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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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Cruel Summer

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Summary: It was supposed to be a summer trip around Europe before Elain Archeron settled into life as a post-grad. It was supposed to be nothing more than a 2,000 year old wall built by a long dead Roman Emperor. It was supposed to be fun.

So why is Elain Archeron trapped in a strange world filled to the brim with magic and men in masks who refuse to let her leave? Something isn't right and Elain is determined to get to the bottom of her accidental shift in the world.

Or die trying.

Outlander-ish IDK you know what you're getting from me at this point just come inside.

Chapter 3: Let It Rain

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

The ride back to the estate was tense and quiet. Elain held herself utterly rigid and Lucien did his best not to touch her at all. Part of it was practical—anytime they touched at all the urge to have him nearly overwhelmed all her good sense. Lucien had said very little since their previous night, other than to give her a stilted explanation of mates. Tamlin had done a better job and Elain, panicked and angry he’d suspected since their bargain, had decided to treat him to silence.

Andras was waiting when they arrived. “Things…didn’t go well, I take it?”

Elain stomped past him. Let Lucien explain. Let him tell his friends he had some cosmic claim on a human—Elain almost broke down at the thought. Soulmates with a man who was trapped in this world, who would outlive her by centuries.

“Elain,” Lucien called, ignoring Andras to jog after her. “Wait a moment.” “It’s not fair,” Elain said when he’d all but shoved her back into her bedroom. “I want to go home, Lucien, I want…”

She wanted her sisters and her life and fuck, she even wanted Gray and his normalcy, in a weird way. It was an unfair ask, to choose between the sort of love Tamlin seemed to think mates could have and everything she’d ever known.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Lucien began, speaking softly. “In fact, I ah…maybe you shouldn’t. Just…keep it a secret.” “You’re ashamed of me.”

Lucien paled, reaching for her when she turned her back. “No, I’m not ashamed—” “You’re ashamed of a human mate and think you’ll sneak in at night and have me and then during the day go to the village with the other women—” “Elain, stop it,” he ordered in his bossy, commanding way. “That is not what I’m saying. I don’t want another female. I…you don’t understand. It’s not safe for news of this to spread. I can’t protect you from—” “From her?” she asked, watching him carefully. “The woman who cursed you?”

“Yes,” he admitted miserably. “If things were different I would get on my knees and beg you to marry me…I would take you far away and we would complete the frenzy—” “The what?!” she hissed. Something pulsated in her chest, that writhing beast coming to life. Both her and Lucien took a step backwards.

“I think it snapped between us last night,” he whispered. “When we were kissing, I think…I don’t know, I’ve never had a mate. You typically offer food and you sink into the frenzy—” “I’ve been giving you food since I arrived,” Elain reminded him. “Just three days ago I shoved lemon loaf straight into your mouth and you didn’t think to warn me I might be…might…” “I didn’t know for sure!” Lucien retorted hotly. “Did you see me tackle you to the ground and have my way? This is my first time, too, Elain.”

“You’ve been eating off my plate since I arrived,” she continued, her suspicion overwhelming her. “Maybe you did this on purpose. Maybe you tricked me—” “Oh cauldron boil me,” he snapped. “I don’t know that the eating aspect even matters, Elain! Some part of you accepted last night whether you meant to or not.” “You wanted me to.”

“Of course I did!” he softly seethed. “Mates are rare, who wants a rejection? To spend the rest of your life driven insane over a female you’ll never have?” “Are those my options? Bound together forever or watching you go insane?”

“No,” he assured her with a measured breath. “Just…we’ll do nothing else. No touching, no time alone, nothing that would betray us.”

“Because of the curse?”

Lucien couldn’t answer, could feel the resounding plea tug in the hard, golden cord wrapped around her ribs.

“Do I need to kiss Tamlin? Is that it? Because I’ll do it,” she added. “To go home I would do a lot more—” Lucien’s snarl sent her skittering backwards. He swallowed, leashing his jealousy. “No. You ah…you do not need to kiss him.” “But I need to do something, right? That’s why I’m here? A human factors into this…oh, God, Lucien, is it a sacrifice? Do I need to die—”“Will you stop it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes through his mask. “No, no one needs to kill you and there is no kissing involved.”

“Then what, Lucien?” she whispered, sinking into a chair. “Can’t you write it down or…I don’t know…draw it on a piece of paper?”

Lucien didn’t come any closer though she could sense through their connection it was a struggle. It was hell, she decided, wanting him this way. He was right there. “What happens when it’s time for me to go?” Elain asked. Lucien drew a miserable, ragged breath.

“I’ll walk you to the wall myself.”

Elain put her head in her hand. “And doom you to madness?” “And live your life as you were supposed to,” he replied gently. “You and I will see each other again in another time, another place. This would never have worked and I’m glad for the chance to have seen you just once…to know you’re safe and happy…it’s enough, Elain.” “Don’t say that.” It was her turn to be miserable at the easy, earnest way he wished for her own happiness at his expense. “Tell me what I have to do.” “I can’t.”

“Then what good are you?” she asked, her words barbed. Lucien withdrew, icy and hurt. She could feel his every emotion pulsating down their shared thread just as he certainly could feel her frustration and despair.

“Do not share this with anyone, Elain.” He snapped the door closed behind him, leaving her sitting helplessly in a room she didn’t belong wishing she’d chased after him.

Tamlin returned that evening, bloodied and bruised and utterly surprised when Elain shoved past Bron and Hart and Lucien, rose up on her tiptoes, and kissed him anyway. Everyone went still, even Tamlin and absolutely nothing happened.

“I ah…missed you too,” he murmured, eyes edged. Elain could feel Lucien’s sick horror clawing in her chest, his silent words. I told you so!

She felt stupid as she slipped back to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” she added, not to Tamlin but to Lucien, who hadn’t reacted at all. Bron and Hart were practically vibrating with excitement. She was close, God, so stupidly close and yet way off the mark.

“Don’t apologize,” Tamlin told her quietly, catching her hand when she tried to get away. “Join me for dinner?”

Elain looked to Lucien, who merely turned with Bron and Hart, leaving the pair in the hall.

“Just us,” Tamlin added. “You can tell me what you did while I was away. I’ll clean up and meet you there.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, she screamed softly. “Sure.”

It was all wrong. Her body rebelled against his encouraged smile, the way his thumb brushed over her wrist before letting her go. Lucien had warned her, hadn’t he? And she’d been so pissed she’d assumed this was another of his half-truths or inability to say anything at all. Only, he had said no, hadn’t he? Unequivocally, without hesitation or his maddening riddles or non-answers.

It forced Elain to sit at a shortened dining table and make polite conversation with Tamlin, who watched her with a hunger she didn’t like. She caught the way his nostrils flared, likely smelling her betrayal, her falsehoods.

“Did you spend time with Lucien while I was gone?” he asked too casually. So he couldn’t smell her desire, perhaps, muted as it was, but he could tell she’d spent part of the night wrapped in his arms.

“He very begrudgingly followed me about,” Elain replied carefully, resisting the urge to just tell Tamlin. It wasn’t just Lucien’s warning to keep it a secret that halted her. Elain had never forgotten how Tamlin had blown up the very room she sat in for uttering the word boyfriend. There was no Lucien here to shield her this time, no protection from whatever Tamlin might unleash. “We were caught in a rainstorm and forced to camp for the night.”

She didn’t dare let her think of what else they’d done in that tent. Tamlin was pacified, at least. Elain wasn’t. Elain just barely made it through dinner before she flew from the dining room. If Lucien couldn’t answer her questions, someone else could. Elain did not believe every single creature was bound to this curse. Someone could explain, if nothing else. She intended to demand it of Lucien, that he just point her in the right direction. Hell, he could accompany her if he liked. She would more than like, given her wild reaction to him the night before. Elain barged into his bedroom without knocking and for her trouble, was slammed against a wall.

Lucien kissed her like a punishment, like he wanted to hurt her and be hurt all at once. She didn’t fight him, not when her whole body sparked to life, writhing with need all over again. Unlike the slow exploration that became messy and overheated the night before, Lucien immediately put his tongue in her mouth, his muscular thigh parting her leg so her could rub against her.

“I don’t want to see you kiss another male,” he growled against her throat. Jealousy was riding him hard, then. She barely cared, not when she jumped up in his arms, his hands braced against her ass, so they could move from the wall to his rumpled bed. He dropped her inelegantly with rough hands, forgetting everything he’d said to her mere hours before.

No touching, no time alone, nothing that would betray us.

Did that include sinking to his knees on the groaning mattress as he pulled her underwear from her body? She could hardly blame his reaction, not when her own body was pulled just the same, begging her to touch him. She couldn’t—Lucien propped her legs up over his shoulders and without ceremony or prompting, immediately licked the full length of her. Had any other man done that—and so very few ever had to begin with—she would have writhed away, embarrassed and unaroused. Lucien didn’t need to ask if she was turned on or if she wanted to feel the flat, broad strokes of his tongue against her clit. Elain did, had wanted it last night, would likely want it when she came.

I’ll walk you to the wall myself, his voice echoed in her mind, punctuated by the soft lapping of his mouth and the wet kissing of his lips. She could feel his mask scraping over her, keeping her from truly feeling him, all of him. Elain didn’t doubt Lucien would take her home just as soon as he could just like she was sure she’d spend the rest of her life daydreaming about the way he was licking her.

He slid two of his fingers into her and Elain had to bite back a scream, the stretching heat beneath her skin threatening to ravage her. How were they supposed to stay away when this was what it felt like to be together? It was more than just right, more than pleasure. She couldn’t explain it, barely understood it. All Elain knew was when she crested into climax, everything in the world seemed to vanish, seemed to still and stretch and flicker until it was only them. They were the two things that mattered, that belonged.

