#has gone so well and has changed my life so much. happy now. but its hard looking at art i made when i wasnt

[nereidprinc3ss]

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him. 

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened? 

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a  little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough. 

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes. 

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him. 

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was. 

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again. 

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again. 

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table. 

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world. 

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms. 

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now. 

[the-tarot-witch22]

Personality of your future spouse - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

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Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you guys - 6 of swords, king of wands, 4 of pentacles, king of swords and 9 of wands)

Okay so the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite chatty or like to talk a lot, or travel a lot too when they are sad or not happy with circumstances at hand, They are also very masculine and dominant, like a leader or very bossy, They are also quite outspoken like they won't be quiet, if they see something which doesn't sit right with them, they might tend to not indulge in things which are holding them back, they are quite a problem solver, their advise and wisdom is to die for, they will speak right thing at right time, they might be extrovert too, but they will balance you out well, they like to move forward, they are comfortable in their own skin, they might have had a time or phase where they didn't like how they looked and how they were but time changed them now they comfortable in their own skin, and they try to make other person very comfortable as well, they are not very judgemental, for some of you guys travelling is so prominent, like your future spouse goes to different place, experience different cultures, try different food, it's a part of their personality, they also seem very mature regardless of their age, their situation might have caused them to grow early, they might like to go out or have fun in adventure parks, greenery, they also like to run or keep themselves in shape, for some of you your future spouse seems like a computer geek, they have a very unique and very charming personality, they attract people both genders towards because of their unique sense of humour and personality, they have transformed very much in their lives, for some of you your future spouse has gone through so many changes, hardships which caused them to where they are, they also seem very focused and determined, if they want something they will get it type of attitude, "i heard failure doesn't scare me, not trying enough does" spoken like a real business man, they seems very wise guys, they are also very seductive and sexual , like they are secure in their body, they don't have fragile masculinity, they are very respectful towards people and others, they might not seem to show emotions very well, but you will know they care for you, their action speaks louder than words, they are also quite private about their personal life, they won't be spilling secrets to everyone, just to someone who are close to them, they are also very quite protective and jealous, they won't like anyone clinging onto you, let it be anyone even a pet, like "they are mine", they will make sure the other person knows, you are with them, their temper is calm unless someone provokes them, then they are like they don't even see who is in front of them, they won't hurt you, but their anger is quite bad if someone gets on their bad side, they also seem bit materialistic, because off their past, i feel, they also seem very logical and intellectual a great person to talk to and spend rest of your lives with, they don't take betrayal easy, they might cut off people easily, they sometimes tend to hang on past or just look back at things that has happened but they try not to do that, they know its only gonna waste time and nothing can happen, but they also get proud of their growth, quite confident, they also seem hardworking independent and the person who stands their ground very well, they also don't care what others think of them. They also seem very passionate.

Honestly? They are wonderful! You guys are lucky and so is your future spouse!

They could be fire and air sign in their big 3 or 6. Especially Sagittarius or Aries, or might be you guys as well. Or they can have fire or air midheaven.

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you guys - 4 of pentacles, king of cups, 9 of cups, 5 of swords, The hanged man and page of cups)

Okay so the first thing i felt they wear heart on their sleeves a very honest and open book type of person, they are emotionally mature in tune with them, knows what they want in a person, so forget the fear of mixed signals, because your future spouse will tell you thousand times they want you, give you reassurance, the love you want and desire. They are the kind of person who would not like people eyeing you, very protective some of you can say over protective, but don't be scared they are not controlling but just scared to lose you, because you mean so much to them, they tend to think they are not enough for you and end up overthinking and becoming jealous, and honestly in a good way, i don't feel any negative and ill intentions from them, they tend to give you the world and love you want they won't be like refusing you, they will make sure your needs have been met, they are self sufficient too, and has a good job too, they seem very soft and loving, as i said an open book, so they won't hide things from me, they embrace their both sides, in bed they can be a switch, or be very versatile they tend to make you feel at home and very comfortable, their energy is calm, even while doing your reading i felt sleepy, very soft spoken and soft person, they also seem very curious to learn new things, they might have trouble saying no or might be you as well, They have a good heart, they don't like to cause pain to someone if they end up hurting someone , it will affect them too, they are quite sensitive too, they don't like conflicts they rather avoid having them, they also seem very loyal and honest, i heard "I will die for you queen", i also heard they are very caring towards environment, they will cherish you so much, they might sometimes take things to their heart, they are very sincere too, values honesty a lot, They also seem to have spiritual side, or they seem lucky in money or financial department, they tend to get anxious at times, like at time of conflicts it doesn't seem to suit them, i also feel their manifestations comes easily to them and they just don't realize it , for some of you they could be very religious, they might just be also lucky in general, they also have a tendency to win, or have competitive side to them, when it comes to their profession or you, they are very laid back to or might like procrastinate at times, for some of you your future spouse could be very lazy or just like to sleep in, very attractive and young personality, or they seem younger they might look young or have a heart of child, pure they seem to be very charming, can be quite flirtatious without realizing it, i heard "was it a coincidence, we met?", "i don't think it was i have dreamt of you so many times yet i can't remember you", wow, they just gave me something for you guys.

Your future spouse seem like a sweetheart honestly, so loving, love it for you guys!

Their possible zodiac signs could be - water signs in their big 3 or 6 especially Cancer and Scorpio , or for some of you - earth signs or they can have a water midheaven.

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you guys - 7 of wands, 3 of cups, The empress, Temperance, knight of cups, 3 of swords, 5 of pentacles and the star)

Okay so the first thing i felt was they are quite hardworking, for some of your future spouse could be workaholic and they have so many responsibilities and burden on them, They tend to overthink a lot, they are quite righteous and stand up for people who have been wronged, they like to earn but with their strength and hard work, they also seem kind of serious but warms up when you know them, they like indoors, they might be ambivert and they seem very adaptable, they tend to find happiness in small things around them, their might be someone they are close to or helped them come out of their shell, they tend to have many people or friends but only few of them seem genuine, they also could be teacher or have that teacher personality they like to correct you or tell you things teach you stuff, they might be quite experienced in bed, they also seem very focused and determined to get things done, they don't like to left things on tomorrow, more like do it now, they also seem to like to have parties or small celebration with their loved ones, as i said small things can make them happy and small things can make them angry too, they really seem to focus on self and self growth, i heard "self - righteous person", they have so much to give, the love, the things to their loved ones, their love language could be act of services, they tend to meet their friends or pals a lot, they don't like to do flirting or leading someone on, they are very nurturing and caring too in touch with their feminine side, they also seem to love kids, or they might be good with them, they are financially abundant too, but all because of their hard work, they don't like people who are very codependent, they will care and open up but at their own pace, for some of you they could have a water venus, they are good and caring boyfriend as well as husband, they are also very balanced, or have became balanced, after the traumatic or bad experience in past, but that's for another thing and pac, i won't go in details, but i also feel they got their heartbroken or for some of you they broke someone's heart, but later they now realize their mistake and respect people's emotion, they also seem very gentlemanly, or charming person, they are quite a listener more than a talker, for some of you they like to things slow or for some of you they are quite forward, for some of you they might had trusted wrong people in their friendship or business or work, they seem to be vulnerable too, but with right people, not with everyone if you earn that, they love you, i also feel for some of you they might have brought up in poverty, but now they are doing very much better now and has good job or money, or had a hard time when they were kid or younger, they value for things and money, as i said very caring, i also feel their aura is quite healing or they might work in medical field. They might at time be judgemental or jump to conclusions too, but nothing too bad. I also they are quite happy, when they achieve their desire goals.

They seem like chill person honestly! love it for you guys <3

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Scorpio, cancer, Gemini, Libra or Virgo and Capricorn, Aries or Leo too.

Pile 4:

(The cards I got for you guys - Wheel of fortune, 6 of cups, 9 of pentacles, strength, the star, king of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of wands and 10 of pentacles)

Okay so wow the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite the provider or has that let me do it energy, for some of you, your future spouse is very mature, they seem very lucky and have things on their fingertips when they need it, if their is a situation they don't like, the situation seems to improve on its own somehow, they believe in "time is precious don't waste it" very understanding, and have figured out their life purpose, they seem to move forward, for some of you your future spouse seems introvert, but they like to move forward in their own way, they like to win and go ahead, they also feel loved when someone appreciates them and shows them with their actions, they might like to read as well, like self help books, or might be you guys, but they seem into reading anything news, articles, they likes to be updated on political affairs, or what is happening around them, "i also heard timid and shy" so for some of you might be that at first, they created their own fame and luck type of vibe i am getting, they also has a very transformative personality, or went through changes, they might have lost someone young a pet or someone close to them, a grandparent, but all the changes and ending has made your future spouse stand on their own which makes sense why they are very wise or mature, you guys can check pile 1 too, i somehow got similar messages for pile 1, your future spouse personality is very interesting honestly, sweet, spicy and calm, love that vibe i am getting, they seem to like and feel nostalgic things, for some of you animals or helping people make them happy, they seem very sweet, they like to help people and go beyond for that, they might like flowers or nature a lot, they are also quite very independent, and self secure, like they know they are good, they don't need someone's opinion, they value facts or honesty, for some of you they are quite confident, they have worked hard and has achieved their goals, as i said they created their own fame self made person, they are brave , courageous and very spiritual too, they like to believe in old myths too, not a blind follower don't worry, they are quite focused and determined to make their life a better for themselves and others, they believe in equality, They will go to lengths to protect their loved ones, their love is healing, their personality is healing so maybe they have at times attracted broken people in their life, they like to go with the flow, they don't let people treat them as pushover either, in past for some of them could have been, but now it's very different for them, As i said they changed a lot, they definitely are a sugar daddy very rich guys very rich, they might also like to have everything their heart desire let it be anything, when they love they love very deeply, they are also very possessive over their materialistic things and their loved ones, "its mine, so its mine" no one gets to have it, but in a good way, its hot honestly, they are self build and for some of you they have gotten inheritance or comes from old money, they might have been close to their grand parents, i also feel they have stress or they take sometimes too much work pressure which causes them to have inner conflict with them, but they are learning with time, They are also very practical and logical a very much problem solver, they are quite ambitious too and love to work on their goals.

Your future spouse is a package <3, good for you guys!

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Earth signs especially Capricorn.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[kalims]

˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "who i like? do you seriously think I'm gonna tell you that? anyways its—"

大好き

premise. someone asks who you like.. and you respond with their name—said person right beside you!

characters. all dorms and their prominent students

includes. gn reader

note. after a long wait! and the almost month this has been on my 'to be added' category it's hereeee.. fun fact.. I actually finished another work because I liked the idea of it more even though this was my prioritized.

was 20 mins late because I was fixing my posts aksbja

heartslabyul

looks at you like you're insane. I'm confident everyone can envision riddle's face like that. it's in between the verge of being flustered and being appalled by your lack of filter. heat practically steams out of riddle's ears as his movements stutters, clearly struggling to comprehend what you said. maybe you should get ready for an earful but you're pleasantly suprised when riddle sets aside his.. passionate emotions to shyly ask a confirmation. (with admitted aggression as if he's in denial)

trey's eyebrows shoot up but the action looks way more casual than it should be. I mean, surprisingly he's pretty calm on taking it into account but he ends up just being a smiling fool beside you as you continue your conversation with your friend. he's like... ‎◜◡◝ beside you as your friend looks between the two of you in a hurry before breaking into a laugh. should be be worried that you're this bold..? well, it did work in his favor so he can't say a thing.

happy go luck cater looks even more happy than you've ever seen him in your life. hanging lowly by his sides, his hands twitch and he itches to pull out his phone to basically renounce to the world that his feelings are very much reciprocated and probably lowkey shitting on the people with one sided loves because, ha! he wins!! you bet he's gonna settle for screaming in his private account and then proceeding to scream in his pillow.

before he could foster up a grin and break out of the 'calm and responsible' honor student, deuce had to keep his lower lips under his teeth lest he looks like a weirdo smiling uncontrollably tinged in flush. the whole time he was just staring at you goofily.. like he's on cloud nine, which I concur. because he is. the one who gets gaslighted (not by you) into thinking that you both now are in a relationship like.. deuce be for real you didn't even ask me on a fate. (actually both of you might think you're in a relationship because of the way you're acting like yall are)

contrary to beliefs I think ace would be on the more casual side. you know? throwing an arm around your shoulder and shattering whatever personal space criteria there was. clearly there's no need when you 'like' him so much. he's using your words as an excuse to do whatever he wants, like leaning strangely close, letting a hand linger longer than it should. whatever restraint he had before is gone now because now he's moving onto a new level of personal. you'd either hate or secretly like the change. hate because ace wtf we're in class and like because,, who wouldn't want your crush to be overly affectionate with you?

savanaclaw

you'd think leona wasn't listening at all just from the indifferent look on his face but you know better just from the way his eyes perk up, tail sticking up in dormant but still a signal of alert and attention. for once he doesn't quip a tease, or a smart-ass remark that would want you to shovel your way to the ground on embarrassment. he just.. sits there, staring seemingly into the void of thin air itself. maybe it's because he's feeling particularly sentimental or sensitive today that his heart feels like it's encased in warmth. it feels good.

a laugh too shaky for his preferences, ruggie hopes he didn't look too nervous for his sake. I mean, this is literally his suprise of the century and when I tell you that it's a big shock to him, it's an understatement. come on, if he did think you had feelings for him ruggie imagined the confession going normally. either buttering him up or going straight to the point—the latter, which he prefers but when he said to be direct he certainly didn't expect this! the hyena runs away with jitters and a skip to his steps but he comes back a few minutes later looking more relaxed than you've ever seen him.

once again. contrary to expectations which the savanclaw boys had practically shattered those, many would think jack would go all shy. from the previous savanaclaw boys you'd think I'd go against expectations again but you're.. wrong hehe. i don't know how to explain other than he wills himself to show a reaction other than fluster, maybe it's just in his pride to now show you an ounce of weakness but literally how could be when you're the weakness? he doesn't know if you making him soft is good or not.

octavinelle

if it was real and possible to actually happen without a third party force, azul's glasses would've definitely shattered the moment you said the direct confession. he's torn between wanting to excuse himself to scream like a school girl or intent to not let the fluster show. well, either way he does both. keeping his emotions hardly in check, sometimes slipping up multiple times but when the time comes where you both part ways you know he's silently smiling to himself when he turns round a corner. the twins are suspicious and curious as to why azul had been in a good mood nowadays..

either jade maintains his cool, natural closed eyed smile or he crinkles his eyes when he breaks into a large sharp toothed grin. of course both has the lingering ominous feeling around it because it's jade.. and even you have to agree that him openly cracking a grin isn't exactly a good sign of peace, rather so a harbinger of trouble. if you were bold enough to say that in his presence I wonder how that previous confidence will fare when he's practically picking at your earlier words to gouge a reaction. no jade, I only said like. not love (yet).

no one other than floyd would be more than ecstatic. he didn't hear it at first, blinking then tilting his head to the side when he pauses to register it. so when he finally processes it you bet he's giggling in his head but in real time? he's practically sweeping you off your feet to hug you in the air. figures with the strange merman strength.. you find out that floyd is quite clingy when he's immensely happy, he even refused to let you go through classes and when you insisted he just sat down next to your seat and promptly kicked out whoever sat there before! floyd atleast hide! I mean the professor would surely notice the eel that's not in supposed to be in their class.

scarabia

if there was an option where he could purchase everything in the world then giving it to you without expecting anything back kalim would surely choose it. you got him so happy to the fact that he's willing to do practically anything that you ask. he doesn't mean to be over the top but.. he just wants to make you happy, which is more than you deserve. no matter how many times you tell him that you don't need any gifts but rather him only, it seemed like it only did worse since he practically fell a hundred times harder which brings us to the conclusion that he wants to give you the world a whole lot more now..

a complete opposite of kalim. jamil merely blinks and casts you a side eye. for the record, he is a little impressed you're that bold because if it was him he would've just brushed this person away or claimed that he liked no one but here you are. completely obliterating the concept of secrets. perhaps that's why he likes you in the first place, your personality is certainly a force to reckon with.. but sometimes you just have to tone down the chaos.. *please* 😐

pomefiore

vil is no stranger to bold proclamations but he can't deny he's a little startled. well, he didn't pick you out to be that type of person. either way usually he'd plaster a quick smile, the words not hitting anything other than the skin of his heart. strangely enough he can't keep the smile wider than he'd like off his face, he's immensely pleased by your words and pomefiore has never been so happy by the obvious good mood their dorm leader had. cause he left them alone for the whole day to practice stick to your side.

