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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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No, Re-Destro Is Not Destro’s Literal Son

and

Yes, I Will Die On This Hill

I have a number of small, persistent quibbles with some of the widespread misapprehensions I see included in BNHA fanfic, quoted as fact in meta posts, even cited on the wiki. Quirk cancellation restraints, what the 20% quirklessness data point means in practice, when Kurogiri comes into existence relative to the time of the Shimura Family Massacre, things like that. My biggest one, though, is as the title suggests: the idea that Yotsubashi Rikiya is Yotsubashi Chikara’s son.

I don’t entirely know where this confusion comes from. As far as I can tell, the early scanlations didn’t get it wrong—one rendered the line in Chapter 218 about Destro having a child he didn’t know about as being children, plural, but otherwise, they were all accurate enough. It seems people just assumed that the child mentioned in 218 must be Re-Destro, who was, after all, right there on the panel. Even though the scanlations never said it, even though the official translation never said it, even though ample evidence in the manga disproves it, the idea still got around that Rikiya is Chikara’s son.

I have and will maintain that this is obviously wrong if you stop to think about it for even a moment, but unfortunately, most people don’t. The error can be found on less well-tended parts of the fandom wiki[1]; it’s in tumblr meta posts about the villains; it’s in fanfic.

And now, god help me, it is on the official anime website, too.

“Stillness-in-green, maybe you should consider that you might just be wro—”

I will face BONES and walk backwards into hell.

But if you want, you can come with me, and I’ll explain on the way. Hit the jump.

Dialogue + Narration

There are two places where the relationship between Chikara and Rikiya is explicitly addressed—the lead-in to the dinner scene in Chapter 218 and the fight between Clone!Shigaraki and RD in Chapter 232. If you include the Ultra Analysis databook, the number goes up to four: once each in Re-Destro and Destro Classic’s character blurbs.

Let’s take a look at each of those places, shall we?

The relevant Japanese text here is in the first narration box: 子ども, kodomo.

Kodomo is not gendered. It literally just means child. The key kanji is 子, ko. Like most kanji, it has a lot of potential readings, and you can add other kanji to it to modify it. Add 息 and you get musuko, son. Pronounce 子 as shi instead of ko, and you get a term that is frequently, though not exclusively, used to refer to boys. Add 女 to that reading and you get joshi, woman/girl. 子 is in a lot of words, many of them gendered! Used for kodomo as Hori does here, though, it does nothing to indicate a gender one way or the other.

Also too, it does nothing to indicate that Rikiya is the child in question; it simply states that there was such a child, somewhere in the world. Now, the natural assumption for anyone who knows how the graphic novel medium works and who understands basic literary analysis would be that the significant character we just met is, in fact, the child in question—except that everything else we learn about Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army here makes it entirely impossible.

I’ll do a full breakdown on why that is in the next section. In the meantime, here’s the next reference:

Here, we’re looking at the phrase the Viz translation renders as, “His blood runs through these veins.” The literal Japanese there is, Desutoro no matsuei chi o tsugu mono! In a literal translation, chi o tsugu mono means, “one who inherits the blood,” or, more loosely, “blood successor.” It’s matsuei—末裔—that’s the key word here.

Japanese has several words to express the concept of “descendant.” Matsuei is one word; the data book uses shison. So what’s the difference? Well, I’ll talk about shison in a moment, but I had an inkling of it just from looking at the kanji in matsuei—“end” and “descendant” respectively, leaving me with an impression of something like a final descendant or the terminus of the bloodline. Further research confirmed it: shison can refer to any lineal blood tie, but matsuei refers to a bloodline’s final inheritor, the person at the end of a long line of many, or even countless, generations. It’s the difference between being able to point to a grandparent and the kind of painstaking genealogical research that lets you[2] point to a famous royal from eight hundred years ago—matsuei is a word that very much assumes the existence of those countless generations.

So not only does Rikiya’s line there not imply that he’s Chikara’s son, but his specific word choice also tells us that he cannot be Chikara’s son. That’s, uh. Pretty conclusive, I would say.

Lastly, though, there’s also the data book. This is, perhaps, the actual closest you’re going to get to a manga equivalent of those character blurbs on the anime website, at least until such time as Hori deigns to give the MLA types character profile pages. (I live ever in hope.)

There are two relevant bits of text, one in Re-Destro’s entry, and the other in Destro Classic’s. The first describes how Re-Destro organizes the MLA as Desutoro no chi o tsugu mono: the same phrase he uses for himself in the manga, minus the matsuei. @codenamesazanka (the one who told me about the databook references among other citations, bless) rendered it as “Destro’s blood successor”; I have also seen it given as “the successor of Destro’s bloodline.” Note again, the lack of reference to a father/son bond.

Chikara’s entry uses that other descendant word I mentioned before, 子孫, shison. Notice that the term uses that ko kanji from kodomo before? As it does in joshi, 子 here reads shi. The other kanji, 孫, means grandchild. Thus, literally, grandchild-child—or, in the vernacular, simply descendant.

And then we have the anime website.

So, for comparison’s sake, the anime website uses 息子—the same combination of kanji that I said earlier gives you musuko, son. Heck, it even uses 父, chichi, for Destro—father. It’s as explicit as it’s possible to be, and I just don’t know why or how the anime website could fuck that up so bad when absolutely nothing in the manga describes the two Yotsubashis that way, and, indeed, one specific word choice actually rules out the possibility.

So, that’s all the manga says directly. It’s not the only evidence there is, though. In fact, the next piece makes it even more clear how colossally and impossibly wrong a father/son connection for Destro and his modern successor is.

Timeline

The long and short of this section is, “Since Harima Oji was Sako Atsuhiro’s great-great-grandfather, there is no possible way that Destro—who pre-dated Harima—can be Re-Destro’s father.” If you read that sentence and nodded your complete understanding and agreement, feel free to skip ahead to the last section. If you’d like the full explanation it takes to reach that sentence’s conclusion, though, read on.

So, aside from the word matsuei, the timeline is the most telling piece of evidence to my eye. I address it secondly rather than firstly because it’s less direct than the explicit narration; it relies on drawing conclusions based on things we’ve been told elsewhere rather than on the immediately relevant text. Oh, Mr. Compress’s relationship to Harima is explicit enough, but on what am I basing my claim that Destro predates him?

Regarding that, there’s no explicit year relative to My Hero Academia’s current events given for when Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army were active; the same is true for Harima Oji’s escapades. However, we are given some broad-strokes information, relative not to current events, but rather to the history of heroism as a legal institution in Japan.

We know that there was a widespread, lengthy period of chaos following the rise of quirks—called meta-abilities in those early years. At some point, however, people began to search for a way for meta-humans to live in peace with non-metas. The compromise that was reached was the foundation of professional heroism in Japan—while the use of meta-abilities would be legal in private settings, it was only by becoming licensed by the state as “heroes” that people could use their quirks in public.[3]

The legislation curtailing the use of meta-abilities—and the appropriation of a dead woman’s language to popularize a law establishing exactly the opposite of what she used that language to call for—is what catalyzed the rise of the original MLA. Thus, we can position Destro as being alive and active around the same time that heroism as a legal institution was being formed. Since we further know that he committed suicide in prison, we can assume that his child was conceived at some point prior to his capture. Ergo, Destro’s child, were they alive today, would be as old as Japanese professional heroism itself.

Next, consider Harima Oji, the Peerless Thief, a criminal who targeted the riches of “sham heroes.” We’re specifically told that he was active in the days in which the current system was settling into place—e.g. he only became active once the Hero System was established enough to have produced corrupt heroes. We’re told he preached reformation—he wasn’t just some pre-existing criminal who saw a shiny new target in heroes; he had specific grievances which he wanted addressed by the system, and which the system was not addressing.

The earliest Harima could possibly be active, then, is concurrent with Destro—Harima fighting against the corrupt people who had found their way into the new heroic institution, and Destro fighting against using the institution of heroism to oppress non-heroes. What I think is more likely, though, is that Harima came after Destro—Harima needed to have had time to realize what kinds of fakes had been drawn to this shiny new career path, maybe even to spend some time trying to change things the legal way.

I don’t suspect they were separated by very long—I would imagine Destro was easily within Harima’s living memory, and might well have influenced why he chose the path of protest that he did—but I do think they were separate.

Moving forward, then, Mr. Compress is four generations distant from his famous ancestor. Thus, even if you assume that Harima is of the same generation as Chikara, that’s what you’re looking at for Chikara’s child: someone who, were they alive today, would be old enough to be the great-grandparent of a thirty-two-year-old man.

Re-Destro’s probably a few years older than Mr. C, sure,[4] but that man doesn’t have Ujiko’s slow-aging quirk. Unless you want to start pulling theories about cryogenic stasis the story for some reason never saw fit to mention out of thin air, Re-Destro is in no way old enough to fit the bill.

This is backed up by one other piece of the timeline as well, and one more place we can look at language:

The small child at the center of the image is Rikiya, so young that he’s in schoolboy shorts for a meeting otherwise so formal that he’s been made to wear a tie. He’s, what, six to nine here, tops? And the adults speaking to him say that they’ve been in hiding for generations—代々, daidai, the kanji for generation followed by a kanji that just means, “See that kanji written right before me? Yeah, just read that one again.”

The original MLA was active for only a handful of years, and, per Chapter 218, they didn’t dissolve until Destro was captured. Thus, we can assume they have been in hiding since then, but not before then. With that in mind, this is another line that renders a father/son relationship impossible.

Remember, Chikara already had a child in the world circa his capture. If Rikiya were Chikara’s son, then Destro’s capture and his army’s subsequent dissolution could not have happened any farther back than nine months plus however old Rikiya was in this exact moment of his youth. Rikiya, who we see here as a child of less than ten.

Ten years in hiding doesn’t make one generation; it damn sure doesn’t make multiple ones.

Now, you could make theories about cryogenic statis that would explain this ludicrous discrepancy, sure. You could also theorize about e.g. artificial insemination,[5] or time stop quirks, or any number of other possibilities in the vast panoply the HeroAca world offers. The point is, though, that you don’t need to. There was, in the manga, no discrepancy that needed to be explained. It is only fanon misinterpretation and a glaring disinterest in the series’ villains from official sources that have presented this issue.

