#never understood the whole “the eyes are the window to the soul” thing until i picked up batman/scarecrow year one

[nixotinix]

Year one scarecrow pls and thank you for the requests. ♡♡♡

THE mistress of fear in my inbox? yowza WOWZA! okay, nix, just play it cool, just draw the art,,,,

thank you for the request aah! they are still indeed open for any and all DC characters :)

[lolitalovess]

Behind closed doors.

sum: arranged marriage caitlyn kiramman x reader

warnings: this is short but i put my whole pussy into it, reader lowkey has issues, my girl cait does aswell, hardly proofread, INSANE lesbian yearning

you've always appreciated the way the kiramman manor looks at night, after the sun has lulled itself to sleep in orange hues and the moon is reborn - surrounded by black inc and a thousand stars visible through the large windows of you and your shared wife's room, the night-life of piltover with tall buildings and bright lights shown to your tired eyes from linen curtains pulled back.

it distracted you from how your back grew sore from your position of sitting against the headboard, and why you were here in the first place. you gazed down at your resting wife - she's gorgeous, with prussian blue hair fanning over her pillow and framing her face. you're jealous of her peace in her deep state of unconscious sleep the way her comforter is tucked to her chest and the way it rises and falls with every passing breath.

you had been sitting with your busy thoughts for far too long, you could hardly handle yourself anymore. you've never understood the purpose of getting married ever since you first learnt the term as a young girl. to know someone for a few years and finally like them enough to buy expensive rings and voice vowels to one another, which, most of the time, are bullshit.

but caitlyn kiramman, a woman full of so much dark blue woe and sorrow had just taken your heart, and it felt like a sin. was it? to find your arranged wife attractive, to yearn for her love, despite never showing affection or doing anything remotely intimate. it felt like it was.

the area surrounding you consisted of deafening silence like before, though you could swear that the dark shadows of the manor could morth into tall figurines watching you, especially the one heading toward you. you feel a wave of hotness manufactured out of pure anxiety travel through your body until you see azure blue eyes looking into yours with confusion and longing for your warmth next to hers in bed.

"i couldn't sleep." you speak quickly, voice soft in attempt to not ruin her peace. "go back to bed. it's too cold out here for you to just be wearing that robe."

she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, reaching her arms out for you as quickly as you started talking. it was almost like a hug, with her hands interlocking with eachother around your torso from the side, a small frown playing her lips while she studied the side of your face.

“can’t sleep or won’t sleep?” she asked softly, her accent slipping. she knew what it was like being up all night, in her own terms, alone with her thoughts in the empty felt rooms of the precinct. "go back to bed." you repeated, tilting your head to the side to rest it against her chest, which had her instinctively squeezing around her hands around your waist tighter to support you, enjoying the sight and feel of your body against hers. her hands on you would have you feeling like you were on fire if you weren't so tired. "i'll sleep in one of the guests."

it was a rare thing for the two of you to be physical, as much as it always bothered caitlyn how you would never stay close to her unless you needed something, felt unsafe, or was cold. otherwise, they would never touch, as much as your souls yearned for it. "nonsense," she spoke, her hands rubbing gentle circles against your side before speaking again, her deep voice soft and tender, not wanting to wake anyone up, or disturb her wife.

"sleep in the bed with me tonight. it'll be warmer." she added, taking a small step back as if it the action alone would convince you. the weight of your body being tugged along with her ever so slightly and gently had you focused on following her warmth and familiar smell of vanilla and lavender rather than pulling away.

the two of you stood in silence for a few minutes that felt like hours, the quiet beat of her heartbeat present in your ears whilst you felt sleep threatening to take over your conciousness. you knew you could fall asleep like this if you let yourself. "okay."

she was gently tugging you along with her out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom the moment you agreed, where the moonlight filtered through the slightly parted curtains that exposed the view from outside of the city, it was beautiful, even at night. the door was pushed open slowly and closed behind the two of you just as quickly, her feet taking herself to sit down on the edge of her familiar bed, swinging her long legs up and over to get completely on the bed once more. “come here,” she softly spoke as she patted the space next to her.

you complied at the soft demand from your wife, beginning to walk over to the bed opposite side of the bed, the silk covers pulled over your legs and to your waist after you settled. you felt the comforting action of sleep clouding your mind like every other night, the familiar feel of your jade wedding ring cold around your finger.

maybe caitlyn wasn't so bad.

the lesbian yearning goes crazyy... not gonna lie this concept has been in my drafts for AWHILE and i really enjoyed writing something that wasn't vi and smut for once 😭 might do another part to this, lmk what you think and want ♡

[strrykais]

(❤︎) ── eyes are the window to the soul

after your break up with chan, things were okay until the semester started and now you cant seem to escape him, not that you really want to ..

𐀔𓂃 kais note: part 2 to these four walls! definitely not proof read! can also be read without reading these four walls! 3.1k words

warnings : unprotected sex (dont do that!), oral (m. receiving), nipple play, swallowing, chan slight sub! and anything i may of missed idk

back to library | req? yes / no

Nobody really ever tells you that mourning a relationship you never thought was gonna end, hurts like hell. Its been about two months since you and Chan stopped talking, after he refused to start a relationship with you. It hurt that he never gave you a true reason. 

It took you days to get his smell out of your apartment and it took you the whole summer to not purposely stay up waiting for him to magically appear. It was hard, hours upon hours stuck in this room where you shared fond memories but that was all they were.. Memories.

It was the start of your senior year of this magic school and you were excited to graduate and continue on your journey into becoming a professor. You clutched onto your books waiting outside the bathroom for a certain brown haired boy to walk out. 

“Han jisung, come on, we are gonna be late for potions.” shouting into the bathroom hoping he could hear you, when no response came out. You huff readying to march in there when you run into a hard chest. You froze, you know this smell it took you days of open windows and nights of washing to finally get this smell out of your mind. But chan’s smell always put you at ease, and that was the last thing you wanted to remember. Pushing yourself back from his arms you continue to face the ground, hoping it would swallow him up whole.

“You cut your hair.” Chan's voice was soft, almost like he was imagining you there. He slowly reaches out, wanting to feel like you are really there.

“What's going on?” jisung pops up startling you both, Chan clears his throat mumbling a small bye. Your eyes never leaving his figure till Jisung cleared his throat.

“Was that him?” 

“Yes.” you turn to head to your class, hoping jisung understood and wouldn’t question you more than you would like.

It's been about two weeks since you actually ran into Chan, you never had the heart to go up to him, and he never had the balls to try to talk to you. But you could feel it, the eyes watching you, waiting as if they were waiting for the right time to pounce. It was frustrating you felt him watching you, you knew it was him because no one's eyes made you feel all tingly from head to toe. 

It was one of those days where you felt him constantly around, you didn't see him but you definitely felt him. No matter where you looked you just couldn’t seem to find him. Sighing you quickly get out your chair making your way to the back of one of the book aisles hoping he would follow you. You hide behind a shelf, waiting till you see a familiar set of curly hair.

“Chan, why have you been following me around these days?” you pop up from behind him causing him to jump up a little. You try to cover your small smile with a cough, but Chan noticed. Ever since he saw you outside the bathroom, you never left his mind. In all honesty you haven't left his mind since that night 3 months ago. He has been trying to gather the courage to come up to you but every time he would try to take a step he could only remember the way your face fell when he told you he couldn’t have a relationship with you. The way hope of you two seeped out your eyes only for him to be the reason you no longer look like you once did. 

“I haven't been following you.” Chan scratches the back of his neck, an easy tell that you learned meaning he is lying. Now that you were catching him off guard, you finally had a chance to really look at him. He looked the same for the most part, his hair a little longer but still as curly and messy on his pretty head. You couldn’t really tell but it looked like he had been working out, if only you could see what was under that jacket. Wait, you shouldn't be having these thoughts anymore. Shaking your head to rid them, you finally looked up into his eyes. His eyes were always your favorite, no matter how many white lies he has told you, his eyes always told you the truth, which is why looking at them made your heart flutter. They always held the stars, they held everything that you wanted and more. And right now they held a sense of longing, a sadness that you wanted to wipe away.

“Stop following me if you have nothing to say to me. I can feel you all over. It's annoying when I'm trying to work.” you picked at the end of your sweater trying to keep your hands busy, too scared that they might reach over for his like they did all those nights ago. 