“Get out,” Lucien gasped the moment she came back to the bed, lifting his head with those glistening lips. “Next time knock on my door before you come barging in.” And his expression was so wild, so utterly feral that Elain yanked down her dress and scrambled off the bed and for the door before she could find out what might happen if she disobeyed.

From behind the safety of her own door, Elain wished she’d stuck around to find out.

~*~

“I don’t know what you said to Elain,” Tamlin began, catching up with Lucien in the early morning sun. Their bargain was up as if that morning and Elain had been in the estate for an entire month. One month. Lucien could have sworn it had been a hundred years. “But she’s come around.”

“She’s making the best of things,” Lucien agreed. He hadn’t touched her since the night he’d gone down on her, coming too close to fucking her senseless for his liking. Lucien knew the minute he got inside her he wouldn’t be able to let her leave, would need to complete the frenzied coupling that was still hanging between them.The urge to fully claim her was riding him hard.

Elain made things no easier, either. Just three days earlier she’d jammed a handful of ham into his mouth with blazing, defiant eyes. Liar, you’re a liar—her eyes seemed to scream it. The bond between them screamed other things and Lucien was mere days away from breaking down and begging Tamlin for a month-long assignment anywhere but the house.

She was temptation and she was salvation. Not just his own, but Prythians. And he was a bastard for getting in the way of the world’s last shot of redemption. She needed to fall in love with Tamlin, not him. She needed to see the High Lord as her male, her protector, as someone worthy. Tamlin was certainly the kind of male Lucien could imagine for Elain. Elain with her flowers in her hair and her easy, forgiving smiles. She’d been born for such a place, to be Tamlin’s lady…and yet the bond had snapped between them, ancient and writhing and lovely. And when he caught her staring, sometimes he saw the same yearning he felt. Elain saw him, saw beneath the masks and somehow it didn’t repulse or disgust her.

It was enough to keep him away. Elain did that with everyone. They’d been a broken, ugly court before she arrived. There was no laughter between Bron and Hart, no games with Andras. No smiles, no jokes, just tense, brooding silence. Elain had changed that. She the goodness in all of them and if Amarantha ever got her hands on her, Lucien knew they’d all be forced to watch Amarantha grind it from Elain before scattering her ashes to the wind.

“I saw the reports of naga,” Lucien began, ignoring the contemplation on Tamlin’s face. “I was thinking Andras and I might go to the Summer border and clean it up.” “That could take weeks,” Tamlin told him with clear surprise. “Are you sure you want that kind of job?”

No. “Yes,” Lucien said firmly. “Elain is happier with Bron and Hart and you two are getting along…you don’t need to use me as a buffer. I’m restless—” “You’re thinking of that Summer Court village,” Tamlin added slyly. Lucien blinked, his mind blanking for a moment.

“With the nude beach,” he said, more for himself than his grinning friend. Tamlin’s good mood extended to other places. He’d forgotten about the months he and Tam had spent chasing after females—before Amarantha, of course. “Yeah, it crossed my mind.”

“You deserve a little fun. Take Andras. Hell, take Bron and Hart, if you want. Maybe some time between just Elain and I would be helpful.”

Lucien’s stomach roiled at the implications. “Andras is enough,” Lucien assured him. Tamlin nodded without a hint of suspicion.

“When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

Lucien found only betrayal in Elain’s eyes at dinner when she realized he meant to leave. Andras talked of nothing else, excited to bury his sword in filth and his cock in flesh. Andras regaled the table with the story of one of Lucien’s many threesomes while Elain only stared and stared, tugging on the bond between them until he couldn’t ignore her. He didn’t want her to hear of his exploits, of how he’d tried to banish the memory of Jesminda in drinking and fucking and fighting. He’d be right back at it the moment she left, too, would be forever trying to find anything that made him feel half as good as she did.

Lucien stood abruptly. “I need to sleep,” he told the raucous table. Tamlin, Hart, Bron, and Andras would be at it for hours. “Mind if I join?” Elain asked sweetly, those brown eyes lined with hurt. Lucien nodded, well aware Tamlin’s eyes trailed after Elain. She said nothing as they climbed the steps, heeding his prior warning to stay out of his bedroom. She lingered in the hall.

“You’re leaving?” And he swore he heard her say You’re leaving me?

“For a time,” he agreed. “This is for the best.”

“How?”

Lucien only shook his head. “It’s too tempting to be around you. I need to clear my head. You need space.”

“Space,” she echoed. “Right. Well…enjoy your beach, I suppose.”

“Elain,” he protested but she turned on her heel, leaving him in the hall feeling foolish and stupid. He was tempted to go get her, to tell her that this was hell for him. She didn’t understand, was a creature of a world that didn’t have mates. She didn’t know the way her future departure ravaged his already ruined soul. He’d thought Jesminda was his mate and she’d died. He knew Elain was, and she’d leave somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Even if she should, she was human and humans live incredibly short lives. She was beautiful and lively now, but in fifty years, a mere blink to him, she’d be old, feeble. He’d have to watch her make the slow crawl towards death, well aware they would not go together.

She’d leave and he’d spend forever trying to find her again. Maybe he would. Maybe she’d reappear as Fae in two hundred years, with those same eyes, that same smile. He’d be free of this curse and could court her like he’d always meant to, like she deserved.

He told himself it was for the best when he strode out in the morning. Her lack of presence wasn’t just noted—Lucien felt it in his bones. He was certain she watched from somewhere on the estate. He could feel her confusion laced sorrow and Lucien wished that he could tell her the truth of the matter.

I am yours but you will never be mine.

~*~

One month stretched to two, and then three. Lucien sent no word to her, only Tamlin. Reports she was not privy to, that she had to all but pry out of Bron and Hart.

He’s having too much fun to come home, Bron would say with a laugh.

There’s nothing here to do anyway, Hart always added. They left at times, too, patrolling and scouting, which left her to Tamlin. Elain had begun to dread those long days and even longer stretches of night. Too much heat simmered behind his mask, his intentions plain. What did he write to Lucien when reporting on the house? Elain had asked, once, if she might write to him and Tamlin had merely turned to her, puzzled, and asked why she would want to do such a thing.

He was my friend, she’d mumbled before stalking off. Tamlin would have read it, curious as to what she might say which meant she could hardly say anything at all.

What Elain had managed, was to worm information out of the too casual, too chatty Bron and Hart. She’d been right about one thing—there were creatures that could be compelled to tell her the truth if she could catch them. With Tamlin busy for large swaths of the day and no Lucien stomping after her, Elain had begun inching back in the forest looking for the elusive Surial.

Elain was hardly a huntress and it showed. After a week of laying rudimentary snares, she was ready to call it quits. She sank to the leafy forest floor and closed her eyes with a loud sigh.

“What is a human doing so far from the wall?” a mans voice crooned, drawing her from her angry thoughts. Elain snapped open her eyes, drinking in the tall, fae man peering down at her. He wasn’t Spring Court, that was for sure. His unmasked face, for one, betrayed him as an interloper though if it hadn’t, the soft, trailing shadows certainly would have. Dressed in a black jacket and pants, with his neatly combed onyx hair and blue violet eyes, she wondered where he was from. Not Summer, she decided. He didn’t exude an ounce of warmth. Perhaps Winter?

“I’m trying to trap a Surial,” she told him because what could it hurt? The man jammed his hands in his pockets. Handsome, she decided after a moment of contemplation. Edged darkly, but handsome.

He joined her on the forest floor, letting his shoulder touch her own. It ought to have felt terrifying but instead she found his presence comforting. “What question do you have only a Surial could answer?”

“There’s a curse on the land,” she explained. “I know I’m part of it but I don’t understand how. Or what I need to do to break it so I can go home.” “So the High Lord of Spring snagged himself a human, did he? Fascinating.” Elain looked to him. “I don’t suppose you could tell me?”

“I could,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “For a price.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“No money. Keep your coins. I’ll tell you how to break Tamlin’s curse and in exchange, you’ll tell me something. That’s fair, don’t you think?” Elain nodded, accepting his hand. The skin against her ankle prickled though she didn’t dare look. It was the man who lifted the hem of her dress, curious as to what was set against her skin. Little roses, inked in a chain like a tattoo around her ankle. Swirling and lovely. “We ink our bargains in the skin in my court.” “Which court is that?” she asked.

“Ah, ah,” he teased. “One question. How to break the Spring Court curse?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Your little human heart has to love the High Lord,” he replied with a relish, as if her horror delighted him. Realization crashed over her. Lucien’s insistence he stay away, his aching, brutal words—This is wrong. We will do nothing. I’ll walk you back myself. Of Tamlins fury she might be claimed by another man, his hope when she’d so stupidly kissed him. The nights alone where he was so obviously courting her, trying to inch her into a place where she could fall in love with him and free them.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. The man beside her chuckled before dipping his head, nose pressed into her hair.

“You reek of a mating bond,” he told her. “I’m surprised they can’t scent it.”

Elain jerked away. “That’s none of your business.” “Sure it is. It’s our bargain, right? The scent of you drew me…who is the fae male? Tell me and our deal is complete.” She looked at her hands. “First and last name,” the dark haired stranger prompted. “Tick tock, little human. I have other tasks that need accomplishing today.” “Lucien Vanserra,” she finally admitted. He tipped his head and roared with laughter, as if she’d told the funniest of jokes.

“Oh, what fun. I wish you well, human, but if I were you. I would run home as fast as my legs could carry me and never look back.”

Elain heaved a sigh, head resting in her hands. “I can’t just leave,” she said to nothing at all. The man was gone, vanished into thin air as far as Elain could tell. Shafts of light filtered from the tree tops, warming the ground beneath her.

Your little human heart has to love the High Lord.

She could spend a thousand years in this place and Elain knew she never would. Tamlin was nice enough, was likely handsome and a catch among his kind and to Elain he evoked nothing at all. She’d always been particular when it came to men, a skill she’d been required to learn at the tender age of ten when she was more leg than anything and grown men began staring. She realized she was beautiful not long after. She could be choosy, had to be as a matter of survival. Too many men looked at her just like Tamlin did—an object, something to consume, to own.