I’m praying that it’s all just a misunderstanding on the part of whoever maintains the website, and that the anime itself will render the relevant bits of dialogue correctly. Given the extreme cuts and alterations that My Villain Academia has been subjected to thus far, though, I’m sure you can appreciate my being concerned.

…So that’s the meat of it. The idea that Rikiya is Chikara’s son is wrong simply on the basis of what’s said in the text, and it’s doubly wrong on the basis of the timeline. There is, though, one other thing I think points towards Re-Destro being exactly the descendant he says he is, not a son playing down the connection out of humility or something. This one is a lot more headcanon-y, though, so I saved it for last.

MLA Social Dynamics

It’s quite simple. We have, in the MLA, a group of people that venerates Destro’s bloodline to an obviously unhealthy degree, putting up portraits of him wherever they can get away with it, tagging his successor with a “Re-” as if to invoke reincarnation or miraculous return, entirely willing to throw their lives away for what they think was his cause, and others’ lives if those others say anything too scathing about the words Destro wrote, quite as if they treat Destro’s memoir as some sort of holy writ.

They venerate Destro that much, and you’re trying to tell me that they wouldn’t just call a spade a spade and acknowledge RD as the son of their great leader? Come on.

Since long before I turned up the matsuei factoid in researching this piece, since long before Mr. Compress gave us such a helpful generational comparison, I’ve held the opinion that, given a group that holds their leaders in such high esteem, with such particular regard for bloodline, the only reason Rikiya does just call himself a descendant, rather than citing the specific term for what he is, is that the specific term is distant enough that it actually does sound more impressive to just say “descendant,” rather than something like, “great-great-great-grandson.” That kind of thing just begs the question, “What took you guys so long?” or, “You and how many other people, buddy?”

Mr. Compress may have the panache to carry off a line like that, but Rikiya’s a different story. If he had something so amazing up his sleeve as, “I am the son of the great Destro,” I have to think he’d just say it proudly, not fall back on the impressionistic vaguery of something like chi o tsugu mono. Even if I had no other evidence to work with, I’d think the same—all the evidence you need is right there in the character writing of who Rikiya and the MLA are and how they talk about the man whose dreams Re-Destro was raised to carry.

A closing note: I will allow that Rikiya is being overdramatic when he uses matsuei and its connotation of countless generations. There are a few other things we can use to trace the history of heroism—Ujiko’s age, and the 18-years-or-less periods that One For All was held by its pre-All Might bearers—and running those numbers leads me to believe that it is, in fact, entirely possible to count the number of generations between Rikiya and Chikara, and the number, while higher than one, is probably not all that high. Certainly matsuei is being more dramatic about it than is entirely warranted, hence the poetic flourish of the official translation’s, “His blood runs through these veins!” The theatricality only makes me fonder of him, however.

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FOOTNOTES

[1] It was changed and reverted on Re-Destro’s page at least twice before it finally stuck in January of this year. Chikara’s page took until July to be corrected, and it’s still wrong on various other subpages.

[2] Or your kids, if you have those. Only the last generation in the bloodline is the matsuei, but that’s a moving goalpost as long as the bloodline is still propagating.

[3] This summary of events combines what we know from both My Hero Academia proper and the Vigilantes spin-off, which I recommend to anyone who’s at all interested in finer-grained worldbuilding on Hero Society Japan than the main series makes time for.

[4] I personally headcanon him as 42.

[5] To which point I would refer back to the word kodomo, and note that that word choice indicates that Destro had a child in the world. Not a sperm sample kept in a freezer somewhere, waiting for the right would-be mother: an actual child. Some quick research on my part says that the farthest that term stretches is in using it to refer to yet-unborn children, fetuses still in the womb. Seeing as Japan doesn’t even allow inmates conjugal visits in real life, much less in a setting where villains are so dehumanized that Tartarus is an acceptable punishment for them, the line about Destro “having a child out in the world” takes us right back to a date of conception no later than Destro’s final night of freedom.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha meta #yotsubashi rikiya #yotsubashi chikara #re-destro #destro bnha #meta liberation army #my writing #i have thoughts on the anime's nonsense too but #hahawow #that's gonna take a little longer to get coherent #preview: it's not about capitalism #it's about fear

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midnightstar-90 · 3 years

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Live Laugh Love~ Georgie Cooper x Reader

A/N: This is actually the 4th part, but I forgot to post it on tumblr. Hope you enjoy.

Summary: Sheldon refuses to eat solid food after a choking scare.

My Masterlist | My Taglist

A Therapist, A Comic Book, and A Breakfast Sausage

Y/N's POV

After my parents died and George's near-death experience you would think that this family would be tired of scaring me, but now, let me tell you why.

Missy, Sheldon, and I were sitting at the table eating our breakfast that Mary made. Georgie was at the counter putting jelly on his toast. Mary starts to rush us, so that we're not late for school.

Sheldon started choking on his breakfast, but Missy took it as Sheldon making faces. I look up, and my eyes widen like a deer in headlights. "Missy, he's not making faces on purpose. He's choking," I say scared. Mary hears me and rushes over to Sheldon.

Georgie continues to jelly his toast, and I run to get George. I quickly hear Georgie say, "I wish she would run that quick when I need her." I roll my eyes and keep going.

George makes it to the table and tries to smack the sausage out of Sheldon's mouth. Missy yells out, "Sheldon's gonna die! Sheldon's gonna die!" I knew she was scared, so I didn't say anything. What I did see was Georgie continuing to eat, while his brother was choking. I looked at my best friend and glared. He just shrugged his shoulders in response.

I turn back around to see George has flipped Sheldon upside down and was trying to shake it out of him. Mary calls 9-1-1 and I remember something I learned in Health class. "George, Heimlich!" I yell out just before Mary.

George goes for the Heimlich, and Sheldon spits out the sausage. I saw Sheldon look at something before he spits out his food. I looked and there goes Georgie licking his jelly knife.

Mary is quick to see if her son is okay. He says, "you have to... throw away... that jelly!" Georgie just looks at him, and I look at Georgie.

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At School

I close my locker, which is right next to Georgie's. "I should have shoved that knife down your throat," I say as we start to walk to class. "Why, what did I do?" I scoff and side-eye the boy. "Your brother was on the verge of death, and you just sit there eating toast" "It's not like I could have done anything," he says casually. I walk off angry.

We make it to class on time. We sat down and our teacher started telling us about the canned food drive. When Sheldon walked in, she stopped her talk with us to see why Sheldon was late. She read the note Mary gave to Sheldon and was immediately heartbroken. "You poor thing, you had a medical emergency?" The teacher asked the 9-year-old.

"How come the teacher has more sympathy for your brother than you do?" I sarcastically ask. Georgie just shrugs again. I turn back in my seat to face the front with a 'humph'.

Sheldon explains to the teacher that he choked on a sausage. The students start laughing at Sheldon. I stand up angry, "You better shut it, before I shove a sausage down your throat!"

Georgie looks at me scared. He should be scared. Just because I'm a girl does not mean I don't know how to defend myself.

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Me and Georgie were at lunch. I look over to see if Sheldon was okay. He was just staring at his sandwich. "Why are you staring at Sheldon?" Georgie asks as I get up. I start heading for Sheldon as I say back, "because I care about him." Georgie just goes back to eating.

I walk over to Sheldon and Tam. "Hey Sheldon, aren't you gonna eat your food?" I say worried. "No, I'm not hungry," Sheldon says looking down. "I offered him my soup," Tam says.

I wonder what's going on. All I know is this Tam kid is freaking me out. Ever since I met the kid, every time I come near him he gives me googly eyes.

"Well, if you want, one of the seniors bought me a smoothie," I offer the worried child. "Is it organic," Sheldon asks. "I think so. He got it from that new smoothie place," I say nodding my head. "Sure." Hearing those words made me happy. I went to grab the smoothie and then gave it to him. I went back over to Georgie with a smile.

Sheldon's POV

"Dang, she shares food and she's hot. You got one hot friend," Tam says watching the girl who's like my sister walk away. I sip the smoothie before saying, "one, she's my brother's best friend, and two, she's like my sister." Tam looks disappointed, but I just finish the smoothie.

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Y/N's POV

Dinner

We were all sat down for dinner when Meemaw starts talking about Mr. Rosenbloom. "You know that Mr. Rosenbloom with the furniture store over by the steakhouse?" Connie asks Mary. Mary tells her mother that she doesn't know. Connie tries to remind Mary by calling the man a 'Hebrew fella with the comb-over'.

Mary corrects her mother, but Meemaw didn't really care. George just drinks his beer, while we ate our food.

Meemaw tells us that Mr. Rosenbloom asked her to dinner. My ears perk up and I say, "awe Meemaw, that's great." Mary asked her if she was gonna say yes, but Meemaw makes an inappropriate comment. "Okay Meemaw, I see you!" I say cheering her on.

Mary corrects both of us. Meemaw defends with, "What? I said 'dessert'." She turns to us and says, "I figured from the cheering that Y/N knew what I meant, but did you kids know that I was talking about sex?"

I knew Georgie knew. But Sheldon gives a confused face then says "no".

Mary notices that Sheldon wasn't eating. "Why aren't you eating?" Mary says. Sheldon tells his mother that he's scared to eat. George thought it was because of the food touching, but Sheldon says he's afraid he'll choke again.

Meemaw didn't know that Sheldon choked on a sausage. Me and Georgie explain our morning to her. "Sheldon almost died this morning," I started. "Dad was shaking him upside down like a ketchup bottle," Georgie followed.

Mary continues to try to get him to eat, but Sheldon doesn't budge. "Dibs on the tater tots," Georgie says earning a smack on the arm from me. "What? you want some." I roll my eyes continuing to eat.

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The next day was the same way. Sheldon didn't want to eat, so Georgie stole his food. I look to Meemaw and say, "I offered him a smoothie yesterday and he drank it just fine." Connie gets an idea and offers up to blend up his food. She leaves to go blend his food, and I give Sheldon a smile and a thumbs up.