his eyes immediately crinkle in joy, rook has to look away and cover the lower part of his face to shy away the flush in his cheeks that would give away his thoughts. rook wouldn't mind if you knew how he felt, but this time he feels as though he's doing this to contain the excitement off his face. you can practically hear the tremble in his voice as he giggles out. "oh tricheur ! mon coeur bat pour toi dans ma poitrine!" it looks like rook completely forgot to existence of the person right next to you. if he got madol from the amount of times he practically sang of his love for you rook would be rich.

just like any other time where you say something off handed epel quickly goes out of character and nearly screams. asking, shaking your shoulders, out of breath by the amount of times he aggressively shook you for the answer of "really?!" his voice becomes that of a boy you aren't used to, but if he's really that willing to show you the person he truly is it makes you like him more. if you do agree, admittedly with your surroundings growing distorted he yells out a happy "YESSS." then coughs and resumes to his soft persona like he wasn't the complete opposite a minute ago. (the person that asked was shook)

ignihyde

it's hard to say if idia is actually gonna be next to you since,, he's idia and do you really think he'd entertain the thought of being in a conversation with someone who he doesn't know? so let's just pretend his tablet is floating next to you, it's better than nothing you guess. you spared a glance to the electronic when you literally confessed your type, idia himself fitting the category perfectly. you swore you heard a squeak but ehh.. maybe it was a rat or something.

meanwhile. ortho comes inside idia's room expecting his elder brother to just be sitting on his bed, gaming chair or something but no. idia shroud is on the floor, with his headphones hazzardly over the floor like it fell over when he did. his hair is sprawled around the floor, heating into a concerning passionate pink as he rolls around and... squeals..? just from the headphones ortho can vaguely hear a "my type..? oh you know idia? I'd kill to have a boyfriend like him." playing on repeat.

diasomnia

he would be like: ˘ ˘ and then: ‎◜◡◝ after he hears you. if there a sound for a big, happy dragon malleus would be excluding them. when I tell you he wishes nothing but to just whisk you away on spot he's not kidding, unlike everyone else who unintentionally forgot the person who asked. this man forgets them intentionally because he can't keep his eyes off you like.. 'hey other human. me and my child of man are having a moment here. will you please leave now. did you not get the sign'

giggles but with his deep voice it sounds kinda weird, but nice to the ears nonetheless. lilia labels you as his main target now, perhaps scaring you shitless at the random times is his love languange because he does it a lot. don't worry though, he always says a half hearted apology with a smile and showers you with affection right after. how could you be mad with how he treats you? even though he cares for you after you can't help but pray that the glint you saw in the ceiling was just some shiny thing.. maybe malleus got it from him because he doesn't care for the other person too.

sebek scolds you period. not only have you mentioned his name (which he's embarrassingly torn between being disgusted and fluster) but you've also mentioned that he's your type?? but I honestly think he approves your taste. "OF COURSE I am the ideal man! I applaud you for once human. not everyone can see the value of loyalty and devotion to waka-sama!" he says but with the increasing pink in his face you know better than to think that it's for the sole reason of malleus.

with the increasing time you've both spent together, silver has practically devoted himself to following you around whenever he's awake. (sebek says something about him always needing to be by malleus' side but quickly shuts up after silver comments that sebek is more than capable to look after him) the surroundings are growing hazy when you say it but he hears it nonetheless. he's happy to say that he dreamt a pleasing dream he's ever gotten in a long time. and since you were in it, it's safe to say that he's positively infatuated now.

clarifications

translation for rook is,, "oh trickster! my heart beats for you in my chest!"

I connected ignihyde parts since I REFUSE to leave out ortho!!

I really liked how those ^ parts came out. my favorite actor cause I think it's cute for idia to be freaking out like that lolol. especially with the idea of recording of your voices to listen to cause he's that down bad

[triannel]

HI I RECENTLY DISCOVERED YOUR BLOG AND I AM IN LOVE, IF ITS OKAY COULD YOU DO A CONTINUATION OF THE BILL CIPHER DRABBLE YOU POSTED EARLIER TODAY? I LOVED IT VERY VERY MUCH 😋😋😋😋

Of course, here you go. Continuation of last post. This might be jumbled thoughts though, but I hope you'll find it as lovely as the last one.

Previous

-I think a really slow burn will be the only way to actually get him to change.

-His mindset has been carved, chiseled and set throughout a trillion years, it would take an astronomical miracle for him to change in only a matter of months.

-With his ego and possibly very heavy baggage to unpack, it will take him quite some time to get into being a semi-redeemed person.

-You've really got your work cut out for you on this one...Perhaps after you talk to a certain amphibian, you might want to study psychology too.

-As we all know the universe is full of vast possibilities that stretches beyond the comprehension of even the most powerful beings, it is arbitrary, but also not, it is and isn't, and for you, a simple human living your life, to catch the attention and even affection of a destructively, maniacal triangle proves that point.

-Even Bill himself may not know the exact reason why he'd fall for someone like you. But to give you credit though, you may have gone through his heart with a dull, and mushy arrow. Your gentleness and kindness should be enough to get through him, if you are determined enough to show it ever so often for a long time.

-As I've established last time, he will absolutely deny his feelings for you. Feeling torn in half, his heart and mind will be in battle. This causes him to behave poorly at times, but not so much that you would ever notice. For all you know the way he's acting could just be the way he is, but on the long term, it would become a little bit easier to tell if he truly is in a jumble of his own thoughts.

-Perhaps he sometimes catches himself to relax around you and forces himself to stiffen up because of his dislikeness that someone as simple as you, are actually making him act and even feel this way, or because it just doesn't feel right for him to actually be comfortable enough to slightly open up.

Sitting in the white void of space. You intently listen to Bill Cipher ramble on about his powers and such.

"THE VAST MAJORITY OF SPACE CAN'T EVEN COMPARE TO MY POWER!" Bill spat in a booming voice, his tone happy and quite cheerful.

After speaking, he just gazed at you for a moment, and in that single second he realized that he was being comfortable, too comfortable for his own liking.

Clearing his throat, he fixed his bowtie, "WELL I THINK THAT'S ENOUGH CHIT-CHAT FOR TODAY, IF YOU EVER CHANGE YOUR MIND ON THAT DEAL, JUST GIVE ME A CALL TOOTS!"

Just like that, he went, snapping his fingers he quickly disappeared.

-He is scared and disgusted of his budding feelings for you, he's had his fair share of exes before but none of them had the same impact as you did. You're a human, a person that can be torn apart if the fabric's of reality only very slightly turned. Just absolutely normal, you were just living your life as always, and then he happened to catch feelings for you.

-You will be the one to confess first though. Bill would never admit his feelings for you. Even after you're long gone, he will never admit it.

-After he knows that he can have you all to himself, he now has valid reason to dump any gift he thinks is fit for you, or just anything he wants to show you.

-He will be extremely clingy and obnoxious towards you. But not too much though, he can't have you figuring him out... Though he'd still sort of slip up at times, as his number of visits quickly escalates to a higher number, you might get the gist that he might like you after a short period of observation.

-Most of the times you go to asleep, instead of a usual dream, you'll be greeted by yours truly. He's frequently ready for a chat, and maybe even once in a blue moon you'll get a decent gift.

-Get ready for teasing, very frequent teasing.

•"EY TOOTS, FIND THIS APPEALING?" He spoke, taking his bowtie off.

•Taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, he guides your gaze to land on him. As your face flushed a gentle shade of red, he smiled. Floating closer, he slightly puckered his weird lips and started to go in for a kiss. But as you expected, he left you midway through. Letting you kiss the air, he started laughing hysterically, wiping tears of his eye. (Alternate ending: But unexpectedly! Your lips gently touched. The kiss is surprisingly gentle and innocent. Only kissing you for a moment, he lets go after a few seconds.

Looking back up, for a split second you saw him gaze at you with a tender look on his face. Then he just disappeared.)

Next

[multifariousqueer]

Hello girl! how are you? doing well?

Can I request a E 42 yandere miles X reader? Am yes, E 42 reader is dead, omg how original XD

But the E 42 reader had this "church girl" or "flower girl" innocent type persona. And when E 1610 reader arrived with miles, she is a loud, cusses out a lot and has a hammer with her at all times.

E 42 miles sees her and while stunned to see such drastic personality change, he still sees his beloved in her and wants to keep her in his world and in his life? Add flashbacks if ya like! you can change it if you want! whatever makes it be awesome! luv you! <3

Hey, love!! I can totally do this

Suerte- Miles G x Reader

A/n: I hope y’all enjoy this!!

Warnings: strong language, angst, suggestiveness, reader being a spider person, descriptions of blood and yandere behavior, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anymore

You were falling off of a building, it seemed your screams would never end as you looked up into the endless sky waiting for someone, anyone to save you. Miles watched as he tried to run and save you but by then it was too late, the sound of your skull hitting the pavement and the crimson blood that flowed from your nose was enough to indicate that you were gone and there was no saving you. Miles cradled your softer skull as the police and ambulance arrived.

Suddenly, Miles woke up in a cold sweat. It was Sunday now, and he had to get ready for church the only reason he was going was because you convinced him too

You managed to convince Miles to do just about anything; he just couldn’t say no to your adorable face and he hated disappointing you. You two seemed like an odd couple at first, with Miles being tough, cold and closed off whereas you were bright, happy, innocent and it seemed like you could do no wrong. You went to church every Sunday, you prayed all the time, you helped everyone and everything and Miles fell for your soft innocence and your warmth. He fell for your simplicity, your poise, your patience and how you felt like a piece of heaven.

The day he lost you was the day he lost himself. Miles was never the same after you left; he closed himself off completely and adopted the Prowler moniker. He felt like he failed you and that you would be so dissapointed if you saw him now. Miles would have flashbacks to you telling him how much you loved him and how you would always love him in every universe, so he decided to pray and beg God for you back and eventually, he got that.

“MILES WHERE THE FLYING FUCK ARE WE??” you shouted

“I’M TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, Y/N” Miles shouted back

You and your Miles were best friends since you both came to Visions. He found out you had powers the same as him and you two clicked immediately. It seemed you two were fated to be together; same music taste, fashion choices and morals its just you were a bit more harsh than him

“I think we’re home?” Miles questioned

“I don’t remember Brooklyn looking this shitty” you said

“It’s just dark, come on, we can go to my house. My mom loves you” you said

Mrs. Morales loved you because not only were you quick on your feet, you also made Miles happy and you made a great first impression. She thought you were exactly like Miles, just more abrasive and she thought you were sweet.

You went to Miles room and it looked different, almost more grown. Your spider-sense went off and just as you went to tell Miles, Rio was there and greeting him. She looked at you like she had seen a ghost, tears spilling from her...green eyes??

“Y/n?” she whispered

“Yeah? Hi Mrs. Morales” you went, going to give her a hug which she reciprocated just more eagerly

“Oh Mija, I thought you were dead. Gracias Dios, you answered my prayers” she said, sobbing and looking up at the sky

Her and Miles had a conversation and you both revealed your identities in which she was indifferent about. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal an Uncle Aaron.

He saw you and his eyes went wide. He stalked closer to you before grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head

“Is it really you, y/n?” he said

“uhh yeah last time I checked” you chuckled, grabbing your body as a joke

“Where did you go? How are you here?” he asked in disbelief

“Well interesting story actually, we used something called our legs and walked here” you joked, usually Aaron could appreciate your humor because it was one of the things he told Miles before he died

“Miles, you won’t find another girl like her. Girls like y/n don’t come around like that so I’d advise you to keep her"

“Got it” Miles would say

It was like you were looking into a portal of dead people, your entire body clenched when his gaze suddenly went cold.

He lead Miles and you to the roof when suddenly, you felt a strong stinging in your neck and just as you were about to hit the floor, a strong pair of arms grabbed you and you heard voices

“She’s not your, y/n man. She’s meaner”

“I don’t care"

You awoke with a splitting headache on a couch. Your limbs were handcuffed together and it was dark; your eyes immediately went to search for your Miles when you saw him tied to a bag

“He won’t be up for a bit, hes out cold. Maybe we can keep him that way” a voice said

“He’s not the only one who’s gonna be out cold. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” you snapped

“Hm. So hostile, my Y/n would never speak like that” a man said approaching you

“Dawg are you smoking crack? Speed? Bath Salts? Because you gotta be fucked up if you think-“ you started

“la muchacha sucia(dirty girl), I should’ve put that gag on you while you were out” he said, taking off his mask to reveal your boyfriend just more gaunt

“Listen here you Rick and Morty knockoff, if you try that, I will bite your finger off, comprende?” you said

“Si. Eres muy bonita pero tu boca es tan asquerosa. I can tell you aren’t from here” he smirked

“Just so you know, just because you called me pretty doesn’t mean I won’t crush your nuts the second I get out of these chains. Listen, your knockoff prowler suit doesn’t scare me and neither do these chains, I could break out right now but I’m intrigued” you said

You heard groaning and saw your Miles move

“MILES” you screamed into the other Miles’ ear

“Y/N. GET AWAY FROM HER” your Miles shouted

The other Miles ignored him but he grabbed your throat and forced you to look up at him

“It’s not a knockoff mami and unless you want to find out just how powerful this suit can be, I suggest you pipe down. It’s gonna take a bit of work, maybe force” he tightened his grip at force, causing your eyes to water and your tongue to come out

“But I think I can make it work. You may not be exactly like her, but you’ll be close enough” Miles said, lowly

If the circumstances weren’t what they were, Miles would’ve found your position hot, you were tied up, tongue hanging out a bit and your eyes looked so pretty; in his mind, you were giving him the “fuck me” eyes but in reality, you were using this as a way to escape

The idea of playing along until he got his wish came to mind but you realized this was deeper than that, he wanted you in every form and if it wasn’t you, what’s to stop him from taking another version of you that may accidentally come by.

“What happened, mami? You had so much to say, say it.” Miles taunted, hand still flush against your throat

“Yeah its kinda hard when you’re choking the life outta me” you said

He took his hand off your throat and you coughed.

“Dude just leave her alone, okay? You can have me, kill me just please let her go” your Miles said, his voice faltering at the end

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Plus cabron, I don’t want you at all, its not about you. It’s about her and her making a promise

“What promise did I make?” you asked

Miles got a flashback of you laying next to him, playing with his braids and giggling

“I’ll love you in every universe, Miles Morales” you said sweetly

Miles teared up and explained this to you

“Okay well bud, I’m not her and in a way, I do love you in every universe, I love my Miles but” you said before he slammed his fist next to you, causing you to yelp

“I am your Miles, mi amor. At least, I will be. I’m never letting you go again” he said close to your face, hovering above your lips before getting up and striding over to your Miles

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - second interlude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the third part of this fic, please read the first two for maximum enjoyment. The tale of your and Dottore's life seems to be coming to an end. Contains non-sexual nudity (you two cuddle nearly nude) and reader has some insecurities about themselves/their body. Of course, mandatory mention to my moot @kaixserzz and all my lovely anons (you too 🎐 anon <3.)

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“The butterfly’s life seemed to be going well. They had their dear raven who loved them along with his multiple copies. Friends who spent time with them. But in reality, life was much harder and dimmer for them than they outwardly showed sometimes. In fact, the butterfly found themselves plagued by dreams. They weren’t nightmares, but when they woke up, it certainly felt like one. Or when they did have genuine nightmares, they felt the same unease and wept about their unfortunate situation.”

You woke up under the sun, its heat kissing your skin, leaving you warm and fuzzy. Blearily, you rubbed your eyes and looked around, trying to gauge your location. Judging from the bright sun and soft grass surrounding you, one-of-a-kind fauna that could only be found in certain places, you must be in a forest in Sumeru. You yawned, rubbing your eyes, sitting up. It was then you noticed that Zandik was sleeping peacefully next to you as well. Hehe, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Zandik, slacking off? Especially when he always got mad at you for that? Oh, you were so going to tease him later. You reached out to caress his cheek but-

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and you were confused. Where did he go…? But that was the least of your worries, as another blink had changed the landscape to one of pitch darkness. Immediately, you got up despite not being able to see anything. And then a voice sounded from somewhere.