“I. ive been trying to find the right words but every time I think they are okay and enough for you I stop and think, am I enough for you? Can I ever be enough for you.” His voice was soft, almost like he never actually meant for those words to be said. Before you could answer him the clock tower bells rang out. 

With a breath of relief glad to literally be saved by the bell “bye chan.” you say as you gently push by him. 

You were upset the rain ruined your night out, now stuck inside instead of bar hopping with your friends, you just decided to curl up and watch a movie. Gathering some snacks and your blankets you set up camp in the middle of the couch. A few moments pass by when a sudden knock at your door gathers your attention. Pausing the movie you make to the door, swinging it open to reveal a rained soaked chan.

“Chan?” 

“I'm sorry. I don’t know how I ended up here.” 

You know you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t but the way he was shivering like a dog, and the way his eyes were practically pleading for you to let him in, made you side step pushing the door wider for him to come through.

Chan always felt your apartment was his second home, hell he liked it more than his actual home. He looks around, noticing the blanket mound on the couch and the movie on pause. He couldn't help but look around hoping that you didn't change anything since you two stopped talking. Chan was brought back to the nights you both would laugh in that same spot at some dumb movie you wanted to watch. He didn't mind it, just seeing your smile was enough to get him through the horrible plot.

“You know there's a spell to conjure up things… like I don't know, an umbrella?” Chan watches as you cross your arms over one of his band t-shirts, he gives a small smile towards you. He was glad you still had it actually. 

“The wet look makes me look more sad and pitiful, I'm pretty sure you wouldn’t have let me in if I was dry and had an umbrella.” you watch him as the corner of his lips come up in some sly way. Groaning, you head into the bathroom grabbing a towel and chunking it towards him.

 “Dry up, you are getting my floors wet. I think I have some of your clothes here from.. You know.” you rush upstairs trying to put some distance in between you two, hoping that this buzzing feeling will go away now that his eyes are off you. Rummaging through your drawers you quickly pull out some clothes, hurrying to get him dry as possible. 

Once chan was changed you both somehow ended up on opposite sides of the couch waiting on him to say something as to why he was here. Your body was aching to feel him, you really couldn't understand how this close proximity was messing with your senses. His scent mixed with the rain was making you feel like you were drunk. You kept your eyes closed trying to ground yourself when you heard chans whisper of a voice calling out.

“I'm sorry for the way I left. It was extremely douchey of me to not give you some type of explanation or even an excuse. It wasn't right of me to play with your emotions like that.” glancing over you already see him staring at you.

“If you're here to just give an excuse now chan you can leave, ive come to terms with it. Really. Im fine now” 

“No, I wanted to tell you that.. I.. um i” 

“I think you should leave.” you get up starting for the door when his hand reaches out grabbing at your wrist to stop you. 

“I miss you, and I'm not talking about the sex. I miss everything about you. Everything reminds me of you and I feel like I lost myself when I walked out that room. I lost so much sleep standing out your window trying to stop myself from popping in. YN i’m sorry, people got into my head, my parents got into my head. Telling me you would never be good enough for me, I would never be happy.” hand still holding your wrist he stands up cupping your face with his other, “i let it get to me and i let it make me lose the only true happiness i ever had. And then I realized, would I be good enough for her? Can I even make her happy? Can she truly love me for me?” he lets go of your wrist other hand reaching to cup your other cheek, mouth inching towards yours, his breath fanning over your lips. “Im sorry, and if you have it in your heart please, ill even get down on my knees, please forgive me and lets really try it. Let's date.” 

Chan didn't dare make a move, he watches you process everything from his words to his facial expressions. Chan was trying everything in his power to not kiss you, he didn't want to cross a line that he was scared you drew. 

You knew he wasn’t lying, his eyes said it all. He wanted you, he needed you. That was all it really took for you to press your lips onto him, chan wasted no time in kissing you back tilting his head to try to kiss you deeper. Chan hands are hot on your skin, one falling to your waist rubbing small circles into his shirt. And the other firmly at the nape of your neck. A soft moan leaves your mouth, giving chan enough access to lick inside. You pull away, panting out of breath as Chan takes this opportunity to kiss around your face, on your cheek, to your nose, a soft one to your forehead, and one below your ear. Chan knew that was a sensitive spot, he could feel the way your body reacted to it. His dick growing harder in his sweats. 

“Baby we should probably stop for tonight.” Chan pulls away, he knew he wasn't gonna have restraint towards you, he never did. 

You took this time to plant kisses onto his neck, sucking leaving marks all over the exposed skin, but it wasn't enough pulling back you reach for the hem of his shirt hoping he got the idea that you didn't care. You needed chan, badly. You needed him for months and your fingers and your toys could never manage to hit the spot you knew he could. With chans shirt off you kiss down his collarbone leaving small marks. Chan was letting out small groans letting his head fall back, enjoying the way your lips felt on him. Chan was caught off guard when you started to rub him from outside his sweats. A huge imprint of his dick formed so beautifully it had you foaming at the mouth. 

“Take them off and sit back down.” You said, Chan wasted absolutely no time in ridding himself of his clothes. Chan really never let you take the reins but the way he was looking at you with his lustful eyes was making you feel even more needy than you have ever been. You place yourself in between his knees watching him watch you gently rub your hands on his thighs. You watch as chans dick bobs up and down, dripping with precum, waiting to be touched.

“Baby please.” his voice was whiny, this was new chan never begged much less use this type of tone with you. It only filled you with more pleasure imaginable. 

“Please what baby?” you say reaching out one hand grabbing his shaft as the other continued to rub softly on his upper thigh. 

“Please your mouth, please use your pretty mouth.” his head rolled back as you slowly started to rub him. Leaning over you let your saliva drip out your mouth falling right on the tip of his dick, chan moans out. Hips thrusting up into your hand, needing some type of relief. 

“Okay baby.” you say before placing a kiss on his tip before wrapping your mouth around him. Chan missed this, missed you. A moan so sweet escapes his lips as he reaches out finding your hair, gripping to keep him from melting in an instant. 

The sounds of your lips wrapped around him, were so sinful but they were mixed with the angelic moans of chan. It only fueled you more to continue to push down taking in more of him. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down using your hand to pump whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. Chan started seeing stars when he felt your tongue lay flat on the bottom of his dick licking up and down against his vein.

“Baby” his grip on your hair tightens as he thrusts up trying to make your rhythm still letting you be in control. “Fuck baby.. If you… god if you keep sucking me like that im gonna.. I'm gonna cum.” his strained voice and moans fall short on your ears as you really wanted him to come in your mouth.

“Baby please, I'm not gonna last. You need to stop if you don't want it in your mouth.” he head flops to the side as he watches you pick up speed, spit falling out your mouth and tears running out your eyes, “fuckkk….” was all he could muster when you felt him push your head as deep as you could go, gagging when he pushing you farther down where your nose hit his base.

Chan releases you as your mouth makes a popping sound slurping up all his cum into your mouth. Chan takes you in with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Let me see.” you sit back on your heels, tilting your head back letting him see the mess he made in your mouth. “Okay swallow my pretty girl.” Chan sees your throat slightly move up and down then watches you open up to show you swallowed it all. “Good girl.” he reaches out, swiping the little bit on cum out the side of your mouth, bringing it to his lips and licking it away. “Should I show my pretty girl how much I miss her and what she does to me when she's being so good for me?” 

“I just need you to fuck me. Please chan.” you say standing up, chan helps you take off your shirt, leaving you in your underwear. As you reach down to take them all chan stops you. “No, keep them on, they are cute.”

“Im trying to fuck you and you are calling my underwear cute right now?” you straddle on top of him, slowly grinding your wet panties over his hard dick. You moan into his neck as he rubs his fingers over your wet spot, dipping his fingers inside your panties. 

“Did sucking my dick make you this wet? Such a naughty girl.” 

You felt your face get hot but you buried deep into chans neck inhaling him in. 

Chan pushed your panties to the side aligning himself with your hole, he turned to you pressing a kiss into your temple. “You ready baby?” he sees you nod into his neck, "I need words my love.” 

“Yes chan please.” you moan out feeling him drag you over the tip of his dick. 