Plodding home was miserable. No Lucien, only Tamlin and his shortened dining table and his roaming gaze. Maybe Lucien was never returning. Was she stupid? Waiting here, four months of her life just gone, on the hope she could fix things?

“How was you—” “Take me home,” Elain interrupted softly. “Please,” she added as an afterthought. Tamlin withdrew the hand he’d been about to place over hers, looking as if she’d struck him. “I’ve been here for four months, surely…” Surely you must know this is never going to happen? She’d always been so bad at letting someone down.

Elain tried the pleading that hadn’t worked before. “I had a life. A family. People who miss me, who probably think I’m dead. Please, Tamlin, I’m trying so hard to fit in here but I don’t.”

“No,” he whispered with no small amount of misery. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” she urged sofly, reaching for his hand and squeezing. He looked at her with that same soft misery. “I can’t help you.”

Elain stood while, still holding his hand. She reached for his face, hidden behind that green and gold mask. Was it cowardice to leave them like this? Maybe. Elain brushed a piece of hair from his face. “This is for the—” He hauled her into his lap, crushing his mouth against her own. For one moment, Elain’s panic overwhelmed her, keeping her still, unmoving. His lips were warm, his hands almost soft against her back. His tongue brushed her lips and Elain flew back so hard she hit the wall behind her. He stood.

“Elain��” “Don’t,” she said, trembling at what had just happened. “Don’t come any closer.” “You can’t leave,” Tamlin tried to explain, running a hand through his long hair. “I can’t explain this but—” “There is someone else, Tamlin,” she whispered. He stilled, eyes watching her.

“The male from before?”

No. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want to see him again.” Elain screamed when the room exploded in wood and glass and porcelain. There was no Lucien to help her this time, no body to shield her. She threw up her arms for all the good it did. Something heavy and hard slammed into her chest, robbing her of breath and Elain, who’d spend four months conscious and aware, was grateful for the slip into dark oblivion.

~*~

Tamlin was waiting when Lucien returned. Lucien hadn’t intended, when he left, to be gone as long as he was. There was still some life in Summer Court and Tarquin, the new High Lord, had news of Amarantha, of Rhysand, and Prythian in general. In between cleaning up the filth, Lucien had wasted his time in Tarquin’s new court, making himself a friend. It was good politics and perhaps a little cowardice. Lucien worried Elain had fallen in love with Tamlin and he did not wish to see it.

“It’s good to see you,” Tamlin said the moment Lucien slid from his horse, boots crunching on the gravel. “You’ve been gone too long.” “I made some friends,” Lucien said with a smile. “Summer Court has a new High Lord and he is looking for allies.” “No more revolts,” Tamlin murmured, leading Lucien inside. It was hard not to notice Bron and Hart inside the foyer, their faces drawn—angry. Not at him, but Tamlin. Lucien filed that away. It was well past noon and warm and yet no Elain. Surely she couldn’t still be angry with him.

“Where is Elain?” Lucien asked. Bron exhaled a furious breath, turning on his heel for the snaking hall, Hart at his feet. “What has she done this time?” “She has done nothing at all,” Tamlin replied carefully, leading Lucien to the study for a drink. “She’s resting.” “Is she unwell?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Lucien ripped at the mating bond in his chest, terrified it might have vanished in the six seconds he’d forgotten about it. There it was, shimmering and strong…and curiously dark on her end. “She’s had a long couple days. She asked to leave again—” Lucien groaned, accepting the drink from Tamlin’s hands. “And we exchanged heated words.”

Something about the way Tamlin said it, so carefully, so devoid of any emotion, sent chills skittering over his skin. Bron’s angry breath. Hart’s furious eyes. “So…she’s licking her wounds in her room?” “Don’t worry about Elain,” Tamlin dismissed. “Tell me of Tarquin.”

Lucien did for two agonizing hours. Tamlin wanted to talk, wanted to hear news from other courts and how the failed revolt had gone. Tarquin’s whole family had been wiped from the face of the earth, leaving him to accept the mantle. He was young, barely sixty years old and now faced with an impossible task. Tarquin, too, had been curious how they fared in Spring and Lucien was more tightlipped than usual. He would not betray Elain.

He wanted to see her, even if she was pissed. Wanted to smooth over whatever hurtful shit Tamlin had said. It was practically time for dinner by the time Lucien was freed. Swearing he needed to bathe and change his clothes, Lucien took the stairs two at a time, ignoring his own bedroom to knock softly on her door.

He tugged at the bond with no response. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked, reaching for the handle and turning it softly. “Can I at least say sorr…sorry.” Elain’s room reeked of blood and salt and sickness. The curtains were drawn, bathing Elain’s body, hidden beneath the cream and sage, in darkness. His fingers trembled as he walked across the room, boots muddying her beautiful floors and that pristine carpet.

Lucien swallowed, ripping the blanket from her body the way he might a bandage. Elain was sunny, sweet perfection. In his mind, and for three straight months, he’d imagined her as she’d been in the wildflowers—careless, hair streaming behind her, smiling when she had so little to be happy about.

That woman was gone and by the looks of it, it had been beaten out of her. Huge gashes over her delicate face struggled to heal, crusted and dark over her forehead and against her eye. Her hands, her arms, the span of legs and when he lifted her night dress he had to race for the bathroom before he heaved what little remained in his stomach onto the floor. Her delicate, fragile body…wrecked by Tamlin’s rage. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his existence both before and after. Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, stroking matted, limp curls off her face. Where was the healer?

He turned for the door, his fury a burning, bright star. Mate, my mate—

Tamlin sat at the head of the dining table with Bron and Hart on either side, both studying their plates with silent fury. “What did you do?” Lucien asked as he strode in.

“It was an accident—”

“She is dying!” Lucien roared, unable to control his temper. “Call the healer.” “No.”

“Call the healer.”

“If I call a healer, everyone will know she’s here—” “I don’t care,” Lucien said, turning his back. It was treason to even think it, let alone disobey a direct order. Lucien didn’t care. He’d take her to Summer or Dawn or fucking Autumn before he let Tamlin bury her as a monument to his grief and rage. What could Elain possibly have done to earn such violence? She was a human, had refused all but the knives Bron and Hart coaxed her to throw and now…

“Lucien!” Tamlin warned. “It’s over. We tried and now it’s—” Lucien slammed his fist into Tamlin’s face, furious with his friend. His friend, his best friend, his chosen brother. Tamlin staggered backwards, eyes huge behind his stupid mask, touching his bleeding nose.

“I could kill you for that.” “Could you? I’m not a defenseless female, after all,” Lucien retorted. Shame replaced Tamlin’s fury and still Lucien could not forgive him this time. Could not forgive that violent temper that got the better of him and the guilt that flooded in after. Maybe if he’d been there to prevent this from happening, if he’d been the shield like before. Elain had been alone and he’d been a coward.

“Get the healer,” Tamlin told him. Lucien raced through the night, wondering if it would make any difference at all. What did the fae know about mortal bodies, besides? Still, Lucien dragged the wizened woman from bed, all but getting on his knees to beg, and brought her to the somber estate. Her eyes were sharp with accusation when she saw Elain.

“This is not what she had in mind,” the female told Tamlin hovering in the door.

“You will say nothing of this,” was all Tamlin replied, the bite of magic slamming into the healer. Salves were pressed against festering wounds and elixirs poured down her throat. It wasn’t just Lucien who watched. Bron and Hart, who had been at the house the entire time, stepped in and out to help lift Elain this way or that, always averting their eyes when the healer tugged at her nightdress before slipping back into the hall.

“Will she die?” Lucien couldn’t help but ask in the early morning hours, before dawn had even slipped over the hilly countryside.

“No. But you should take care, lord. Mortals have short memories but we fae do not. I will not forget this night…be sure she does not, either.” Lucien nodded, chest aching. He understood her words well enough. Elain did not belong, would assimilate when she woke, would go back to her sweet smiles and her easy forgiveness. Elain needed to go home. She didn’t belong here. They were selfish to keep her, to hope this fragile thing would somehow save them all. They were their designers of their own doom and Elain could not rescue them, could not keep Amarantha from one day bearing down on their court with the other High Lords on the end of her leash. She’d kill Elain for daring in the first place and Lucien didn’t think Tamlin would stop her.

He couldn’t.

And so Elain would leave when she was healed, even if it pissed off Tamlin and even if it ruined their chances of ever breaking this wretched curse. They’d have to employ a new method, different tactics. He would not see his mate die.

Not again.

~*~

Elain woke slowly, over time. She kept trying to rouse herself, would almost manage to lift her aching body only for a warm hand to brush against her cheek and pour something minty down her throat. Sleep overtook her, dragging her back to her real life. The dreams were bliss—Elain lived whole lives in her world, all swirled in her head. The only thing she knew wasn’t right was Lucien. It was Lucien who rented that Chicago apartment with her and Lucien who got on one knee and asked her to marry him. It was his children that raced the halls of their home and his lap she sat in after a long day.

Nothing else was different. Her sisters, her friends, her job…all of that was so real, so normal that when she was pulled from the dream she had to stifle a sob. Not real, her mind would scream before someone sent her right back.

The last time Elain woke, it was a different sort of ache. The kind that told her she’d worked out too hard and maybe drank too much. She opened her eyes, surveying the familiar cream and green, the usual furniture, and Lucien sprawled on the rug on the floor, reading a book with a bored expression.

“You’re back,” she croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. Lucien looked up, relief flooding over that one good eye. The golden one clicked softly, looking her up and down.

“So are you,” he replied, closing his book with a snap before sitting all the way up.