“[Name].” After someone said your voice, a bright spotlight was cast on you, the only light in the vast darkness that surrounded you. And that voice… it wasn’t Dottore, but it sounded oddly familiar…

“[Name], oh [Name]. The poor pitiful person who cannot do anything useful for themselves or for others,” the voice continued to echo from above, though you could not see who was speaking. But then, as you took in their words, you realized that it was your voice. Your voice was the one sounding from above. How… what? You wanted to question it but you were more focused on the content of their words.

“What are you talking about? Who- who even are you?” The voice chuckled, a carbon copy of how you would laugh.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You, who cannot ever hope to be anything more than you are now, forever stuck in that useless body and mentality of yours. You, who-”

“Hey! Ugh, you’re me, are you not? Why are you being so mean?” You replied, frustrated. Was it strange to be having a conversation with yourself as well?

“Indeed, I am you. But I am the truthful part of you. I am the voice that you bury in the back of your mind, the one you try so hard to ignore. But you know that I am right.” You gritted your teeth at your other voice’s words. No, that couldn’t be true. You were far, far better than what this imposter was saying! But before you could refute those statements, they spoke again.

“Just take a look at yourself from before.” And then, another spotlight opened up in front of you. There, basking under the light, was your former self from the Akademiya. Carefree, happy, and healthy, balancing a pencil on your finger as you cheerfully discussed some academics with Zandik. More spotlights flicked on to demonstrate your skilled movements, swiftly handling your weapon in battle. Ah, showing you all the things you couldn’t do anymore. How lovely. And then those lights switched off, and one turned on behind you, making you spin around.

In the spotlight stood a tall mirror, reflecting your current self right back at you. Not just outwardly, but mostly inwardly. Your throat went dry. You were so, so different. Did your illness really change you that much? The bright and lively face from before was a stark comparison to this tired one. The mirror began to reflect your recent memories as well. The ones where the segments had to do multiple tests on you for your health. Or when you needed to be helped with stuff even children could easily manage. Something began to deeply hurt in your chest.

“When you take a look in the mirror, what do you see? I don’t need to spell it out for you, do I?” The voice from above giggled at you. You just wanted to wake up from this nightmare, already on the verge of tears. Please, just let someone wake you up. It seemed that you couldn’t be happy whether in reality or in dreams.

“Okay, you’re right!” You cried. “You’re right… I’m sorry…” You didn’t even know why or who you were apologizing to.

“Ah, so you admit it, do you? Then you must be ready to accept your fate as well.”

“My… fate?”

“Yes, your fate. Do you really think your dear Dottore will stay with you after burdening him so?” That question made your heart freeze.

“I… yes he will! Of course he will! Zandik loves me… he loves me…” Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself more than stating it as a fact.

“Love? You?” A scoff sounded from behind you, the voice being one that was easily recognizable. Dottore. Turning around, you saw your beloved, but you did not feel the wave of comfort you usually did when in the presence of your lover. The mocking tone was one thing but… it was the way he looked at you. Though his mask was on, you could read his expression. And it was certainly not one of love. The feeling of dread was slowly growing more and more larger.

“Zandik…”

“Do not call me that. I am Il Dottore to you. After all, you are nobody special.” Ah. What did you do to deserve this nightmare…? You could hear the echoes of your own laughter in the background, mocking you. What did you expect? That someone on such a high level like Dottore would stay with you? How laughable, yes, how laughable indeed! But the only thing you could do was beg. Dottore began walking away, the darkness cloaking his figure, and you could not help but run, run, run after him, tripping on your feet as you finally closed the distance between him and you. The only energy you had left was to grip onto his hanging white coat.

You clung to his leg, tears streaming down your face as you continued to plead. “Please don’t. Please! Please, I’ll do whatever you want me to. Anything you want. Just please don’t leave me alone,” you sobbed. Dottore was the only thing you had left in this world. What would you do with yourself if he was gone?

The Harbinger only looked down at you with cold, cold, eyes that made your body feel even more frigid. He then opened his mouth to speak, and you knew if you heard what he said, it would break you.

Which is why it was good when your eyes popped open to that familiar ceiling of yours. Not even a second later, you sat up immediately and would have nearly jumped out of bed if it weren’t for a pair of strong arms holding you in place. But, you didn’t register this right away, and you tried to desperately fight the grip on you but it did not let up.

“[Name],” your brain finally processed the voice that had been calling you. “[Name], calm yourself,” the voice was the very definition of calm, the complete opposite of what you were right now, so the soothing tone managed to get through to you. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing once more, and attempted to relax your shaking body. The hands on your body remained until you had regained some kind of stability before they slid away. Blearily, you opened your eyes once again and lifted your head, blinking repeatedly to see your lover in front of you once again. Ah, so all of that was just a dream? Oh, you were so, so, thankful it wasn’t reality. 

“Zandik?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes and adjusting to the light.

“Yes, it’s me. From my office, I could see your heart rate reaching abnormal levels, which is why I came to check on you.” You stole a glance at the machine hooked up to you, and indeed, your heart rate was higher than normal even though you had calmed down a bit. You could only imagine the level it was during the peak of your nightmare.

“Oh…” It was hard for you to form full sentences right now after that terrifying dream. 

“What happened?” He didn’t bother asking if you were okay because the answer to that was clear. You wondered to yourself if you should tell him. No, you shouldn’t, it was dumb. And it was just a dream… just a dream that surely would never become reality, so you shouldn’t waste his time with it.

“I had a dream,” you began, and Dottore looked at you expectantly. “But I forgot what happened,” you lied, hoping that he would buy it.

“It did not seem like a peaceful one.”

“Mhm… I’m not sure,” you replied briefly again. You’re not sure he believed you, but he did not further question it. But as you looked at him again, you just had to make sure he was real, and not just a figment of your imagination that would torture you again. So you reached your hands out to cup Dottore’s cheeks, feeling the intact skin under your palms. He looked at you questioningly, until you practically pinched and squished his cheeks, and normally he would have scolded you for such behavior, but you looked like you really did have a terrible dream, so he let it slide. But you still needed extra clarification.

“Are you real, Zandik?” You definitely sounded like you lost it now. But Dottore humored you anyway.

“I am real,” he affirmed.

“Prove it,” you demanded. Dottore looked at you expressionlessly, pausing for a few moments, perhaps contemplating what he should do to prove something so silly, but soon he pulled your hands away from his face and then leaned in to kiss you. His pointy teeth grazed your lips, bordering the line between a bit of pain and pleasure. You lost track of how long he kissed you like that, but you didn’t mind. You knew what he was trying to say. There was no way a fake could kiss you like that. His kisses were entirely real.

The nightmare still remained as a hazy mess in your head, but it gradually slipped away from you as you lost yourself in Dottore’s kisses.

… But that wasn’t the beginning or end of your dreams. They had been plaguing you for a while, and that one just happened to be the worst one yet. You don’t remember when they started, but you remember they started nice. The dreams felt like a warm blanket, cozy and soft, as you were back in the Akademiya from centuries ago. And they ended pleasantly too, but when you woke up, it certainly felt like the opposite. It was more like you were being suffocated, being so plainly reminded of your old life, and how different you were now. And then you wept yourself back to sleep, beginning to dread sleeping. Perhaps that’s why the nice dreams began to turn into actual nightmares. You just couldn’t understand why this was happening to you. But more importantly, you wished that Dottore hadn’t found out. 

You had lovely friends, segments who would dote on you, access to pretty much any entertainment since your lover still was a Harbinger after all (despite his budgeting issues with Pantalone), and last but certainly not least, you had the love of your life with you. Your life should feel pretty good, with all of these wonderful things around you.

But it didn’t. And you hated it. So, so much.

So it was only a matter of time before you’d be found out.

—

“And so the butterfly tried their best to hide how they truly felt. To hide the cycle of suffering from their loved ones, not wanting to burden the ravens even more. Although they tried their best, they could not keep up the act any longer.”

It started off as a normal day. You woke up with the same lingering sense of sadness, from the mini nightmare you had, but that was something you were used to. But you could have never expected this to happen.

It was during one of your regular, daily checkups. Some of the clones were there, doing their own thing, while Omega was the one administering the checkup. And you were getting the needle today, so that was nice, you guess. 

Oh, when would it end? When would you finally be free? When would your body be able to be strong again? How much longer will you be cursed to live like this? 

But after that internal monologue, you didn’t think much of it as Omega’s gloved hands carefully held your arm steady as he injected you with something. Nor did you pay much attention to the segments’ bickering, which was uncharacteristic of you. You usually liked to listen in and give your two cents on their arguments. But you hoped you didn’t seem too out of the ordinary.

However, sometimes when you try too hard, you end up doing the one thing you were trying to avoid. 

“[Name]? What is the matter?” Omega asked you, and then you realized all the other segments were staring at you as well.

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sat up a bit taller and smiled, hoping to appear your normal self. But it was then you noticed the growing dampness on your lap. Your heart leaped in your throat, and you brushed your fingers against your face, to be met with wet cheeks.

Oh. You were crying. After trying so hard not to. A part of you wanted to keep the facade up a bit longer, but it hurt too much to keep pretending, and it wouldn’t work anyway. Good thing Omega finished the checkup already. Otherwise, it would have been torture to sit there and cry while he took your vitals.

“[Name]-” Omega was the only one who could speak because the other younger clones were too shocked and unsure to say anything. But when he reached out to you, you swiftly dodged it.

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing, really!” Your voice cracked embarrassingly enough but you couldn’t pay attention to that, busy wiping your tears. Before the segments could do or say anything else, you quickly made a beeline for the door and exited into the endless corridors. If they called your name, you didn’t hear it, as you bit your lip to hide your pitiful sobs.

Hopefully hiding in your bed under the covers would alleviate some of the pain.

—

“When the raven came to check on his darling, the butterfly mourned to their companion: ‘How can you bear to look at me when I’ve been stripped of everything I once was? My wings, eyes, beauty, and soul are no more. How can you love me when I cannot even begin to like myself?’ The flightless butterfly wept as they attempted to hide their body away from the creature, though their wings were already too punctured to move. Still, they were too wrapped up in their hatred and guilt to face him. The creature was at a loss as to how to comfort his lover. How could he show that despite the fact they couldn’t fly anymore, or that their wings had lost their vibrance and become dull, he still loved them? The creature knew he had to do something, and so he decided to take off the fox fur and truly become the raven again, for his beloved’s sake.”

The sensation of being alone in your bed did not last for long, for soon enough there was a knock at your door.

“[Name]?” A muffled voice came beyond the door and you silently groaned. Of course the segments told Prime, and of course he was here now to inquire why you acted like that. And you think you forgot to lock your door too. You hoped that if you remained silent, he would just go away. You were wrong.

“[Name], I’m coming in.” And seconds later you heard the door to your room open and close, and then the footsteps stopped at the side of your bed. Though your face was under the covers, you imagine he was staring down at you.

“I heard what happened,” he began, and then his footsteps echoed throughout the room again as he walked over to the other side of the bed, where you primarily were. The pause after his sentence made you think he expected you to respond, but you didn’t of course. Then, you could feel the bed creak and dip with Dottore’s added weight, and you could feel the brush of his hands against your legs that were covered by the blankets.

“[Name], you can’t keep your head under the blankets forever. You have to come out at some point.” You hated how he was always right because as he spoke you had the desperate need to breathe some fresh air. Ugh. Reluctantly, you lowered the blanket ever so slightly, to only show your tear-stained eyes and your nose. You could feel Dottore’s eyes on you but you avoided looking at him, placing your arm over your eyes.

“[Name].”

“...”

“[Name],” Dottore’s voice had a deeper tone to it now.

“...What?”

“Tell me what is the matter.”

“Nothing is wrong. I-I just felt like crying,” you pathetically defended yourself. You hated showing such weakness in front of Dottore. Yet here you were, crying about your pitiful self while you were sure he had far more important things to attend to. After you spoke, he studied you for a few moments before he replied.

“I have no intention of leaving here until you speak. You may test my patience if you wish, but I will find out what troubles you regardless,” Dottore spoke rather matter-of-factly. You just wanted to shrivel up into nothing at this point. You knew when Dottore says he’ll do something, he’ll make good on it no matter what. And you were right, for countless minutes went by as your lover remained sitting in the same position, turning his gaze to observe your room at times before turning back to you.

Dottore realized that it had been a while since he was in your room. There were just some days when he could not afford the time, so the segments had been taking diligent care of you instead. He looked around your room and noticed some child-like drawings were pinned to the wall. Ah, that must have been you and Zandy. And the Ruin Machine parts scattered on your table. Probably another segment, perhaps Alpha. He makes a silent note to himself to ask you about everything you’ve done in his absence. He obviously wants to be updated on your life still, despite all of his bothersome duties. Dottore looks back at you and sees that you’re wearing a conflicted expression, perhaps wondering how to say what you want to say. That’s alright. Regrator will survive if he doesn’t get his paperwork today. The silence continues before you speak up softly.

“Zandik…” The call of his real name has his attention back on you, and the scholar is prepared to find a proper solution to whatever has you so worked up.

“Do you really love me?” 

…Alright, admittedly, that was not one of the things Dottore was ready to refute, and the Harbinger finds himself at a loss of words for a few moments, though he does not let it show on his face. Here he was wondering if maybe you had a bad flare-up of your illness, or if possibly some idiot spoke to you wrongly. But instead, you are questioning his love for you? How… surprising and frankly absurd, but he must get to the bottom of this.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I just…” Your face crumples further, looking even sadder if that was possible. “I just don’t understand…” You remember a conversation you had with Childe. He had said you must be quite exceptional to have the Doctor wrapped around your finger. You could only smile and bite your tongue because, in reality, you were nothing special. At least not anymore. Maybe centuries ago, but certainly not now. 

“Understand what?”

“Why you would still love me.” Your statement and crestfallen expression have Dottore’s brain working in an attempt to fully understand this misunderstanding. He could probably fill up a few journals about why you were most dear to him, his pens breaking countless times, about why everything about you far outshone the irrelevant other beings in his world, and why worshipping you instead of even the almighty Archons was something he found far more appealing. But he doesn’t have time for that, no, he needs to make you see how wrong you are as quickly as possible.

“Why would I not love you?” He inquires, hoping to tear down your arguments with reason, that also incorporates his true feelings in it.

“Well, how about my personality? I… I know I’m not the same as I used to be. I might not even be the same person anymore.” Though you generally tried to be as cheerful and happy as you could, just as your old self once was, oftentimes your illness would leave you in a despondent state. And you truly did feel bad, especially when you knew Dottore was taking time out of his busy schedule to be with you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to speak or even touch him. You just wanted to be alone. But Dottore had an answer for you.

“[Name], I am certainly not the same person as I once was, yet you still love me, do you not? It is no different for you. Furthermore, everyone changes. In a few hundred years, I suspect both of us will be changed people once again. Yet I know that I will still be with you, and you with me, despite our changes. So, do not fear change. You may be different, but my perspective on you shall never change regardless of what you may undergo.” Ah. So no matter how much you drifted away, became distant, swallowed by your illness and your own self-loathing, maybe even becoming unrecognizable to yourself, Dottore would still love you. His words sounded sincere enough, and you wavered a bit, but you still had too many thoughts flooding your brain.

“Okay, but what about my intelligence? I can hardly compare to you or even what I used to be in the Akademiya. Isn’t that a part of what you love me for? But I can hardly offer you anything like that now.” The way you spoke made it seem like you were dead set on making him realize that he couldn’t love you anymore, and though he was indeed a bit confused and even upset that you were looking down upon yourself like that, he continued to prove you wrong.

“You were asleep for over four hundred years. It is only perfectly normal that you are not in the same state as then. But I have no doubt you’ll reach that level once again in due time,” Dottore stated as a fact rather than a possibility. “And, you have actually assisted me with your knowledge far more times than you are aware of. I can think of quite a few times where your words have helped me with my research. So, I will have to disagree with you once again, for you are far smarter than you give yourself credit for.” His voice was calm as he spoke, but it seemed to further agitate you as you chewed on your lip. 

Even as you brought up more points, he shot them down effortlessly. Though his responses did make you feel somewhat better, you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated with yourself. Why? Why couldn’t you see the things he supposedly did? The all-knowing doctor was here, spending so much time in an attempt to make you feel better, something that no one would ever experience, and yet you still couldn’t understand.  By this point, you lay defeated, hand covering your exhausted face. Your constant criticisms seemed to have come to an end as Dottore watched on, scrutinizing you. But you had one last question.