Chan was definitely losing patience as much as he wanted to savor the way your walls wrapped around him like you were made for him, chan immediately started plowing straight into you, you squealed out by the sudden force but the pleasure was so palpable that you were letting out the most pornographic moans. You were thinking it was because you haven't been with anyone but chan, but you knew that wasn't the only reason. You felt this sort of connection with him, and it wasn't just during sex it was almost as if you were more than two people, almost like you were one. 

Chan didn't stop trusting in you at a relentless pace, hand gripping tightly at your waist as the other pushed up your bra, mouth immediately wrapping around your nipple, rolling around on his tongue. The new sensation was bringing you all sorts of pleasure, chan can feel you tightening around him signaling you were close. 

“Come on baby, i can feel you squeezing me so tight, fuck you feel so good.” 

“Chan.. im so.. Im so” your panting so hard trying to focus on your words.

“I know baby i know, just cum for me love.” Chan presses a kiss onto your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your soft skin.

You moaned out, as you felt yourself fluttering around his dick, chan groans spilling into you, his breath fanning against your skin cooling it down. Chan pulls you out his neck to plant a kiss on your lips. “You are so perfect and everything to me. Please don't leave me ever.” he watches as your eyes flutter open, showing the prettiest color in the entire world. Glazed over so filled with love. He never wanted this look to leave your eyes ever again, he would never let this look leave those eyes.

“If I remember correctly you left me.” you murmur out, lips holding a playful smile. Chan rolls his eyes pulling you into a tight hug, dick growing hard inside you. 

“Up for another round?” you laugh as he quickly lays you down onto the couch.

© strrykais ⋅ i tagged those who asked for part two! sorry if you wished to not be! i just wanted you to know its here finally !! >< please let me know if you want to be removed!

🏷️: @supertopsecretleebit @betweensupernovasandstars @modesttiger @miraitstan @karasusrealwife @crying497 @blackkflamecandle

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!

[azrael08]

*Crashes through your fucking window* MIDAM HEADCANONS CAUSE I HAVE INSOMNIA!!!!🤘🤘🤘 (Warning: Some Nsfw)

Michael LOVES roughhousing as a form of showing love because it reminds him of how he used to play fight in heaven with his siblings, when he did it with Adam for the first time and knocked him onto the floor he was scared because he thought that Adam would be scared of him but Adam just smiled and laughed and he was ecstatic!

Adam’s a cuddler. My personal take is that neither of them start out cuddling, they’ll go to bed a comfortable distance away each other but still close enough to know that the other one is there (Abandonment issues) (Maybe there like facing each other?) And then by morning Adam is completely on top of Michael, borderline smothering him with his limbs octopus style. Meanwhile Michael just stays stiff as a board repeating Don’t wake him up Don’t wake him up Don’t wake him up Don’t wake him up DON'T FUCKING- Over and over again in his head as Adam just tucks and nuzzles his face into his neck

Michael never understood the concept of human pleasure. Or more specifically how it felt. He only knew how it was supposed to happen cause that’s all he had been taught and of course during his ‘high and mighty’ days he would never want to watch the earth monkeys go at it, so he just didn’t care. That is until he focused on Adam’s pleasure. I personally believe that they had their whole soul-sex thing going on for a while but at one point Adam asked Michael if they could try it the human way, obviously Michael said yes and he tends to all of Adam needs immediately. But about halfway through Michael notices an overload of hormones in Adam brain and so he’s like “Adam? are you okay?” And Adam just lifts his head with the most Lust-filled zoned-out half-lidded eyes and is like “…huh?” While panting heavily. Michael now understands human pleasure.

Michael is obviously very protective of Adam. I mean he offers to smite anyone that bumps into Adam too harshly on the street. But he's especially protective around other beings that aren't human and could potentially do serious harm to Adam (Demons, other angels, etc.) This all comes to a head when Adam tags along for one of Michael's meetings in heaven. They decided that Adam would look around while Michael did his work and when his meeting was over he'd come find Adam and take them both home. Michael hadn't given a second thought because its Heaven, its his Home, of course Adam would be safe. But when Michael was finished and went searching for Adam he saw a group of younger angels - who had never visited earth and rarely seen humans - holding Adam upside down and prodding him with their wings and limbs while Adam looked visibly uncomfortable but obviously wasn't able to stop the giant angels. Michael R A G E D and seized Adam back as he basically screamed at the group of angels leaving them shaking and cowering behind their primary feathers, all that stopped him from smiting them was the fact that Adam pulled on his feathers and asked to go home, and of course Michael supplied. So, its a pretty well known fact amongst all angels that when the prince of heaven returns with his human that you - under absolutely no circumstances - go anywhere near Adam, not that Michael would ever let you considering he now holds Adam tightly to himself with a minimum of 17 eyes watching him at all times.

They binge watch terrible medical shows with vastly different opinions, Adam finds it fun to point out the medical inaccuracies and laugh at the stupid drama while Michael finds it horrifying as he learns about how many terrifying diseases humans can develop, his grace hold onto Adam a little tighter than usual when they watch, the only reason he keeps watching is because Adam enjoys it and he can't say no to those eyes.

Michael gets lost in pleasure when he and Adam are intimate and he sometimes snarls and growls deep and all angel like. He trys not to because it might freak out Adam. It does freak out Adam, but in a good way :)

[return-of-the-queen-au]

Idk what was I doing here but here you go,

It's just a random fic dw

Everything is cold.

Everything feels so cold.

"..wh-..what..?" she mumbled to no one in particular.

"My..my- prince..?" She mumbled, this time asking for someone, but there wasn't anyone in sight.

All there was, was just ice and a feeling of empty everywhere. Everything was so cold and silent, it seemed like the world just dissapeared. Like everyone dissapeared! there weren't the guards, or his prince, or the people outside playing or just.. living.

the front door wouldn't open, and the confused queen was left there wondering what has happened.

The last thing she remembered was seeing her prince with some red haired girl. She didn't know what took over her, why was she so mad? What happened? Where's her beloved prince?

Has she lost control again? Is that the reason why everything is so,,cold? Wasn't it the middle of summer?

"Guards? My prince?" She called, louder. But all she heard was her own voice.

What if she hurt them? What if because of,,of- of her horrible curse she hurt innocent people!?

What if she has hurt her prince—

Something broke. Maybe a vase. no- no, it sounded like,,chains? And,,water? No, ice?

She didn't understood, all she could do was jump and bump on the wall behind her from the sudden noise. "WHO'S- WHO IS THERE?!" she screamed, demanding answers to whatever that was. But the noise just kept becoming louder and louder to the point the queen thought someone was fighting with some chains!

But once she calmed down- well, stopped shivering from whoever the intruder could be and hurt her once they found their way in, (unless they were already in.) She realized that the noise came from the cellar! Who could be in the cellar? Almost,,no. No one was ever there! At that point it was used to put random things that were useless!

Maybe someone broke in through there? But, who?

And,,now that she finally sees through a window, everything is covered in snow! You could,,you can't even see the village! What happened? Did she do all of this? Did she got upset again? oh no! Oh no no! Her mother always told her to keep herself calm or she could have hurt somebody with her..powers. no, curse.

did she hurt—

"....n...s..sa—"

WHAT WAS THAT? Was that a person? She tried to move away from the noise but ice has grown under her feet, making her fall down.

she hated this. She hated all of this. Did she did this? Why? Why does this curse have to ruin everything?

Where is her sweet prince? He was always there to comfort her,, she's worried.

Is he here? Has he gotten hurt? Is he buried under the snow outside? She really hopes not.

But just when the queen started sobbing to herself from the amount of questions and realizations of what could have possibly happened, the door that lead to the cellar swung open with so much force it shook the whole manor. "AH-" she jumped again from the sudden noise, breathing heavily from the tears, trying her best to break the remaining ice under her feet. She didn't care if it ruined her dress, she needed to get out of here! She needed to find her prince- find out what happened- make sure that everyone is okay-

"..'nessa?" a whispering and echoey voice asked, it felt familiar, but with the whispering, she couldn't tell.

She kept pulling and pulling until she did the mistake of opening her eyes and look at the intruder.

"..van..vanny..?" a purple figure of a person asked, with tears in it's yellow glowy eyes. There was no mouth and his body seemed to be made out of shadows, it wasn't solid, but it gave at least a shape.