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Georgie and I were finishing up getting ready for school. I was brushing my teeth, and Georgie was checking out his hair. "Are you still not talking to me? It's been almost a week. Speaking of which, where have you been. Except for practice, home, and school, I don't see you anywhere," Georgie says turning to me.

I spit the toothpaste out, rinse my mouth, and then turn to the boy. I fix one of his hairs and walk off. Even mad, I still care for the boy.

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What Georgie didn't know about me was that ever since before my parents died I loved superheroes. Their powers and backstories always amazed me. When I learned to read, I asked Mary and George for a comic. Now, every month, Mary and George give me $5 to pick out comics.

I was sat in the back corner of the comic store. I was a usual customer, so the owners would always tell me when there are new installments. I like the Avengers, a lot of them have a backstory similar to mine, like Spider-man or Ironman.

The bell to the door rings, and I see a certain little boy walk in. 'Isn't he supposed to be at therapy? Since when does Sheldon like comics?' I don't interact with him, I just watch.

He wants an X-men comic. Then I notice Tam, which I don't remember him coming in. They have a conversation until Sheldon keeps walking and runs into me.

I give him a very suspicious-looking look. "Aren't you supposed to be in therapy?" I ask with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, but I have to find out what happens in X-men #137." I laugh and show him where it is.

"Listen, I've had my problems. I've been to therapy. I know things can be scary, but we have to learn to face our fears. Your parents must be worried. You can't run from things you don't like," I try my best to help him. "Here let me show you something."

I take Sheldon to my corner in the back, and I show him my comics. "I read these comics because they remind me of me and my fears. They help me, and they could possibly help you too." I say before seeing Tam, "Tam! here I'll show you." I invite Tam to read with us.

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Georgie's POV

Missy, Meemaw, and I all decided to get a blizzard from Dairy Queen. We started talking. "Meemaw, are you ever gonna have any more babies?" Missy asked. Meemaw exclaims, "Good Lord, no!" "She's too old to have any more babies," I say.

Meemaw tells us, "Don't have to have 'em. You live long enough, your hair and your teeth start falling out, you start wetting the bed, you get to be one." I laugh and say, "haha, that's funny. We're gonna have to put a diaper on you." "You won't be laughing when you're doing it," she says, "I might be." We all laugh.

I continue to eat my blizzard when Missy asks Meemaw who's smarter besides Sheldon and Y/N. We argue a bit about it, but Meemaw says it's not about them.

"Yeah right, everything is always about Sheldon. Y/N won't talk to me, because Sheldon forgot to chew," I say, sad because I miss my best friend. "Yeah, sometimes it's like we don't exist."

Meemaw looks at us and says, "I guess Sheldon does get most of the attention. Maybe that's a good thing. If it weren't for him your parents would be on your ass all the time. And Georgie, don't you think that maybe, Y/N was scared because she already lost two of the most important people in her life, and almost another. That girl has been part of our family for years, and no matter who it is, she will still be scared to lose another family member."

"Yeah. I guess I never thought about it that way before," I say thinking about how our lives could be different without Sheldon. I also never gave Y/N's emotions about the incident much thought.

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Y/N's POV

I guess what I said helped Sheldon because he ate that piece of licorice-like a boss.

Tam, Sheldon, and I were walking home. We see police officers at our house. Tam dips, but not before yelling at me, "Call me, beautiful!" I cringe and walk home.

We make it into the house, and Sheldon is immediately yelled at. Mary thanks me for bringing him home, but I tell her that that is what family does. She smiles and I go to talk to Georgie.

"Hey," I call out knocking on his open door. "You're talking to me now?" Georgie asks putting away his magazine. "Well, I'm in a good mood. Sheldon faced his fear of chewing, partly because of me," I say giving myself a pat on the back.

"Well, I'm happy for you. And I know before I didn't really pay attention to your feelings, but I want you to know I'm sorry." Georgie hugs me and I hug him back. "Sheldon and I stopped by DQ for a blizzard, but I couldn't finish mine. You want it?" "Sweet! I get my Best Friend back and another blizzard."

I laugh and start to head out. "Good night," is all I hear before entering my room.

#sheldon cooper #georgie cooper #georgie cooper x reader #george cooper #missy cooper #mary cooper #meemaw #wattpad #young sheldon #big bang theory #x reader #fanfic #connie tucker

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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

#literature #lit rec #recommendation #literature recommendation

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

Blank Space

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 2

"There once was a girl known by everyone and no one"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 4,864

Warnings: medium level angst I guess, and language as always.

A/N: writing this was challenging and I complained about this for like half of my mutuals lol. However, I did find the perfect song to mix with the title track obv and it was perfect to show their past. You will learn more about their past in future chapters.

A/N: thanks to @chrissquares for making me beautiful dividers especially for this series and @nacho-bucky for beta reading it all! A reminder to check out the song before reading/during!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

song on Spotify and YouTube

"You know him? Y/N, why didn't you tell us?" Steve scolded you as you sat in one of the rooms, in front of him, Natasha, Thor, and Tony. This felt more like an interrogation than a talk.

"Is this an interrogation?" you looked him dead in the eyes, you saw him falter.

"It doesn't have to be if you don't lie to us again."

"I never lied to you."

"You held back information." Natasha said then.

"Fine, yes I know him, I knew him." You sighed, remembering the night you met him, before everything went wrong.

You were walking through the park in the night, was it dangerous? Of course, but you needed to clear your head. That was when you saw him, sitting on a bench in the rain. He was different, you knew that the minute you noticed him- it wasn't even the weird attire he wore, but rather the feeling that came along with him, you didn't feel threatened and you have mace in your bag, so you approached him.

"You will get a cold if you keep sitting in the rain, don't you have an umbrella?" he looked at you and you got shivers from his blue eyes.

"No, I will be fine. Thank you my lady for your concern." God was his voice enchanting. Curiousity got the better of you then.

"You saw him on earth and you didn't say anything? He is not allowed to be here." Tony said, his fingers fidgeting with his cuffs.

"I knew him long before the invasion happened, it wasn't near the time when I became an avenger, or on shield's radar at all." You tried to explain yourself to them. You never lied to then, you never thought you'd see him again especially in the tower. "Look it is all in the past, there is no reason to talk about it."

"You were mad when you saw him, why was that?" Natasha glanced at you, you knew she would read you if you lied.

"Well, I knew him for a while. But he is the god of lies, I don't like being lied to. So that says it all." You shrugged it off.

"So you won't tell me where you're from?"

"I told you, I'm from England."

"No you're not, you're a pretty lousy liar you know?" you smirked at his taken aback look.

"I think you'd be surprised."

"Nope, I can already tell- you're a bad liar. Or you might be good, but I'm better." He gave you a curious look as the rain kept falling around you, the umbrella you were both sitting under protected you.

"He never mentioned you, or going to earth at all. When was this?" Thor asked you.

"Around 2009" it was so long ago, you now realized, but it still felt close to you.

"You should take my umbrella." You suggested to the man but he just laughed as you sat beside him. "What? You said that you need to go, and I live closer than you, I'll be just fine without it, the thunder doesn't scare me."

"I am not quite fond of it actually. But you should get home, it is getting late." He smiled at you and you got up.

"Let's make a trade then, you will take my umbrella" the two of you stood now. "And you will give me your name."

He eventually took the umbrella with a smile, his fingers were cold when they lightly brushed yours, and you went your separate ways.

"You have no reason not to trust me, I never saw him again after 2011!" you just wanted them to understand that it is all behind you.

"I never said I don't trust you, but kid why would you hide this from us?" Steve asked you, you were pretty close, he was kind of like a protective older brother to you- ironic since he is pretty reckless and Bucky is saner than him, but he cared about you.

"It isn't important Steve, he is a liar that isn't new to any of us. It's nothing personal or important anymore."

"Kid it seems pretty personal-" Tony started to say.

"Well it's not!"

"Okay fine, but just know that he will be here for a while until we figure out and deal with this hydra shit. Then after that Point Break over here will take him away." Tony was sincere now, you could see the worry in his eyes, you knew he was affected by the invasion the most. "So take my advice, and make sure that it really isn't personal."

You nodded to him.

"You are however more than welcome to throw him in a little nightmare, I'll pay you." He smiled and you chuckled.

"What are you saying Stark? My lady," oh you haven't heard that in a while. Fuck. "Do not give my brother nightmares, however you plan on doing that." He looked you up and down, and it was as if you could read him like an open book, you didn't have to use any of your powers because you already knew exactly what he thought in his head.

"I'll stay away from him. Just make sure he does the same."

You looked innocent, not harmful, the kind of girl you would offer help to with even the smallest stuff- a good girl. That's what they all saw before getting to know you, and maybe that was you before you got these dark powers, you knew you missed the old you but you could barely remember her.

•

"Are you certain that's what they said?" Natasha asked you from the kitchen table as you made her pancakes.

"I know, it sounds weird but it's Asgardian, they have weird names. Plus I doubt they were lying, they were sleep deprived and I can assure you they have been through a lot of stuff before I started to actually talk to them. Ready?" you looked back at her and she nodded.

You threw the pancake back and by the small 'yay' Natasha let out, you didn't have to turn back to know she caught it with her plate.

"Well, I think I'll go and make them write it down because I am certain we are pronouncing it incorrectly."

"Well I tried! Their accent didn't help at all!" you defended yourself.

"You're still pronouncing it wrongly." You froze, turning around to look at Loki and Thor who walked towards the kitchen. "One would think it was made up by how horribly you ruined the word. How would you know they were truthful after all? What could you have possibly done?"

You held his gaze before deciding to not retort back, you ignored that curious familiar look. He has some nerve to talk. You sat in front of Natasha with your own batch of pancakes, the room was quiet before Thor chimed in to break the tension.

"Are those the cakes from the pan? Oh they are tasty! Would you mind making me and my brother some, Lady Y/N?" Thor was actually nice, how could you say no?

"Of course!" you got up with a smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid there isn't enough batter for the two of you I'm afraid."

You let a small frown take over your face, and you saw Natasha's small smile when you turned to make Thor some pancakes.

"You are a bad liar." Loki pointed out and you didn't have to think.