“But me… am I even attractive anymore?” Admittedly, you had trouble looking at yourself sometimes. It was just far too hard to see yourself in a positive light at times. So you had no idea how Dottore could. At these words, there was a delayed response. He remained silent before you felt the bed return to normal, his weight leaving the mattress. Then, you heard the thud of something falling to the floor, and you opened your eyes to Dottore’s unmasked face, red eyes and scars greeting you. But that was not what surprised you. He moved to brush off the black fur that lined his back and the hanging accessories attached to it, the clothing dropping to the floor. And then, he worked at his white overcoat, which pooled at his feet too. You sat up in the bed, watching him with wide and curious eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Your question received no answer as Dottore merely continued to remove his clothing. His gloves came off and his blue shirt did too. The only thing remaining on his upper body was his harness. Which was… kind of funny to be honest, even though it wasn’t meant to be.

But it was then you realized you hadn’t seen Zandik nude since all those centuries ago at the Akademiya. And now you were finally taking a good look at his body, which was covered in markings and scarred skin. So his face wasn’t the only part that had scars… You wanted to reach out, to run your hands along him, and it seemed like Dottore expected you to, in fact, even wanted you to, by the look on his face that beckoned you closer. And so you did, pulling the blankets off of you and standing up, as you hesitantly caressed his skin, all while he looked on closely.

“What do you think?” He questioned.

“What do I think?” you repeated. “Well… I still think you’re awfully handsome, of course.” That was a no-brainer, he would always be incredibly attractive to you. Though before you could inquire as to whether these scars still hurt or not, he interrupted you.

“I know,” Dottore smirked. You raised your eyebrows at that response, but he continued. “Because I know everything about you. There’s nothing about you that I do not keep a record of, and I plan to keep it that way. And though I could once again use my words to answer your question, I do believe it will be more effective to answer through actions. And now that I have revealed myself to you, I hope that you will allow me the opportunity to examine you further to show you exactly how I feel. Yes, I need hard evidence if I am to prove my case to you.”

You took in his words for a second. You were honestly very hesitant about revealing your body to Zandik because you feared what he would think, but the way he spoke with such certainty made you feel a bit comforted. So you relented. 

“Alright,” you murmured, releasing your grip on him to shed your own clothes. Your clothes from your upper half fell onto the floor, leaving you topless. Dottore’s gaze remained on you intently, but there wasn’t anything sexual about this. He simply wanted to observe your beauty. But your bottom half remained covered.

“Continue.” You crossed your arms and sent him a look.

“I’m only continuing if you do too,” you motioned to how his pants and other things were on as well. “I… want to see all of you too.” You would feel more safe that way, not wanting to feel alone. Dottore chuckled.

“As you wish,” he went along with your request and stripped himself further. You gulped as your gaze raked along the rest of his body. His legs didn’t have as many scars as his upper body, but they were still there. Now, Dottore looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to follow through, and you did. You stripped yourself of your lower garments until both of you were only left in your underwear. As the cold air hit your bare body, you suddenly felt wildly self-conscious again.

“Well,” your throat was dry as you mumbled, “here I am. This is me.” You kept your eyes on the floor, not wanting to see his facial expression. Because you were deathly scared of disappointment. The few seconds of silence that followed made you suck in your breath, your stomach churning at what he could possibly be thinking. How frail and weak you probably looked, along with all the other imperfections you hated about yourself. It was all so noticeable to you, there was no way Dottore would miss it either. This was a horrible idea, and you opened your mouth to speak, to forget it, desperate to hide away from your lover when he spoke one lone word that made you stiffen.

“Beautiful.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You hesitantly met Dottore’s gaze so you could gauge his expression, and as much as you wanted to convince yourself that he was lying because there was no way your pitiful self could reach that level of praise from him, you knew he wasn’t. You’ve known him longer than anyone, so you knew when he was being sincere. And right now, there wasn’t a hint of mocking or falseness in his tone.

You could no longer hold his gaze at that simple but heavily loaded word, but in a few seconds, his bare hands were running around your body. You wanted to shy away from his touch, but Dottore’s grip on you was strong and firm. His fingers fluttered down your arms, your tummy, your back, carefully examining every inch of you while you could only watch on… it seemed as though he had your entire body mapped out and memorized. In fact, it seemed like he was enjoying this, a small hum escaping him as he mentally made notes about you. 

“Indeed, quite beautiful, even more than I predicted. Really, it’s rather interesting to see how my hypothesis can fall so short of reality.” His words made your body heat up in embarrassment, but you still couldn’t help but be confused by his words. Surely you weren’t anything that special. But he sure looked at you like you were.

“Would you permit me to have a closer look?”

“I… uh, sure,” you fumbled over your words, still left speechless from that. Zandik then effortlessly picked you up and placed you on the bed, making you squeak from the unexpected movement. He could quite literally see every part of you, as he now hovered over you as you lay on your back, his eyes boring into your figure as he restrained you from trying to squirm away. Your body was stiff and nervous as he hummed, gliding a finger across your body until he reached one particular scar.

“Ah, I remember this one. When I was on the ladder near the bookshelves in the Akademiya’s library and accidentally dropped a book on you.” You blinked once, and then twice at his words. Dottore actually remembered that, just from a mere marking? After you got over your initial surprise, you couldn’t help but let out some giggles at that. You had forgotten how you had gotten some of your scars since you avoided looking at yourself, but that memory was just too good.

“You know you nearly killed me that day? All because I called you ‘love’,” you huffed to which Dottore chuckled.

“You called me ‘love’ in public. Of course I would be startled.”

“It was three AM in the library, and there was no one there,” you rolled your eyes, finding some more comfort at how Dottore’s hands would wander over the parts you considered imperfections. 

“And this one, it was from when that idiot pushed you over.” The scar he was referring to was when you were on a group expedition with numerous other scholars, and some guy thought it would be a good idea to barrel into you, making you take a pretty nasty fall. Zandik was more pissed off than you. Looking back now, it was pretty funny. You didn’t realize it, but Dottore was doing a good job of distracting you from your thoughts. It just felt… really nice to be genuinely appreciated for who you were, despite the flaws you had, and you began to relax a little bit more. 

After some more memories and reminiscing, the room went silent again as the only thing that could be heard was the breathing of you two, your own breaths much calmer than what they were a while ago. Not a single part of your body hadn’t fallen victim to his hands. You were now cuddled into his chest as he held you. You just loved Dottore so much. Though your insecurities still lingered a little bit in the back of your mind, he did help you to feel much better. After all, who else besides you was afforded the words “you’re beautiful” from none other than Il Dottore?

Not to mention how handsome Zandik was. You got to brush your hands all over his body too… Although you were sad he’s been hurt so much, he was still wildly attractive. You wanted to like this more with him… more open. More exposed. You’d still be quite nervous every time, but maybe this could… help you. And you’d get more bonding time with your beloved.

“Zandik… could we start taking baths together?”

“Baths?” Zandik echoed while stroking your hair, then smirked at you.  “Could it be that you want to see more of me, dear [Name]? Why, I could never have expected you to be so bold.” You couldn’t help but blush and roll your eyes at his teasing.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, you got me there Zandik,” you huffed, further burying your face into his chest, fingering the straps of his harness. “I just thought it would be nice to do that with you,” you mumbled shyly, to which Zandik only chuckled.

“Of course. I see no reason as to why we can’t.” Dottore felt you smile against his bare skin, but he felt the need to give you a little talk.

“[Name],” he began, his voice a touch more serious than before, and you knew that he was probably going to lecture you a little bit. He tapped his fingers on your neck, a sign that he wanted you to look at him. So very reluctantly, you stopped nuzzling his chest and peeked up at him nervously. He sighed as he held your chin, just in case you tried to look away like you always did.

“I expect you will not hold your tongue around me in the future, yes? Allowing such thoughts to fester will only lead to further misunderstandings down the line. I do not want to see that for you,” he said rather sternly, but you knew it was with good intentions. Still, you hated putting your stupid troubles onto Dottore. It was surely so frivolous compared to what he had to deal with… And of course, it seems like your lover read your mind based on his next words.

“[Name], your words will never be anything less than important to me. You must speak to me whenever something ails you. All this is not good for your health, either.” Then, after a pause, he added a bit more solemnly, unconsciously holding your nude body tighter against his. “You have been completely silent for four hundred years. I want to hear whatever you have to say, regardless of what it may be.” Ah, that was right. He had to deal with you being deathly quiet for that long…

“Alright, I will,” you promised, returning the gesture and holding him tighter (if that was even possible, considering how weak you were).

“Good,” he replied, back to his usual demeanor.

This wouldn’t be the end. There would still be many days when you felt like this all over again. When your negative thoughts got the best of you and tried to consume you whole. In fact, every day could be a struggle, with your illness and mood fluctuating. But that could wait for tomorrow.

Right now, there was only this moment where only the two of you existed, and that was all that mattered.

Bonus:

Dottore had begun to move away from you, and his warmth leaving your body immediately had you protesting and clinging onto him.

“[Name], you have to put your clothes back on now otherwise you’re going to catch a chill.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, trying to pull his arm back into the bed. He looked at you with amusement.

“Alright,” he gave into your demands, “but only for a little while more. And you must come even closer then.”

You didn’t know if it was possible to get any closer to Zandik than this, but you happily accepted.

—

“Although the raven and butterfly promised to be bound to each other for all eternity, the butterfly began to long for something more. They became somewhat jealous of the other creatures in the forest, and longed to follow their ways with their own darling.”

Marriage.

It was something that was growing more and more of a need rather than a want. You never thought you would be here, lying awake at night, daydreaming of Dottore marrying you, but here you were now. Admittedly, hearing the stories from the other Fatui agents was mainly what put the idea in your head. When you inquired into their love life, many of them would tell you about their spouse. “Spouse.” What a wonderful word. A sign that their love for each other had reached such a stage had you smiling. But then you realized that you could not call Dottore your husband, nor could he call you his spouse.

You didn’t expect it to bother you that much, but it did. Why weren’t you two married? Was that why people doubted your relationship so much? Perhaps if you had a ring and some papers to show for it, it would finally get through their thick skulls?

Besides that, the idea of marrying Zandik was very appealing. You didn’t need or want some big, fancy wedding, but rather it was the notion of marriage that you enjoyed. Yes, you knew you two would never be apart from each other, but marrying him was still nice to think about. And it would be so cute! So you made up your mind to marry Zandik. All you needed was to get him to agree.

“Dottore, let’s get married.” That one sentence made Dottore stop moving his pen, leaving a blot of ink where he left it resting.

“Pardon?” You had barged into his office a mere few seconds ago and those were the first words you uttered.

“I would like us to get married. You know, officially and all of that.” You stood right in front of his desk, staring at him with a proud smile on your face. Dottore stared right back at you with an unreadable expressionable, silence overtaking the room, before chuckling and picking back up his pen. 

“Very amusing, dear,” he continued writing whatever he was working on. You furrowed your eyebrows at his dismissal, quite offended at how he blew you off, before grabbing the pen right from his hand, unclicking it, and placing it in the cup holder. You had his attention once again.

“Zandik,” you emphasized his real name so he knew you were serious, “I mean it.” Dottore peered at you before folding his hands on his desk.

“Why?”

“Why?” You repeated. Wasn’t it completely obvious, the reasons as to why one would want to get married? And really, how many people could be like “Oh yeah, I’ve been married for a few hundred years!” (You imagined yourself doing that to others in the future. Well, hopefully, you’ll be alive in a few centuries too.) 

“Well, I mean, because we love each other of course. And marriage is one of the highest displays of love one could show to another.” 

“I see,” he seemed to take in your words. “Although I beg to differ. I believe that the mere concept of marriage could never compare to how I have shown my devotion to you in much larger amounts.”

“I-I guess you’re right about that,” you admitted, “but it would be… romantic! And there would be hard evidence, yes, tangible proof for both of us as a sign of our love.”

“Tangible proof?” The Harbinger chuckled. “I already have much evidence of our love. It’s standing right in front of me. What more proof would I want than you?” He then tapped to his neck, and you followed suit, brushing your fingers against your neck only to find a bite mark that was healing. Ugh! How dare he be both romantic and refute both of your points? And also curse him for not taking you seriously! Normally, you would have gotten mushy over the flirting but this time you felt the prick of annoyance.

“It could be like, a new chapter for us. You know.” You were running out of practical reasons. The legal benefits stuff, last names, or whatever, didn’t apply to or matter to the two of you. Your relationship was quite unique after all. A Harbinger didn’t care much for the law anyway.

“I can’t see our relationship changing that much after one ceremony.” 

“Well, it would be gradual…” 

“What exactly would be different?” You couldn’t believe you were going back and forth about a subject such as marriage. Wouldn’t the average person be overjoyed to be proposed to by their longtime lover?! Ah, but you should kick yourself for expecting things to go normally. Zandik was certainly not the average person. 

“Okay, then how about the fact that I want to marry you, Zandik? Nothing more, nothing less. It’s solely what I want. That’s all.” You didn’t realize your voice had risen in volume until after the fact, and you immediately winced at his expression. You probably looked so dumb, getting so worked up over something like this. 

But indeed, you were sure Dottore could see the selfish part of you now. Perhaps there was a part of you who felt guilty for being unable to express your love in the same ways you used to be able to due to your illness. A part of you who still felt terribly sorry for your lover, having to deal with your lackluster abilities. So perhaps by marrying Dottore, it would be a way of showing him how much you loved him, a simple yet clearly efficient act that would hopefully be sufficient enough for a while, until you were strong enough to do more extravagant things. But oh, you should have known better than that. You can’t get away like that, [Name]. So you quickly backtracked your words. There was no use in pushing this subject. And really, you were obviously quite content with the current state of the relationship. He loved you, you loved him. What more could you ask for, especially being the way you are now?

“You’re right, it’s dumb. Never mind,” you mumbled in a deflated manner, gaze falling downcast. “I’ll go now,” you tried to quickly excuse yourself and go hide in a corner, but Dottore’s sigh made you stop.

“[Name], come here,” he called you over to his lap. Although you wanted to just run out of the office, you knew that he would catch you before you could make any good distance, so it was probably best to just comply now. So you made your way to Dottore and sat down on his lap, his hands steadying you and pulling your back flush against his chest. One arm was secured around your tummy while the other stroked your cheek.

“[Name], you know I did not mean to offend you. I was simply curious as to your reasoning.”

“Mhm.” Oh, you were definitely mad at him from the way you refused to meet his eye. He sighed once again, and he knew there was only one way to fix this situation.

“Let us get married.” Those few words made you perk up in his lap and practically swing around, your chest now pressed against his.

“Really?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “But why?”

“Yes, really. And for why… think of it as indulging my curiosity while simultaneously making my soon-to-be partner happy. It does interest me to see if our attitudes to each other will change after marriage.” Really, the bigger part of the picture was that he didn’t want you to sulk or be mad at him, he preferred to see you smiling. But he didn’t need to say that part out loud. And he couldn’t anyway because, in the next instant, you kissed him hard before launching into a whole speech.

“Oh, I promise, it won’t even be anything big! I know you don’t like big fancy gatherings, so it could just be the two of us! And maybe the Tsaritsa I think, because we still need the person to officiate it or whatever, but I promise it won’t be a hassle! Trust me, you’re going to enjoy it okay?” You spoke so fast he was surprised you didn’t trip over your words. As quick as you spoke, you pecked his cheeks before hopping off his lap and out the door, muttering something about getting help from Columbina.

…Well, it was a good thing that you were still full of surprises, Dottore thought.

—

“And so the raven and the butterfly promised to join together in an act of union, although their lives were already heavily intertwined. Soon, there would be truly nothing that could sever their bond of love. But the raven still needed a bit of help understanding the importance of such an official union.”

By now, news of his wedding had spread. Not to the underlings, no, he did not want to listen to their gossiping every corner he turned. But rather all of the Harbingers knew of the event. Most of them were completely baffled but had the decency to send their well wishes. For you, mostly. Not for him. And then there were others who wanted to intrude on his business badly. Namely Pantalone. He was the first to wish him, and the first to curse him if he hurt you in any way. 

And now he was the first to badger him on his marriage. Apparently, he believed that he wasn’t trying hard enough, as he left all the details and organization to you. Dottore didn’t really see the problem. He was letting you live your dream, and you were perfectly fine without his input. But Pantalone clearly had a problem with this.

“Dear Doctor, you truly are an idiot sometimes.” Dottore paused his writing.

“Excuse me?”

“Your lack of attention is one thing, but do you think that showing up in bloody clothes is acceptable?” He was probably the kind of person to finish a surgery and then head straight to the wedding right after. Dottore glanced at his arms and indeed, there were some dried blood stains that he had yet to change out of. But he scoffed at the banker, he may not care much for social etiquette, but even he knew the basics.