She screamed at the sight of whatever monster was in front of her, looking at her very soul.

"WHO ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GET HERE? GUARDS! GUARDS!" she screamed for help that never came, she didn't wanna die! Who even was this monster!

",,Vanny,,my dear,, I'm- vannyyy,," the voice of the monster suddenly became sweet and full of joy. Why was it calling her "vanny?"

That's a nickname only—

No. No. Please. Oh please, no.

Looking at the monster who was face to face to her now, trying it's best to keep itself up, trying to gently touch her cheeks, everything became so obvious, the world felt it was crushing and breaking to her feet.

"....my...prince...?"

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter 5

If anyone were to quiz Isobel on Papa Secondo’s sermon or, really, even asked the topic, she wouldn’t have an answer. The entire Mass, she is lost in her thoughts. So far away from his booming voice and lessons, it might just as well be taking place on a different planet. Copia takes the seat next to her, as always, and her eyes land on his gloved hands neatly folded in his lap. From that moment she is lost. Chanting the responses to the prayers more on muscle memory than anything. She’s not even sure if she looked up at Papa once. In her mind it’s the towel around Copia’s waist. It’s his back and his shoulders. It’s the overwhelming desire to watch that towel slip to the floor and to drag him back to his bed.

Izzy clears her throat quietly and crosses her legs, trying to stifle the heat building at her core. Copia nudges her side gently and when she looks, he quirks an eyebrow up. Are you okay? His expression says. She nudges him back the same way with a small smile and a wink. I’m all right. His brow relaxes, moustache twitching just so when the corner of his mouth turns up a hint, and he returns his attention to Papa. It’s always like that with him. Something Izzy noticed early on. The way he pays attention and cares. The silent language that they share. When he can ask her a question across a crowded room without a word and hear her answer just as clearly. Her other half in a way she never truly understood the phrase.

She slips her arm through his and shifts a little closer. A gesture she’s sure she’s made a thousand times. But this morning it feels like the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million pieces.

It’s only him moving to stand that shakes her out of her thoughts at the end of Mass and she follows after him. Ducking away from the crowd and into a quiet alcove. Not that he’s particularly stealthy in his red cassock amongst all the black. Still, it’s an old habit, hiding until the rest have gone, and not one she’d be eager to give up.

“You seem distracted today, Isobel. You don’t sleep well last night?” He leans against one of the window sills, the sunlight through the stained glass casting a spray of colours across his cheek.

“Oh no, not at all. Actually, I think that might have been the best sleep I’ve had in ages.” She takes the spot next to him, nudging his side again. “It’s almost like I feel safe with you or something.”

Copia snorts. “I only lull you into a sense of security. You know how we are here, no? You see the protesters? We are all wicked, evil men here, tesoro.”

She can’t help laughing at that. The thought of anything within these walls being at all like what some people think is absurd. “You mean you don’t eat babies and sacrifice virgins, Cardinal?”

He laughs with her. “You find me a virgin here and I will eat my biretta!”

Slowly, the crowd from Mass thins and the two of them are left in the quiet of their private space, comfortable and more relaxed than she’s felt all morning. But the day is waiting and there are duties to perform. Yesterday was one thing, but she can’t avoid work forever. No matter how much she’d give to stay tucked away, chatting and laughing and not worrying for once.

“I will come with you today, to help with your things.” Copia offers and, as much as she’d like to accept, Izzy shakes her head.

“I kept you from your work for nearly the whole day yesterday. I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.”

“… You’re sure?” He reaches for her hand and it feels like her entire soul is drawn to that point, pooling there under his warm touch.

“I am. Really. There’s a whole Abbey that needs you, Cope. I’m just one Sister. I’ll be all right.”

“You are not just anything. And I know you will be all right. You are strong and smart.” He gives her that look he gets when she runs herself down. That look she knows better than to argue with. “If you need to do this alone, I will leave you to it. But you know where I am if you need me, si?”

“I do. Thank you. I’ll come find you when I’m finished with things up here.” Izzy smirks. “Are you going to survive down there without me?”

Copia looks at you gravely and sighs. “Maybe, tesoro, with the Dark Lord’s blessing, but only barely.”

She chuckles and kisses his cheek before letting him go. “I promise I will bring coffee to revive you.”

“Bless you, Isobel!” He calls, walking off down the hall. “A strange place to find an angel, but here you are all the same.”

The day is, as expected, long, frustrating, tedious, and difficult. By the time Izzy makes it down to the archives, coffee in hand, it’s late in the day. Copia is still sitting at his usual table, surrounded by all the clear signs his day hasn’t been any better. The piles of crumpled paper, his biretta threatening to fall off the edge of the table, and his hair is wild from his hand being buried in it. He doesn’t even notice her walking up, only registering that someone else is there when she reaches over him to set his coffee in front of him and kiss the top of his head.

“Your back is going to make you regret sitting like that later, Cardinal.”

He holds up a finger, taking down half the mug in one go. “This word here,” he points. “Has 14 different translations. None of them make sense. So I do more research. But then this I need to translate. Then I need a scroll to understand that. Then another to understand the first scroll. And that, only in the first two hours.”

Copia slumps back in his chair, grumbling to himself and clutching his coffee like someone might try to snatch it away. Izzy walka around him, leaning on the edge of the table and offering a sympathetic smile.

“Dinner in tonight?”

He smirks and nudges her leg with his knee. “Just for me? Or for you too?”

“For me too. It was a long, shitty day.” Her smile falters a little before she can catch it and he reaches for her hand. “I’m all right. But I’d rather hide in your quarters than face the dining hall, if that’s all right with you.”

“More than all right, Izzy.” His lips brush her knuckles and he sets down his empty mug. Quickly dumping the crumpled papers into the trash. “You see? Finished for today. Just for you.”

She can’t help chuckling. Not missing how quickly he sets aside his own frustrations to make sure she’s taken care of. Something she needs to fix and make a mental note of. He offers his arm and she takes it gratefully, following him back upstairs and away from the drudgery of the day.

………….

Dinner isn’t fancy by any means and Copia does not care. Not even a little. He doesn’t need a fancy dinner. He needs peace and quiet and privacy. Apart from Isobel, of course. She is, as she has been for a long while, part of that privacy. Dinner tastes good and it didn’t take any real thought or effort on either his part or hers, and that is the only criteria that matters. Besides, the wine makes up for any lack of atmosphere not provided by the food. And, having eaten, his mood is significantly improved.

Seeing her in one of his shirts again isn’t hurting either.

He drags himself off the couch to grab something to snack on from his stash, and when he turns back, the wine glasses are refilled and she’s setting a couple of throw pillows on the floor in front of the couch. Copia smirks. “Am I being evicted from my spot, Isobel?”

She smiles in that way he knows too well. Like she’s up to something. “I don’t think I’d put it like that exactly.”

He sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table and raises a brow when she holds out his game controller. Taking it regardless of his confusion. “You want to play?”

“Nope. That’s just for you.” Her smile only gets a little wider. “You took care of me all day yesterday and you’re letting me stay here. Let me, at least, try to return the favour. Even just a little. All you need to do is sit and enjoy your game.”

He sits in the offered seat, setting one cushion on his lap to rest his arms on, and shakes his head. “This is not something to repay. You know this. I want to help. I want to look after you. It is not a debt, tesoro.”

“All the same, I want to do something for you as well. Are you going to keep arguing or are you going to let me be nice to you?”

A teasing flick to the back of his head makes him laugh and throw his hands up in surrender. “I give! I give! Please, Isobel, be nice to this poor old man.”

He can practically hear her rolling your eyes and he braces for the swat he knows is coming. More of a tap than anything, even if he knows how much she actually hates those comments. “Shush with that.”

“This is elder abuse, you know.” Copia giggles, turning on his game.

“I swear, I will ask the kitchen to blend your dinner into mush for the next month, old man.” The threat carries less weight when she laughs while making it.

Whatever joke he planned on making, however, vanishes the second her hands rest on his shoulders. Thumbs working into the knots of stress from a day hunched over dusty old books and scrolls. Massaging muscles that have been threatening all day to be a problem, and feeling them melt under her touch. The game is nearly impossible to focus on with her hands on his neck but, hellfire, he tries. Even as he strains against his sweatpants and the pillow on his lap. Even as he curses at himself silently not to moan or to make a fool of himself.

