren’t going to let it end there, all the begging he made you do and degrading was coming all back to him. You start vigorously bobbing your head up and down his cock taking his full length. You could his hear his distant whimpers...
“Please y/n stop I- I- can’t take anymo-” his moans cut him off as he reached another high. His cum dripped from out of your mouth back onto his cock. You go back and clean up the mess you made.
His heavy breathing slowed down and went back to normal. You climb on top of him and sit on his lap as you both are bare naked. Slowly running your hands up his perfectly formed biceps while giving him neck kisses. You feel his hand run up your body and back down in a soothing, caressing way. His hands wander uo to your breasts and fondle with them as he grunted softly to the tender spot you found on his neck, sucking softly and making figure 8’s with your tongue. You remove your head from his neck and look him in the eyes maintains eye contact for about 30 seconds before his lips softly meet yours.
“Your going to pay for that” eren softly said between his tender kisses, as his lustful words did not match his attitude.
“Jean would have fucked me better” you say back cheekily grabbing your robe, fumbling to get it on while making a run for it. You slam the door behind you only to hear it open after 15 seconds with the rapid footsteps following yours. Giggling furiously as you and eren ran around the house like 2 big idiots. You both made it so opposite sides of the kitchen counter staring into each others souls
“Oh so you think Jean would have fucked you better?! Want to re-word that y/n?” Eren said with an sinister grin on his face.
“Nope” you said while popping the “p” as you felt your legs shaking underneath you from all the rough impact you had just before this. The pain from your legs made you drop to the floor while holding onto the counter and whilist laughing so hard.
“Seems like someone can’t stand from how hard they got fucked” Eren said to you with a silly smile on his face knowing that you didn’t mean what you said judging from how you can’t walk.
You slowly look up at him still giggling, he had the courtesy to throw on some shorts before he ran after you. You could see his perfectly shaped abs and and biceps from below. He slowly crouched down to your level and placed his hand behind your head and his forehead against yours as you both laughed like babbling idiots.
“I love you” eren says breaking off your laughter.
“I bet Jean does too” you say back.
He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder as he slapped your ass
“I can only take so much of your bullshit ya know y/n?” Eren said back.
“You know you love it” you giggled back. Earning you getting thrown onto the couch as he placed both of his hands on the side of your head to keep himself up, he bent his arms down and kissed you tenderly on the lips.
“I love you too Eren...”
I wanted to make this really dominate and shit but I wanted y/n to be a badd b so here y’all go
Love y’all *muah* 😌😗😋💞✨❤️
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 months ago
Everything Has Changed: Part 11
“It looks good on you.” Nat’s comment hadn’t exactly eased your consciousness or your worries that how you appeared to look in the jumpsuit would incite ridicule or snide side eyes when you went out into public with Steve.
After all you were no Natasha Romanoff, a woman who had perfected being sexy and seductive. She would look like a model wearing a grungy t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.
“Why the hesitation?” Nat questioned, tilting her head as she watched you in the mirror turning and twisting in an attempt to get a look at all of you.
“A jumpsuit? I’ve never worn one.” Despite the trend being rather hot lately, you mostly stuck to jeans and T-shirts’, sweaters and lab coats and the occasional dress to appease May. Not that you couldn’t wear dresses more often, or jumpsuits or skirts and heels, however given your work in a high tech lab that could require long hours, you strode for comfort. You didn’t step out of your comfort zone often enough, and that included wearing a jumpsuit that looked beautiful on the hangar, yet not exactly what you expected on yourself.
“If you could see the way Steve and Bucky look at you-“ Nat smiled and got off the bed, moving toward her closet in Stark Tower.
“I know how they fell, Nat. I know that it wouldn’t matter to them, but it matters to me.” You hugged, moving from the mirror to the chair she had sitting near her window. “I don’t…I feel like I’m expected to live up to this image of a perfect omega for Steve and Bucky because of their reputation and-“
“Who expects you to live up to what image?” She came back out of the closet with two dresses in her hands, one was maxi and the other was short.