“Obviously I would wear clean clothes,” he clarified.

“I’m sure you would,” Pantalone replied calmly and sarcastically. “But my point still stands, as you clearly have no idea how serious this is.” Dottore was partially offended by Pantalone’s words. The piles of notebooks about you surely showed how much he knew and understood you.

“[Name] would be happy regardless of what I do. Besides, the ceremony is only for an hour or so. Perhaps even less.”

“Yes, they would be,” he sighed. “I don't think I'll ever understand how that poor thing tolerates you. But just think about this,” he began pacing around the room as if he didn’t subtly insult the doctor. “Of course, I’m sure I barely know the faintest thing about [Name]’s past, but when was the last time you’ve seen them so eager to get all dressed up? So excited for something, hmm?” Dottore crossed his arms and began to thoughtfully consider his co-worker’s words. 

Indeed, you were practically bouncing and glowing with every footstep you took. Really, to think something like this could make you so happy. Perhaps this was another example of how his brain worked differently from yours. You had marked the day on your calendar and the first thing you did when you woke up every morning was count the days until the ceremony. You were also far more affectionate, being in your “honeymoon phase” as you called it. 

Every so often, Columbina, who was also covering the expense for you, would barge into the lab with countless clothes and designers who would customize an outfit for you. Dottore didn’t quite understand or particularly enjoy your friendship, but he couldn’t deny he liked hearing you laugh and smile, so he let it slide. Of course, neither he nor the segments were allowed to see as you insisted it would remain a surprise until the wedding. Zandy was excluded from this rule though.

“It may be only a mere hour, but surely the Doctor is capable enough to make his soon-to-be spouse happy in that short time. Even your own segments know better,” Pantalone continued with a smile still on his face. “I’ll even choose the outfit for you, as I’m sure you have nothing of the sort in that dreadful closet of yours.” And yes, Dottore often showed up to balls and gatherings in his same clothes, ignoring the fact they were usually formal occasions. For your sake, he really wasn’t going to let the Doctor show up to your wedding looking like… that. 

Although Dottore didn’t appreciate Regrator’s passive-aggressive words, he was beginning to understand and he hated that the man was right. Pantalone took Dottore’s silence as a sign that he had won.

“So we have a deal then?”

“Fine,” Dottore grumbled. Ah, the lengths he’d go for you…

“Splendid. I’m sure [Name] will be positively ecstatic by this. Also, the Mora will be coming out of your funding budget.”

“...What?”

—

“At long last, the raven and the butterfly swore themselves to each other, promising to allow nothing to come between their love.”

The date of your wedding had come, and Dottore had barely seen you. Yes, you had been whisked off by Columbina early in the morning to prepare for the ceremony. But he would see you soon enough.

True to his word, Pantalone had provided a suit that fit him rather well. (He could only hope that it didn’t dent his budget too much, though.) As he got ready, he wondered how you would look. He could only assume that Columbina was going to make you look your very best. Although Dottore always thought the tradition of two spouses not showing their outfits to each other until the day of the wedding was stupid, he was beginning to see the appeal of anticipation. Like after when he’s working on an experiment and the only way to progress is to wait. Actually, he thought the concept of marriage was stupid in the first place, but here he was anyway. And he never thought he would ever find himself wearing a suit, but look at him now. Ah, you really did change him, don’t you?

The venue was Zapolyarny Palace of course. There was no better place. Not only was the inside of it quite beautiful, it was the home of the Tsaritsa who would be conducting the ceremony. The wedding was to be a very private thing, with only you, him, and the God in attendance. You both preferred it that way, wanting the moment to be between only you two. So when Dottore arrived at the grand hall, he expected it to be empty, but the Tsaritsa was there before him, already standing at the altar. A smile appeared on her face once she saw him.

“My dear Harbinger, there you are,” she waved him over and he soon found himself standing next to the Archon. 

“Your Highness,” Dottore nodded his head as a form of respect while the Tsaritsa continued to hum in delight.

“Why, you look quite dashing today. I know [Name] will be overjoyed once they see you.” The Tsaritsa had been rooting for you two for a long time, and now it had finally officially come to fruition. Dottore chuckled at her words.

“I would hope so. This is the first time they’ve seen me in such attire. Speaking of, where are they?”

“They will be here soon. Columbina is fussing over them a lot. But you, are you excited Dottore?” The scholar mulled over her words. Perhaps excited was a stretch, but he was indeed looking forward to it. Perhaps it was the act of making you happy that brought him more joy than the actual marriage. Perhaps the idea of seeing the ring on your finger brought him a certain sense of possessiveness knowing others could see his claim on you. Perhaps the idea of kissing you until you couldn’t take it anymore after the wedding was appealing as well.

…Alright, maybe he was excited. The Tsaritsa seemed to notice his inner conflict.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to answer. I know exactly how my Harbinger feels about this all, anyway,” the Cryo Archon sent a knowing look to her subject, to which Dottore internally cursed himself for showing those emotions. But at that moment a door swung open and a chorus of giggles echoed into the room. Columbina’s face peered through the door before she swiftly hid herself again.

“Oh! Looks like we’ve kept them waiting.”

“Huh, Dottore is there already?”

“Yes, dear [Name], now it’s your time to shine~” There was a shuffle of feet and movement in the other room, but he could not see it as you were not near the doorway.

“W-wait! Are you sure I look okay? What if something is messed up or-”

“Darling, you’re worrying far too much. I bet Il Dottore himself will be left speechless by your beauty.”

“But- but, I don’t know, what if he doesn’t- ah, hey!” Your words were abruptly cut off as Columbina practically shoved you out of the room, nearly making you trip and then slamming the door shut with only a “good luck!” You scowled at your friend’s ill but well-intentioned treatment before immediately straightening up, knowing that the Tsaritsa and your soon-to-be husband could now see you.

And then your eyes landed on your Zandik. He was stunning. Well, he was always stunning to you, but his beauty could surely not be described by your limited vocabulary right now. The suit hugged him so perfectly, going so well with his mask. Perhaps it was because it was such a special day, but everything about him just seemed to stand out more than usual.

Little did you know, Dottore was similarly entranced by you, immediately raking his eyes over your figure and analyzing every part of you. Only that he did not outwardly show it unlike you, who stood there comically with your mouth agape. Dottore had always thought you were the most beautiful being to come into Teyvat. Not even the Gods could hold a candle to your beauty, which was certainly a high standard to meet, but you exceeded it. Perhaps it was blasphemous to compare a mere human to an almighty God, but he felt no remorse in speaking the truth.

“Dearest [Name], you look as beautiful as freshly fallen snow,” the Tsaritsa’s praise snapped you out of your stupefied daze and you composed yourself once again.

“T-thank you, Your Highness,” you gratefully accepted the praise, and then realized they were looking at you expectantly. Especially Dottore. His gaze didn’t leave you for one second as you hurried to the altar. Somehow, as you stood across from him, you were a bit embarrassed to meet his gaze. The jitters were finally settling in.

“We are gathered here today to witness the joining of [Name] and Zandik. Two people who have displayed undying love for each other for centuries,” the Archon began, sending soft looks to the two of you, and then nudging your arm to finally meet the gaze of your lover. So you hesitantly lifted your face to make eye contact with Dottore. There he stood, a smile stretched on his face.

The smile was composed of many things. Naturally, it reflected his usual assured self-confidence with a hint of a smirk. But more importantly, it contained something more real, more soft, that even you had only seen very occasionally. Although it was veiled under many layers that left it hard to see, you could see it was a smile of love. That made you grow a bit warm, and you couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your lips. 

“These two have been through the unthinkable together, and yet their bonds remain unbreakable, their love everlasting. Although they do not need marriage to prove how deep their love is for each other, today they will make it official.” The Tsaritsa kept her words short and sweet. She knew either of you did not care for all of the long, boring, drawn-out details. You two just really wanted to get married. And it was better for you to profess your vows in private. She knew her Harbinger would hold his words back in her presence. She then turned to you and asked the question you saw coming, motioning for you two to hold hands. Dottore still wore gloves, but this pair was thinner than his usual ones.

“Do you take Zandik to be your husband? To love and cherish him above all else?”

“I do,” you replied with no hesitation. The God then turned to Dottore.

“Do you take [Name] to be your spouse? To love and cherish them regardless of what may happen?”

“I do,” you could see his shark teeth peeking out from his mouth. The Tsaritsa nodded in acknowledgment of the answers.

“By the power vested within me as the Tsaritsa, the Cryo Archon of Snezhnaya, I now pronounce you as a lawfully wedded couple,” the Tsaritsa said seriously before she switched to a more lighthearted tone. “You may now kiss,” she smiled at the two of you. And then Dottore leaned in for the kiss first, catching you off guard but you eagerly reciprocated. You had intended for it to be a short but sweet kiss, considering the Tsaritsa was right there, but it seemed like Dottore had other plans, as he deepened the kiss. Highly aware of the Cryo God’s amused stare, you tried to mumble a protest against your sealed lips and gripped your husband’s suit harder to get him to stop embarrassing you. But this only made the Archon laugh.

“It is always lovely to see a couple so passionately in love. How beautiful,” the Tsaritsa grinned, giving her last blessing before Dottore finally pulled away from you. “But, I will not intrude on the newlyweds' time any longer. Please, I hope you enjoy the rest of the day, and may it remain eternal in your memories,” the Tsaritsa smiled knowingly at the two of you before making her exit. She was indeed the God of Love. Only you and your new husband remained in the spacious hall now, and a silence swept into the room. Well, what does one say or do after getting married?

“Zandik-”

“Ah ah, we still have one thing to do.” He then produced two boxes presumably with rings inside.

“Oh! The rings!” You had forgotten about that until now, with all of the things that had happened.

“Give me your hand, dear.” Oh, it always gave you butterflies when he called you a pet name. He was really in a good mood. You stuck out your hand and he popped the box open, revealing a gorgeous ring, a dazzling blue jewel in the center. You were definitely going to end up with a sore lip, from how much you were biting it to stop smiling so hard. Dottore then slipped the ring onto your finger with ease, a perfect fit of course. It was no surprise he knew your measurements without having to ask. But now it was your turn. 

You fiddled with his ring in your hand. It was a lot simpler than your one, probably because he did not care much for such extravagance on himself, and he would most likely keep it stored away rather than on his finger for obvious reasons. He definitely did not want the blood of a random person dirtying it…

With bated breath, you tenderly grasped his fingers and slipped the band onto him. It was done, and you were incredibly pleased.

“My husband,” you smiled.

“My darling,” he reciprocated your affections and was about to speak again when you suddenly launched yourself at him, hugging him with as much strength as you could muster.

“You’re mine, all mine. My husband,” you repeated the words as they felt so good on your tongue. Your husband wrapped an arm around you, stroking your hair.

“I have always been yours,” he replied like this was old news. But if becoming your husband would help solidify that for you, then this was well worth it, Dottore thought. “And you have always been mine. It will never change.” He felt you smile and giggle into his chest before you pulled away, a truly happy expression on your face.

“See? I was true to my word, wasn’t I? Quick and simple, just the two of us. You liked it, didn’t you?” Oh, you were just begging for praise now. But he would entertain you, just for today.

“Indeed, it was an efficient ceremony. But I’d say the best part was seeing you like this,” Dottore commented as he ran his hands over your chest, admiring the smaller details about your attire and how well it hugged you. “Very alluring,” he rumbled. You ignored the heat rising up your body as you returned the compliment.

“Well, I could say the same thing about you, love. I would have never guessed you would have greeted me in such an outfit,” you traced your fingers over his tie, resisting the urge to yank on it to kiss him. That could wait for later because right now you were shamelessly staring at him in it.

“Well, I can assure you that you’ll have another chance to further examine me later,” he chuckled at your prying gaze, “but for now, give me your hand.” You looked at him questioningly but agreed when he pulled you closer yet again.

“Did you know? It is customary for newlyweds to dance at their weddings. That is something you would enjoy, no?”

“Oh! I’d love to! But we don’t know how to dance, do we?” Dottore grinned widely, his pointy teeth nipping his lip, making you question him.

“Wait, you know how to dance?”

“Of course. Being a Harbinger means acquiring a vast variety of skills.”

“You never told me that!”

“You never asked.”

“Well, it’s not something I would normally ask you! You should have told me,” you huffed. 

“Now I’m going to look dumb, with my lack of dancing skills compared to you.” Your husband chuckled.

“Do not fret. I will guide you.” He raised your already clasped hands higher until you two were in basic form. Well, as best as you could, because there was not only your inexperience, but your illness made it hard to keep up such a stance. 

And you two danced. If it could be called dancing, considering the amount of time you stepped on his feet or even tripped, along with the multitude of apologies. But it didn’t matter. It was fun, and your laughter rang out loudly in the grand hall. It didn’t matter that it came to a point when your feet couldn’t handle it anymore, you still let yourself be twirled and adored by your new husband, enjoying the first delight of being married.

—

“The hearts of the raven and butterfly were undeniably together as one, which led to great joy for the two of them.”

Alright, you had to admit it. Dottore was right. Outwardly, it seemed like nothing much had changed about your relationship. Life was really the same routine. Your illness and his duties still existed after all. But that was okay! Change does not need to be seen to occur. Perhaps the change happened within you both. Your heart was certainly lighter now. But it would certainly make you happier to partake in some more “domestic” activities, now that you two were a married couple. Though you obviously weren’t going to bring that up to your husband. He already has enough to do, after all! Still working on the cure to your illness too, without rest…

… 

…Well, you shouldn’t think about it too much! You should believe in your husband, no matter what happens. And speaking of, it seemed like your wish for domesticity would be granted without you asking, for one day Dottore came to you with a request.

“[Name], I require your assistance.” Those few words had you immediately intrigued because it was rare that Dottore asked you for your help since most of the stuff he needed help with was far beyond your ability now. Naturally, you were eager to please him.

“I need you to help me…” you held your breath in anticipation, “cook.” 

Huh? In disbelief, you could not help but repeat his words.

“You want me to help you cook? Like a meal?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Dottore replied, dead serious. You had to hold back your laughter.

“But… why?” Dottore let out a sigh and rubbed his temples.

“Regrator has forced my hand into doing frivolous nonsense for the sake of his games once again. What happened was…” Dottore then went on to explain the conversation he had with the Ninth Harbinger. Apparently, they had gotten into one of their usual prickly discussions, and somehow it had turned into a list of things the other could not do, and cooking had been brought up. Of course, not wanting to appear inferior to the other Harbinger (who was surprisingly a decent cook) declared himself as an okay one too. Pantalone, who loved to be as petty as possible when it came to his co-worker (and could probably detect the lie anyway), requested him to demonstrate his skills to him. If he was a good cook like he claimed, then it would surely be no issue, right? He wouldn’t mind putting his budget on the line, right?

Now, this was one of the very few times Dottore regretted lying for the sake of his goals. That was definitely worth a long laugh, you thought, as you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore. Dottore was not amused in the slightest. But then you had a thought. You wondered if Pantalone did this on purpose so that you could enjoy the domestic life with your husband. He was very perceptive when it came to these things after all. Maybe you were reaching with that but… you thanked him silently anyway.

“So your plan is to have me help you cook, and then pass it off as if you did all of it? Well, I certainly won’t say no. But I worry for you… I still remember what happened in the Akademiya.” You don’t want to think about the dreadful times of Zandik ruining the dorm’s kitchen when he tried to cook.

“It will be alright. I will follow your lead.” Oh, being in charge of Dottore for a few hours? Well, now you really couldn’t pass up this opportunity. 

For the dish, you had decided to go with something you were familiar with. Samosas. You remember making them for Zandik quite often in the Akademiya. In fact, it was the first dish you cooked for him and one of the things that won him over. Those were good times.

Although, your hands were still not the best at dealing with stuff in the kitchen. They were shaky and you could possibly hurt yourself. So instead you decided to guide him through the technical part of the process. Thankfully, Dottore’s expertise with a scalpel came in handing while cutting ingredients. So that part wasn’t too hard. You just had to ignore how your body warmed when you had to place your hands over his to show him how to properly do it.

Surprisingly, he was rather non-combative as you instructed him what to do, the spices to add, how to mix and add the ingredients, and whatnot. It was rather cute, really, to see him try so hard. The only problem was that he still fucking blew it, smoke filling the room (you had no idea how that could happen) and you had to do it yourself (with him standing protectively next to you as if the food and fire were going to jump out and attack you.) 