It’s not the first time she’s done this for him. Of course she’s done it before. She’s always taking care of him. She knows where all the knots are because she’s got them mapped out like everything else about him. The same way he knows her. The same way she’s so much a part of who he is that he can’t quite tell where she stops and he begins. And if that isn’t love, he’s not sure what is. But how to even put that into words? He has several languages at his disposal and he still doesn’t have enough words to articulate that feeling in a way that doesn’t sound like madness.

“Cope, it would be easier to point out the places that aren’t knotted.” Izzy huffs behind him. “I’m going to ask about getting a better chair for the archives.”

“I have a better chair in my office.” He smirks, trying to look normal, tipping his head back to look up at her. “I still manage to hunch.”

She smirks right back. “Fine, then remind me to get you some muscle rub at least.”

Copia turns his attention back to the TV, focusing hard on the game and not on the words muscle or rub. Which is much more difficult with her hands on his neck and shoulders. The wine won’t help either, but he drinks it all the same. Anything to keep his attention outside of himself. Away from the warmth of her touch and the urge to lean into her hands. To turn around and grab her wrists, to kiss each finger and the entire way from her fingertips to her lips. To promise her anything and everything if she’ll just stay. Not for now. Forever. To stay and be with him. To pour out his entire heart and trust that it will just… work out. That it won’t be just fine, that it will be perfect. That she won’t laugh or, worse, look at him with pity and tell him how sorry she is, that it’s not him, it’s her. That he’s such a good friend… Because he is. And so is she. More than a good friend. More than a friend. The anchor that keeps him from spiralling so far out of reach he wouldn’t even begin to know how to get back. The other half of his soul. Even the thought of suggesting that’s not enough makes him feel sick.

“Cope?” Her voice breaks through his thoughts and he jumps a little. “Are you all right?”

“Yes! Yes. Scusami. Long day, I get lost in my thoughts.” Copia forces a chuckle.

The couch squeaks softly and he can feel her leaning forward. Her arms draping down to hug him from behind, her chin on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me.”

He places his hand on her arm, letting himself sink back into the embrace, even just a little. His temple resting against hers. “Si, I know. I do. There is nothing to talk about really, only work. Things to do, meetings, paperwork, all of it. Sono sempre le solite cazzate, Isobel. I will be alright."

The hug tightens a little. Just enough to notice. Her fingers idly worrying at the collar of his shirt. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Honest. Grazie.” He turns his head enough to kiss her cheek, feeling like a fraud and a liar. “I tell you if I am not, si? Always.”

“Always,” she echoes. Arms loosening and sitting back again. Her nose nuzzling against his cheek and her breath next to his ear, lips brushing so lightly he wonders if he imagined it.

He goes back to his game and, for a long moment, it’s quiet. The worry settling in that it was the wrong answer, that she could feel the lie and he’s made a terrible mistake. That she’ll pull away and keep her hands to herself. Until she reaches past him and sets her empty wine glass next to his on the table. Until she’s settled and her fingers brush along the hairs at the back of his neck sending a shiver down his spine.

“Headache?” The casualness of the question letting him breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not bad. You already help.”

“Do you want me to go get you something for it?”

He tips his head back again and smiles softly. “No. It’s all right. Stay here.”

The kiss on his forehead, he doesn’t have to wonder about. The smile is real too. Copia returns the smile and lets the panic go. Through everything, she’s stayed. Even when he was sure she’d vanish like people always seemed to. But there she was. Here she still is.

Her fingers brush his hair again and his eyes slide half closed. Expecting them to work into his neck again. But they slip up into his hair, seeking out the places his headaches always settle. Massaging over his scalp with delicate precision. Pressing into the places that need to be coaxed into calm. Her nails scratching softly, fingers tugging carefully to relieve a little pressure. Inching over the top of his head while he swallows a moan and tries to keep from drooling on himself. Whatever dark magic She has in those fingers works its way into his soul. Winding around his spine and making his cock throb until it aches, demanding attention. Every pass of her hands through his hair driving him a little closer to madness. When she slips away slowly, it’s all he can do not to whimper, and when he feels her moving to stand, the urge to grab a hold of her just to keep her close is nearly impossible to ignore.

Izzy smiles when you catch his worried look and chuckle softly. “I’m just going to the bathroom, don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

Copia nods and watches her go. Waiting until the door is closed before finally giving in, reaching under the pillow, and palming himself through his sweats. Clapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle the moan. He’s going to die. That much he’s sure of. He’s going to die right there on the floor, lovesick and hard as a rock and still too much of a coward to say three words.

How much worse could it be? How much worse could anything be than feeling like this? At least there would be an answer, some kind of… release from this. Good or bad. But… if it’s bad… if it’s no…

As soon as he hears the door start to open, Copia snatches his hand out from under the pillow. Trying to look innocent and nonchalant, certain that he’s failing entirely. But if she notices, she doesn’t say a word. Retaking her place on the couch and flopping sideways, lying with her head on the armrest, watching him play. Fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck sleepily. While he leans down on the pillow just to find a little resistance, starting to lose the battle to keep his hips still.

“Izzy…?” He breathes a little raggedly. Too far gone to panic.

Her fingertips drift down his neck, stilling just behind his back. A quiet whine escaping him before he can stop it.

“Mhmm…” The response is soft and relaxed. All he can think is how absurd it is that one little sound, her breathy voice humming a melodic confirmation he’s been heard, is enough to make him want to wrap his arms around her and hold her close forever. That one small sound is enough to make his heart ache.

“I want… I need…” Copia huffs, closes his eyes, and tries again. “… I love you. Ti amo, Isobel.”

Nothing.

For a long moment he waits. The silence deepening every second and his stomach churns uncomfortably. Surprise, Copia supposes, is only fair. But this silence is… is worse. Worse than a no. Worse than almost anything. Almost too terrified even to look.

Satanas, please say something….

He can’t stand it any more. Turning to see her, to face the rejection he knows must be coming. Preparing to beg for a response. To confess it all. To do whatever he has to to salvage even a little from the trash fire his entire world has rapidly become.

Turning and looking at her, and finding… She's asleep.

“Cazzo…” Copia closes his eyes again, stuck between crying and laughing. Finally, finally, after how many years, he says the words out loud, finds the courage to say it not just in his thoughts or his dreams or to the space where she had been standing only a few minutes before. Finally he confesses the truth he knows in his soul… and she’s asleep. It’s not her fault. He knows that. It’s his bad timing, a long day, and too much wine. But, Dark One below, there is a part of him that wants to accept this apparent fate, curl up on the floor, and let death take him.

“Sogna cose belle, amore mio, come io ho sognato te.” He whispers, barely a breath. All the need and the urgency that had been plaguing him settles into something far less carnal, much more quiet and still.

Copia climbs to his feet, turning off the tv and ducking to carefully slip his arms under her, lifting her off the couch. The rest can wait. The games, the wine, the food, all of it. It can wait. Izzy needs sleep and he… needs her. But bed will be enough for now. Just to be next to her. Knowing she’s there, safe, with him. It’s enough. It has to be enough.

He sets her carefully onto the bed, pulling the blankets over her. Watching as she rolls onto her side, facing the wall, hugging his pillow. Copia climbs in after, lying the same way. Keeping back just enough to not disturb her. Close enough to feel how warm she is… Close enough. His eyes slide shut and letting the day's exhaustion, and the wine, wash over him.

Drifting off to sleep thinking of her.

________________________________________________________

Sono sempre le solite cazzate - It's always the same bullshit

Cazzo - Fuck

Sogna cose belle, amore mio, come io ho sognato te. - Dream beautiful things, my love, as I dreamed of you.

[bondedbyus]

“The Father I Never Understood Until I Became One”

A Moment I Never Expected to Understand

You know, there are some truths that only hit you later in life—like a storm rolling in slowly, then suddenly raining all over your soul. I used to think I understood my father. I thought I knew his silence, his stern looks, his routines. But the truth is… I didn’t know a thing.

👉 "Understanding fatherhood" — that didn’t come from watching my dad. It didn’t come from the advice he gave or didn’t give. It came the day I became a father myself.