“How long?” He winced. “Three weeks…you’ve been in and out.” She remembered the minty elixir. “Did you drug me?” “To help your healing.” He said the words casually as he scooted to the edge of the mattress, resting his arms against the fabric. Healing. Because Tamlin had destroyed the dining room when she said she wanted to see another, that there was another. Had Tamlin guessed she meant Lucien? Or had it been the thought of her and any male that enraged him?

“Did Tamlin tell you what happened?” she asked. What had Tamlin said? Had Lucien been punished for it?

“Nothing. I could guess, besides,” Lucien told her cooly. There were things missing, pieces he was leaving out. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I told him I wanted to go home,” she murmured, inching closer to his forearms, wanting to touch him. Lucien lifted his fox face, eyes filled with reproach.

“I know how this curse is lifted. A human in love with the High Lord, right?”

Lucien licked his chapped lips, eyes falling to the mattress. “Yes.”

He could lie to her now. Their bargain had long expired and still the word rang true. Lucien didn’t ask how she’d learned and didn’t notice when she lifted her foot, the one that had been inked, to find it gone. Their bargain had been fulfilled, she supposed, all traces scrubbed away. She should have asked his name.

“I told him there was another man I was waiting on,” Elain whispered, noting how Lucien flinched. Not Gray. She’d found it depressingly easy to forget him. It was Lucien she’d stewed in misery over, that she’d conjured up on her darkest fantasies. He was her soulmate, after all and, somehow, her friend, too.

“And here you are,” Elain added when Lucien didn’t take the obvious hint. “Watching over me.” “Not well enough,” Lucien replied, his pain evident. “It took me days to get home and you were so close to death…I’m…” he stopped whatever he was going to say, changing tacts. Some anxious part of her was grateful for it. “I’m sorry I stayed away so long.” “Well, I’m sure the beach was enticing,” she said with as much primness as she could manage. Lucien bit his lip.

“You’re enticing,” he replied. “I was minutes away from doing something you would regret.”

“I would hardly regret anything you did to me,” Elain whispered, swallowing hard. “I thought you knew that.”

“You’re still hurt,” Lucien said, hauling his body off the floor. “And I’m not that much of a bastard. I’ll have Alis come up with food and Bron and Hart want to see you.”

Elain nodded. “After I have a bath.”

His eyes flared for a moment but Lucien only nodded agreeably. “After a bath.” Lucien left and Alis swanned in. It could have been her first day, for how she fussed. Elain was drawn a hot bath and given privacy to look over her body. Fading, purple bruise seemed to cover every inch of her. Nothing was broken though the ache in her chest, against her ribs, made her wonder if Tamlin hadn’t snapped bones when he lost control.

She soaked in the water until it was frigid and Alis all but hauled her out herself. Draped in spring green, her hair tied off her face which was, somehow, undamaged, Elain allowed both Bron and Hart to sidle into the room.

“Lady Elain,” Bron began, his misery clear from behind that bear shaped mask. “I’m so sorry.”

“We both are,” his wolfish friend agreed. “We should have—” “It’s not your fault,” Elain murmured, taking the massive bouquet of lilacs and roses and daisy’s they’d collected for her. The lavender she’d picked just days before Tamlin had hurt her was dead, ugly and brown in the vase by the window.

“Forgive us?” Hart asked softly. Elain rose from the chair she sat at, careful not to let them see how much it hurt.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Elain assured them, kissing each stubbled cheek in return. “No ham done, besides. Tamlin got the healer quick and—” “Lucien did,” Bron interrupted softly. “Not Lord Tamlin…Lucien.”

Two sets of blue eyes bored into her skull, not daring to ask why Lucien had been willing to risk Tamlin’s ire over her.

“Was…he was going to let me die?” she asked, cold washing over her. Elain stepped back and Hart surged forward, catching her elbow as if he expected her to collapse to the floor.

“His guilt was riding him hard, lady,” Hart assured her, making excuses like they always did. “He needed to hear Lucien say it—” “Needed that punch to the face,” Bron added. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Perhaps we’ll walk through the garden tomorrow?” “We’ll be back to yoga in no time,” Elain assured them both, sinking back into her chair. That pleased them and for a time, the pair entertained her as they’d always done, treating her like brothers might. They scattered when Lucien returned with food and more apologetic eyes.

“I heard a rumor,” Elain began, gesturing for him to sit at the little table overlooking the garden.

“Are the sentries gossiping again?” he grumbled, pushing the overwhelming amount of food in her direction. Elain threw a carrot at his face, delighted when he caught it in his mouth. “What did they say?” “That you punched your High Lord,” she replied, taking a bite of the same vegetables she’d been tossing at him. “That it was you who got the healer.”

Lucien chewed thoughtfully. “That’s not a rumor. That’s a fact.”

“And does he know about…” she threw another carrot in Lucien’s mouth, punctuating the fact that they’d all but accepted the bond between them. Lucien shook his head.

“No, because he knows he was being an ass and needed someone to remind him. It's why I’m emissary. No one else would dare. Bron and Hart are the sons of lords but Tamlin is the son of a High Lord…and so am I. We’re equal enough.”

Elain nodded. “So you can punch him…but you can’t admit that you like me?”

Lucien leveled a dark stare. “I don’t like you at all, little human.” She tossed a little potato at him and Lucien, infuriatingly, caught that, too. She’d hoped it might bounce off his mask and splatter on the floor. “You keep telling yourself that,” Elain replied. “But I’m not the one who hid away for three months.”

“Maybe that nude beach was—”This time, when she launched the potato from her fork at his face, it hit him on the cheek. Lucien dragged his tongue along his teeth as he cleaned the oil and potato from his golden brown cheek. Only humor danced in his russet eye and just as she’d thought before, Elain was certain he was handsome beneath the fox mask.

“Don’t be mean,” she murmured.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “If you’re done feeding me, I’ll leave you—” “You don’t stay?”

Lucien stood. “You’re hurt and I don’t think I could keep from touching you if we were any closer than this. Go to sleep, Elain. Get better.” “And when I am better, you’ll touch me?” Lucien nodded. “However you like.”

~*~

It took another three weeks before Elain was back to her usual self, running with Andras and playing loud games on the lawn with Hart and Bron.

Mortals have short memories. It sure seemed that way. Tamlin was keeping his distance and yet Elain still offered him polite smiles and spoke with him over meals. It was as close to peace as they’d get. If he’d been a better male, he would have taken her home days ago. Time was racing towards them, drawing ever closer to that deadline. If Elain asked to go home again, Tamlin would tell her she could. They all knew it. They were doomed and these last moments of freedom were taken with a relishing, vicious pleasure.

“Can you watch her tonight? And tomorrow night?” Tamlin added after a moment. “Andras and I are going to the border.” Bron and Hart were over by Autumn, cleaning up more naga and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days. Lucien shrugged. “Sure. You don’t want company?” But they both knew why Tamlin asked Lucien to stay. Elain was all but glued to his side, pestering him with questions he gladly answered, trailing after him as a reminder she was well and please touch me? She trusted him above the rest of them.

“When I return we’ll give her a proper goodbye.” Two days. That was all he had left, hardly enough time to complete the frenzy and yet Lucien was determined he would make that time count. It was all he’d get. Lucien nodded. “Works for me.”

Tamlin hesitated on the edge of the study Lucien lounged in and for once, Lucien wished Tamlin would just say he was fucking sorry. Tamlin couldn’t do it, could only silently punish himself for every wrong-doing when his friends would have taken some of his burden from his shoulders. Tamlin could not let him suffer alongside them and so Lucien let his friend go, suffering silently, as he always did.

Elain was drowsing in bed when he found her. “Get up,” he murmured when she turned to look at him. Elain did, rising from the blankets like a vision, her night dress hugged to every curve, the hem brushing the tops of her knees. He’d have her in his bed so he didn’t lose her scent.

She slid her hand into his, letting him lead her down the hall. “Where are we going?”

Nowhere, he almost told her. It was a different sort of torture, this borrowed time. He would blink and it would be over. She didn’t know and Lucien couldn’t bring himself to tell her. She might try and rush it which would shatter his bruised heart—the very thing she’d begun to knit back together.

Inside his room, in the dim, dark, Lucien made it seem as if he had all the time in the world. Time to push those thin straps over her tanned shoulders, to watch how the dress fell to the floor, utterly exposing her to him. He let her pull off his tunic and peel of his shirt while helping her with the buttons of his pants. He wasn’t completely hard, though it wasn’t from lack of want. It was his soft, simmering anguish he was trying to bury. She was so beautiful, curved and soft and perfect and Lucien already missed her.

“We’re alone tonight and all day tomorrow,” he murmured, threading a hand through her thick hair to tilt her head. Lucien dragged his nose over the side of her neck, inhaling her scent, committing it to memory. “And I don’t see a mark on your pretty little body.”

“I’m all better,” she agreed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh? Then maybe you don’t require so much of my attention,” he replied, cupping her bare breast in his hand. He had plans for how the night should go, how he’d lay her out and lick every single inch of her before driving himself inside her, over and over until she begged for his mercy.

“I’m not the one in need of attention,” Elain replied, gripping his now rigid cock in her hands. “I see the way you watch me, Lord Vanserra. The lust you just barely conceal…the bulge in your pants. Do you take yourself when you’re alone in this room?” she taunted, eyes big and dark as she slowly sank to her knees. “Do you think about me?”

Elain licked him root to tip and Lucien could have died at the sight alone. “Yes.” “What do you think about?” she continued with that sweet, mocking voice. Her tongue swirled over his sensitive head. “Tell me, Lucien.”