"I fooled you." Soon enough you turned around to give Thor his pancakes with a smile, pouring the rest of the batter in the sink before sitting down to eat. "Oh and Thor, this is the second warning about what we discussed yesterday, I won't hesitate."

"Very well, however you never did tell me what-"

"It's not important." Thor glared at his brother.

"Brother please be more civil, it's for your benefit." You felt Loki's gaze on you as you ate.

"Do tell me brother, how is it for my benefit?" Loki chuckled.

"Well, you have wronged a lot of people here, and so lady Y/N agreed to not harm you if you stay away. We are here to help my friends!" Thor's booming voice alongside his hopeful smile contrasted his brother's.

You should have known he would test it.

"Oh, and how can she harm me now?" the minute Loki uttered these words you glanced at him for a moment, and the next thing he knew, his heart beat loudly as he fell down from the portal in New York, terrified when he saw the Chitauri around him, one monster opened its mouth and Loki was a moment from dying in its clutches when he heard Thor's voice.

"Enough!" Thor said sternly and Loki was back in the kitchen, disoriented as he took in his surroundings. You only nodded at Thor before you kept eating. Loki disappeared a moment later with a green shimmer.

"I don't like using my powers Thor, but if you care for your brother keep him civil." You said, sorry that Thor had to get offended by it too.

"I understand, but he is here to help right now, mere comments are the least harmful things he could do, there is no need to take it to heart." He put a hand on your shoulder and it was warm enough to get you to agree with him. Stopping hydra should be your top priority.

•

"I hate it when he does that." Tony groaned at the marking on the ground just outside of the compound.

Thor and Loki were now back at the palace gates, they heard a call, and Loki turned to see Iyllir walking up to him. She smiled at him and he smiled back, grateful for the lack of observant eyes to tell his fake smiles apart from the real ones.

"Prince Loki, what took you so long? You missed our picnic." The lady put her arm through his and he heard his brother snicker.

"How unfortunate. My brother and I still have very urgent business to tend to. I must go to a court meeting now." Loki gently tugged his hand out of hers.

"I thought you said this won't take long?" she frowned at him. She certainly was beautiful, with red hair and grey eyes, always majestic like a lady, and yet he couldn't follow both of their families' wishes.

"Well I am afraid things have changed, I won't stay here for long this visit." With that he went and followed his brother towards the big doors that opened for them and he saw Odin there alongside trusted advisers and of course- the warriors three. And then the meeting began.

Loki sat in his chair, bored as they talked about the mortals.

"Father, I can assure you that as of now there is no need in sending Asgardian forces there. My friends are handling it well now." Thor explained to his father and Loki couldn't help but get distracted.

"Let me help you, Y/N" he asked you, chuckling and biting his lip when you glared at him.

"I can handle it Loki!" you said as you tried to handle the pile of books in your hands so you could get the key for your apartment. He was thankful that you couldn't see his face now as he watched you struggle to balance the books on your thigh.

You let out a small shriek as the books fell out and were about to hit the floor when they just stopped midair, and you looked at Loki only to see him leaning on the wall, arms crossed with a smug smile on his face.

"I bet you liked my help now." You groaned.

"Yes thank you and your stupid magic Loki." You leaned down to pick up the books and stack them again after opening your door.

"If I remember correctly you were, oh what's the word- petrified when you first saw my magic"

"That is a big exaggeration! I was just a bit… startled maybe." You walked into the apartment and he closed the door behind you when you suddenly stopped, turning to him with an annoyed shocked expression, your mouth agape and your eyes wide and not amused. "You knocked my books down!"

You were met with a mischievous grin.

"You hurt my feelings darling, do you have any proof?" you huffed out a breath.

"You are insufferable!"

"You seem to manage so far."

"From what I gathered so far, the group called Hydra there seemed to have a hold of some old weapons of ours, nothing too big yet but we are looking into it to find out if there is more stuff we don't know about."

"And do you really think the mortals can handle this?" Odin asked the brothers.

"Yes father, they are very powerful." Loki couldn't help but agree with Thor, they really did manage to surprise him this time. He never expected her.

•

"What is this A children's playground? Stop pulling your punches and fight me." You grunted as you tried hitting Bucky again, you've been too distracted lately, your training didn't go too well and you ended up on the mat more often than not. At this point you considered just using your powers to make it seem like you're winning but now you were fighting Bucky, and from the day you met him you swore to yourself that you will never use your powers on him. He doesn't need anyone messing with his mind again.

So long story short you were getting your ass handed to you.

"I'm not a supersoldier may I remind you, so I'm sorry if I am a little tired! Bucky come on let's take a break." You ducked another punch.

"Maybe your mind just isn't with us right now." Natasha helpfully provided as she sat on the side with a smoothie.

"Fuck off."

"No, really, what is your deal with Loki?" at his mention you delivered a kick to Bucky that made him fall on the mattress with a thud.

"Nothing. Is this good enough for you now Bucky?" you reached out a hand to help him up.

"Now that we got you riled up about him, yes- let's go again." He laughed at the glare you gave him. Your jaw clenched as the two of you got into position.

"Bring it on, Barnes." He went in with his left arm now.

"I will, how did you know him? It certainly looks pretty personal and in-" you turned him around and pinned him to the ground.

"Shut up, just fight me." You heard Natasha laugh beside you and in that moment Bucky took advantage and got you on the ground instead. And you went back.

"What the fuck!" you screamed when you saw the figure in your room, Loki stood there, his face scrunched up.

"Sorry, my love."

"We talked about this Loki, you can't just teleport here- especially when I am sleeping!" you sighed when you saw his regretful face. "Don't stand there like a creep, come here I missed you."

He smiled and you closed your eyes, you still saw the green light that lit up the room when he changed his clothes and got under the covers with you. His hand was cold, making your skin prickle but it was worth it when he pulled you to him and the warmth spread between the two of you.

You fell asleep content with a smile on your face at the kisses he laid on your neck.

"Y/N?"

"What?" you looked up at Bucky who sat back on his heels, his brow was raised.

"You kind of spaced out, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine. I probably should go though." you got up. "Bruce probably needs help in the lab."

•

"You did not tell father about lady Y/N." Thor stated the obvious.

"Don't call her that. Why would I do that? She is of no import." Loki walked towards his chambers, but alas Thor decided to escort him there with preying questions.

"How did none of us know that you spent time in Midgard?" Thor stopped Loki with a hand on his shoulder.

"That was a long time ago brother."

"And yet it seems that you have quite a history, what happened between the two of you? Were the two of you…?" Thor trailed off and Loki groaned.

"Don't insinuate that, there wasn’t anything. We knew each other for a while and then we didn't. Now, if you will excuse me, I'll go to my room. Alone."

Loki shut the door behind him, in his mind he still saw you and your eyes and then the flashes of the battle of New York. The day was tiring; he decided to get some much needed rest, to get you out of his mind.

The day was exhausting; he had to stay back in Asgard. He couldn't put up illusions all the time, it was taking a toll on him, but it was worth it in his eyes.

The palace was now quiet as everybody went to sleep. Loki wanted to rest too, so he snuck out towards the bifrost. Heimdall had already seen him coming, and was ready to open the way.

"Are you going to keep going to her every night, my prince?" Heimdall asked him and Loki let out a smile.

"Yes. Thank you, truly for keeping this a secret for so long." Heimdall only nodded at him.

"If you are going to keep sneaking out to see her, someone will end up seeing you sometime." Heimdall stepped down and came to Loki. "I think I should show you another way to pass through the realms, I think you are mad enough in love for it to work for you."

When Heimdall showed him the way, he thanked him sincerely, it looked impossible at first but soon enough he was there in your room. You already fell asleep. He watched your figure as you rested, your state of calmness washed over him, and then you suddenly screamed at him, maybe he should have tried to wake you sooner, it didn't exactly matter to him much when just a few moments later he was curled up in the warmest bed he'd ever known.

•

"So you see, this part here it seems to be controlled by the holder of the gun, that must be the Asgardian tech combined with our own." Bruce told you as you gently examined the weapon.

"Damn, how long do you think they had that then? Like, just the time that it took them to develop it…" you thought. There were probably much worse things out there at their hands.

"I'd say at least a couple of months. It's a shame about those scientists." He hesitated to say that and you knew why.

"I didn't know they had that, no one checked their teeth. I was doing my job. It's okay, you can talk about it." You shrugged it off. With a power like yours, you have to get used to using it, you must fit yourself to it… because it certainly won't happen the other way around. But you were fine. You were different now.

Right?

"Well, next time we will check their teeth, to make sure this won't repeat itself. But at least we got some information before that's good right?" you nodded to Bruce and took out the bullets from one of the guns. There was something red, or was it orange, inside it. You examined it closer, moving towards the microscope to try to see for yourself before you ask Bruce about it.

Curiousity killed the cat.

Before you could reach the table, there was a warm sensation in your hand where you held it and then all you knew was that your hand hurt and you hit the floor, the bullet exploding with whatever was in it. Maybe you should've worn gloves.

Oh well, satisfaction resurrected it.

"Bruce, did you see that?"

"Yes Y/N, are you okay?"

"My head hurts but I'm fine, did you know those bullets do that?" you got up a little too fast for Bruce and your head's liking, but you went to the table nevertheless.

"No, they were fine before, you shouldn't have touched them," he fussed around.

"But I saw something-"

"You need to ice your head, tell me or Cho if you feel anything weird. This isn't something we know about Y/N." he handed you an ice pack for your head and told you to sit down, to which you grumbled but obeyed.

"Ah, Y/N, F.R.I.D.A.Y has been telling me that you've been trying to blow up the lab." Tony laughed at you as he entered.

"No, I would never try to steal your job." You shot back and he winked.

"Okay Elsa, I thought you'd like to know that we managed to make sense of some of the files we found in the warehouse and it looks like they have been making trades and dividing what they found."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked him.

"That place we found was only dedicated to create a couple of things, but they have more out there, dedicated to building who knows what." Tony groaned, "We will need to divide and conquer this, we can't waste time and there is no way I am letting those Asgardian warriors come here. Don't blow things up kiddo!" you nodded to him, things were getting worse by the minute. You pressed your hand holding the ice pack harder against the back of your head. You were not looking forward to tomorrow, so you kept Bruce company until you were too tired to push it any longer. You went to bed and magically managed to convince Bruce to go to sleep.