At least shaping and rolling out the dough was a less challenging task for him… though it seemed like he lacked the patience and delicateness needed for the rest of it, so he opted to rest his hands around your waist, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he observed your handiwork. It was a little bit crooked, considering your shaky hands, but far better than whatever Dottore was doing. And although you welcomed the weight of his chest pressed against your back, you weren’t really sure why he continued to look since this wasn’t all that interesting.

“Dottore, you know you don’t need to stay? I can tell you when the samosas are done, I know you’re busy.” Your husband seemed to playfully ponder your words.

“I’d prefer to observe the skillfulness of my spouse.” The fact that he wanted to stay with you made you smile.

“From this position of all? Mhm, sure thing,” you hummed in amusement as his arms tightened around you.

The domestic life was a good one.

(Pantalone took one look at the samosas and instantly knew the Doctor could have never made them, but did not say a word, for his goal had been accomplished.)

After that, strangely enough, there were a few more events that you would consider “domestic.” They weren’t frequent, no, but you wouldn’t say they were thinly sparse. One of your favorites had just been a few days ago.

“Eh? You want to… read a book with me?” You had absolutely no idea why Dottore suddenly entered your room as night fell with only that request. You were surprised by this as he never took an interest in your novels. Although you took an interest in his scientific texts every now and then, you still preferred your silly fictional novels. It was nice to escape to another world. But that wasn’t the point right now.

“That’s correct.”

“But why?”

“Why not? Is it so strange that I want to learn more about what occupies my lover’s time so much?”

“Well… no,” you admitted. You were caught off guard at first, but of course, you’d happily agree. “Okay, you can choose any book you want,” you motioned to your shelves which was home to numerous other things than books as well. Dottore looked at the variety of books you had before choosing one at random, wiping the dust off. You two then got comfortable in bed, your back pressed snugly against his chest as he held the book open in front of you. Looking at the title, you couldn’t seem to remember what this one was about, so it would definitely be nice to reread it with your husband. 

As he began to read the first few pages, your mind began to recall bits and pieces of the book. And that’s when it hit you. You remember this book had a… particularly passionate kissing scene right at the very beginning that had your face a little hot the first time you read it. Oh, you definitely did not want Dottore to know that! Why did he have to choose this book out of all the ones there? At this realization, you began to grow antsy between his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized, we should probably stop reading this book.”

“Why?” 

“Um, you see, this is actually the second book in the series. So we need to read the first book first in order to understand it.” The poor excuse flew off your tongue.

“Where is this first book, then?”

“Well, I don’t own it…”

“So you read the second book without reading the first?”

“Erm, yes, I did actually… and I’m warning you now so you aren’t confused like I was! It’s for your own sake.” Okay, now you had dug yourself in a hole because that was obviously a blatant lie.

“You’re hiding something,” Dottore observed after blankly staring at you for a few moments, before swiftly moving the book out of your reach and flipping through the pages, to which you protested obviously giving yourself away. But it was too late.

“Oh? What do we have here?” He quickly scanned a few pages, his grin only growing larger and larger as you hid your face. But Dottore found it extremely amusing if anything.

“Why, I would have never thought this is the kind of stuff you read. Perhaps there is more that I don’t know about you than I thought,” he teased, causing a loud groan to emit from you. A part of you wondered if he planned this, from the way he was already moving in to nip at your earlobe.

“Tell me, did you come in here because you actually wanted to read or just tease me?” You pouted as he cupped your chin, bringing you close for a kiss, to which you happily reciprocated, albeit a bit peeved.

“I guess you’ll never know,” Dottore smirked before enveloping you in his arms and pushing you down onto the bed, capturing your lips once again. “But I am curious to find out how realistic those scenes could be.”

Needless to say, a lot more kissing than reading got done that day.

��

“The raven and butterfly’s happiness continued for much longer. But of course, every creature is aware that nothing lasts forever, and even the lightning in the sky would agree with that statement. All fairytales must come to an end. That was no different for the raven and the butterfly.”

Ah. The time had flown by rather quickly, Nahida thought. Already she was nearly at the end of this tale, despite how lengthy it was. For some reason, that always seemed to happen whenever she tried to retell this particular chronicle. But now, she was ready once again to see this story to the very end, as always.

However, her gentle heart still cannot help but feel a little bit of pity for the two of you, knowing how this tale ends.

[swampstew]

Ok so I am basing this ask off this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/stuckinthewrongworld/754204449503870976?source=share

Could you do this with Law, Kid, and/ or Zoro please? You guys have some fun, but have to go your separate ways for a little bit, but end up in the same place again just a few months later. You've been so busy, you haven't noticed the changes to your body, only that you're more tired, but you think it's just because of everything you've had to accomplish. But he notices right away, because he remembered every little detail about you. Maybe your shirt lifts up and he notices? Or you have a tight fitting shirt on? Idk I'm so in love with this concept I NEED to read it!

-🐍

Hebi the way I had to be on life support for this....the way my uterus was like ok time to be a problem since my womb is empty from this...I could only knock out (HAHAHAHAHA) one for Kid but I plan to repost it along with Law and Zoro's POVs at a later time. Brain only light up for Punk tonight.

Summary: You have a casual relationship with Eustass Kid, a here and there type of thing. At least that's how it felt on your end. You didn't know he felt about you, the way he sees you, the way he wants you. No matter what. No bumps in the road can sway him. CW: Eustass Kid x F Reader, accidental pregnancy scenario - something short and sweet based off this post | no actual smut, all fluff and tenderness from someone so brash and violent

Kid clocks it right away. He’s so eager when he sees you, finding you on the dock instantly, and the first thing he notices are the dark circles under your eyes and your breasts look particularly perky in your top. He makes himself known, to your surprise, pulling you into a giant hug and asks you if you’re ok.

You tell him you’re just tired from work and your social battery was pretty much drained all the time, but you are happy to see him again. His hand traces your sallow cheeks as you tell him what you’ve been up to before he decides he’s going to carry you to the nearest food stall to get you both something to eat. He holds you while you hold the bags of food, cradled against his muscular chest as he takes long, impatient strides to your home. He’s going to get to the bottom of this and he wants to do it without his crew hovering.

He tells you about his adventures while you eat, if it can be called eating since you a few bites before you looked queasy, abandoning your plate and drinking ginger ale instead. Kid pushes his plate away and brings you to your feet, bringing you to his chest as he his hands gently caress your hips.

“I’ve been gone for a while now. Has anything happened?”

“Hm? Aside from taking on more work to pass the time, not really.”

“Nothing at all? Its been three months since we saw each other.”

“What are you getting at?” you ask irately, not liking the implication of his question.

Kid turns your body so your back is resting against his torso, metal hand holding you in place while his flesh fingers spread across your lower belly. The slow strokes made goosebumps erupt along your soft skin.

“You definitely didn’t have this last time…”

“ARE YOU CALLING ME F—?!” your yell is cut off as he covered your mouth.

“Y/N! Do the math!”

When your body starts trembling, he knows you made the connection and swiftly picks you up and takes you to your bed. Waiting to see if you would start the conversation.

“We never talked about an accident like this,” you whisper.

“No, so what are we going to do?”

“We?”

“Well…yeah. Unless you don’t want me involved…”

“I-I think I want too…but…sigh…I wouldn’t expect you to stay,” you whisper.

“You’re right I wouldn’t” he snorts, “Cause I’m taking you with me, idiot. No way in hell I’m letting you do this alone.”

[thatfreshi]

Possible request, one evening Astarion and Tav are cuddling, Astarion laying his head on their chest as Tav gently combs their fingers through his hair when they start softly singing an old elvish lullaby. Causing old and once thought dead memories to slowly come back to Astarion as he snuggles closer to them as he reminisces his past even shedding a few tears for the life he should of had and Tav is there to hold him and comfort him through it all

Recommended Song: Come Out and Play - Billie Eilish

It's well known between you and Astarion that he does not dwell on the past. After all, what's the point in grasping at something you can barely remember? Sure, he has glimpses of people, places, things, but they don't mean anything. If he tries hard enough, there are almost words to go along with the blurry faces, but nothing worth his while. You don't ask him much about those fuzzy thoughts, only when you're really truly curious.

One night, you're lying in bed after a 'family dinner' with your old companions, a little event you liked to put together every now and then. Astarion loves the attention, but it is in fact a little draining hosting your house, especially to your friends. The two of you are exhausted, and your sweet vampire nuzzles into your chest.

"I love them, but gods are they rowdy."

The two of you chuckle lightly.

"You know, I remember I said I thought domestic life would be boring, but perhaps I was wrong. Seems much better in our little world. Much calmer."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten us into any more trouble yet. No stray crimes I'm unaware of?"

He doesn't answer for a moment.

"No... except for that necklace I got you the other day."

You feel the muscles in his face move, assuming he has some mischievous smirk across his lips.

"Oh Aster, whatever will I do with you?"

Your hand makes its way into his hair, slowly moving through delicate curls.

"Love me for who I am and never ask me to change, ever?"

You sigh.

"I suppose."

Sugar-coated words, soft hands, empty minds. Your mind wanders, the tired feeling merciless. The cozy, exhausted feeling reminds you of a song, and you begin to sing softly. At first, it's nothing but melodic little words, until you get a little further in. Something clicks in Astarion's head, something strange.

It's sunny, he's out on the docks, sitting next to an older woman. She's humming the song, and the two of them are just staring out at the water. He's fidgeting with something in his hands, some kind of charm. The sun is beating down on the two of them, but neither seems to mind. The melody fades out, and the woman puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Come, time to go home darling."

As fast as it came, the memory is gone, and he sheds a couple silent tears. You realize his breathing has quickened.

"You alright my love?"

"What... what's that song?"

You have to think on his question, unsure really where you'd first heard it.

"I don't know. My parents knew it, and I guess I just picked it up. They'd sing it during peaceful moments. I guess I do too. Why?"

"It brought back something. I think- I think I saw my mother."

Even uttering the words makes the tears fall faster. He's never had a vision of the past like that, nothing so substantial.

"Was it nice?"

He tries to catch his breath.

"Yes. It was."

"You want to talk about it?"

The emotions are confusing. Astarion can't figure out if he's happy, sad, or just shocked.

"We were just watching the water, and then she told me it was time to go. She called me darling..."

He continues to cry into your chest, and you just hold him.

"I guess you know where you get it from now."

A small smile takes over his lips.

"You're right. I guess I do."

That smile is quickly erased by guilt.

"Do- do you think she's still out there? Wondering what happened to her son?"

You frown, knowing he wants to hear the truth, but knowing it might hurt.

"I think any good mother would still wonder. Especially with a son like you."

His grip in your side tightens, as if he's afraid of something.

"Is it bad to say it's easier to think she's already dead? That she doesn't have to wonder anymore?"

"No, not at all. You can feel however you need to about it my love. I imagine with how long elves live, it would be a long time wondering."

He lightly laughs.

"It is worse to say I think I'd be too scared to look for her?"

"No. But why would you be scared?"

"Because I wouldn't be her son anymore, not the one she knew. Just some vampiric freak."

You trail your hand softly across his back.

"You're not a freak Astarion."

"You're probably one of the only ones who'd say that my sweet."

The two of you are too exhausted at this point to have a full conversation, just sentences traded back and forth, words you don't fully remember. But you do know he thanked you the next morning, for bringing back such a pleasant memory.

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Hello

Can I request a laios x reader, with the reader as laios ex-fiance, since their arrangements was broken off when he ran away without explanation reader have been sad and mad about it. But then someday laios mother told reader about laios become a new king after defeating a demon, reader decided to go there, because reader want to know why he ran away

I'm sorry if this is difficult to understand, English is not my first language, thank youuu

Oh you got no need to apologize its all ok. i understand what you meant. id be happy to do this. thank you so much for sending an imagine in.

Even though its been many years since laios cut off the arrangement and disappeared you still found yourself getting upset at him. He just cancelled it all and ran off to not be heard from again.

Of course over the years that anger and frustration faded greatly but every so often your mind would wander and you would feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of being abandoned like that. but over all you figure it was probably for the best anyway, you dont mind your life and that touden was always...strange to say the least even if he was a looker.

One day though as you are going about your day when laios mother approaches you, asking if she can come in. You agree and let her inside, despite your feelings about laios you had no bad blood with her. you get the both of you some tea as she starts speaking. "Did you hear about the rise of the golden kingdom?" she asks, you nod and say of course you had. it had been the talk of the entire world ever since it rose up out of the sea, seemingly out of nowhere one day. Apparently some group of adventurers defeated the mad mage and seemed like those rumors about becoming the new leader of it was true. You say casually as you take a sip of some tea. "yeah well apparently Laios was the one that defeated the mage and rules the golden kingdom now." she says so casually causing you to spit all the tea you were drinking out, shouting in confusion you ask her if you heard that right? she nods and explains what she had been told from letters from falin, you knew that falin had stayed in touch with there parents but laios had apparently cut them off a decade ago much to your surprise.

You decide to pay a visit, you feel like you almost HAVE to. you need to know why he just left you like that, why he did what he did all those years ago. It took you a bit to get to the new golden kingdom, laios definitely had travelled a far distance since your last time you saw him. By the time you reach the kingdom a full month has passed, you ask the guards to message the king telling him that "Y/N from his arranged marriage wanted to see him." of course you werent sure he would even respond, i mean why would he. he didnt want to marry you obviously so why should he care about seeing you, especially now that he is a KING of all things. However you were surprised when the guard came back and agreed to take you to the king.

When you entered you saw him sitting on a throne. To his left you see a young elf woman with twin braids beside him, This must have been his royal advisor maybe? you werent sure. However you did notice his sister beside her chatting with her...except she was different, she wasnt a tall man anymore..atleast not fully. you noticed a plume of fluffy white feathers poking out of the opening on her chest and down her arms. It was clear she had been changed by some form of magic.

As you walk closer laios asks if everyone can leave the room for a moment, he wants to talk privately with you as they agree and leave leaving only you and him. "So Y/N, how have things been?" He asks awkwardly, its clear he is uncomftorable and doesnt know what to say. You had thought of the things you would say to him for years now, over and over you had gone over in your head what you were going to say to the man that just up and left you like that. you would be furious and scream, sob and cry, all the words you planned to say just dissapear and all you can say is a single word. "why.."

He sighs as he rubs his neck and begins to explain, He tells you how he had began to despise his parents for how they let falin be treated, and how instead of supporting her and her talents they sent her away to the magic school on a different continent. He had grown to hate his parents (more so his father but he had no fond feelings towards his mother either) even though falin kept in contact with them. He also explained how he never felt comfortable around people, that he had always felt more comfortable around monsters...and that in truth he hated people. Plus he admits he wasnt the richest person in the world so would have been able to give you a proper dowry. All of these together made him feel like he wouldnt have been able to give you the life you deserved, he didnt want you to be stuck with a man that hated everyone around him and hated where he lived and wanted to leave and get as far away as he could. He figured that wasnt fair to you, and he didnt know how to properly convey this and let you down easily so...he ran.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected...all this time you thought he just didnt like you or hated you ever, or he didnt care about you at all. All this time you hated him for what he did and that you swore you would get answers one day...but these werent the answers you were expected. It would have been so easy to continue to be mad at him, if he said he just didnt like you or hated you that would have been fine..you expected it at this point, but no...he did this because he didnt want to subject you to a miserable life with him..he knew you would be miserable with him if he had stayed there and he didnt want to put you through that...god this was so much harder than you were expecting. "You know....now that im king of the golden kingdom money isnt an issue..and ive made sure the kingdom is a kind place that treats everyone with kindness." you see him slump down a bit. "and since monsters come nowhere near the kingdom...if you want, we can get to know each other better..and see how we feel about each other then?" he says softly, damn that man he was a looker. you sigh, almost relieved its turned out that way. saying you would like that

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi. I have a pretty specific request for Kaz x reader. Basically, the reader was a part of the dregs for some time, well acquainted with Kaz, Nina and Inej (and Jesper, though I don't remember when he dropped studies and joined, but like yeah). After some time (2 years?) the reader is sent off to a job that causes them not to run into the main group a lot. For half a year they almost disappear (maybe swindling people in the harbor or watching some other Dregs’ territory). When they return all is good, new scars were definitely made and all, but that's a part of the job. They did mess up their leg though, having the knee crushed by a heavy object. They didn't get to heal it and after half a year its pretty hard to really fix. Unfortunately, they were known for their dancing and athletics as well as hand to hand combat before. That was why thy were seen as a valuable asset in the first place. And in the Dregs it���s not uncommon to overlook or hide injuries. So, though it's clear that something is wrong, they downplay it, afraid of being seen as weak or useless. But they struggle on the daily. I mean, from experience, that kind of an unhealed injury is hard to manage - they don't know how to sleep without pain flaring up bc the usual positions just don't work anymore, they have to relearn walking the stairs in a painless manner, whether changes are number one enemy, riding in anything is a nightmare bc the roads are bumpy, sitting apparently can cause pain too not to even mention walking. And all the fighting and acrobatics aren't as effective. They try to make others forget, trying to dance with Nina and Jes and sparring with Inej as if nothing happened. They want their life and self worth back

Before, they were known for keeping Kaz at a distance, which doesn't change at first. They still bicker, the reader is still distrustful. But I think he would be helpful. Not out of kindness, especially at first, but out of convenience. He can’t have them messing things up and so it starts small with offhand tips. Just enough not to have them get killed. Later, perhaps, they start talking more and the reader isn't sure if Kaz is still just the ruthless asshole they have to work with

To be fair, I don't have much plot. I just have my love for bittersweet stories and my messed up leg to provide inspiration. Also, don't care what you do with the gender, I used they/them to make in neutral but I don't really care. I know this request is long. No pressure if you don't like this scenario

-☆

My apologies for this taking so long. I was just scared that I wasn’t gonna do this justice. I hope it’s at least somewhat close. 🥺😫

Broken dreams

Playing a part was always hard. Fitting different masks. Making sure they didn’t slip. Always a smile. Always a careless, wild girl. But she just died last year. She was beaten. Broken to bits. Tossed aside. Left to die in that ally. To rot. Forgotten. Would anyone have come looking for you? Would have missed you? Grieved you? They killed the innocent girl that day. Left a broken shell of a woman in her way.