Both dresses were beautiful, and vastly different. The short dress had a skirt made of lace that would’ve fallen to the middle of your thighs in a conforming fashion that hugged your hips and accentuated your waist, with a flirty off the shoulder jean top.
The dress was navy blue with small cutouts on the waist and below where your breasts would fall. It would fall delicately at your ankles with a side slit that would flash a little more skin than what was exposed at your waist. The neckline of the maxi dress was a ‘V’, that dipped elegantly and teasingly.
“Maybe a dress would suit you better.” She lay the dresses on the bed and stepped back, gazing at the two.
“You have a lot of clothes.” You commented, rising from the chair near the window to approach the bed where the two dresses lay.
“I may be a badass boss bitch, but even a boss ass bitch likes to play Barbie.” She nudged you and winked, whipping around to move to the opposite closet that was designated for just shoes.
“You’re mated right?” You asked, brushing your fingers against the lace of the short dress.
“I’ve been mated for 5 years. We met after half the world was Snapped. She was right under my nose.” Nat spoke with the kind of pride that was endearing and heartwarming.
“She doesn’t live close.” You state, taking in the observation after Nat had been gone every weekend for nearly 6 months.
“She’s moving closer. Most of us try and keep our mates a great distance from what we do as Avengers. It increases the risk once you have a mate who can be exploited. We keep them at a safe distance out of concern for them.” Nat explained, coming back with a pair of gladiator sandals and a pair of booties.
“If the risk is so great then why is she moving closer now?After 5 years?” You didn’t mean to pry, you were just so curious. And Nat was your friend. Your surrogate alpha.
“She got a job in the city, a permanent job that will allow us to have a more stable life.” Nat held the boots above the short dress and then the gladiator sandals above the maxi dress, before she settled on the maxi dress and set the booties down.
“You can’t have kids.” You were saddened for her, knowing the fact that she was sterilized was all part of Hydra’s Black Widow program. They took everything from her, including the chance to have kids.
“My omega and I have come to terms with us never being able to have kids. We’re going to have cats instead.” She held up the option, her choice for you to ultimately decide on.
“I like it.” You commented on her choice, and then slowly started to undo the zipper on the side of the jumpsuit.
“Besides,” Nat took the booties back to her shoe closet, “I’m going to be the fun aunt. Live vicariously through others.”
You grabbed the options and moved behind the changing screen she had set up. You started to pull down the jumpsuit, sliding out of it as if it were butter, and from the softness of the material it may as well have been, before pulling the maxi dress over the top of the changing screen.
“Might as well.” You replied, starting the process all over again.
** **
“Keep your eyes closed.” Steve led you by the hand. “Don’t make me spank you.”
The flutter in your stomach and the soft laughter eluded to building feelings that were skyrocketing you toward a place where you were going, and ready, to give Steve permission to mark and mate you just as Bucky had.
“I’m just curious.” Your voice trailed off into a giggle as Steve purposely brushed his fingers across a ticklish spot on your waist. “You haven’t told me a thing.”
Steve didn’t reply, yet he led you with careful precision toward your destination while you put your faith in his skills not to send your careening down the sidewalk or into oncoming traffic.
Realistically, it wouldn’t have mattered what the date was. You would’ve done anything with Steve as long as you were with Steve. The destination didn’t matter.
Still…you weren’t always the most patient of people and being led around with your eyes closed had made you antsy.
“Just wait to open your eyes.” He let go of your hand and moved behind you, covering your eyes with his hands just in case you happened to take a peek.
“I’m waiting…” your voice pitched in a slight whine, your eagerness to see where he was taking you.
“Open,” Steve lowered his hands from your eyes, “your eyes.”
When you had basked in the sight of your date, you were with a powerful wave of nostalgia that crashed into you. The memories of your parents taking you and Peter out on trips to the science museums and the planetarium’s had all come rushing back with potency that actually made you more emotional than expected.