•

You woke up groaning, you apparently forgot to close the blinds the night before. Going back to sleep will only cause you to oversleep, which will cause Steve to activate the stupid alarm protocol Tony built for him after you annoyed him.

You did not want to wake up to old Captain America songs blasting your ears off.

So you got up and after a short breakfast you reluctantly got on with your duties and important paperwork.

"Miss Y/L/N, you called me? I'm Mike, you asked for an analysis check on some data?" you turned to him then from looking at the board in the small conference room.

"Yes! Hi Mike, thank you. We have some encryptions that probably lead to very specific locations, check radars of isolated places or you know what- scratch that, they could be under our nose in the middle of a city." You looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, I can't narrow it down but we do need those answers as soon as possible. Okay?"

The poor guy looked horrified, his brown eyes were wide and you let out a small sorry when you handed him the big file.

"Yeah, of course Y/N, I will get right to it." With that you were alone in the room once again, going over the information you managed to get from the now dead scientists. This is going to be a long day. You saw it coming and that didn't help at all.

•

"Oh fuck." You cursed when the cold water from the sink touched your palm, it wasn't badly burned but it still hurt you.

You closed the door to your bathroom and turned around to see him standing in your room. Your eyes locked with blue ones, they certainly were familiar even after all this time, but while you could see the hesitation and the other swirling emotions in his eyes you couldn't tell anymore if you could trust what you thought you knew.

"When?" you felt your blood boil, but you knew you couldn't avoid him forever.

"Sometime after-" you hesitated with your words, walking towards your cabinet to put away the first aid kit you had. "After." You settled with that.

"What are you doing here Y/N?" Loki heard his own heartbeats, seeing you here… After all this time and he never forgot you. How could he?

"I'm an avenger now Loki," his name felt bitter on your tongue and you had to swallow to continue. "A lot has changed you know, you don't need to ask all these questions. There is no point to them."

"Oh but there is," at his angry tone you turned around. It was years of bottling the fight that you never had, he never let you have it. "You never wanted this life Y/N! What are you doing fighting out there with heroes or whatever they like to call themselves?"

"They are heroes, they help people. You however seemed to do the opposite from what I remember seeing on the TV." You laughed and shook your head. "I was still there you know, I was right in that same apartment where you left me. And there I saw you on the TV and I didn't even recognize it was you."

"Did you get hurt?" the question startled you.

"No, but it doesn't matter Loki! I am fighting alongside heroes now, I changed since the last time I saw you, this is my place now!"

"Oh darling you can pretend all you want in front of them, but I still know you." He matched your stare now. "This is not your life."

"Well yes it is!" you shook your head when he got closer now, every emotion you never got to express came back to the surface. "Why are you here? Huh? You're the one who left in the first place!"

"I've come here to help-" you stomped up to him.

"You know damn well that is not what I asked." You hated how your voice wavered.

"I did come here to help with the weapons," he continued before you could try to intervene. "And I didn't expect to see you again. But you're here now, and so am I."

"Damnit Loki, we have been through so much together, we weren't dating for only a month or two. A year. We were dating for more than a year and that is a lot." The tears were brimming now when you remembered your theory, that one little theory that ate your heart out, this one theory you found only a few days after. "Or at least here it is. Maybe in Asgard with all the almost-immortal gods a year is insignificant to you- that sure explains it all."

"No, it's not!" he dismissed it immediately and you felt your defenses shattering when he walked towards you. "I know there's pain inside of you, which was caused by me. But I am here now and I can't deny that I can still feel what I felt all those years ago. Just hear me out, we can call it even, just for a little while."

The last time you played this game it left you with a nasty scar. The more that he said, the less you knew what to think anymore.

So you didn't.

You hated the calmness that took over you the moment his lips touched yours, tongue sliding over the other, it left you breathless. You knew it was still love for you, but it was torture, you knew the high will not be worth the pain but he felt too good, too familiar that it made you question that. You didn't know how long has passed, all you knew was Loki, you still fit perfectly with his body which was pressed against you. Time flew by and you didn't know how you got here.

One moment his lips were on yours, the next you were pressed into the mattress, his figure pressing on yours. Maybe this could be good for the weekend… the next moment your legs somehow were wrapped around him and pulled him more into you. His lips trailed down to your throat, making breathy moans come out of your mouth. Your eyes opened and were focused on one spot on the ceiling, when you managed to break out of this delusional pleasure time flew by.

"No Loki, stop." You pushed him off of you. You sat up, curling your legs.

"What? Darling-" he tried reaching out for your thigh but you shook your head.

"You should go, Loki." You didn't look at him. Your hand covered your mouth as you sank into thought.

"Go? Why would I go? I know you feel exactly like I do." You couldn't deny it. You both knew that.

"You left me before Loki, what is the problem with leaving me now?" While you couldn't see him now, you had to get him out of here, so you could think clearly. This was too reckless. "It doesn't matter, this was just a relapse."

He left you there, and once the door shut you broke down, hating yourself for drowning into him again. You knew you were the one breaking your own heart when he took his warmth from the now cold bed. But it is better that you'll break it before he ever gets the chance to do it again.

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

#blank space #my writing #1989 #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson x reader #angst #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki angst #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Warnings: 18+only for explicit sexual content: depictions of sub/dom lifestyle and m/m sexual relationship. If it’s not your thing please keep scrolling. Thank you!

Authors notes: Have I mentioned how confused I was when I first discovered WinterBaron, not because of some boring silly ideas that these men aren't in love, because of course they are. But because everyone apparently thought felt Bucky would be the dominant one? I mean of course to each their own, if that's what gets you there, no shame! But have you ever looked into Helmut Zemo's eyes? Half way through episode three of FATWS (strut to the helicopter anyone?) and I was all "yes daddy" That man is not to be taken lightly. Bucky however is soft and sweet and wants to be held; after you teach him a lesson of course... All that aside I promise I'm working on the conclusion to this story with --shocker-- yet another chapter already brewing. I swear I thought this was over but it looks like I've gotten a taste of their love and I'm not letting go any time soon. I've grown very attached to this trio and I won't be saying goodbye quite yet, segue into saying hi to my new followers! Love you and thanks for taking the time to read! I really do appreciate it. Now, like I said, don't read this trash in public, it ain't proper *wink*

Sorry that I had to edit so much for tumblr reasons lol

At first you hadn’t been sure it was going to be this way again. Zemo seemed so gentle and different which you didn’t mind, but the second he looked at you from the water, you knew and you were so glad for it. You would be his no matter what, but you did so love it when he made you beg.

After drying off and tossing on his cream button down, not bothering with said buttons thank the stars, Zemo started to lead the way through the lounge towards the dinner table but stopped and turned to look at you both with a little smile hinting at his dark intentions.

“What is it?” Bucky asked. He’d taken his wet things off and was in nothing but a towel waiting on Oeznik to bring up dry clothes. Both you and Zemo kept looking him over.

“I was gone for a year James. I’m well aware of how it was between you two.” Zemo says with a dismissive snicker.

Bucky steps back squaring his shoulders ready to defend himself. No one is hiding anything, but of course there is always the worry that feelings have changed now that Zemo is out.

The Baron holds up a hand laughing a little as he shakes his head. “No, I’m not mad, I’m happy you had one another, it is— exactly what I wanted.” Zemo assures you both and Bucky exhales. Zemo looks at you. “I would assume it was different from what we had?”

“Yes, sometimes similar but never the exact same” You answer honestly.

He nods glancing at Bucky sizing him up.

He knows this man could never stand dominating you the way he does, he’s not the sort. Bucky is a physical force of nature, but that’s just it. He's the sort who takes commands not gives them. Still it seems Zemo wants to be sure so he looks at you again. “If this is more to your liking, or if your wants have changed, please. You know I will never force you to do anything. People’s taste change and maybe yours have as well. This life can lose its appeal over time.”

You stop him by stepping forward and take his hand while looking into his eyes and smile sweetly. Slowly, so that he may see just how much you want this, you go down onto your knees, lift his hand, part your lips and suck his thumb into your mouth. The familiar way his fingers cradle your chin make you moan a little as you think about having another part of him. You look up knowing how you must look from this position and Zemo’s jaw muscles flex as he comes closer gazing down on you. His fingers press into your face and when you swirl your tongue around his thumb he shuts his eyes for just a few seconds with a deep sigh at the feel of being reunited with you in this way.

The weight of his other hand on your head tells you to stop and he pulls his thumb free, the wet finger stroking your cheek as he stares down at you, so pleased and relieved to know that you’re still committed to be being his so completely.

“You will need new rules” He says faintly. His voice is tight and you know he wants you here and now, though you can’t see his face anymore because your head is bowed to the man you belong to. The man you obey.

“Yes Baron.” You say, your wide smile hidden from both of them.

“James?” He says stepping away from you, his fingers lingering just a second longer. “I know you enjoyed our times together with her, but…”

“I have to say yes or else it can’t happen.” Bucky finishes for him.

“Exactly.”

“Do I have to get on my knees right now?”

Zemo laughs. “No, not right now. But you will have to learn to listen if this is what you want.”

You want to look so badly. Bucky is going to struggle with it at first. “Yeah well, it’s not like you have’t told me what to do before.” His snark is playful but you know Zemo won’t like it.

“James.”

“I’m kidding.”

“And I’m serious.”

“I know,” He says letting the jokes fade. “And I actually appreciate it. I’m just. Well, it’s new. Maybe I’m a little nervous.” He admits quietly and its so cute you smile wanting to hug him, but Zemo has it covered.

You hear his smile as he speaks and imagine the way he must be standing close, brown eyes gazing into blue. “That's perfectly natural. But you don’t need to fear me, just obey me and everything will be fine.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll find out.”

“What if it’s too much.”

“You already know, I will never go beyond what you can handle. That’s why I need to know now James. Yes— or no.”

Their voices are so low, they are just above a whisper. When you glance up you feel your heart flutter at the sight of Bucky in his arms just as you’d imagined, Zemo waiting patiently, Bucky already looking so soft under his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes” He says with confidence. You look back down and hear the muffled sound of their colliding kiss.