“Come on one more”, Nina pulled at your hand breathlessly. You quickly shoot her a smile, pushing the demons running in your mind aside. “We just sat down”, you chuckled while in reality, the idea of being up on your feet was making you want to turn to the side and vomit. “Oh, come on, we used to dance all night long, remember?”, she tossed her head back, downing her drink. “Jasper always steps on my toes, I need you to save me from that”, she cackled. Your eyes followed Jasper who was turning Wylan around. How much has everything changed in the time you were gone? It felt as if you no longer belonged. As if this version of you didn’t belong here anymore. “Are you feeling okay?”, Nina’s worried eyes watched you and you instantly nudged her, “Morning my freedom now that you’ve pretty much left your boyfriend for me”, you teased her. Happy to see her laugh. Off the hook then. “Lead the way”, you urged her. You could dance. Then down half the bottle of painkillers. Snatch one of the absolute bottles from Kaz’s drawer. It would work. You just had to pretend for a bit longer.

The pain was unbearable once you finally excused yourself. Sobbing the whole way back to the den. The agony felt like tongues of flames. No longer just in your legs. All over your body now. You slumped against the door. Letting yourself breathe. Trying to breathe. Only twenty sets of steps. It used to be only. Now it felt like twenty too many. Ot aggravated you. You wanted your body back. Wanted your freedom back. Wanted to be able to do things that others did. You just wanted it all to stop.

“Back early”, the voice makes you halt. Eyes growing big, you wipe your face before turning around, “Been a while since I drank so freely, Nina is also too persuasive”, you shoot a somewhat dazed smile at Kaz, who’s leaning against the the hallway arch. “You used to dance till early morning sun”, his words meet the target in a blind shot. Making your eyes sting once more. “You used to be more quiet. Don’t want to crawl back to your hole?”, it’s bitter. So bitter because he had learned to live with his pain. You were jealous of that. You had hoped that by watching him you would learn some tricks. How to navigate things that were easy once but brought you pain now. You learned to walk down the stairs because of him. Of watching him.

“You’ve changed”, Kaz’s eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “Rich coming from you”, you let out a chuckle, locking the outside door. “You’re defensive”, he continues to push, “You were never defensive with me. We argued. You tested my patience but you never bit me”, you hear the sound of his cane, then the smooth steps. “Why are you biting me now, YN?”, Kaz asks. “Don’t make everything about yourself, Kaz”, you turned around swiftly, feeling your legs dip slightly beneath your weight. But you bite back the cry of pain, stepping forward. Hoping to escape him. But Kaz’s cane comes in front of you blocking your way.

“You don’t get to walk away”, he grunts, turning his head to you. “I’ll ask this once”, his voice low, lethal, “So take your time to think”. You can feel him. Feel his eyes when he asks, “Who hurt you?”. The anger takes flight within you. Sending traitorous tears falling down your cheeks, “If I have an idea they would be six feet under”. He had played his part. Made you open the throbbing wound up for him to see. “They captured me. Broke my knees. I couldn’t…”, the words tumble freely, as you hide your face in your palms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”, his tone is blank, emotionless.

“What was I supposed to say?”, you crock out in frustration, “I was worthless then. I was of no use”. Kaz clenches his jaw, “So you hide the truth from me?”. You can’t help but growl in frustration, “I did the job you gave me. I got you what you wanted, what else do you want from me for fuck sake”.

And it’s a matter of heartbeats as your back hits the wall, Kaz’s cane now pressed against your chest, “I don’t give a fuck about the job”, he spats, veins visible in his tense neck now. “We could have gotten you a good doctor, could have…”, he grunts, “Did anyone look at the injury at all?”. You look at him for a moment. You could lie but what’s the point? “Some passing by a doctor”, you admit, “Fixed what he was able to, wished me luck, and left”.

Kaz shakes his head as he steps back, “How bad is the pain?”, “You want to bask in it?”, you clip right at him. “I should throw you out. Make you pay for ruining your own body so carelessly”, he hisses, “Legally you are mine. I own you. So your legs are mine to worry about”. You scoff, “How sweet of you, my gods”. Kaz’s gloved hand catches your jaw, the touch starts you both it seems. “I’m mad at you because you should have spoken up. I would have helped you. Would have dropped everything and made my way to you”, Kaz snarls through gritted teeth, “You’re starting physical therapy from tomorrow. That’s an order”, he steps back, pulls at his west. You blink up at him, knowing that you should say something. Anything. He would have come to you. But was it true? “If you ever pull anything like this ever again…”, Kaz doesn’t finish but you know well what his words imply, “I’ll see you in the morning at my office. Think well about the features of people who attacked”.

[eyrina-avatar]

Mother's Day

parining: Neteyam x reader aged up and are parents - a mother's day special

synopsis: after the battle of Awa'atlu and with Quaritch now dead, the Sullys are back to living a peaceful life at the forest and Neteyam and reader have a child. Neteyam has a surprise for reader on Mother's Day.

warnings: none, mostly fluff. only a little tiny mention of reader doubting her skills as a new mother but those thoughts are later on squashed.

author's note: do na'vi babies use diapers or just loincloths that are regularly changed? I looked online and couldn't find any info on it. I mentioned about two weeks ago that this was supposed to come out on Sunday, so I know it’s late and Mother’s Day is long gone but oh well, life has been busy. Enjoy!

word count: 2.4k

glossary: prrnen- baby, ma'itan- my son, eyaye plant- warbonnet fern (the big glowing leaves of pandora that looks like a fan- in the right pic of the header), panopyras- the plant that looks like a glowing jellyfish (in the left pic of header). more info can be found on avatar's official pandorapedia and on avatar wiki.

┆彡

You gently moved your baby back and forth in your arms as you tried to calm his crying.

"Mawey, mawey ma'itan," you cooed into his ear as you tried to figure out what was making your less than one-year-old son so cranky.

"What is wrong, huh? I just fed you an hour ago, and daddy just changed your nappies." Your baby began to grow more irritable by the minute, and you had to find a quick solution. The baby was supposed to be asleep; that way you could go out into the forest to gather some fruit and vegetables for dinner.

Your son had now begun sucking on his thumb while crying and moving his head close to your chest in search of milk.

"You're still hungry? Is that what it is?" You adjusted your top to let your son feed on you, instantly calming his crying and fussiness. "What an appetite." You simply shook your head and laughed.

"Happy Mother's Day!" You heard a loud commotion outside of Neteyam's and your shared Marui. You moved the opening of your tent and peered outside, and saw Jake and his kids, Neteyam included, all showering Neytiri with attention. They all gave her a big hug and handed her flowers, rare fruits, bracelets, and a matching headset. She thanked her family for the presents, and you merely smiled at the kind gesture. You closed the flap of your tent, basking in the warmth and tranquility of your child as his eyes were now closed, content with his feeding.

When you were previously an avatar before your permanent soul transfer, you had already learned of Mother's Day and its significance. Though now, as a Na'vi, you grew to the customs of the Omaticaya and have not paid much attention to it until now.

As a mother of a young baby, not even a toddler, you knew not to expect anything significant on the day yet. How would your child know to give you a gift or thank you for being his mother? Foolishness- he was too young for you to even think about that, and you let out a small chuckle at your own thoughts and sighed.

Jake always made it clear to Neytiri on Mother's Day how much he loved and appreciated her, and he always gave her something for mothering their children. Would Neteyam do the same to you as well?

Although Neteyam is a Na'vi, you slightly expected him to know that this day held significance for you as well, especially as the father of your child. Or maybe he didn't know?

But like the rest of the Sully kids, he learned about it from Jake and has not missed a single year to gift something to Neytiri on this special day. Or maybe he didn't think you were such a good mother after all. Perhaps you were just being silly, how could you expect someone to congratulate you on something you’re so new at? You’re Na’vi now, and perhaps you should just get used to it.

You simply sighed again at the thought and placed your child in your frontal wrap as you prepared to go out and gather the food for later.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Neteyam walked into your tent and gave you a questioning look.

"No, no. Nothing’s wrong." You shook your head and smiled.

“I heard you sighing as if something was wrong.” Neteyam interrogated.

“Oh, I’m fine, Nete. I was just glad that the baby finally fell asleep after crying for so long.” You petted your son’s head as you tried to sell your excuse to your mate.

“I see. Sorry for not coming into the tent sooner. I thought I heard a baby crying, but I was a bit busy at the moment.” Neteyam helped you up as you grabbed a basket for the food you were getting ready to pick.

“It’s fine-”

“No, no, I should have helped you out-”

“Neteyam.” You placed your hand on his, “It’s fine. The baby was just hungry again, you weren’t going to be much help in that situation.” You let out a small giggle.

He simply chuckled, “I guess not.”

“I’ll be back in time to make dinner.” You waved as you made your way out of the tent.

Huh, busy? Simply busy celebrating Mother’s Day and not with you. You rolled your eyes and huffed out. Y/n, get yourself together.

You shook your head in disbelief at your own antics.

I’m sure Neteyam appreciates you, he’s probably just waiting for the baby to get bigger to celebrate Mother’s Day. In fact, maybe he’ll tell your son when he gets older. Yes, that's it.

You smiled to yourself as you came up with a conclusion and decided to drop the topic, knowing that getting upset over something so trivial wouldn’t do you any good.

You contently continued your way into the forest.

Nete, I’m home. Dinner will be ready s-” you looked into your marui and saw no one inside. Maybe Neteyam was out hunting, or busy helping his siblings, probably bailing Lo’ak out of trouble or something. You laughed at the thought.

You placed your still-asleep son in his cot and got straight to cooking as you peeled the fruits and vegetables, and moved the veggies onto separate plates, chopped, and cooked them. With your quick and skilled hands, the food was ready in no time, and your mate was home in no time as well.

“Mmm, what is that delicious smell, huh?” Neteyam made his way towards you. “Is that the wonderful cooking of my cute wife?” He bent down and gave you a kiss. Your tail swished back and forth at the compliment, and you blushed.

“Oh, just sit down.” You jokingly rolled your eyes as you gave him a bowl of food. “Thank you, love,” he smiled at you, and you sent one back.

“So, where were you?” You pried as you ate your food.

“Eh, just helping one of the clan members hunt some meat. No luck today, though.” Neteyam continued eating.

Hmm, strange. He’s all neat and clean, not a drop of sweat. Unless he bathed at the river before coming over? Probably so.

You decided to stop overthinking and just enjoy your food before you soured your appetite.

The rest of the meal was quiet but comfortable.

“Alrighty, done. That was delicious, as always.” Neteyam handed you the bowls, and you set them aside.

“So, anything in plan to do lat-” you were cut off with the sound of crying waving through your ears. You rushed over to your son and picked him up.

“Here, let me help.” Neteyam made his way over to you and took the baby from your hands. “What is my little mighty warrior so upset about, huh?” Your mate gently rocked the child back and forth.

“Shh, shh. Daddy's right here.” He cooed, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the self-given name.

The baby wouldn’t stop crying, and so you took a peek at his bottom. “Oh,” you simply let out.

“What is it?” Neteyam gave you a questioning look.

“He needs to be cleaned.” You took the baby out of Neteyam’s arms and placed him on a mat.

“Look at that cutie!” Kiri beamed as she entered the tent and made her way straight to you and Neteyam’s son. “Aww, don’t you worry. He needs a cleaning, right? I’ll take care of it.” Kiri shooed your hands away and got to work.

“No, Kiri, you don’t have to do that.” You felt bad and tried to stop her.

“Nonsense, I’ll take care of him. Go out with Neteyam and do something. Maybe go on one of those dates or whatever you romantics like to do.” She simply waved you away.

“Thank you,” Neteyam mouthed to her when you weren’t looking.

“Are you sure?” You let out as Neteyam dragged you out of the tent.

“Kiri will be fine.” He assured you.

“Well, where are we going?” You asked.

“Put this on.” He gave you a blindfold, and you simply looked at him confused about what he was doing.

“What?”

“Just put it on, you trust me, right?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Then put it on.”

You held the blindfold over your eyes, and Neteyam tied it. “How will I know where to step? What if I fall?” You asked, giving a questioning look behind the cloth.

“You wont.” Neteyam swooped you up in his arms and carried you bridal style. “You see?” He smirked.

“Well technically since I’m blindfolded right now…” Neteyam lowered his arms down, threatening to drop you. “Alright, ALRIGHT. I get it!” You let out as he swung you over his shoulders and made his way into the forest with you.

“Are we there yet?” You groaned at the long walk to wherever it was that Neteyam was taking you.

“C’mon, just wait a bit. We’re almost there.” Neteyam readjusted his hold on you.

“You said that like 5 minutes ago,” you rolled your eyes behind the cloth.

“You're starting to sound like Tuk with all of that complaining.” He chuckled

“Am not!”

“You see, you’re even arguing like her.” He teased as you swung your tail by his face in retaliation.

“Alright, I’m putting you down. We’re almost there, and you can walk from here.” Neteyam carefully lowered your legs to the ground. “I’ll hold your hand so you don’t fall.” He took your hand in a firm grasp and led the way.

“Alright, just a few more steps, c’mon.” Neteyam led you down a small hill and brought you to a stop at the bottom. “You can open your eyes now.”

You untied the cloth from your eyes and gasped at the view. A beautiful glowing stream flowed in front of you, and a small nearby waterfall fed it as a few hexapedes quenched their thirst on it. Lizards flew around you, and atokirinas gracefully danced in the air as some landed near the panopyras and on the lily pads in the water.

“Nete-“ you were speechless at the sight. This was the spot that made you fall in love with the forest, always so majestic and peaceful, breathtaking, and full of color and life.

“It’s beautiful, I love it! We haven't been here in ages; you know this is my favorite spot!” You gleamed as you faced Neteyam, and he smiled at your reaction.

"Well, what type of mate would I be if I didn't bring you anywhere nice on this special day?" He smirked, and your eyes widened in shock.

"You remembered?" Your jaw dropped open at his comment in realization that this indeed was for Mother's Day.

"Of course I did! How could I forget the beautiful mother of our child, huh?" Neteyam pecked your cheek with a kiss. "Happy Mother's Day, love. And thank you for being such a wonderful and good mother to our firstborn son. I couldn't have asked for anyone else."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away and sniffled as you tried to control your emotions. "Thank you. I love you so much." You wrapped your arms around Neteyam as he embraced you in a warm hug.

"I love you." He responded as he held you in his arms and looked down at your eyes, "I've got something for you."

You simply tilted your head in confusion as he let go of you and walked behind a tree, bending down to pick something up.

He brought back an object wrapped in eyaye leaves and handed it to you.

"What is this?" You gave him a 'you shouldn't have' look.