“I…” she sucked him into her mouth, emptying his head of all thoughts but this. “You,” he managed when she took him deeper, her hand making up the difference. Her cheeks hallowed, letting his cock slide over the wet velvet of her mouth, eliciting a loud, almost embarrassing moan from his lips. “I think about you.” She hummed her approval, her free hand cupping his balls. The sound vibrated through him, settling hard in his abdomen. She knew what she was doing which, in some ways, surprised him. Elain, with her big, innocent eyes and her sweet face was the same Elain gently rubbing his balls while she choked against his cock, drawing him deeper into his throat. It was the sweetest torture made all the better when she inclined her head, letting him sweep her hair in his hands and hold her steady. The first thrust of his hips was perfection. She still used her hand on both his shaft and sac, gripping him tightly as if she knew exactly the way he liked to be sucked.

Mates, he supposed, had some intrinsic knowledge of each other. Elain took as much as he offered and Lucien was careful not to hurt her even as his hips began thrusting harder. He’d come to take the edge off—was the lie he told himself, anyway. He couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to, was utterly at her mercy instead of the other way around.

He was dizzy, legs trembling as climax began to build. Every swirling drag of her tongue and tug of her hands robbed him of his breath, ruining him for all other mouths. He grunted, body taut and heavy, his sac so tight against his body it ached. Lucien pushed one last time, delighting in the sound of her choking gasp as he came down her soft throat.

Lucien growled, unwilling to let himself sag to the floor. She was unpleasured and tasted of him. His kiss was rough, primal. The frenzy was on him, urging him to claim her. He had waited too long, had denied instinct and would no longer.

“Ride my face,” he ordered, pulling her to the bed. He needed to be covered in her, needed to feel her heat burning through the mask on his face. Elain did as she was told, gripping his hair in her hands when her cunt was over him to push him against her.

“Now who has been daydreaming of who?” he asked, letting his lips touch her soft lips as he spoke. Elain shuddered.

“I do nothing but think of you,” she admitted with a sigh at that first swipe of his tongue. He’d been dreaming of this too, ever since he’d all but ravished her with his mouth that first time. He’d been so close then, had nearly fucked her right then and there. Now he would. She would know what it was like to be with him. Lucien would brand it in her mind so even her mortal mind could not dull the memory.

When he’d imagined partaking in the frenzy, Lucien had imagined himself wild and unleashed while Elain weathered him. He could not picture her as the thing that was wild, as a creature more fairy than human. When he’d told her to ride his face, Elain had taken it to heart. Her hips rolled over him, helping him to lick every inch of her until there was nothing wasted. Her taste was heady and perfect, sweeter than any wine. That honey jasmine mingled with a soft musk he could have bathed in. He’d be coated in it until he died, would never get her off his skin.

Elain came with a mewling cry, nails digging against his scalp. He was hard again, so achingly, bruisingly hard. She yelped when he all but tossed her to the bed, spreading her legs to look at the gleaming pink between her thighs, still convulsing from the orgasm he’d given her. Lucien’s chest clenched, the traitorous words all but spilling from his mouth.

I love you.

It was the worst thing he could imagine saying to her and yet Elain’s eyes sparked, hands gripping either side of his face. “I can feel you,” she whispered, pulling him for a kiss. He swept his tongue into her mouth, sliding over her own so she could taste herself, could see what he loved so much. Lucien lined himself up with her dripping heat and when he slid in that first inch, Elain said, “I love you, too, Lucien.” He groaned, pushing in all at once to grab her, to press her against his chest. He kept telling himself it was wrong but fuck it was right. “I love you,” he whispered because those were the only words he could say, that he had available to him. And this—this—moving together, bodies intertwined, was what made mates. Not the frenzied coupling or the way she lived in his very blood, but their shared soul and the language between them. It was a song only he could hear, whispering in his ears, lulling him closer and closer to release. She came mere moments before him, drawing every drop from his body until, for the moment, he was spent.

“Two nights of this?” she murmured with a sweet smile. “I could get used to it.”

Lucien kissed her rather than face the truth. Two nights was all she’d ever get.

~*~

By the time Tamlin returned, Elain thought her and Lucien could use a break. She was more than a little raw from two straight days of nothing but sex. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Everything made her want him. A brush of his hands or the sight of his bare ass walking towards the bathroom was enough to send them scrambling to the floor, panting and desperate.

Elain had bathed in oils and soaps in an effort to hide what she knew could no longer stay hidden. Tamlin had to know. She could not be their salvation…and yet Elain wanted to help. She could stay, she reasoned. For the first time since she arrived, Elain wanted to stay. They could find a new human and Elain could help ease her into life, could talk up Tamlin. Manipulative…sure, and yet what was the harm if it meant the man she loved was free of the wretched, terrible curse he was under?

It was with that in mind that Elain bounded into the dining room for lunch, draped in an off shoulder, blood-orange dress. All four men came in together, laughing and talking, sweaty and dirty and clearly hungry. Tamlin’s eyes swept over the room, taking in a casual Lucien drinking wine and Elain primly cutting up pieces of chicken for her salad.

Tamlin’s nostrils flared and Elain braced herself for what was about to come. She looked at him with pure defiance but it was Lucien who rose to his feet, head facing the door.

“Get to the window,” Tamlin ordered Elain, his voice terrifying and rough. “Now.” Every man in the room pulled a sword from their belt as Elain pressed herself against the glass. Heavy, metallic magic punched against her chest, lodging itself inside her nose. No one moved, seemed to breathe except her. What were they all looking at? Andras was closest to the door, eyes closing softly when the sound of light steps echoed from down the hall. Elain would look back on this moment, eyes pinned to Andras, and wonder if he knew the fate that awaited him. If he’d someone seen the end of his life and knew the moment that dark haired man stepped into the room, it was over. Elain did. She’d never know how she’d seen the death that walked just behind him, but Elain screamed just a moment before the man reached for Andras’s neck and snapped, as if Andras was nothing but a doll. He held Andras’s unseeing, masked head in hand, peering down with bored, blue-violet eyes. She knew this man, had told him a secret once.

He was looking right at her. “Hello again,” he said casually, dropping Andras’s head to the side as if it were nothing more than a nuisance. Elain closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Did you ever catch that Surial?”

Elain shook her head back and forth. “A shame.”

He swept his eyes over the room, at the sword and Tamlin, sitting at the head of the table like this bored him. “You don’t need to hide your human from me. We’ve met. I think she liked me, even.”

His eyes flicked back to her trembling body. “Not anymore. I’d say sorry, but…” he only shrugged.

“Get out, Rhysand.”

Rhysand, in his dark black and silver tunic, brushed a piece of dust from his arm. “Come now. Where’s your hospitality? Your human was far kinder when I came upon her in the forest. We had the nicest little heart to heart. She wanted to help you. How did that go, by the way?”

He turned to Elain again, smile gleaming. Elain gasped, eyes locking on Lucien as her back arched as if gripped by some invisible hand.

Don’t worry, Rhysand’s voice crooned in her mind. I won’t tell your High Lord what you told me if you do something for me.

“Let her go,” Lucien ordered, walking around the table to put his body between Elain and Rhysand. Rhysand merely rolled his eyes.

“Always the hero, hm, little Lucien? How did that work out for you last time?”

You said you wouldn’t tell! Elain, unable to move or speak, screamed the words in her mind. Rhysand turned to look at her again with feline amusement.

“Just your name,” he murmured, picking through her memories with interest. He’d find it, she reasoned, watching him flip through the last few days with Lucien. Rhysand flinched when he saw the scene in the dining room.

“Elain,” she told him, wishing he would leave. He was going back further, from before Prythian and Spring. His interest shifted at what he saw, of her world that was clearly other, of her sisters and her friends, of buildings and schools and cars and planes—

“That’s enough!” Lucien ordered, just in time to be swept away as if he were nothing.

“Elain Archeron,” Rhysand murmured. “An interloper. How did you get here?”

“The wall,” she whispered as Lucien groaned, “Don’t tell him.”A cloud of swirling shadow enveloped her, crushing against her ribs, robbing her of breath. Her feet crashed to the leaf-strewn forest floor, Rhysand just beside her. “This wall?” he asked, reaching to touch it. Elain drew back, feeling that strange, too cold wind blow against her face. Elain held her breath as Rhysand’s fingers skimmed the stone. Nothing happened.

“Interesting,” he murmured, pressing his palm flat against the wall. “You feel its pull, though?”

“Take me back,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Your time here is done, whether you want it to be or not,” Rhysand told her, his eyes hardening for a moment. “This is no place for a human.”

“Because you’ll kill me?” she asked, not bothering to wipe the tears from her face. He shook his head.

“Because you are fragile and your High Lord has given up,” Rhysand replied. “Lucien Vanserra will not be able to protect you and he knows it.”

Elain shook her head. “You’re wrong. You’re a liar—” “I’ve never lied to you,” he replied, eyebrows furrowing with irritation. “I’ll take you back to say your goodbyes but I don’t want to scent you when I return.”

“And if you do?”

“Then I’ll drag you to her, and she’ll carve your pretty face into ribbons to wear in her hair,” Rhysand whispered, his words dragging like nails up her spine. “Talk to your mate. Ask him to tell you what we both already know. It’s time to go back—” “You killed Andras,” she interrupted angrily. “You’re helping her, you’re evil—”Wind and shadow gobbled her up, dropping her rudely back to the estate.

Heed my warning, Elain Archeron.

He didn’t return, didn’t come back to tease and taunt. Lucien was the first in the room, sliding to his knees to look at her, Tamlin just at his heels. Recognition flared in his features, as if finally he saw what was happening. What they were. She braced herself for the rage, for the violence, pulling her face from Lucien’s hands.

“It’s time to go home,” Tamlin told Elain. “She’ll be coming.” “There’s still time,” Hart protested from the archway, sheet white behind that wolf's mask. Tamlin shook his head.

“He’ll tell her what we have and she’ll come early. Drag us all below…it’s over.”It was a nightmare, rising to her feet, still crying as she hugged Bron and Hart goodbye. No Andras—he was gone before she could do anything more than scream. Tamlin offered her a sweeping bow and a kiss to the back of her hand, as close to an apology as she would ever get.

“I’m going to walk her back,” Lucien told his friend, his voice rich with emotion.