The day I held my child in my trembling arms, with my heart pounding and my world spinning — that’s the day I saw my father in a whole new light.

The Distance I Felt Growing Up

Let’s rewind.

Growing up, my dad wasn’t the kind of man who said “I love you” out loud. He was the kind of man who left early and came home late. A man of few words, but always on time to fix the faucet, check the locks, pay the bills. He showed up for life, but not always in the ways I wanted.

I used to watch other kids hug their dads in public. See their fathers cheer loudly at baseball games or dance like goofballs at birthday parties. Mine? He stood in the back, arms crossed, nodding quietly. I mistook his quiet strength for distance. I thought he didn’t care.

👉"I finally understood my father" the moment I looked into my newborn’s eyes and felt the crushing weight of responsibility.** I suddenly remembered every time he came home exhausted but still mowed the lawn. Every night he locked the doors, every time he filled the tank so my mom wouldn’t have to. These weren’t just chores. These were acts of love I failed to see.

Becoming a Father Myself: The Awakening

The day I became a dad… my whole universe cracked open.

It’s funny. You plan for it, read books, talk to other dads. But nothing — nothing — prepares you for the moment that tiny human lands in your arms and stares into your soul like they’ve known you forever.

In that moment, I wasn’t just “me” anymore. I was dad.

👉"Becoming a father changed me."* Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about my dreams, my plans, or even my fears. I was thinking about them. Their safety. Their future. Their bedtime. Their college. Their heart.

It was like someone handed me an invisible backpack filled with every single responsibility known to mankind. And for the first time in my life, I understood the weight my father had silently carried.

Flashbacks That Hit Me Like Thunder

Fatherhood brought flashbacks — like scenes from a movie I hadn’t paid attention to the first time.

I remembered the way he stood by the window when I was late coming home. I remembered how he would check the oil in my car before road trips. I remembered him sitting quietly at my graduation, wearing his only suit.

Back then, I rolled my eyes. Thought he was old-fashioned. Too serious. Too quiet. But now… now I get it.

👉"How fatherhood changed my perspective"* is something I could write an entire book about. Because every moment I spend worrying about my child’s well-being, I realize that my father must’ve done the same. He just never said it. He just did it.

The Love I Couldn’t Recognize

Not all love is loud. Not all love is soft hugs and bedtime stories. Some love is fixing the brakes before your child ever knows they were broken. Some love is going without so they can have new shoes. Some love is staying in a job you hate because stability matters more than passion.

👉"The unspoken love of silent supporters" — that's the kind of love my dad had.** The kind of love I never recognized until I wore his shoes.

And here’s the hard part: I judged him.

I judged him for not being more emotional, for not being the “fun dad,” for not sitting with me during breakups or heartbreaks. But now I know. He was busy being the anchor.

The Apology I Never Said (But Always Felt)

If I could go back, I’d sit next to him and just say, “Thank you.” No lectures. No awkward talks. Just gratitude.

If he were here right now, I’d say, “Dad, I see you now. I see what you gave up. I see the weight you carried. And I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

👉"Realizations after becoming a father" are painful.** They come with regret, with memories of rolled eyes, with unspoken words you wish you’d said.

But if there’s one gift I’ve been given, it’s the chance to now be the kind of father who understands his own father. I carry him with me in how I raise my child. Every bedtime story. Every scraped knee. Every moment I hold back tears and just show up.

Becoming the Father I Needed (and Finally Understood)

Being a dad now, I make different choices. Not better — just different.

I tell my child “I love you” out loud. I dance like a goofball even when I’m tired. But I also check the locks. I also sit in the back of the room sometimes, quietly watching. Just like he did.

I find myself repeating his sayings. His mannerisms. His way of holding the steering wheel. His quiet strength is now my compass.

👉"Embracing the legacy — becoming the father I needed" has been the most healing part of this journey.** It’s like I’ve been handed a torch — one that was carried by calloused hands and quiet nights — and now it’s my turn to light the way.

Closing Thoughts: If You’re Lucky Enough to Still Have Him

If your dad is still around, give him a call. Hug him. Ask him what kept him up at night when you were a baby. Let him tell his stories — even if he takes forever to get to the point.

If he’s no longer here… close your eyes and remember something small. A moment that didn’t seem like much back then. It might mean everything now.

👉"What I learned from my father" wasn’t written in a letter or taught in a speech. It was in his footsteps, his rituals, his quiet love.**

Final Compass Message

If you ever doubted your dad’s love because it didn’t look like a movie scene or a Hallmark card — maybe, just maybe, he was loving you in the only way he knew how.

👉 Understanding fatherhood is a journey. It’s raw. It’s real. It’s regretful and redemptive. And sometimes, it teaches us more about our fathers than any memory ever could.

💬 Did this article speak to your heart?

Share your own story, or tag someone who might need to hear this. Fatherhood is not just about raising kids. It's also about finally understanding the ones who raised us.

[everhaunts]

ARCHER "ARCHIE" RUIZ // resident

“step out, step out of the sun if you keep getting burned. step out, step out of the sun because you've learned, because you've learned.” – waving through a window by ben platt

(alberto rosende) [THE SELFLESS]. Please welcome [ARCHER “ARCHIE” RUIZ (HE/HIM)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [30]-year-old [RESIDENT] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [CASHIER AT FOOD MARKET]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

name: archer ruiz nickname: archie face claim: alberto rosende pronouns & gender: he/him & cis man age: 30 height: five foot ten hair color: brown eye color: brown birthdate: march 3rd zodiac sign: pisces orientation: bisexual, biromantic

hometown: huntsville, west virginia current residence: huntsville, west virginia occupation: cashier at food market

moral alignment: lawful good vice & virtue: envy & kindness hogwarts house: hufflepuff element: air enneagram: 9w1 mbti: INFP character inspo(s): peter parker (spider-man), kristoff (frozen), peeta mellark (hunger games), charlie kelmeckis (perks of being a wallflower), will byers (stranger things), newt scamander (fantastic beasts) traits: selfless, benevolent, loyal, trusting, absentminded, lovable nerd, massive band nerd (trumpet & clarinet)

“i'll be there someday if i can be strong. i know every mile will be worth my while.” – go the distance by roger bart

BIOGRAPHY (tw death mention)

The only thing Archie really knew was Huntsville, for he’d spent his whole life there. Having never known his father, he and his brother were raised by their single mother, who worked two jobs to try and support them.

There was a lot of love in that apartment, though, and maybe that was what mattered. They didn’t need fancy things to be okay, nor to be happy. And Archie was happy.

He wasn’t really popular in school, more of a nerd who would walk around with his comic books and game boy rather than play sports.

All in all, he was a good kid. Good at school but also just a good person at heart. His mother was proud of him, proud of both her boys. She would say how she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them.

Unfortunately, the future turned out to be a little bleaker than they’d imagined. Things were good until they weren’t. Everything changed when the Fire Nation ghosts attacked, flipping people’s lives upside down.

Many people lost their loves during the first attacks, before people understood how to deal with it. And Archie’s mom and brother were some of the casualties. He can still remember the screams.

Archie had tried to block it out because it had been a very traumatic time. But it’s still there, lingering in his mind. Other people in that town could relate too, for he wasn’t the only one who’d lost people.

Nonetheless, he’s continued being a positive person, or trying to be. Taking it one day at a time, knowing that sulking won’t help anything.

He’s worked a few jobs here and there in Huntsville, but has been working at the Food Market as a cashier for a few years.

"i never want to leave this sunset town, but one day the time may come. and i'll take you at your word and carry on." - good times by all time low

SONG INSPOS in case you don’t live forever by ben platt go the distance by roger bart waving through a window by ben platt good times by all time low don’t look down by martin garrix & usher

[d0llpie]

Angry confessions

Summary: You’ve tried everything to make Kyotani realise you like him but he thinks you’re joking

Kyotani x reader

Warnings: cursing

angst to fluff, mutual pining

a/n: i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure, lmk if you want one!

wc: 2.5k

Kyotani couldn’t stand you. Your annoying smile and indifferent attitude while he told you to get lost. Couldnt you take a hint? Apparently not as you continued to greet him the same warm way every time you saw him, slipping him notes during class and flirting with him. Couldnt you flirt with some other poor soul? he couldn’t handle it anymore, knowing you weren’t really flirting with him. Maybe you did flirt with others, that only made it worse, knowing it wasn’t just him who got to see your smile and teasing laugh everyday. Honestly he didn’t know which way was worse, all he knew was that he was sick of you.