"Just a little something for you. Open it up, sweetheart." His tail swished back and forth in nervousness as you unwrapped the gift, and your eyes lit up at the sight.

You held up two matching bracelets, both filled with your favorite colors, blue and purple. Those were the bioluminescent colors of the forest that made you fall in love with Pandora, and Neteyam knew just how special they were to you.

"Do you like it?" His ears flickered at his anxiousness.

"I love it! It's beautiful, and they're my favorite colors! Nete, you know me so well!" You ran up to Neteyam and jumped up as you gave him a hug, almost knocking him down in the process. You grabbed his face and gave him small pecks everywhere, his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, and finally, his lips.

"Well, I'm glad you like it." He chuckled at your antics and put you down. You put one bracelet on your ankle and the other on your wrist. Both fitted perfectly, and you raised your eyebrows at Neteyam.

As if knowing what you were going to say, he blurted out, "I measured you while you were sleeping. You're not such a light sleeper after all." Neteyam smirked.

"Well, however it was that you got the size, it worked. They fit wonderfully and look absolutely beautiful. I love them so much, thank you, ma'teyam." You smiled at your thoughtful mate and the beautiful gifts, mentally scorning yourself for your doubts earlier.

"And these are for you as well." Neteyam handed you a beautiful bouquet of sun lilies, glowing blue with purple outlines surrounding the petals and stems.

"Babe... you really outdid yourself. You know that, right?" You shook your head as you gently grabbed the flowers from his hands and smelled them. "They look great and smell amazing. Thank you." You smiled up at Neteyam as he held his hand on your back, and the both of you sat at the edge of the river, legs now kicking in the water.

"I'm so grateful to have you as my mate, my beautiful wife, and the wonderful mother of our child and hopefully many more to come, if you allow it." Neteyam kissed your cheek, and you smiled at the thought.

"And I'm so grateful to have you in my life, I wouldn't trade you for anything else. You make me feel like the happiest woman on Pandora; of course I would be glad to mother all of our future children." You smiled up at the stars as you held the flowers in your hands as a child, already used to carrying your baby in that position, causing Neteyam to chuckle at the sight.

"I love you," you turned to look at him.

"And I love you." Neteyam held your face in his hand.

"Forever..." you leaned in.

"...and always." Neteyam sealed his love for you with a kiss.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

again, sorry this came out so late. this was supposed to come out on Mother's Day but unfortunately I wasn't able to complete it sooner. I hope it came out decent enough for you guys to enjoy it.

reblogs/comments etc. are much appreciated

let me know if you want to be included in a taglist.

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used:#ED345F and #FFB3CF

credit: divider from this post: here

[lilisette]

spoilers for chapter 7 i need to rant im about to burst-

goddamnit i shouldve known the girl that rafayel mentioned in Nightly Stroll is mc!!!

but this makes me wonder. are all love interests connected to mc's childhood/past somehow? like okay. zayne (and caleb) is mc's childhood friend. now it is said that rafayel met mc before but mc forgot. in before xavier met mc when she was young too but forgot as well. just watch lmao, xavier is one day gonna come up to mc and be like, hey! i met you before the disaster but you forgot because experimentation!

also rafayel being a merman... honestly not so surprising since there are hints everywhere.. but the childhood friend part? holy i did NOT see that coming. i thought he was just sharing an experience, NOT TRYING TO JOG HER MEMORY. oh my god now this changes so much like.

imagine. rafayel seeing her one day by pure chance and going up to her, wondering if she remembers him, only to be disappointed. because how could he be happy when the love of his life forgot him and their promise???? oh my god. maybe they met BEFORE the disaster, which could explain why she doesnt remember. and also explains why rafayel cannot find her again!!

FUCK "ive waited for you for 800 years" exaggeration but not a lie. he did wait for her for so, so long. god can you imagine the fear and pain he has when mc is suddenly gone without a trace when hes in the hospital?? its like deja vu, shes gone again, away from his grasp. explains why hes so mad when shes back.

ALSO. him dropping hints everywhere to their connection, hoping she would remember but she doesnt!!! hes trying to jog her memory!! i cannot imagine the pain hes going through holy...

holy fuck i need more. gdi game why you only let me earn xp through dailies???? i wouldve grinded the crap out of this game to progress 😭

[heartofwritiing]

home is wherever you are tonight

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

summary: its your birthday, a day you dread every year due to bad memories, and wilbur manages to change your mindset.

authors note: this has been sitting in my drafts since march and i forgot about it oops. this is completely self indulgent. Ive dreaded my birthday for the past five years because of personal reasons… i thought maybe writing a non-shitty fake birthday would make me feel better so, it did lol. enjoy!! :)

warnings: self indulgent, mentions of childhood trama, negative past events, mentions of toxic family, fluff, Wilbur being the cutest-best boyfriend, hurt-comfort, yes the title is a lyric from a lizzy mcalpine song.. unedited!

The day had come. the day you dreaded every year for as long as you could remember. it was your birthday.

Most people would be elated about turning another year older, to celebrate but not you. Instead, it filled you with utter disinterest and resentment. To you, it was just another day on the calendar.

Ever since you could remember you’ve just hated your birthday. Each year just felt like they got worse and worse with the number of times You had been let down. Whether it was by family drama or people just forgetting. It was the same every year. So when you finally moved away from your toxic relatives you pretty much forget about it. Only remembering when you'd get a text from your parents to wish you a happy birthday. At least they remembered now that you were gone...

You were relieved when no one at work had brought it up. you never really talked to your coworkers about your personal life, you weren't that type of person. Still, you were grateful the only attention you got today was from one of your peers Matt, asking about the printer in the office not working right.

When you walked into your flat, what you weren’t expecting was too see your boyfriend standing near the door waiting for you.

“why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Wilbur asks in a slightly offended tone.

The front door hasn’t even shut yet and he’s caught you completely off guard with his question. Your heart drops in your stomach.

“hello to you too,” you snort, putting your bag down and sliding your jacket off. "And how'd you even know?" Avoiding the question. Cause that will make this better.

he sighs.

“Answer the question please, love,”

You’re toeing off the uncomfortable shoes you were required to wear at your job as you blankly bink back at him.

You can tell by the frowned expression on his face that he wasn’t just gonna let you drop this anytime soon. His arms are crossed over his sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his curls fall around his eyes.

“maybe because it's not a big deal,” you shrugged. Wilbur stops you with a hand on your shoulder before you can escape to your shared room. It wasn't forceful but gentle, his eyes asking you to stay, talk, anything. You just wanted to go to bed and sleep until your shift tomorrow and just forget about this whole day.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. "I don't particularly like my birthday but still celebrate with friends, family, and loved ones."

There it was.

You wanted to avoid this.

"Look, I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, you can tell me when you're ready. I can tell how uncomfortable you got when I asked you outright why you didn't say anything about it being your birthday, I'm sorry..."

You could tell he was just confused and who could blame him. You had only been dating for about a year and finally moved in together last month. He didn't want to pressure you into anything you weren't ready for, which was one of the many things you adored about him. Always so patient and thoughtful about your feelings and well-being.

There was no avoiding it now as he asked the question. Your heart beating in your ears.

“Why don’t you like your birthday, love?”

“well…” you began, but you could feel the lump in your throat forming as you thought carefully how to put it. You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “I just, have a lot of trauma revolving around today,”

Wilbur has moved slowly towards you now, almost like you were a spooked animal and he was trying to calm you. He listened carefully as you spoke slowly.

“my parents fought a lot growing up, and even on my birthday they just didn’t seem to care, even for one day, so i mostly spent my birthdays alone.”

The look in his eyes says it all. He feels so heartbroken for you. You collapsed into his chest and he wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you firmly and you felt the weight in your chest fading.

"Well listen, I got you your favorite type of cake, a good bottle of wine, not that cheap shit, the really nice one we liked. we're gonna sit on the couch and eat, and you can tell me all about your day." he pauses only to bring your face out from his chest to look you in your eyes. "and then, we're gonna cuddle and I'm gonna tell you how much I love and appreciate you."

With that, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and kisses your nose softly. You swear that press of his lips was what made you cave. You began to break down in front of him.

Wilbur's hands seem to be the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. If he wasn't holding you, you were sure you would have fallen to your knees by now. You sob silently as you take his wrists in your hands but don't remove them from your cheeks. The intensity of the long work day and all the recurring memories this day brought you every year, combined with Wilbur's sweet gestures and words made you break.

You felt everything come down on you all at once, yet there Wilbur was, always waiting for you at the end of the day. Always there to comfort you and support you. So these weren’t sad tears no, they were happy tears. Finally, you found someone who cherished you and cared for you enough.

-

@trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @highstonedcat

[wonderlandwalker]

Should've Known | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Life brought you and Finnick blissful peace, at least for a little while. (this is a part 2 of He Knows Better but can be read on its own as well)

Content Warnings/Tags: Big time angst, no happy ending this time, mentions of forced prostitution, bruises, did I say angst yet, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: A big thanks to @libertyybellls for giving me the idea of a second part. This is not proofread because I do not have the attention span. It's short but I poured part of my own soul into this so it better not flop.

Everything had been exactly as he could have wished it to be. He had let you in. He hadn't regretted it one moment. You would dance together in the kitchen to the music coming from the radio. He would dip you and kiss you, and you'd laugh at how theatrical he was being, but you'd kiss him back with just as much passion. You'd go to bed, and he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you fell asleep. But time moves, and it comes with brutal lessons that he wished he could ignore.

Because he sees the marks on your skin, he sees the bruises they left. At first you used to tell him you were just clumsy, bumped your hip into the cupboard, you'd laugh it off. But he knew better. He knew because this is not new to him, because he has first hand experience.

He will see it when you reach up to grab a mug or as you lay down next to him and your clothes shift. He thinks of something to say. He thinks of ways to console you, and yet whenever the opportunity is there he watches it go by, too scared of your reaction. Everytime he feels the urge to grab you tighter, but he doesn't want to risk you pulling away, because it would break him.

You used to tell him everything, you would tell him about the cats you saw on your walk around the district and you would talk about the new tea you liked that you just had to go show Mags. But yet again, time is a cruel master, because you've been more quiet lately, more reserved. You don't light up anymore when he asks how your day was.

At times he's scared he'll forget what you sound like. Because your voice is such a sweet melody to him, but even the sweetest of things can wither away like a flower that's been looked at too long.

And he guesses everyone deals with it in their own way, but he wished it had been a different one. Finnick plastered on a smile to keep going, he convinced everyone there was nothing going on for so long he tricked his brain into believing it too. But that's not what you're doing. And he's grateful you don't feel the need to pretend around him, truly, he is. But it doesn't mean he doesn't miss the manner in which you used to hum while pouring coffee or the way you would skip down the steps of the stairs when hearing him open the front door.

You still go out, but it's not by your own choice. You know that if you don't show up to the Capitols event and convince everyone nothing has changed, everything will just get worse. So you go, you go and for a few hours you're your old self again, even if it's only pretend. And he hates himself for how much he enjoys it, because it's not really you, not anymore.

In a way the bruises are a blessing, because every time you get one, Snow will leave you be for a while until it's turned back to yellow and the only way to see it is to pay close attention. But finnick pays close attention, and they're never fully gone. Snow doesn't want people getting the wrong idea, so he makes sure you look untouched. But these people are paying customers after all, so he doesn't interject at whatever their heart desires. It is just a week or two, but the worse the marks are, the longer you get, and the more time you have to crawl out from within yourself. If its been particularly bad you seem happy now, you seem happy at the prospect of peace. And sometimes, just sometimes, he sees you swaying along again to the music while you make breakfast.

Yes, you've found comfort in the pain, but you've found agony in its disappearance.

When you're both home, you still curl up next to him, and he longs for it all day. He craves the way your body feels against his and the way you fit into him like a puzzle piece that's finally been put in the right spot. He hates mornings now, because it means he has to lose that feeling and wait an entire day to get it back again. He can't sleep when you're not there, he feels like he's missing a part of himself, like someone has broken him in two and took a piece. When he has to leave you at night, he's not even upset anymore at what's happening to him, no, he's upset that they're keeping him from being with you. Because he not only wants it for himself, he knows you need it too. He knows because he's seen what state you're in whenever he gets back. And he needs that little piece of you you're still willing to give him. Even if it's the only thing you'll ever give him again.

Sometimes he wonders about trailing kisses down your neck. He wonders if anyone has ever shown you actual bliss, but he doubts it. He should be glad, should be ecstatic that he's the only one you actually enjoy being with, but he's just sorry. He's sorry for what is happening to you, he's sorry you're not being shown more kindness. Sometimes he wonders what would happen if he left his own marks, god knows he wants to, but not the rough, careless ones that usually paint your skin. No, he wants to leave marks of love. He wonders if Snow would leave you alone then too, but he doesn't want to risk things becoming worse instead. So he makes peace with the fact that it will only ever be a thought.

He's asked you, he's begged you to simply not go anymore, not listen to what Snow wants. He says he doesn't care what will happen to him, because when he sees you come home with your shoulders sunken and your eyes dulled, he genuinely doesn't. He tells you that yes, he's aware of what Snow will do to him if you don't listen. But nothing he could think of to do to him could be worse than what's happening to you right now. But he should've known better, he should've known you wouldn't listen. To you, Finnick is worth everything. Because that's what you've been doing, giving everything. You've not just given your body, you've given your soul.

[invis-o-william]

Day 6: Immortal AU

Danny leaned back in the grass, the wind brushing his white gravity defying hair back away from his forehead, and sighed. Amity Park had changed a lot over the years. What had once been a fair sized growing metropolis was now a sprawling city blending urban technological feats of science with older infrastructure that had been in place for over a hundred years.

One thing that hadn’t changed too much though, was its main cemetery. Others had cropped up on the outskirts of the booming city, but this one, the original burial ground, stayed intact even though no new burials had occurred there in decades.

“Sorry for not visiting sooner,” Danny said, “the Realms have kept me on my toes lately. Clocky has had it with the Observants and is trying to get rid of them as a whole. Good riddance I say.”

He chuckled at the last sentence. “I know you were never a fan of how much they interfered when I first took the throne, so I figured you’d be happy to hear that at least.”

Danny’s eyes followed a pair of children nearby happily playing on the sidewalk with gliders that seemed so similar to the Red Huntress’. Danny frowned. So much had changed over the years, and he was starting to feel like he couldn’t keep up anymore.

“I had something I wanted to tell you about too..” He trailed off and turned to look at the headstone next to him. While it was old, as was every grave in this section, this one had been well cared for. Cleared of creeping plant life and with any and all dirt meticulously brushed off. The inscription read:

Dr. Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton

B. March 31, 1988 D. May 6, 2070

Beloved Mother, Sister, and Professor

“I decided to stay in the Infinite Realms full time now. With my duties as King, and the whole new zone developing there I just don’t have the time to patrol Amity Park anymore. Not that there’s a need to anymore.” He sighed the last words. It was true, after a few decades of kingship, Danny had figured out how to balance the limits that ghosts could venture to the mortal plane and the damage they could cause there.

His role on Earth as Phantom had long been redundant now, and there was no one here for him anymore. All his friends had long since died, as were even Jazz’s grandchildren. On Earth, Danny felt truly and utterly alone.

“Of course I’m going to still come and visit you guys,” Danny said, “other than that though, I think that’s it. People around here are starting to think I’m a fairy tale anyway.” He didn’t think he would ever stop visiting the resting places of his family, his friends. They had meant too much to him not to, and he never wanted to forget them, never wanted to forget who he was.

Danny stood from the grave he had been sitting in front of, glancing at its inscription. It was worn and harder to make out than Jazz’s, but it still clearly read;

Daniel “Danny” Fenton

B. February 12, 1989 D. July 17, 2031

Gone too Soon

Danny still smirked at the irony of it. A grave for a halfa that would never truly die. He had stayed physically stuck in his thirties for centuries now, and wasn’t sure that would ever change. Looking back to his sister’s headstone, he knelt down and placed a rose encapsulated in ghostly blue ice at its base.

“Happy death-day Jazz.” he said with a smile, “I’ll come visit you soon.” With that he turned and with a wave of his hand opened a portal to the Infinite Realms. A familiar woman with a mop of long white hair peeked out of it.

“Thanks for the privacy Dani. Do you want to go see Sam and Tucker now?” he asked his clone. She grinned with enthusiasm before jumping out of the portal to join her “older brother”. Once the portal was closed, they both changed from ghost to human and set off down the rows of graves to visit their departed friends.