“Winnow in,” Tamlin murmured. Lucien nodded, drawing Elain to his chest. His magic wasn’t like the cold darkness of Rhysands but warm and soft, like a rolling breeze over the warm ocean. It was home and when it vanished, shimmering iridescent opal in the air around them, Elain nearly fell back to the dirt. Lucien held her up.

“The time we had,” he began, turning her so she couldn’t see the wall looming behind her. She could feel it, that cold wind, those whispering words. “It was enough, Elain.”

“It wasn’t,” she wept, burying her face against his chest. “It was nothing at all.” “It was everything,” he disagreed, pressing his face into her hair to kiss her scalp. “I will never forget it—forget you.”

“Please don’t make me go,” she begged, noting the pain in his russet eye. “I’ll help, I’ll hide—” “You’ll go back to your life,” Lucien whispered, guiding her towards the wall, his hand in hers. Elain balked until her back was against his chest. “You’ll forget me. You’ll marry that man, you’ll have his children and work in your museum.”

“I won’t,” she sobbed, body shaking against him. “I won’t, Lucien, I love you.”

Tears gathered in his eye, sliding into his mask, forever doomed to be trapped, just as he was. “In another life, I’ll find you and we’ll get it right,” he promised, holding her face in one hand, thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ll be looking for you.”

“I’ll try not to make it so hard on you next time.”

He kissed her gently, softly. “I’ll come around quicker. I’ll court you like you deserved.”

Lucien still held her hand in his, stretching to the wall. She knew he couldn’t come with her even if the wall would permit him. Knew Lucien would choose to stay, to finish this fight. “I can’t be selfish with you,” he whispered against her hair. “But I love you, Elain. Remember that, if you remember nothing else.” He didn’t let her say another word. Lucien pressed her hand against the rock and Elain felt herself tumble again, slamming into the grass and snow. Cold seeped through her thin dress as winter wind whipped around her.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a familiar world that was strange. Foreign. Little houses with their steeped, snow capped roofs and a dead woodland far in the snowy distance. Just at the top of the hill was that crumbling monument to humanity. Elain reached in her chest for the bond, only to realize it had been shredded to nothing. Not fractured, not broken. Just gone, as if it had never existed to begin with.

Elain began to scream.

#elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #i swear im trying to spread these out #but its done and everyone is like this is going to end happy RIGHT???#RIGHT???#oh sweets #do you know the premise of the original?#if so you know where we're going with this #anyway i hurt my own feelings with this chapter

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deceitfuldevil · 3 years ago

Text

Cosmic Glitch

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You always believed your soulmate was somewhere out there and that one day you'd see color, but the day you met him you refused to accept it. (soulmate AU! where you can't see color until you first look into your soulmates eyes)

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing I think?, poorly written, clearly from my drafts, headcannon turned imagine, fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

You had always been close with Sam ever since you served in the Air Force together, you were always up for any mission or task he needed help with.

After everyone was blipped back you had lost your job, so when Sam called you up asking you to tag along on a mission and promised compensation you couldn't turn him down.

You met Sam and Bucky in the garage and when the infamous Helmut Zemo walked in you locked eyes with him, and a fit a color exploded before you.

Zemo had stopped mid sentence

“I really don’t think I’m—“

Your heart sank deep into your chest

“Oh no” you said barely above a whisper.

“I uh, I’m not useful to this operation” he finished, stumbling over his words. Which you'd learn later on was very uncharacteristic of him.

You just stared at him as he nodded at you, a quiet hello.

Your luck was just impeccable wasn’t it? Zemo? Helmet fucking Zemo? It had to be him? The man that tore apart the avengers and bombed the UN for Christ sake! He was a fucking criminal!

The plane ride to Madripoor was above all else, awkward.

You barely spoke, not even making eye contact with anyone unless directly spoken to.

“You alright Y/n?” Sam asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You only nodded a small yes, feeling your soulmates prying eyes burning holes into the sight of Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, such a pretty name. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. Y/n.” Zemo said, toying with the sound of your name on his lips. Flustering you, but angering Bucky.

“Cool it Zemo, she’s just a kid.” He warned. Causing Zemo to wave Bucky off with his hand as he took a sip of his warm champagne.

But Bucky was right, you were just a kid. Your soulmate, the Baron for Christ sake, had to be at least 20 some years older than you.

Why did fate set you up with a man that was an adult before you were even born? Didn’t he have a wife before the battle of Sokovia? Maybe this was some kind of cosmic glitch.

I mean, it had to be... right?

Of course you wouldn’t be able to shake the Baron so easily, especially not when you needed a secret cover to pose as in Madripoor

There was only one role for you to play being so new on the “superhero” scene that you were unknown and considering you didn’t look like a single high profile criminal out there.

The Barons fiancé. His schatzi.

Obviously, you couldn’t just show up to a bar in low town in your suit either, so Zemo being ostentatious man that he is came prepared in the worst way possible.

You closed the door to first class and zipped open the black dress bag that Zemo handed you, telling you it would fit well with the part you were due to play.

A very short velvety plum dress sat in front of your color bound eyes. Ridiculously tall heels to match.

It was never something you’d wear out, you’d never have the confidence to wear such a short and expensive dress out to a bar of all places. But the material felt so good and with the new blessing of colored sight almost made you satisfied with outfit presented.

But you walked out fully dressed and maintained your attitude.

“Who am I supposed to be? A high-end hooker?” You quipped, trying to pull the hem of the dress down as far as it would go.

“You, schatzi, will be playing the part of my fiancé.” Zemo said simply. Fixing the cufflink on his left arm.

You stood there awestruck at what he had just said to you. It was hard enough for you to try and ignore that he was your soulmate but now you had to play the part?

“Oh, and you’ll be needing this” he said, digging into his pocket and flicking a ring at you. You caught it, examining it and gasping softly. You had never seen a diamond so big.

You slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly. Which, made you smile to yourself in a way you knew you shouldn’t have.

He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. You continually repeated to yourself the whole ride to low town, allowing yourself to think for even a second that just because he was your soulmate meant that he was a good person was not in the books. You simply couldn’t do it.

But as you arrived in the deeper part of Madripoor Zemo informed everyone that they must play their role to a T, because their lives depended on it.

As the car stopped Zemo walked around the side and opened the door for you, grabbing your hand and leading you out. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand as you stood upright.

You eyes trailed up to his as a blush became evident on your face, when you locked eyes, boom, another shockwave of color screamed into your eyes. You saw the detailing in his fur collar, the bright neon signage all around, the gold detailing in Bucky’s vibraium arm, all of it.

You wanted to see color forever, you hated knowing that if you went without seeing Zemo for too long, the color would fade out.

In ordeal at the bar came and went, the business with Selby is where things got interesting and simultaneously made you nervous.

For some reason it’s almost as if Zemo could sense this because he squeezed your hand tightly and you both sat down on the couch across from Selby.

After everyone else had either been introduced or acknowledged, all that was left was you.

“And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got yourself here Zemo?” Selby asked, clearing prodding knowing he’d been married before.

“This...” he trailed off, grabbing your left hand to show off the ring “is my beautiful fiancé” he finished

“Oh, got yourself a little trophy wife after the other one kicked the can huh?" She added, staring down the large rock sitting on your finger.

“That’s very sweet of you to think, but this one here is my soulmate. The first woman to ever make me see in color.” Zemo said, his words so sweet honey might as well as been dripping off his tongue. His gaze turned to you, boom, another bright flash of color that made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh how sweet, but I don’t believe it.” Selby said with a grin, Sam and Bucky tensed up slightly. Siding with Selby because they too didn’t believe Zemo when he referred to you as his soulmate.

“Test me.” You challenged, stupidly if I may add.

“Excuse me?” Selby asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you

“If you don’t believe we’re soulmates, test me. I can name any color you’d like.” You continued, a part of you always looking for a challenge, the other part also wanting to test yourself see if maybe this whole color thing was faulty or one-ended.

“Fine, we’ll start easy. What’s the color of that slutty dress you’ve got on?” She asked, angry that you challenged her

“Easy, the same color as my soulmates turtle neck. A deep purple, plum if you will.” You said carefully caressing the material of Zemo’s shirt

“You could’ve been told that before you arrived, what about my lipstick?” She pressed as she pursed her lips out

“A cheap magenta” you deadpanned, done with her games. She scoffed at you.

“And this couch?” She asked grinning, patting the cushion beside her.

“Trick question. It’s a old a dirty worn out pattern, it has no specific color” you said with a fake smile, Zemo’s hand snaking around your waist as he pulled you a little closer.

The room fell silent just long enough for things to feel awkward before Selby started laughing uncontrollably.

“Well Baron, the universe certainly has picked you a handful! Now what business did you want to do with me again?” And just like that, it was over and you were suddenly running from bounty hunters on the streets.

When Sharon rescued the four of you the ride up to her place in high town was painfully silent. Zemo kept a firm hand on your thigh. Bucky stared off into space ashamed of how easily he fell back into form, and Sam sat on his thoughts wondering if you and Zemo were really soulmates.

No one really spoke to each other, just different conversations with Sharon. After what went down at the Bar and then with Selby... a mood was set, things had changed.

When Zemo stood up and announced he wanted to go join the party and made his way towards the exit you told Bucky you’d keep on eye on him. Sam wanted to protest but at that point you both were already out the door.

You sat from afar watching Zemo on the floor of the club horribly attempting to dance along with the rest of the party-goers. When you laughed a little to yourself he looked up at you, boom, that beautiful shock of color again. It never got old.

But you quickly averted your eyes and disappeared from his gaze as you went to the bar for a drink. When the bartender slid your drink over suddenly Zemo was at your side announcing he’d pay for it.

Zemo started to snake his hand around your waist once more but this time you smacked his hand away

“We’re not playing house anymore, Baron.” You told him, using his formal title.