Now what is it they always say? Rules are meant to be broken? You certainly had fun testing the limits at the start of your relationship with Zemo. Well, the Baron must really love a challenge because it seems you and Bucky are cut from the same cloth. Two little shit starters who like to push the limits.

No sooner had Zemo laid out the rules and quite clearly over a lovely plate of hors d’oeuvres and a newly opened bottle of vintage red at the dinner table did Bucky get himself in trouble.

Maybe it's because you only have two rules aboard the ship, but you thought they were fairly simple to follow to be honest.

Never say no to the Baron —safe word, colors and song being the only exception and, don’t fuck James without Helmut’s permission. Simple, somewhat annoying, but that was part of the fun.

And for Bucky;

Rule one; Never question what I do to her.

Rule two; Never say no to me— safe words, colors and song being the only exception

Rule three; Do not fuck her unless I say that you may.

Rule four: Do not come without my permission

He’d said them while pacing calmly behind Bucky who was sitting at the table acting a little too nonchalant about it all.

Zemo could sense his nervous bravado and leaned over Bucky sliding his hand into that thick head of hair, slowly pulling the soldier’s head back. “Shall we see how good you are at following the rules?” He’d hissed in his ear.

You’d watched feeling your own body tense. Please dear god Bucky break at least one you thought hiding your grin.

Of course he broken a rule. How could he not, it was all too tempting. The sad thing is you’re not sure if he really meant to.

It was over dinner— desert actually.

Chocolate mousse, your favorite which the Baron knew. He loves to toy with you, and always has, making you do little things before you’re allowed to indulge. Not out of any need to deny you food, it wasn’t the food, it was the control and your lack of it. He’ll probably do the same with the tv or books whatever it is you want you’ll have to earn it playing his little games.

Tonight to ease back into the life you’d both been forced to set aside, he’d made you sit on your hands like a shamed school girl until he and Bucky had finished their desert first.

Bucky however thought this was a little unnecessarily sexist and cruel and said as much which broke rule number one. Never question what I do to her.

“Oh come on, don’t be an ass” He’d grumbled spooning another bite into his mouth while you sat peeking up though your head stayed down. He will pay for that, you thought feeling the warm breeze stir as the yacht pressed on towards the setting sun.

Helmut said nothing. In fact, he sat in silence just waiting, letting Bucky finish. When he was all done, Zemo smiled. “Good?” He asks.

Finally you think. Let it start.

“The mousse?”

He nods.

“Yeah, great actually.”

“Good. Why don’t you go and feed it to her.” He says “Since you're so concerned.”

Bucky glances at you sitting there waiting patiently, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “All right?”

He gets up, rounds the table and grabs a chair.

“No. On your knees.” Comes the voice of authority.

Bucky pauses, but he does in fact let go of the chair, turns yours around with you in it and gets down in front of you. You glance up at him and he gives you a quick smile.

Opening your mouth you let him spoon the first bite in and it tastes even better than you’d expected.

“Open your legs.” Helmut tells you. Of course you do. “Pull the suit away and look at her.” He says to Bucky.

You see Bucky hesitate, but he does and the air brushes your exposed skin. You take a deep breath in knowing they both see the way you pulse under their lustful gaze. “Do you see how wet this makes her?” Helmut asks, his voice is low.

Bucky’s pupils dilate, his fingers grip your thigh. “Yes.”

“Look at her and remember that this is what she likes, what she wants, what she has been waiting to have. Stop trying to save a woman who doesn’t want to be saved James.”

You watch his eyes and see him wrestling with the truth of that lovely slick and sticky sweetness that you know he wants to touch. This had been exclusively his for a year. He knows exactly what it feels like to dip his fingers in; what it tastes like, what it smells like and how it feels when he bottoms out inside of you and you say his name, not his silly nickname. His real name. Now he knows that he will have to wait until another man tells him when he can have that again-- and that you like it.

When he exhales slowly, daring to run his thumb across your now throbbing clit, you know that he likes it too.

“Finish.”

Bucky glances up at you one last time and sees how you’re trying not to make a sound. He lets go and the bathing suit covers you again. You relax and slowly open your mouth, hoping he does truly understand. You still love him. You’re still his as much as you are Zemo’s but you were Zemo’s first. You will always be Zemo's and you will always play by his rules.

Bucky tips the cool spoon into your mouth and you pull the chocolate from the silver.

“Did you like it?” Helmut asks.

You open your eyes and nod.

“Answer me.”

“Yes Barron.” You say around the bite.

He comes up behind Bucky and smooths his hand over the mans head, and down along the back of his neck gripping. He holds him as leans down to speak in his ear. “I know it’s your first time, so I will make allowances tonight, and tonight only. But I can not have you pushing back, thinking you can break rules when we’ve not even started, yes?”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat wondering what he’ll say. He’s still looking at you and for a second you think it might be too much for him.

“Yes.” He says quietly.

“Yes, what?” Helmut asks moving around to his side.

Bucky looks up, and you see it, the moment he looks into Helmut’s soft brown eyes which are no more than a lure to draw his willing victims in and says, “Yes Baron.”

“Good.” He knows now and so do you. Bucky is truly his. Helmut savors this as much as you did that spoon fed chocolate. You can see the hairs on his arms rise with a chill and his eyelids lower as he stares at this man you’re sure he’s spent as much time thinking of as he has you, possibly more. “Go downstairs to our bedroom.” He tells Bucky who seems surprisingly meek when Helmut hold his face this way; clutched tight in his grasp like an angry headmaster “Strip down to your underwear, place your hands behind your back, and wait in the center of the room.”

Zemo’s eyes scan the striking face of the soldier he once controlled against his will, so happy to know that this time he’s given himself to the Baron of his own volition.

You don’t look at him when you are led into the room, you keep your head down and let Zemo guide you straight to the bed where he sits you down and turns his attention to the man waiting.

Only then do you dare to peek over at Bucky still standing like a silent guard. He’s got his hands behind his back and has undressed, just as he was told to do. You can see that his cock is as hard as stone beneath his black boxer briefs; and with him unable to do anything about it.

All you can do is smile. After Zemo is done with him you’re sure he’ll learn his lesson, or exactly how to break the rules again and again.

Looking from one pet to the other, Zemo gives a little sigh. It’s the sound of man spoiled by too many toys. “Come here.” He says.

Obediently, Bucky walks over, the look on his face somewhat serious but it’s clear his defenses are all but forgotten.

“Have you decided how this will play out yet?” Zemo asks once he’s standing in front of you both. Bucky looks Zemo over and for a split second you remember that he could easily overpower the Baron and you worry, but when he lowers his head and drops his shoulders, nodding just a little you smile remembering that he did not come here for that. You saw the way his heart broke when they took Zemo off to prison. You saw the way he smiled when he didn’t know you where looking as he held his phone and stared down at that text, it was the same way he looked at Zemo when he first showed his face this morning and you saw that beautiful kiss between them. He’s all in. He wants to belong to the Baron just as you do.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly and Zemo smiles.

“Thank you for the apology. But you broke a rule James. That can not go unpunished.”

Bucky glances up looking slightly worried.

“There is a way to go about this so that you will learn.” Zemo says smiling down at the high peak of Bucky’s underwear. “Your impatient cock will have to wait. Blame your eager mouth,” He shrugs causally “You see, if you insist on opening it, you will learn to do so for a good reason instead of breaking my rules,” He says and quickly grabs Bucky's throat surpassing him as he leans in just an inch. “Tonight James, you will learn your lesson on your knees, beneath me where you belong. Kneel.”

“What is your safe word?” Zemo asks looking down into Bucky’s wide blue eyes.

“Streusel.”

Zemo nods and takes Bucky’s face in hand holding his chin, their eyes fixed on one another. “And what are the colors?”

“Green is go, yellow is slow down and red is stop.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

“I— hum Penny’s from heaven.” He says it feeling silly but knows he might need it tonight.

Stroking his face with the side of his index finger while loosening his shorts with the other, the Baron sighs. “You know that I care for you very much?” He asks slipping his hand beneath the waistband.

“I do.” Bucky says and the way he looks at the Baron shows that he feels the same.

“You know that I care for you both. That is why this works. That is the only way that any of this works. Without it and without the trust this ends.”

“I understand.” Bucky answers softly and turns his face just a little to let his lips brush Zemo’s palm with a kiss.

Helmut’s eyes flit shut with the delicate display of intimacy. His fingers massage Bucky’s temple inching up into his hair and for a moment he just lets the affection between them be enough.

“Good.” He finally answers, his voice low and bends to kiss Bucky’s forehead. When he stands again, the warmth has drained from his touch and his eyes. “Now, open your mouth."

Bucky’s shoulder is hot beneath your ear as you lean against him. You can’t reach wide enough to hold him in your arms but you try. The sound of him choking makes you shut you eyes focusing on the shared experience of knowing what it’s like to try and swallow the relentless thrusting of that damned cock and you moan softly in harmony with him. You lift your gaze, thrilled by the sight of his shining black hand veined in gold, braced against Zemo’s flexed thigh.

The pumping into his mouth slows letting him breathe some and you watch wanting to see the way his cheeks hollow when he slides his mouth back and forth.

His closed eyes open, looking up, wanting approval. Helmut gives it by closing his own hands to fists in Bucky’s hair. He shoves in slowly, going as deep as Bucky will take him in, fucking his throat until you hear the faint sound of gagging and a strangled attempt to hum his song. The notes are ragged and you worry Zemo won’t hear. You lay your hand on the Baron’s stomach tapping.

Ever the trustful dominant, Zemo stops and pulls his shining, solid member free, breathing hard, a little sad that he has to, but never one to cross that line.

Bucky drops his head gasping for air, his hands on his thighs as he shakes his head like he thought he knew what he was in for and is realizing how mistaken he was. You look up rubbing the small of his back.

Zemo is assessing as he always does with you. Checking to make sure he hasn’t gone too far because he longs to go farther. But he knows this is the first time his soldier has ever been used so relentlessly. And then you see a smile twitch at the corner of Zemo’s lips and the look of concern melts away.