It started at practise, he was used to Oikawa’s fan girls attending their practise just to ogle at the captain, that always annoyed him but he soon found you to be worse. Oikawa has tossed him a ball to spike down and you started cheering for him. He whipped his head around to see you smiling brightly down at him, waving. He was taken back, his scowl dropping for a minute as the tips of his ears turned red before he continued on with practise, trying to ignore your cheers everytime he spiked. You trailed behind him to the school date, chatting on about your day and how amazing Kyo’s spikes were while he just grunted and continued walking in front of you, trying to speed up. Every time he sped up, you did too, he wasn’t sure if you were just stupid or if you didn’t care that he was trying to get away from you but either way it confused him.

Since then you’d follow him around, having one sided conversations with the back of his head on the way to the gym, in between classes and sometimes even during lunch times when you weren’t with your friends. He wished you wouldn’t flirt so much, it was the worst part of your whole fan girl act. You’d compliment his hair, his spikes and his eyes often, it came out so naturally that it made him tense up and pause every time, trying to calm down the beating of his heart in his ears. Why couldn’t you just stick to fangirling over Oikawa? Kyotani could take you following him and talking about your day if it wasn’t for the flirting act. He even liked hearing about your day, it was cute to hear you ramble on until you decided to give him false hope with your remarks, sometimes even trying to hold his hand or rest your head on his shoulder.

~

It had been a few months now and you weren’t sure what to do. You were in a small cafe with your cousin Iwaizumi, opting to seek out the spiker for advice as a last resort.

“I don’t know Iwa, i’ve been flirting with him for months and coming to all your games to cheer him on and he doesn’t even look at me” you fiddling with your fork, huffing out dramatically.

“We’ll have you actually told him you like him or asked him to hang out?” you glared at his condescending tone

“I shouldn’t have to tell him! I don’t know how much more obvious i can get...plus i ask him to have lunch with me all the time” you sighed, feeling your heart sink. You’d thought that he didn’t like you, it was obvious at first that he found you irritating but overtime you thought he’d warm up. Maybe you were just being stupid, setting yourself up for heartbreak at your inevitable rejection. Still, you held on tight to the tiny bit of hope you still had.

“hey.” Iwa waved his hand in front of you, pulling you from your thoughts “I mean surely him ignoring you can’t get any worse if you actually confess right? Plus maybe i’m wrong and he does like you so you’ll actually make some progress” you hummed in agreement, though you were hesitant

“How am i supposed to confess though? He doesn’t even look at me when we talk, well, i talk..” you realised just how pathetic you sounded, how desperate. Was this how Oikawa’s fan girls felt? Ignorantly hopeful for someone who was out of reach? Well at least Oikawa spoke to his fan girls...

“Y/n...not to sound rude or anything, but why do you like this kid? He’s not exactly treating you very well..” you looked up at your cousin who was looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Well he may not seem like the sweet type but i’ve seen him when he’s alone, he’s really cute when he doesn’t look like he’s on the warpath, plus i think he’s just shy around me and doesn’t know how to act around others, he’s sweet though, he doodles in his notebooks. Also, he’s really passionate about volleyball! i remember the first time i saw him spike, he actually smiled!” you giggled at the memory, blushing at the thought of Kyo. 

“Whatever y/n, you need to confess before i do it for you.” you gasped in feign shock “You wouldn’t dare iwa-chan~” you laughed at Iwaizumi’s enraged expression “Stop hanging out with Oikawa ugh” you laughed at him, sipping on your hot chocolate you’d forgotten about. 

~

Kyotani had woken up earlier than usual, deciding to go for a walk. While he was walking his mind drifted back to you, looking behind him half expecting you to be there talking his ear off about random things, making him blush with your flirting. It was cruel how you could flirt with him so shamelessly and not mean it. He so badly wanted you to mean it. He grunted in frustration, picking up his pace until he was running, he was running past a few shops and cafes when he saw you. You were sitting by the window as the sun hit you, his eyes widened, you truly were so pretty to him. He almost stopped running until he saw who you were looking at, Iwaizumi was there. Of course you’d be on a date with him, he was so strong and open. You deserved someone like Iwaizumi he supposed, someone who could actually talk to you, someone who was better than him. He continued running despite feeling his own heart in his throat, making it harder to breathe. 

~

“I’m not writing him a letter Iwa.” you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, looking out the window to see a familiar head of blonde flash past in a blur. “Iwa! He just ran past” you stood up from your seat excitedly, smile crossing your face. “Wow you’re worse than i thought. Y/n, you’re a simp.” You weren’t even offended at his words “i mean can you blame me?” you sat back down, “Yes y/n, yes i can. You probably want to go after him right now” although he was joking he looked up to see you staring back at him hopefully. “Oh my god y/n, fine! Go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. “ You got up and hugged Iwa squeeling, “Thank you thank you, if i don’t come to school tomorrow i’m either crying about being rejected or on a date with my handsome boyfriend, bye!” “Do not skip school y/n!” Iwa yelled after you as you ran out of the cafe, heading down the same path Kyo took. 

As you passed by a park, you noticed Kyotani sitting under a tree, panting heavily. “Kyo!” You called out, smiling brightly as you made your way over to him, ignoring the frustrated frown on his face. “What” he gruffly replied, clearly annoyed but you were ecstatic to get a reply from him. “I actually wanted to tell you something!” It’s now or never you thought, this was a perfect time to do it, you were ready for either response, you waited for him to look up at you before continuing.

“Um, i haven’t really thought of what to say so i’m just going to say it, i like you. I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me? You don’t have to of course but i really wanted you to know” you played with your hands while you waited for him to say something, silence was not what you expected but- “are you serious right now?” he was angry?, you tilted your head to the side “of course, i’m surprised you didn’t already kn-” “What is wrong with you? First you follow me around everywhere, flirting with me and annoying the fuck out of me, now this? haven’t you played around enough? Honestly i didn’t think you’d take it this far, that’s just low y/n.” the tone in his voice was enough to have you back away a little, confusion covered your face, you definitely hadn’t anticipated this kind of response. Despite your heart sinking at the rejection, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry as well. Who was he to talk to you like that. “What the fuck are you talking about Kyo. A simple ‘Sorry i don’t feel the same’ would’ve sufficed, honestly this is the most you’ve ever said to me and it’s this?” He was taken back by your reaction. You were serious? “Why would you try confess to me while you were just on a date then huh?” you furrowed your brows in confusion before it dawned on you, he thought you were dating Iwaizumi. Now you understood more of what he was saying, you opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you. “Yeah, I saw. You can drop the act now it was very funny. Now you can fucking leave me alone and stop acting like Oikawa’s clingy fangirls. I’ll finally stop having to hear you yapping in my fucking ear all day.” he wasn’t expecting to look up and see tears rolling down your cheeks. “Iwaizumi is my cousin..” you whispered meekly before turning back in the direction of the cafe, running home. 

Kyotani sat there dumbfounded. You were serious. He just called the girl he liked annoying and clingy after she tried to confess all because he was too insecure and jumped to conclusions. “Fucking idiot.” he cursed himself out under his breath.  

~

He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he just saw that heartbroken look on your face, eyes filled with tears. Because of him. He groaned before going to his desk, he begun to write a letter. The thought of you never coming to his games anymore, you never cheering for him again, telling him about your day and that new show you start, even the flirting, he knew he couldn’t get through the day without it. You weren’t annoying, you were the only person who managed to make him stop scowling, he was relaxed around you.

You walked into your first class, finding a letter on your desk. Your eyes flitted over to Kyo who was sitting a few seats away looking away nervously, you could see how red he was from here. You tucked the letter into your bag, he didn’t deserve your attention and you were determined to not talk to him or look at him anymore. Kyotani watched you put away his letter, he frowned, you’d probably just read it later. He didn’t want to get discouraged so he waited for you during lunch but you never came. He was getting antsy, it was so quiet. After his final classes he was excited to go to practise, getting there on time for once, only you weren’t there. Instead he was met with an angry Iwaizumi “what the fuck did you do to her!” he boomed, gaining the attention of everyone in the gym. Kyotani looked down, surprising everyone “where is she?” he asked quietly, Iwaizumi quirked his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s probably at home or the cafe.” Kyotani looked up, running out of the gym ignoring Oikawa’s calls to come back and train.