“But you see what I see, do you not?” He asked, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“See what?” You asked, avoiding his burning gaze. You knew damn well what he was taking about but refused to admit to even yourself. He was a horrible man, a criminal, a rich psychopath! It ached your heart that someone with such a shitty past was who you were meant to be with for the rest of your life.

“The beautiful colors. I see your bright eyes, your sleek hair, those sweet pink lips. Now color is all around me too, I can see the colors of the club. I see the blue radiating off that light, the red in this drink you ordered, the green that lady’s hair! You love opened my eyes, Y/n. With you, I can see.” Zemo pressed on, smiling as he looked in awe at all the colors around him. He placed his hand gently over yours. You flinched but didn’t move away from his touch

“But this has to be wrong. I can’t be the person for you. You had a wife and kids right? Didn’t they bring any color into your life?” You asked, feeling a warm heat rise to your cheeks from the small contact you two were now sharing

“I loved my wife and son sure, but they were always grey to me. Remember that I’m a Baron, when you’re royalty your marriage options aren’t as wide as the universe has set for you.” He pointed out, taking your hand and slowly rubbing your knuckles.

“Still surely this has to be some kind of universal glitch! I mean you’re what? 20 some years older than me? What about all the horrible shit you’ve done? You’re a criminal! I was made to be a hero! We don’t mix, let alone fall in love!” You babbled on

“Listen, y/n. I am not proud of my past, I was a grief stricken man who had just lost his wife and child along with his entire country. I was only doing what I believed to be right at the moment, is that not what you try to do as well?” He asked, trying to find similarities between the two of you. Some common ground.

“Zemo I—“ you started, turning to face him and looking into his hazel brown eyes again and feeling that boom of color that would never get old, but did make you lose your train of thought.

“Zemo I’m scared” you finished off, your planned statement turning into a confession. You didn’t take your eyes off his this time as he stared back down at you. Bring his free hand to your cheek he smiled softly.

“I’m scared too, schatzi. But the feeling you give me makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. Stay with me, ride this out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, sport cars, you name it and I’ll buy it for you. I’ll fly you any place you’ve ever wanted to go, show you every sight you’ll ever need to see.” He tools breathe, a single tear slipping down his face.

“Please, let’s give this a shot.” He ended. Nine years with losing your wife, child, country, and being imprisoned for a few years really changed a man; and made him that much more desperate for someone like you, his soulmate, to stay.

And stay you did. The first year was rocky wrapping things up with the super soldiers on the loose and clearing Zemo’s name in the eyes of the Power Broker and the UN. Based on his efforts to take down the last of the super soldiers and good words from Sam and Bucky his sentence was reduced to one year under house arrest, which made for a great way to get to know each other better.

The years after that were far beyond smooth sailing, they were dare you even say perfect. You traveled the world with Zemo, lived the most lavish life, saw the most amazing things.

All in color.

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sydnee-kom-spacekru · 4 years ago

Text

Cosmically Connected (Spencer Reid x Reader Fluff)

Disclaimer: The first part of this one-shot is a rewrite of @reidsnose one shot, Cosmically Connected. This is in no way meant to steal credit from them, or steal their work. This is merely a rewrite and extension. I have permission to rewrite this.

Summary: Reid doesn't believe in soul mates, and you convince him. After, you go and watch movies and he reads to you, and things are said.

Warnings: FLUFF, slight language, makes me want to scream just starting to write it, etc. Nothing bad.

A/n: Idk if Reid has watched Harry Potter. So let's just say he hasn't. This is set in season 5. F/c stands for favorite color.

Requested: No. Well, by me but that's it.

The BAU was had an unusually slow day. Paperwork and jokes were all that went on.

It was just you, Garcia, and Reid left. Even though it was only six in the evening.

You were coming back from the restroom when you heard a loud bang! You panicked, and rushed to the cubicles, getting ready to pull out your gun.

After you realized that nothing was wrong, you noticed that Garcia was the source of the loud noise. She had slammed her hands down on Reid's desk.

You sighed out of relief, "What the hell?" It was part relief, part anger at them for causing you such grief.

Garcia stood straight up, pointing at Reid, who looked amused. "Him." Was all she said.

"Uhm," You breathed out a laugh. "You'll have to fill me in." You were smiling, you adored the people in front of you.

"He, he doesn't believe in soulmates, Y/n. Soulmates! What kind of person..." She trailed off, sitting down in your chair.

Spencer just shrugged, smiling. "I am a man of science, Garcia! And science says no."

You hummed, and he turned towards you, "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice got higher as he went on.

"Because," you said, leaning against his desk. ""Science Man", science says "yes"."

"Oh! Y/n told me about this last Tuesday!" She turned towards you. "You remember, I said you sounded just like boy genius over here." She giggled and waved you on.

You nodded and stood up, stealing Reid's glasses, putting them on. Reid just smiled at you, laughing making you snort.

"Now tell me!" He said impatiently.

"I am, calm down!" You cleared your throat. "So, you know when the big bang or whatever caused the creation of the universe, there were all sorts of molecules and space dust that was together at one point, broke apart. I'm accurate so far, yes Mr. Science Man?" You smirked.

"It's Doctor. And, yes?" He glanced to the sides.

You snickered, then continued. "The whole universe is made of such particles?"

"You're correct."

"And humans are made of previously mentioned space dust?"

"Yeah, that's right." He said cautiously.

"So two people could be made of the sae space dust that was once whole?" He sputtered, you smiled. You knew you had him.

"Y-yeah, I guess that could happen."

"In such a case, these two space dust beings are cosmically connected. They are bound together from the beginning by the beginning." You watched as he slowly became more impressed. "These two souls are connected. In other words;" You paused, wiggling your fingers and underlining the imaginary word, "soulmates!"

You sat back, satisfied with the effect that the words had on him. You knew his brain was racing, you could tell. You watched him as he worked this in his brain. You loved to just watch him think, to exist, every little thing he did brought a blush to your face. Never in your life had you met a person quite like Doctor Spencer Reid. It was quite embarrassing, actually. To have such a ginormous crush on one of your co-workers.

But, you shook off your euphoria, you were convinced he didn't feel the same way. As long as you could be his friend, you were content enough, for now.

He kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to think of something to say. He felt as if you had electrocuted him, but in a good way. A refreshing way. "I-, I can't believe it, Y/n."

"Ha! You did it, Y/n! You proved our very own resident genius wrong!" She smiled an award winning smile, flashing all of her teeth at you.

"So," You grinned at him. "Wha'd'ya say, Brainiac? Convinced yet?"

"Well, Y/n, science is science. Soulmates are true." He cracked a goofy smile.

But what you didn't know is that it wasn't your lecture that convinced him. It was the fact that he believed that he had found his soulmate, right then and there. It was you.

Spencer realized as you were telling him, the way you looked at him, with complete adoration, he thought he was going to melt. He felt his heart rate speed up as he thought about the last couple of weeks, how you were there for him when he needed someone most. How he loved to be around you, how he longed to be. How he felt warm inside when you were around, how he loved every little thing about you. He was then hit with a sudden realization. He loved you.

"Yes!" You practically screamed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He realized that it had only been two seconds, two seconds of him thinking of everything about you.

You jumped off of his desk, and hugged Garcia, who had stood up. You pulled back, now you were both chanting "Science says soulmates! Science says soulmates!" You sat down, and Garcia pushed you in your chair around the office.

Garcia pushed you down the hallway, the sound of you guys' laughter fading off.

Morgan came into the office, slapping Reid on the back, laughing. "When are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know, probably never. Maybe not even then." Reid shrugged. Then, desperate to change the subject, he quickly said, "By the way, what are you doing here, Morgan?"

"No no no, Man! Don't change the subject. Why not?"

Reid turned red, "She isn't into me like that, Morgan. You've seen the guys she's gone out with." He scoffed.

Morgan sat down, getting serious. "Come on, Reid. You're a profiler, you have to know she's into you." Spencer just shrugged, but enjoyed the idea of you liking him back.

Morgan just hung his head, laughing. He stood up. "I can't wait to tell you I told you so."

"Then you'll be waiting for a long time."

"Ah! But not forever, Pretty Boy. Not forever!" He laughed as he walked out.

Reid laughed, but a small smile tugged at his lips at the idea of a relationship with you.

"Damn it." You sighed in resignation at your phone. You were getting ready to leave, to head to a friends house. Have a Harry Potter Marathon, watch all of them consecutively. You baked 200 cookies, literally.

And they just cancelled on you. You spun in your chair, you were disappointed to say the least. You've had this planned for a month.

Reid walked up behind you, peering over your shoulder. "What's the matter?"

You sighed, leaning your head back and looking at him. "It's nothing, my friend just cancelled on me. She's sick." He pursed his lips, "Oh, I'm sorry Y/n." You shrugged.

"Can I do anything for you?" He sat down in his desk, which was in front of yours, facing you. You guys only had laptops, so it was easy to see over them.

You thought as you packed your stuff. You both headed to the door, it was dark even though it was only seven. It was November. "I guess you could come over and help me eat all of the cookies I made. And you could have a Harry Potter marathon with me." You grinned, looking up at him.

"Okay," he paused. "How many movies are there?" You stopped as you came to your car.

"Have you never seen or read Harry Potter?"

"No, it didn't interest me." You raised your eyebrows.

"Okay, then we'll start the books tonight." You stated, and opened the passenger seat for him.

The ride to your apartment was quiet, The Arctic Monkeys played softly in the background. It started to sprinkle. You were nearly home, maybe five minutes.

"Hey Spencer?" You started.

"Hmm?" He turned to face away from the window and look at you.

"Do you really believe in soulmates now?" You shifted in the driver seat, glancing over at him.

He didn't hesitate to answer, "Yes." His breathing had sped up. "Uhm, Actually," You came to a stop at the red light, and turned up the heat, it was cold. "I think that I've met mine." He barely blinked as he waited for your reaction.