Bucky has recovered and seems more than willing to take the rest of his “punishment.” He drags the back of his hand across his mouth tilts his head and opens up letting his tongue hang out to make way for the large occupant; the sight is so pretty you think if you had a cock you’d probably shove it in there too which makes you giggle quietly.

Zemo sighs and grabs him, guiding himself into the waiting mouth of the man so eager and ready to satisfy that you think it will not be long now. You know the Baron well and while he’s a master of restraint, this is too much for anyone.

You go up onto your knees kissing Bucky’s face as he sucks, stroking his hair, moaning softly into his ear, biting, licking, teasing him to give him some pleasure too. But you don’t dare touch his stone hard erection though for fear he’ll come and you will be in a world of trouble for breaking Zemo’s rules; so instead you rub your hand up the solid muscle of his thigh smiling when he makes the sweet sounds of someone overwhelmed and loving every second of it.

Zemo’s pace quickens and you back away a little watching, awed and damn near dripping wet. You wince for Bucky and wonder how you’ve ever managed to do this. It looks so intense when you’re on the outside looking in. Still, your hand slips down between your legs. Watching Helmut have his way with a man as strong as this one has you unable to resist, and you aren't the one unable to come when you want.

Zemo notices how you've got your hand under your suit and his moan is loud enough to get your attention. He suddenly grabs Bucky’s head holding him steady, making him give a muffled shout and you go back up onto your knees forgetting about your own pleasure, laying your hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound under your palm, your lips grazing the warmth of his skin as he tries to pull way from the Baron just once in some reflexive attempt to escape this inevitable moment, but it’s too late and he digs the fingers of his natural hand into Helmut’s thigh with a sound, something like a shout of surprise but he can not move.

The absent stroking of Bucky’s hair is some half hearted attempt to quiet him but it actually helps and he relaxes, moaning long and low as Zemo draws in a ragged breath between his teeth and holds it in as every muscle in his body flexes.

Bucky starts to swallow and you watch the way he accepts every warm shot so willingly now, all fight in him gone, even the way he holds onto the Baron has changed. He seems to be urging him to —go on —give me more.

You feel the fluttering in your stomach in this quiet moment even though your heart is pounding and your hand quickly slips back down. You won’t be able to finish but it still feels incredible.

They both tense with the last of it, Bucky grabbing Zemo’s ass holding him close now that it’s over and the Baron relaxes with a light laugh as he slowly pulls himself free.“Well done James,” He exhales closing his eyes. “That was— perfect.” He smiles opening them and steps back catching his breath “On your feet” He finally says.

Bucky pushes up to standing.

“You too,” He tells you.

Bucky holds out his hand which you take and he pulls you up easily. You stand in silence together.

“Continue like this, and perhaps I’ll let you come tomorrow.” Zemo says to Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, smiles at you both, knowing that he’s left his new sub confused and sexually frustrated, turns and finds his drink on the table and his robe hanging on the master bath door before going off to take a shower.

“Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” He asks, his breath warm in your ear.

You shake your head no even though it’s hard with his hand so tight around your neck.

“No, never, I will always satisfy you.” He says and kisses you deeply.

“Are you going to come?” Helmut asks looking down to see his hand at work rubbing your pussy. Your knees part and your hips raise in response to the light smacks he gives your hot divide.

Bucky sighs, lost in his own agony of only being allowed to watch.

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess gasping and crying out the second Helmut thumbs your clit again. He smacks and your legs close reflexively “Open” He says and you do. He gives two more and your thighs are shaking as the pressure mounts.

“That’s it, come, come for me, and for him. Come for him because he can’t” Helmut says smiling cruelly at Bucky.

You’re too close to feel sympathy, you feel only your Baron’s skilled hand and the way he circles your hard clit with his middle finger with the perfect amount of pressure until the dam gives way and you come with a scream and deep pulsing burst wetting his fingers and the sheet, your entire body flexing in rhythm with the orgasm until you shiver and sink down still gasping.

Helmut kisses you lightly smiling. “I have missed doing that to you.”

You give a breathy smile with your eyes closed feeling your breast shake as you do with the residual quakes of pleasure. You can not remember the last time you've come that hard.

“A reminder of what satisfaction tastes like” Helmut says and you open your eyes to find him reaching towards Bucky.

You don’t think he’ll do it, but he is learning submission from you. He opens his mouth and sucks Zemo’s middle finger, his moan soft but slightly pained.

“Soon James.” Helmut says, his expression alternating between arousal and empathy. “Soon.”

Late in the night well after the three of you have cleaned up and gone to bed, you wake up between them feeling so thirsty you have to go up for a bottle of water from the small fridge and come back to find the bed you share empty.

Confused at first, you hear their voices out on the balcony and quietly make your way over.

“I won’t ever hurt you more than you want me to.” You hear Zemo say with the sleepy smile in his voice.

“I know.” Bucky says sounding relaxed. It’s the same way he sounds with you, and you are relieved that there seem to be no true hard feelings after his first taste of submission tonight.

“I am happy you decided to come, you know that, right? There were times I didn’t think you would.” Zemo says.

“There were times that I didn’t know what I would do if you got out. I think it came down to those last few seconds.”

“Are you sure about that?” Zemo asks, clearly not believing him.

There is a long pause and you smile at the door. He knew he was going to come the second he turned you over, You think standing in the shadows.

Helmut is laying back on the low, wide sofa, one arm resting on the back, the other across Bucky’s chest, one leg bent at the knee, the other over the edge. You like the way he sort of absently strokes the vibranium shoulder. You do the same thing, You both know Bucky can’t feel it but you both like the way the cool metal calms you, and Bucky… he’s so relaxed. His back to Zemo’s chest, that powerful limb wrapped around the Barons leg, the other resting across his own stomach. They look so peaceful that you hate they’ve spotted you before you can sneak back into bed.

Bucky calls for you to join them which you do now that they both insist so you come out. You hop onto the sofa with all the enthusiasm of a joining a sleepover.

Bucky’s chest offers a solid, familiar warmth and you sigh happily as he strokes your hair while you watch the stars slowly floating by.

They shift the conversation now and start talking about the mechanics of ships of all things and you think how lovely it is that they have one another to be boring with, and how lucky you are to have two men with such beautifully relaxing voices.

Sleep takes you easily, and when you wake again you’re being carried into the room by one metal arm and one flesh and laid down in the bed— the comfort of their bodies surrounding you with safety and love.

To be continued...

#winterbaron #winterbaron x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #bucky barnes x you #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfic #helmut zemo #james buchanan barnes #buckybarnes/zemo #zemo/bucky/reader #this is only the beginning

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the-faces-and-voices-in-my-head · 3 years

Text

A word to fandom citizens

OK...This is needed and necessary

First of all, let me remind whoever reads this that I am a content creator myself on a way bigger, scarier, popular platform than tumblr which is YouTube so whatever I will say here is my personal experience and beliefs, don't take it personally.

Content creators and content fans.

A very complicated relationship where every content creator wants the satisfaction and appreciation of the fans who follow or like what they create and if any content creator says anything different then, Sorry, you are not being honest with yourself not to mention the fans of your work. Appreciation and praise make creators happy that's a fact that cannot be hidden or denied and proved by every creator's reaction and reply to the praise they get.

This praise the creators love can make them go to extremely far limits by dedicating a long time and sincere efforts for the final result that WILL BE SHARED IN PUBLIC.

This is a confirmed fact and cannot be denied so where is the problem?

Praise cannot come without his evil twin...criticizing.

Content creators put their work in public thinking, anticipating and waiting for praise which is normal and that's including me as well but the problem here is when the criticizing comes. Creators are almost not able to take it and not even prepared to accept that it exists which is surely the creators' fault since their work can be seen and comments are enabled so it is a silent invitation to hear opinions even if they don't welcome all of the opinions but again as long as it is open then you are game...it is as simple as that.

No one can satisfy everyone and every taste but to satisfy your fans, you will come across the not-happy ones, a normal result of putting your content in public and being seen by others. I have received many comments on my work on YouTube; many of them were pointless but it showed me that i am successful and whatever i dedicate my time for is seen but honestly some negative comments taught me things i find it useful about who watches what i make...you don't see me whine and cry about it because simply it is part of the deal, I do voice acting because i love it yes but I share it on YouTube because I want to share what i love with the ones who have similar interests otherwise i would keep it on my computer for myself or disabled comments for example.

The same for all the artists and writers here, you put your content here because you want it to be seen and you want feedback otherwise it would have remained on your computer or skitch book.

Now...the most important part...feedback.

Let's agree on the fact that none of us get paid for whatever we do for fandom so get the fact that I am not paid for this so you must be grateful out of your heads. The only currency that we can use here is time, you give time to your content and you receive time watching, reading, admiring your content. no one owes anyone anything but since creators create, fans respond.

Where is the problem then?

It is fans responses of course :D

Nothing is better than appreciation and praise as I said earlier but if you expect that this is all that you will get then again sorry, you are wrong. freedom has been always a double-edged weapon. we create what we like because we are free and people comment on our work however they see it because they are free too. The difference here is the curtsy actually.

Are the fans nice enough not to point out what they don't like about our work? or do they actually think it is the right thing to do it? or they just do it for the hell of it?

Let me help a little here: If a long-term fan didn't like your work then you need to ask and understand what changed, that in case if you care about the people who gave you the attention and time.

If a newcomer came and said some mean words and left then most probably he/she didn't like your work, take it and remember it is a side effect of the same privilege of being praised by another nameless stranger.

It is that simple, your action creates a reaction, different types according to people's natures and personalities. we are free to create but they are free to respond as long as you open the door. you start a wave so you must wait for the effect and be ready for it, the surprised Picacho face won't help here.

Now, there is another important point that must be brought up.

Once a creator is stuck with the feedback they don't like, they start throwing accusations like the fans have an unhealthy obsession with fictional characters which is a HUGE CONTRADICTION...why?

Between the creator who spends hours, days, and months creating content about a fictional character and the fan who finishes all that in a minute or a day max then forgets about and lives his/her life normally, who is the actual obsessed one here?