“Steve..” The memory of your dad lifting you onto his shoulders as a child to better see the various life kept behind glass, was forefront in your mind. “I haven’t been here since my parents took me last-“
“-before they died.”Steve finished your sentence. “I asked Peter what you liked to do when you were younger.”
“The aquarium was always my favourite.” Your mind wandered, your eyes became distant as you revelled in nostalgia. “My dad wanted me to pet one of the sting ray’s that came to the surface in their shallow pool. I remember crying because I didn’t want to feel how slimy they were, even though I never knew if they were or not.”
“Did you ever end up touching one?” Steve pondered.
“No,” you shook your head with a laugh, “I did push Peter into one of the shallow touchable tanks though.”
Steve laughed with you before he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers, tugging you along behind him as the two of you moved through the first set of doors and then the next.
“We have the place to ourselves?” You asked after seeing the emptiness of the building, aside from the people working.
“I pulled some strings.” Steve shot you a smile when he looked over his shoulder.
“I didn’t know you had strings to pull.” You stepped closer to him as he approached the front desk.
“I also volunteered to come back in my Captain America suit for the children’s miracle network for St. Jude’s hospital.” Steve only had to approach the desk, and the wrist bands were already sitting on the metal desk with the woman behind the desk grinning from ear to ear.
“You are so lucky!” She squealed, a rather bright blush on her face.
“I really am.” You stared up at him with amazement, not able to look away even when he started putting the band around your wrist. “Steve’s one of a kind.”
The woman behind the desk wished you a good time, while throwing in a comment about starting from the left and moving to the right side of the building. As you stepped away and the pair of you started walking through the first exhibit, you brought up the topic of him volunteering.
“Do you do that often?” You stepped by a tank of brightly coloured fish and every bright coral. “Volunteer at aquariums during your downtime for sick children? Is it possible that you’re actually a perfect person.”
Steve crossed from the right to the left, where you were, and slipped an arm around your waist. He squeezed your waist gently, gazing at the same beautiful sight that you were.
“We all try to.” Steve spoke quietly, as it was just the two of you. “We spend so much time around evil and battles, wars that never send. Seeing a bunch of sick kids in our uniforms is a welcomed break. They’re always so excited to see us.”
“You really love kids.” It wasn’t a question but a statement; a fact.
“I’ve always wanted a family.” Steve moved on with you following him. “It’s been the American dream for almost 100 years.”
“Go to war, survive, come home and have a family.”
You peered at some of the brightly coloured fish swimming back and forth with no real worry or path.
“I’ve been fighting a long war.” When Steve spoke, he was tired. When he spoke, you could hear the figurative exhaustion in his voice from the years of fighting that was draining on him, the constant wars that never ceased.
“Maybe it’s time to pass the shield on.” You suggested, though you did so quietly. “Even the great Steve Roger’s needs a break.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Steve quipped, his eyes focused on the tanks and the array of colours brushing from behind the glass. “Giving up the title of Captain America.”
“Retirement would look good on you.” You placed your hand on his chest, stealing his attention.
“And you,” he grinned, stealing you into his arms, “would look good with your hand on a stingray.”
** **
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midnightstarlightwrites · 6 months ago
It’s the Ones You Make
Adrien always struggled on Father’s Day. Especially in the years since his father’s arrest.
One year, two years, five years. It didn’t matter. Time had passed and the wounds were no longer fresh. But even before that, Father’s Day was a time of pain. Broken promises, callousness, a cruel disregard for Adrien’s efforts. Gabriel had not been the kindest of men, even outside of the costume.
Watching people celebrate their fathers, actively spend time or money on gifts for them, the smiles and the laughter, was a lonely experience. Adrien knew there were others like him, that there were many deadbeat dads or even downright evil ones. He knew that logically.