Your heart sunk, but you recovered. Quickly telling yourself it was never going to happen anyways. "Really?" You voice sounded unnatural, but you didn't know how to fix it. "Who is it?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure I want to tell anyone just yet."

You swallowed, and resumed driving after a car behind you honked at you.

You waved at them as they passed you by, mouthing "Sorry."

You pulled into the parking garage, taking out an umbrella from the trunk. You could hear the rain beating down on the floors above you. Spencer got out of the car, coming up beside you and putting his hand on your shoulder, making you shiver. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring an umbrella." He shouted over the thunder, but at the lat second it ended, and his voice echoed throughout the garage. A mother holding her baby glared at him, and he whispered sorry. After she was gone, you both burst out laughing.

"That's alright," you said as soon as you calmed down. "We can share. But you have to hold it, my arm would get tired." You smiled at him, handing him the umbrella. He unravelled it, and it had a hole in it. Right in the center.

"Oh no." You said, dragging out the 'o', groaning. "It's too big, it wouldn't cover us up anyways. I hope you have extra clothes." You chuckled.

"Wait," He shrugged off the trench coat he was wearing, and held it over both of you. "There we go." He sounded proud of himself. You just giggled at him, and held yours and his things close to you.

You ran across the street, trying to keep up with Reid.

You flopped down on your couch, Reid stood there awkwardly with the sopping coat. "Shoot! Sorry, here give it to me." You stood up and reached for it, and went to put it into the washer.

"It should be done pretty quick," you hollered from the laundry room, "my washer and dryer-" You turned around, then yelled. Reid was standing right there.

"Jesus! Spencer you scared the living hell out of me!" You smacked his chest.

"Sorry, I heard you talking and I came back here..." He backed up to let you by.

You sighed, laughing and turning on the heat. It was freezing in your apartment. "Come on, I have literally over two hundred cookies in my kitchen, and I have the first book in my room." You point out the kitchen, and tell him to grab the cookies.

You went to your room, looking through your book shelves for the first book. "Ah-ha!" You whisper shouted to yourself, you had found the Sorcerer's Stone. You grabbed it off the shelf, and went back down the hallway.

"Hey, Spence! I found..." You trailed off as you found Spencer on the floor in your living room, with a large plate piled high of the different kinds of cookies you made. He was watching some random movie that was on. You just set the book down on the table, and sat down next to him, taking a cookie off the plate. He smiled close lipped at you, "These cookies are so good, Y/n." He looked adorable, he was so happy. You couldn't help but look at him for a little while, he kept laughing at random parts in the movie.

About an hour and forty-six (Spencer counted) cookies later, the movie was over. "I need to go shopping, so I don't have very much food in here besides leftovers." You said, opening the fridge. It was nearly empty, day-old Chinese, a small bottle of orange juice, and just a smidge of cookie dough. "Do you wanna order some pizza?"

You heard Spencer get up and enter the kitchen. "Do what? I heard you say that you had leftovers, but not the second part."

You turned around. "I asked," you paused, turning around and closing the fridge. "If you wanted to order pizza. Or I could just drop you off at your apartment." You added the last part quickly, not thinking about it until the last second. You walked back to the living room, sitting down sideways on the loveseat, your feet up on the second cushion. He came and picked up your feet, sat down, and put them back on his lap.

"We can order pizza, what kind do you want?" He asked you. You shrugged.

"How about we just get hot wings." You suggested.

"Okay."

"Oh my God, my mouth is on fire." You laughed. "We shouldn't have gotten the ghost pepper flavour."

Spencer was whining, waving his hands in front of his mouth. You burst out laughing, he glared at you but he was smiling. "Hey! This isn't funny."

You groaned, drinking some water. "Shit. That didn't help." You whined, sticking out your tongue. Spencer had gone to your kitchen, you didn't notice.

"I found Orange Juice. Can I have some?" He asked, faking desperation. It was a cheep little bottle, one you get from the dollar store.

"Yeah, just don't drink it all." He took a long drink, and handed it to you. He sighed in relief.

"It's better. Did you know, the reason the orange juice helps is because of the..." You weren't listening. You weren't trying to be rude, but you were just focused on the orange juice. You finished the small bottle and set it down on the table next to the empty container that smelled spicy. You laid down on the loveseat, closing your eyes for a second. It was only ten, but you were unusually sleepy.

"...Neat, right?" You just nodded. You were sleepy, and you still wanted to read with Spencer.

"Y/n? Are you tired?" He sat down in the space between the coffee table and the loveseat, and you felt his put his hand on your cheek, rubbing over your cheekbone with his thumb. You opened your eyes, a sleepy smile on your face.

"I have to take you home." You said, but made no move to get up.

"Hey, shh." He brushed your hair out of your face, causing you to turn red. "I can sleep on the couch here tonight."

You sighed contently, "You should come read Harry Potter to me." You whispered. You were in a daze, half asleep and unsure if this was real or not.

"Okay." Reid whispered, and waited a few seconds. When you didn't move, he reached under your head, and your legs. Then picked you up.

You woke with the sudden movement, "Sorry, you can put me down now." He set you down in the hallway, and you stumbled to your room. You pulled back the f/c blanket, and laid down. You patted the spot next to you, and he climbed in next to you.

You scooted closer to him, snuggling into his side. "Can you read to me please?" He nodded, not that you could see, but started reading.

""Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."" He started playing with your hair mindlessly, lulling you to sleep even faster.

"Spence." You looked up at him, your eyes were droopy. He raised his eyebrows, asking you what was wrong. "Can you sleep in here, please?"

"Yeah, I will." He said gently. You nodded, and laid back down. You barely heard the rest of the first paragraph.

You were running through a hallway. The lights flashing. Someone was chasing you, screaming things at you. But you couldn't hear, it was like the words were blurred. You glanced back, he was right behind you. You tried to run faster, but when you turned back around, there was blood spattered everywhere. It made you stumble. The unsub caught up with you, tackling you to the floor. He grabbed onto your neck, and bashed your head into the ground-

You woke up with a jolt, terrified, in a cold sweat. You grabbed onto Spencer in pure reflex, waking him up. He sat up quickly, reaching over to turn the light on. It let off a soft light, and you saw the book on your bedside table with a bookmark in near the end.

"What's wrong?" He cupped your face in his hands, brushing your hair out of your face.

Your breathing was shallow, and your heart was racing. You were having a minor panic attack. "Spence," You breathed out, it was like you couldn't stop moving, you had to convince yourself you were safe. "I can't- I can't- I can't breathe." You were sweating, horrified that the unsub was going to find you.

He held you close, trying to soothe you. "I need you to breathe with me, Y/n." Your chest was heaving, you struggled to get your breathing under control. You nodded, and tried to breathe with him as he showed you to breathe in and out. You were tugging at the bottom of your shirt, until Spencer grabbed your hands in his and started covering them.

"You'll be alright," he whispered, pulling you close again. You had calmed down, now silent tears were falling down your face. You were just trying to listen to the sound of his heart beating.

"Do you want to talk about it? Talking about your feelings actually have positive effects. Talking leads to Catharsis, which is the feeling of relief." He toys with your hair while you tell him about the nightmare. "I'm so sorry."

He pulled away from you, looking at you. "I just want you to know, I will never let that happen to you." You pulled him back to you, you probably looked like a mess. "What time is it?"

"It's one in the morning."

"Can we go back to sleep, please?" He nodded, and lay back, taking you with him. You sniffed. "Can you read, please?" He reached over to grab the book, and resumed reading.

"I'm on the last page, I hope you don't mind that I read ahead."

"Of course not, I'm surprised you didn't finish the entire series."

He laughed a little, then five minutes later, ""...I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer. . ."" You sighed, you were calm now. Still shook up from the nightmare, but calm.

"Do you have the nightmares often?" He whispered to you, tracing circles on your back.

"Yeah, almost every night." Your eyes were closed, and you were close to sleep. He lifted his head up, hesitated and laid back down.

Another ten minutes went by, you were nearly asleep when you heard Spencer say something. "You're my space dust." He sounded groggy, and you had convinced yourself he was sleep talking. But you still hoped.

You woke up to your alarm at seven-thirty. You were laying on top of Spencer, between his legs. "Sorry. Do you want me to drive you home so you can change?"

"How about we call in sick, it's just paperwork today." He sounded tired.

"Okay, I'll text Hotch." Though neither of you made a move to actually text him for another hour. When you did, he just smiled at his phone. The entire team had suspicions about the two of you, although you had never acted on it.

After, you both just laid there together, until you remembered what you thought you heard last night.

"Spencer?" You asked hesitantly.

"What's up, Y/n?" You were laying next to him, head on his chest. His arms were wrapped around you, which is weird. Because he's generally not very touchy.

"I think you said something last night. But I'm not sure that I heard you correctly..." You were timid, and you felt him tense up.

"W-what do you think y-you heard?" He stopped moving completely now, but you were very fidgety.

"I don't want this to ruin our friendship, but I thought I heard you say that I was your space dust. D-did you say that? Do you mean that- that..." You rambled on, just until Spencer interrupted you.

"Y/n." You stopped talking, and you both sat up. "I mean it like that." You sucked in a breath.

"I need to hear it." Your voice was shaky, and your throat was burning. But you didn't want to cry, you couldn't cry in front of him again.

He grabbed your hands in his, took a deep breath, and "Y/n, I-I love you." You couldn't help it, you pulled him to, and pressed your lips to his. It was like fireworks had gone off.

Your stomach was turning, Spencer had one hand on the back of your neck, and the other was holding one of yours. You had never kissed anyone and felt something deep inside you like this.

You pulled away from him, smiling. "You're my space dust too, Spence." And you gave him one last kiss before getting up and going to make breakfast

AHHHH IT'S FINISHED lmk if you like it

#spencer x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid fluff

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