This is fandom, it is created to make the fictional characters real and to make them a bigger part of our day than how they already are. If you ridicule that then you made fun of yourself and your work before the one who criticized you...common sense right? The fictional characters, if brought up in any other place out of fandom then yes, it is weird and unsettling but here? this is the only valid place to act upon our love and admiration and never forget that these characters and emotions many people think it is wise to ridicule are the results of someone's efforts, hopes, and creation so when you shout: chill they are not real, remind yourself first with that and stop wasting your time in this fandom that was built on the existence of these nonreal characters. I am both a creator and a fan. As a creator, I took the deal a long time ago, I create, people respond and we both learn. I learn from what I get and they learn about what I do and whether to continue following me or not, that's it. As a fan, I never hold feedback because that's what sharing in public means. The only difference here is that I never forgot that I am a fan and whenever I see the feedback I try to think as one to understand why it was written before I go emotional and personal. So to the fellow sensitive creators: creators don't want feedback? keep your content private.

To the fellow fans: creators remind you that they are free to share? remind them that you are free to comment. Do you think fictional characters are not worthy of being invested in it? fandom is not the right place for you, the reality is right there open to everyone where everything is sooooo real that will fulfill you to the max, I am there all day and I speak from real experience longer than the ages of most of the people here. Rule number 1 in fandoms: it is built on love and emotions...extreme ones to be exact so acting all logical and wise here is just....ridiculous when the creator dedicates countless days of their lives to create and deny the fans their emotional responses.

It is the price of being creative and seen by others, nothing is roses and unicorns sadly, not even in fandoms.

#levihan fandom #levihan #content creation #fans #content creator #a fan creator thoughts

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elriell · 4 years

Note

This will be random, but after reading Azriel's PoV, I was outraged because I honestly did not expect ANYTHING from that and I confess, it infuriated me. But now after the euphoria I went through and read your goals - which are so polite - I stopped being crazy and started thinking: Elain and Azriel are pure anguish now. Azriel: imagine spending 500 years loving someone who doesn't love you, and then seeing - in a few years - your two brothers found unconditional and immortal love, just imagine that? Azriel must be feeling horrible, unworthy, alone and abandoned. Elain: Imagine loving a guy a lot and after you transform, he rejects and humiliates you, here comes a strange guy - I don't hate Lucien, I actually love the character, but not with Elain - and he says that you are cosmically entwined and there to close with a flourish, you start to see your two sisters happy with their companions. Elain is completely alone, no one there can really help her, no one there can really understand her, she cannot talk openly with the sisters because Feyre and Nestha would not understand what it is like to have a partner when you DON'T WANT TO HAVE - again I don't hate the characters, I'm just talking - Azriel and Elain are completely alone and above all misunderstood - mainly by the people they love - now they are both attracted to each other and what happened? It became banned. SJM did not give us anguish with Nessian, the real anguish is with Elriel. Sorry for the long text, and if you allow me I will come back with more Elriel's ask on his tumblr - which I have come to love - and sorry for bad English, it is not my mother tongue.

I have said it before and I will say it again, never ever apologise for not speaking perfectly, even though this was actually perfect. the fact that you are learning or have learnt a second language is incredibly impressive and should never be undervalued.

As for everything you said, I literally don't even know what to tell you because honestly you've basically said everything that I feel, this is perfect again like a few times another asks, I don't even know where I can contribute to this because it's brilliant. At the end of the day you alright Sarah didn't cause all this conflict but I'm not to resolve it, she didn't build Elriel for years and 4 books with a relationship just to throw it away for a character we just met.

Of course I've always to get to the matter of opinion, another day Sarah loves conflict she loves anguish she loves epic loves, the ones that put you at the edge of your seat. and let's be honest that is a forbidden Romance, that is them. there would be no point having Rhys bring up the blood Duel, bring up secondary mates, bring up any of it forbidden if it was just going to be swept under the rug unforgotten.

I definitely feel like this last book really shows you how alone he is. And I am not saying that to their fault per say and I understand that and had a lot on his plate but it really showed how Az hasn't really had anyone to speak to you about his feelings and I really think that needs to be addressed. and people spend so much time casting her side they do the exact same thing, and that's why I'm so glad own time to shine and heal together.

Believe in Elriel, and believe in Sarah!

Please feel free to come back anytime you want I am always here to have a conversation, especially with people like you who have such beautiful points. <3

#acosf #acosf spoilers #m for ts #elriel #replies

51 notes · View notes

something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years

Text

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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daredevilexchange · 3 years

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What’s your fannish ID? I'm AnnaHawk on AO3 and Anna-Hawk on tumblr. Anna is a name that I've always liked and thought of using if I have a daughter one day. Hawk is the English translation to a part of my actual last name. Now, I have 2 daughters, but I went with different names because Anna has become a part of me after having that handle for several years.

What types of fanworks do you create? I write fics. I've always been an avid reader. Since I started learning how to read, you would always find me sitting somewhere with a book. I love to be able to immerse myself fully in a story. When I discovered fanfiction, I knew that I'd found my special universe because it gave me the possibility to stay and discover new stories in the fandoms that I loved. It never mattered if it was canon or not. Just the fact to have a sort of continuation in that world was amazing. Some fanfic authors have moved me more than any published authors have been able to. It took me nearly a decade of reading fics to finally sit down and write one myself. I had a lot of ideas (the number of plot ideas that I've garnered of the years and have been sitting in a folder is huge), but I didn't have a writing process. I would sometimes sit down, start writing, and when I stopped, I wouldn't be able to continue. As for branching out, I don't have any talent for any other craft.

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you’re not creating? Definitely fics. It's how it all started. Ever since I started writing more, my time for reading has lessened a lot. But if I need a break, I'll go to a different fandom than the one I'm writing in and vanish in a fic. Fanart would be the second one. I've discovered so many absolutely wonderful artists over the years. Some drawings can get me just as hard as thousands and thousands of words.

What do you like in particular about this fandom? The short answer would be Frank Castle, hahaha. When I saw Frank Castle on Netflix, it was love at first sight and after more than a year, I finally sat down to write down one of my favorite fantasies. It took me forever to write those 4K but after that it was like a revelation and I couldn't stop writing anymore."That's how it happened for me, anyway. I could never seem to write anything or at least, finish it. And then Jon came along as Frank and wham, I just did it. The longer one would be this: the MCU is pretty much the only reference I have for this fandom. I must have read maybe one comic, but that's it. When Daredevil came out, I was very curious because I enjoy this genre (superheros. People with powers. Fantasy. You name it.) Netflix really did an amazing job with this show, pushing the rating up. Very satisfying to watch, and the cast was amazing. And then Daredevil S2 happened. Frank Castle was an immediate crush. Frank is the one who got me into writing. My favorite ship is by far Fratt. I just love the dynamics between Frank and Matt. I've only written two fics for them, but I want to write more.

Do you like participating in fan events? Both? I think that fan events are amazing. Bringing people with the same love for a fandom together is wonderful in my opinion. But at the same time, I can stress easily about it and put some pressure on myself because I'm not sure if I can deliver. In time. Writing for @frattweek was easier because I had the choice to go for anything I wanted. A gift exchange is more complicated because OMG, what if the giftee hates what I wrote for them? Those are my thoughts right now since I entered my first DDE, hahaha.

What about your creating process? I can write during any time of the day, but I'm usually more active at night. And my life being what it is now, I don't have much choice BUT to write in the evenings. Music has definitely helped me write. At times, when the house was just too loud or simply because the melody would be in synch with what I was writing at the time. It's not a necessity, though. What I need, is my peace, especially when I'm stuck. I write in chronological order. I will write down ideas for future scenes, but I will always finish the previous one before completing the next one. I've tried writing whole scenes that happen later, but in the end, they wouldn't really fit because I would have made some major changes in the story along the way, and they would just feel off.

Do you interact a lot with other fans? Before I started writing myself, I would very rarely leave a comment on a fic. Even if I liked it. The fic would have had to really move me to get me to comment. It wasn't until I started writing myself that I realized how important comments/feedback can be. I know that not everyone wants or need comments and I know that they aren't mandatory, but to me, it was suddenly clear that I needed to let people know that I enjoyed their writing/art. It's after I started doing this, that I met some wonderful people. I spent over a decade reading fanfics without ever really interacting with anyone. Such a shame because now I've found a wonderful fandom and amazing and talented people. There's a true feeling of "belonging" that I've never felt before. Find me as anna hawke#2609 on Discord!

Do you have other fandoms you'd like to talk about? Oh, there are a TON of fandoms that I enjoy. The list is never ending. I have several ships in the MCU but the other fandoms I enjoy are different from this one. My first fandom was the Harry Potter one. It's the fandom I've been in the longest, but I've fallen a bit out of love with it. Some parts of it are just plain nasty and I don't want to deal with that. Then there's the Teen Wolf fandom. I was already 30 when I started that ridiculous show, but I stayed for my OTP. The only time, where I knew about the ship before watching the show. I didn't expect to fall for it the way that I did, though. A more recent love but no less fervent is the Detroit Become Human one. The only video game that made me go look up fics and give me the desire to write for it. I really don't think that the fandoms or the ships have anything in common with DD, Punisher etc. I can't really say what will get me into a fandom. Sometimes I just see two guys and go: Oooooh! XD Because I need a ship to get into a fandom.

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post? Why not mention that first ever fratt fic? I'm really happy with how it turned out. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556855 Nice Suit . Always time for Coffee, is my reader fic series. It started as a fun way to get a fantasy out of my brain and transformed into something huge with feelings and angst and... well... a lot of smut XD. It's been ongoing for over 2 years now and it sort of shows my, let's say, growth as a writer who's first language isn't English. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366675

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? I ramble, I rant. Don't get me started LOL.

Where can your fanworks be found? https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaHawk/works

Thank you, @anna-hawk !

banner by @context-is-for-kingpins !

[ID on a white background, four black triangles that look like spotlights from above. Each illuminates one of the Defenders silhouetted in white: Jessica, Luke, Danny, Matt. A hand on the left is holding a pen writing the words Content Creator Spotlight. There is a little Punisher skull on the pen. End ID]

#fratt #frank castle #Matt Murdock #Daredevil #the punisher #marvel #content creator spotlight

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