Emotionally? It felt as though he were stuck on a desert island, watching everyone having fun on a distant party boat whilst he slowly died of thirst.
Throughout most of the day, Adrien would hibernate in his apartment and wait for the day to be over. It worked most of the time. He was fine with it. Mostly.
Marinette usually came to visit him after spending time with her father. They always invited him along to whatever they had planned for that year and, on any other day, he would have jumped at the chance. The Dupain-Cheng family had taken him under their wing and loved them the way his father never had.
Every year he would buy Tom Dupain a Father’s Day card and every year he would throw it out. It seemed like too much, like if he actually gave him a card, it would be an admission that he saw Tom as a father figure and the spell would break. The rejection, the sad pitying looks, would follow. Tom wouldn’t be mean about it, he wouldn’t say anything outright, but it would be in his eyes.
So there he was, in his apartment on the worst day of the year. Alone.
He’d decided to order a pizza, and was getting comfortable on the sofa when the buzzer to his apartment rang.
Answering it with a frown, he gasped when he heard his fiancée’s voice on the receiver.
“Let us up, honey! It’s super humid down here!”
Adrien buzzed them in immediately and a few moments later, Tom and Marinette came busting into the apartment. He gaped at them.
“Aren’t you both meant to be at a restaurant now? Won’t you miss your reservation?”
Marinette wandered up to him, a vision in a pink summer dress, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “We were on our way but decided to cancel our reservation in the end.”
Adrien glanced from Tom to Marinette and back again. “Why?”
“Well it’s Father’s Day and I get to decide what I want to do, don’t I?” Tom asked with a little chuckle and ruffled his hair. “I wanted to see my future son-in-law.”
“He was rather insistent,” Marinette replied with a shrug, a spark of mischief in her eyes.
Adrien was still confused, though he decided not to ask Why again.
“Anyways, we brought some snacks and we thought we’d watch a movie, if you’re ok with that. If you’re busy though, we can leave,” Tom said gesturing to the shopping bags he was carrying. Adrien ushered them further into the kitchen so Tom could put the groceries on the table. 
When Tom was busy, Marinette pulled Adrien to one side. “Are you sure this is ok? I know how you feel about Father’s Day and if this is too much, we can leave. But he really, really wanted to see you. He always has, but ever since we’ve got engaged, he’s been even more insistent.”
Truth be told, Adrien’s mind had completely absconded. He had no idea what to think or feel about it. All he knew is that it wasn’t bad. All those years, he’d deliberately isolated himself for fear of being rejected by a brand new family. Now there was evidence in front of him to suggest the opposite and it was rather overwhelming.
A warm weight settled in his hand. Marinette’s fingers curled around his. The engagement ring on her finger sparkled as she brought both hands up to her chest and kissed his hands.
“I’m here, ok?” she continued. “I know this day is hard for you. Do you want us to go?”
Did he want them to go? When they’d changed their plans to ensure he wouldn’t be alone? When Tom had actively decided he wanted Adrien to be part of his day?
Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head.
Marinette gave him another kiss. “Well good, because we were thinking of ordering a pizza too!”
“I was going to order a pizza,” Adrien nodded, in somewhat of a daze.
“Ah. Great minds,” Marinette replied, tapping him on the nose playfully with her free hand before tugging him off to the kitchen. “Come on, dad is waiting.”
“Wait,” Adrien stopped and Marinette glanced over her shoulder curiously. “I love you.”
Curiosity turned into a joy and Marinette beamed at him. “I love you too.”
When they got to the kitchen, Adrien’s stomach dropped. Tom had found the Father’s Day card he’d written him, the one he hadn’t yet thrown out.
“Pa?” Marinette asked as Tom pressed the card up to his face. His eyes grew watery and Adrien panicked.  “You ok there?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t- I wasn’t going to give it to you. I know it’s a bit much and”- 
He was interrupted from his ramblings with a colossal bear hug. Tom scooped both Marinette and Adrien into his huge arms and peppered them with soft, fatherly kisses. “I have the best daughter and son-in-law a guy could ask for.”
Adrien was glad none of them could see his eyes welling up too.
From that day on, Adrien always spent Father’s Day with Tom Dupain.
For Day 13 of @adrinetteapril The theme was Family!
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wolken-himmel · 7 months ago
In which Professor Trein's wife (Y/n) accidentally arrives a little bit too early to deliver her home-made lunch to him, thus interrupting his lectures right at the end.
Yuu and their friends are quite curious about their professor's wife, and seem to have a lot of questions to ask.
Request by @amypop122.
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"And that should conclude the lesson for today. Does anyone have questions?"
Professor Trein's stoic eyes gazed across the ocean of students seated in front of him. The whole lot of them were anxiously watching the clock on the wall behind his desk ticking away in an agonisingly slow way. Today's lecture had been exhausting and hard, and especially Ace and Deuce in the last rows looked like zombies with the way they were groaning here and there, restless frowns on their faces. Yuu, too, was about to fall asleep with the way Grim in their arms was so warm.
The professor received no reply, to which he commented with a satisfied hum. "Good, make sure to read the passage on—" Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks upon seeing the door to the classroom open and a flash of curious (E/c) eyes peeking in. The sudden mood shift in the room was undeniable, able to even pull the chaotic duo out of their bored trances. For a moment, Professor Trein's eyes softened as he gazed at the woman in the doorway to his classroom: you. "(Y/n)?"
Every single student snapped their head towards the sudden intruder, and they gazes darted back and forth from their professor to you. Then, excited whispers and murmurs broke out throughout the classroom, the students excitedly discussing about the way their stoic teacher's gaze had softened ever so slightly — even if it was just for a second.
You gasped upon realising that the usually empty seats were still filled with youthful students. An embarrassed smile appearing on your lips, you quickly uttered, "Oh, I'm sorry— I thought class ended already." Then, you gently closed the door again, causing the murmurs to grow even louder. Lucius, who lazily sat in his owner's arms, meowed and scratched at Professor Trein's robe to snap him out of his trance.
"Silence!" he bellowed, causing the mass of students to immediately calm down again. Taking a deep breath — all the while scratching Lucius behind his ear — to calm down, he furrowed his eyebrows since your sudden appearance had completely thrown him out of his train of thought. Exhaling in exasperation, he gazed at his students with a distant and distracted look in his eyes. "You're dismissed. For homework, just read the text on page two hundred and eleven. And do the task listed next to it."
Awkward silence veiled itself upon the classroom, and for a moment, nobody really wanted to be the first to stand up — especially since their minds were still occupied by the surprise of your sudden appearance.
Deuce leant over to Ace, murmuring, "Wow... that's kinda generous of him. I've never seen him like that."
Ace hummed in agreement, yet his eyes reflected even more curiosity than his friend's. "I wonder who that woman was," the redhead mumbled under his breath, all out ot a sudden wide-awake.
His words caught Yuu's attention, and they turned around to remark, "We can just ask her. She looked nice, and I'm sure she will answer."
"You ask her then, Yuu," Grim chimed in as pawed at their blazer. "I want to know, too."
"Fine, if you three are cowards..." Yuu mumbled while they rolled their eyes. When the group of friends rose from their chairs to exit the classroom, they were the last ones to leave. Yuu bee-lined straight for the door, keeping Grim held in their arms since he preferred being carried around most of the times, anyway — although they did worry for his health if he kept on eating massive amounts of tuna without working out whatsoever.
Upon passing through the door, Yuu gazed to their right, where they found the woman from earlier patiently waiting for every student to leave before entering. You were humming a soft tune to yourself, and yet you shot the group of friends a smile when they passed by you — or at least you thought they would pass by silently.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Yuu suddenly spoke up, startling you slightly. You almost dropped the lunch box you held in your hands out of surprise, but quickly managed to calm down again. Curiously, you looked at the courageous student and their friends behind them. They had a smile on their face, a polite one. "Hello! Me and my friends were just wondering who you were."
Your lips pulled up into a smile at the warmth in this particular student's kind heart. As you smiled, the four friends could finally see the soft wrinkles right next to your eyes and around your mouth. "Oh, aren't you precious! You remind me of my step-daughters," you exclaimed, laughing softly. Pushing back a strand of already greying out (H/c) hair, you gracefully curtsied. "I'm your professor's wife, (Y/n) Trein. It's very nice to meet his students."
Ace's jaw fell down upon the revelation; he had already expected you to be involved with their teacher somehow, judging by the way Professir Trein's eyes softened upon seeing you, and yet he couldn't shrug off the strange feeling in his stomach. "I didn't think he could have a wife. Nonetheless children," Ace mumbled, which earned him a warning glare from Deuce. "Is he... nice?"
Laughing at the youth's words, you merely nodded. "Yes, he's a very loving husband." Your (E/c) eyes still shone with youthful vigour and energy despite the wrinkles on your face. Yet, that bright expression soon dimmed down when you solemnly added, "Although I do miss him a lot since he's never really home because of his job as a professor here, and it's been quiet every since my step-daughters moved out."
The students grew curious, and Deuce was the first to speak up to ask, "So, you're not his first wife?" His question earned him a punch to the shoulder by Yuu as they sent him an warning glare. Deuce groaned quietly as he stepped to the side to take cover behind Ace, whom he hoped would shield him from Yuu's wrath.
Your reaction was what caught the group off-guard. Instead of scolding them for prying, kind laughter spewed from your lips. "Yes, that's correct," you confirmed, smiling at the teens. You averted your wise gaze that was brimming with nostalgia. "We met... ten years ago?"
Grim's ear twitches curiously. "What made you marry Professor Trein?"
Humming, you tapped your chin with your index finger, for a moment digging through your memory. "He was such a gentleman! So helpful and nice— and handsome," you explained, your (E/c) eyes lighting up in adoration as you spoke about your husband. For a moment, giggles like that of a little girl escaped your lips. "How could I have resisted?"
"Ew—" Ace scoffed, causing him to be punched by Yuu. "Professor Trein and those adjectives don't fit together."
Grim grinned as he cooed, "Shh, you don't want detention, do you, Ace?"
Shaking your head in utter delight at the four bumbling students, you happily drawled, "Ah, you guys are so funny!" Then, your eyes turned to the cat in Yuu's arms that ogled up at you with big cute eyes. Extending a finger to playfully wag it in front of the animal's nose, your smile grew. "And your cat! The little guy reminds me of Lucius."
Grim crossed his arms while he haughtily averted his gaze, as if your words were offensive. "Hmpf, I'm better than Lucius. I can talk."
After having received Yuu's permission, you scratched Grim behind his ears, evoking unwilling purrs from him. You eagerly continued scratching his fur, and he more and more leant into your touch. "Wow, how adorable," you cooed, bending down to get a closer look at the adorable monster cat. "Aren't you a cutie~"
Your interaction was quickly cut short when your husband appeared in the doorway to his classroom, his eyes narrowed at his four students. "(Y/n), are my students bothering you?" he asked, sceptically eyeing the bunch of troublemakers.
Laughing, you straightened your back to get a proper look at him. "Ah, no no! Don't worry, Mozus dear. They're all very precious and nice to me," you said whilst you shot the group of teens a playful wink, which they reciprocated with a little snicker.
Trein nodded, petting Lucius in his arms like he was some sort of evil villain straight from one of those action movies. "You should leave now, you four," he said sternly, leaving no room for any 'buts'. "Enjoy your break while it lasts." Before any of the teens could disobey, he had already briskly turned around to disappear back into his classroom.
All of them sighed in disappointment. "Goodbye, Mrs. Trein," the four students chanted simultaneously, as if in a choir. They reluctantly watched as you shot them an apologising look whilst walking inside of the classroom.
"Maybe we'll see each other around, dearies! Goodbye," you exclaimed cheerfully before closing the door behind you.
For a moment, only silence enveloped the whole corridor — that was until Ace stormed to the door, his eyes peeking through the little window on the upper half of the window, managing to position him in a way that allowed him to see through the slits of the blinds.
His fellow friends groaned in annoyance at his antics, and they went to work in order to try and pry him away from the door. "Ace, get away from the door!" Deuce hissed, grabbing his friend by his forearm.
"No. No," Ace cried out as he wrestled his limb out of his friend's strong hold. "I need to know how he scored someone so nice like her."
Deuce merely rolled his eyes. "We don't want any trouble—" He stopped in his tracks upon coincidentally gazing through the blind's folds, too. What he saw managed to make him latch onto the spot right next to Ace, his hands pressed against the glass. "Wait, oh, the lunch she made him looks delicious—"
Grim was quick to jump out ot Yuu's arms and leap onto their shoulders. "Is it tuna?"
"Guys!" Yuu exclaimed, throwing their arms into the air in utter annoyance at how stupid their friends were acting. Their cautious eyes ran up and down the corridor, afraid that someone would round the corner and catch them eavesdropping. "What if they catch us spying?"
Ace let out a distracted hum. "Don't worry, nobody will." His calm was quickly disturbed when he felt a foot land on his own. "Ouch, Deuce! You stepped on my foot!" the redhead howled loudly.
Yuu slapped themself. "I'm doomed."
Opening the windows to let some fresh air stream into the stuffed classroom, you lovingly asked, "So, how was class today?"
Trein rubbed his temples as he set down his precious cat onto his desk while he himself let himself sink into the teacher's chair. It was only now in his beloved wife's presence that he felt the exhaustion from today rush over him. Sighing as he stretched his legs, he finally felt his tense muscles relax.
Taking a deep breath from the fresh air that streamed through the window you just had opened, he then began, "Today was rather exhausting... there are some rambunctious first-years among them that love to cause trouble." He watched you as you opened the lunch box you had prepared for him. It never failed to amaze him how much effort you put into these little signs of affection. Trein gratefully took the outstretched box from your hand. "They sure are a handful, but it's to be expected."
"You're doing a good job, Mozus," you mumbled as you circled around the desk to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, which somehow still never failed to make his heart flutter, as if there weren't years of marriage between the two of you. A smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes fluttered close when you pulled away.
"Thank you, love," he mumbled, feeling less drained already.
You nodded, as if you took it for granted. A wet nose bumping against your arm caused your attention to divert to the purring cat sitting on top of your husband's desk, the animal's tail flicking back and forth. You extended a hand to gently run it across his soft fur. "Ah, Lucius, you must be hungry too with how much you worked today~" you drawled while you fiddled with something in your bag. The cat's slitted eyes followed your hands curiously, and lit up when you pulled out a smaller container. "I brought you something, too."
Trein chuckled as you opened the container designated for the large cat and lowered it right in front of it. "You spoil him, love," he commented as he watched his furry companion dig right in, with the best of manners a cat could ever have, of course.
Laughing along, you put your hands onto your hips. "There's no one else to spoil but you two now! Ever since the children moved out, I've been lacking people to dote on," you complained as you leant against the side of the desk, your hand mindlessly running through the cat's fur. Just like earlier, your eyes temporarily lost their youthful shimmer due to the sadness that clouded them. "I am proud of how they've set out to start their own lives, but I do miss them very much."
Mozus set his lunch aside to cover his hand with yours that openly lay on the desk. "I'm sorry to hear that, (Y/n)." He shot you a smile that caused all sadness to evaporate quickly. "I, too, miss them... but well, I'm sure it won't be long until we have grandchildren of our own."
The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement at his words. "You're right. I can't wait until that happens," you exclaimed, suddenly feeling a rush of excitement vanquish the melancholy in your heart. Intertwining your fingers with his, you lovingly ran your thumb across the wrinkled back of his hand. "Also, our correspondences make me feel less lonely, so I have to thank you for that."
This time, it was Trein's time to act like it was to be taken for granted. "Of course, I feel bad for rarely ever being home because I'm on campus for such long times— so it's only right that I send you a letter every evening."
"Ah, I'm fortunate to have such a thoughtful husband," you cooed. In your chest, your heart skipped a beat. "I consider myself very lucky to have met you."
Trein shook his head. "No, I am the one who should say that."
"Aww—" You giggled at the way he looked at you so lovingly. Although, your lips quirked up into an amused grin when you pointed to the door, from where you could hear yelling. "But say, do your students always eavesdrop on you?"
Your husband immediately furrowed his eyebrows. "They what?!" he yelled furiously, his face completely having lost all its softness and fondness whenever he gazed at you. "That's detention for them."
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husbandohunter · 5 months ago
Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”
Something angsty pls? Thank you!
Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]
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Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?
(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)
Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death
(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :> 
You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition. 
The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow. 
"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"
You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you. 
I…don't quite understand…
Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.
What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?
And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart. 
He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."
At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.
"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.
“I'm sorry.”
What is love?
Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.
I see, love is conditional.
Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted.  Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies. 
They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.
Unconditional love only exists in dreams.
Or so you thought to believe.
One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.
Red eyes.
It was the first time that someone had looked your way.
Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled. 
Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow. 
"My, how pleasantly surprising."
While the other part was stained with black cinders.
You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.
"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"
He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"
"And if I may ask why?"
"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."
You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"
"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."
"You know my name?"
"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."
He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."
“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."
You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."
"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine." 
"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"
Why am I telling him this?
"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."
"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.
"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."
"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."
"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."
"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."
"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.
"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."
A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."
Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."
When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.
Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…
A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.
Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),
I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.
Bien à vous,
"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."
And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.
It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.
"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.
"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"
"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"
You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"
"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"
Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"
"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."
You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."
"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."
The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.
"Go on. I'm listening."
And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.
From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.
"Will you write to me again?"
The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."
Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.
You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart. 
The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own  fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.
"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."
Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.
"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."
"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."
"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."
But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers. 
"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."
"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.
"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."
"Clement you don't understand!"  Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"
Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.
"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!" 
An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.
"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"
While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass. 
"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"
I can't live without him.
I can't live without him.
I can't live without him.
Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life. 
And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.
"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.
"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"
"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"
"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."
Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.
Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.
He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger. 
Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.
"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."
"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"
Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"
A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."
"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."
Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?
Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.
"Are you scared?"
Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.
You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."
"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."
The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.
Ha. Serves him right.
Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.
With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.
"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."
Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?
As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.
Was it worth it?
You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted. 
The inheritance.
Their attention.
But most of all, him.
And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize  you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort. 
"You're nothing without me."
Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.
"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"
You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.
"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."
His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.
Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom.  That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.
Because you would do anything for him.
You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.
Please come back.
Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence. 
Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.
Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie. 
"Come back to me…Hector."
Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.
A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.
Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.
Worthless. It's who I am.
And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.
Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.
(Crack. Crack).
But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?
Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along., Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.
It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.
"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"
Everything was worthless.
You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.
There was only one thing left to do. 
"Ugh, where is it?!"
It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.
"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"
Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.
"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."
Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-
An intruder!
Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.
"What in the abyss...?!"
Except it wasn't dark.
"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."
Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!
"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."
"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."
The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.
"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."
It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.
Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."
"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.
"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"
Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.
"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."
As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"
Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."
Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.
"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."
"...What do you mean?"
You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.
"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.
" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.
The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"
Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.
"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”
Just like how you broke me.
Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.
Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.
Ah, this cannot be death.
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