You were sitting in a booth at the cafe, scrolling on your phone when you remembered the letter. You opened it despite your hesitation and began reading.

Y/n,

I used to find you irritating, i couldn’t understand why someone as pretty as you would follow me around and talk to me when i was so cold to you. I took your flirting as you either making fun of me or just you having a flirtatious personality so i would get annoyed. About yesterday, i misunderstood completely and i’m so sorry for snapping at you. I never meant to lash out on you and i never wanted to. I was fed up with the person i liked toying with me and when i found out you liked me back i didn’t believe you.

I’m sorry for hurting you, if you let me be yours i swear i’ll never hurt you again. I never want you to cry because of me ever again, i like you too y/n and i’m sorry i was too much of a pussy to tell you sooner.

I hope you forgive me

-Kyotani.

You smiled at the letter, looking up at the sound of the cafe bell ringing to see Kyotani, out of breath staring at you. You smiled up at him like usual and he returned it, moving towards you quickly. “Kyo-“ he cut you off, smashing his lips against yours, his lips were gentle despite the desperate hold he had on you, cradling your head in one hand and gripping your collar in the other. You smiled against the kiss, cupping his cheek before pulling away. “Hi” you giggled as he sat down in front of you, holding your hand on the table “Hi” he smirked at you. “Y/n, can i take you to dinner?” you nodded happily “of course you can handsome~” he blushed furiously and this time you got to see, you cupped his cheek again, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, only making it worse. “C’mon doll” he pulled you up, holding your hand as you exited the cafe, walking side by side as he intertwined your fingers, smiling down at you with a soft expression. How was he so blind?

[angelasscribbles]

Dead Man Walking by War Hall is EPIC! And as much as I'm dreading all the death and grief.....I am a huge fan of revenge. So yes, Drake, take as many of them out as possible!

Also, that image....

Ok, now to get to it!

Spinning 'round, I dash back down the length of the roof, bullets nipping at my coattails. Diving to the side, I return a pair of retaliatory shots in the general direction of the inn — careful to avoid the actual window — so the 'Coats are under no illusion as to the direction of my retreat.

This bit and everything that came before it....

I'm hesitant to give that so early (I give this sparingly so they mean something lol) because I'm sure the whole thing deserves it, but this start is just brilliant!!!!

Also, he still thinks she's alive and this is a rescue mission

— on top of the retribution for Harper, that cunt of a Beaumont also owes me a new hat and coat —

I giggled. This bit of humour to break up the tension....

Two 'Coats root through the things in the room, pocketing anything that catches their eye and fancy, sniggering amongst themselves.

This is infuriating and paints them clearly as the bad guys despite being on the side of the law (unfortunately that was/is often true)

I love the way he shortens it to 'coats btw.

...but by the time his faculties have clocked the fact that I am foe, not friend, I have already splattered his brains onto the wall behind him. His compatriot meets the same fate half a breath later

I bestow upon you the title of Wordsmith!!! Here, take your crown...

"Yer him... The Raven Rider..."

I also love how many different names there are for him!🤣

"Théo..." comes the raspy confession. "He... He heard—"

Something tells me Theo won't survive the night.

I nearly choke on my own breath. "The window..." We never closed the damn window...

Of course he blames himself!

"No..."

I love the understatedness of this exclamation, whispered. It showcases the shock...the denial....

"NO!!!" The delegation roars forth from my chest with a force that is naked in its brutality. The heathen keen echoes out into the night as the bitter taste of anguish engulfs my throat and my soul shatters 'neath the stars.

I cried real tears, just so you know.

Well, then at least they'll be doing me the favour of putting me out of my luckless misery.

Yep. The desire to survive is gone.

"So, raise your hand," I tell him bluntly as I pull her eyes gently closed. "Beat me. Wring my neck. Kill me, for all I care. For this is the only opportunity I'll afford you to exact your just vengeance upon me."

How does the "bad guy" have so much fucking honor? I love him even more now..... You are killing me!

I throw my reply carelessly over my shoulder. "To exact vengeance of my own."

YES!! I already knew they were both going to die, I was steeled for it. But seeing a little vengeance extracted fills my heart with glee.

"I'm a dead man anyway."

and the Dead Man Walking song lyrics are in my head now!

To take every soul I can into the night.

And kill til I die!!!

Because death? It is all but assured for me. As whether I go by my own bullet or a Greencoat's, it is simply a matter of choice at this point. For I have no reason left to live.

Yep. And a man with nothing left to lose?

Either way, I am a shadow of the man I once was. And welcome the sweet promise of release.

Grief will do that to you

Cries of horror and surprise rise up as the precisely stacked formation careens into itself, turning both man and beast into a maelstrom of panic.

They were taken by complete surprise. They understood love enough to use it to trap him, but not enough to realize that he would come for them even at certainty of his own death for what they did to her.

...until his knees give way in the face of the desperate volley of bullets and he careens into the mud, taking me with him, mere steps from my goal.

get up, get up, get up!!

This is not the way I planned to go. But it seems I left what remained of my luck in that cramped room where my love had blossomed and then died. Fitting, really... A pistol clicks above me.

My God! The imagery!!! I can see this playing out in my head! I can smell the night and hear the click!

With the last of my strength, I reach beneath my shirt, where Harper's talisman lies coiled 'gainst my heart. Twisting the damp silk 'round my finger, I close my eyes with a final exhale. Look for me by the moonlight...

Not really. But I am....

This was so good! I knew it was going to be tragic going in. You did a great job mitigating a little of that with some vengeance. I wish he'd taken out Theo and Beaumont but I guess Theo was long gone already.

The imagery of him charging right into certain death was just...

Ok, going to go make a cup of tea or something and try to recover. You know, because my heart just did this.......

The Highwayman: Part III - The Highwayman Comes Riding

Fandom: TRR (Historical AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: On a dark, windswept night, a highwayman's luck runs out...

Masterlist: The Highwayman

Chapter Summary: Drake arrives, but it's too late...

Word Count: 4,100

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, physical violence, murder, grief, suicidal thoughts main character death) Do not read if you are triggered by any of these things!

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: As with Part II of this series, this installment is also quite grim and dark. So read at your own peril. There is no happy ending. As before, I have made some changes to the original, but hopefully, these are for the better.

A/N2: This is my third and final submission for @choicesprompts January 2024 Song Rewrite Challenge. The song I chose to rewrite is The Highwayman by Loreena McKennit.

The crack of a musket explodes out into the night.

I duck instinctively, pistols primed and itching to return fire...

...until I realise that the shot had come from the casement.

My throat constricts. "Harper..."

But she has vanished behind the plume of powder smoke that now obscures her window.

"Shit..."

I'd known something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on her. She'd been too tense, too still, sitting on that ledge, more akin to a doll than a flesh-and-blood woman...

...but I'd spotted the silvery gleam of the barrel too late, and now all hell has broken loose.

Fucking Beaumont.

I should never have let my guard down.

Heedless of the preservation of my own skin, I leap forward, fingers on triggers, desperate to reach her.

Another flash of orange...

...and my hat sails from atop my head as a bullet goes just wide of its mark.

I raise a weapon, volleys of lead peppering the thatch to my left and right...

...but I am quickly forced to confront the obvious.

I cannot risk it.

The darkness, in combination with the smoke screen being kicked up by the 'Coats flintlocks obscures my sight into the room, and Harper's location within.

And though I desire nothing more than to dispatch each and every one of Beaumont's whoresons to the depths of hell, the truth is that I'd be firing blind. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my bullet found Harper instead of a dragoon.

So, I have but one choice.

Flank the bastards.

Spinning 'round, I dash back down the length of the roof, bullets nipping at my coattails. Diving to the side, I return a pair of retaliatory shots in the general direction of the inn — careful to avoid the actual window — so the 'Coats are under no illusion as to the direction of my retreat.

Sliding down the thatch, I push off from the roof to land bodily atop the muck heap.

Not the most graceful of my escapes, I have to admit, but beggars can't be choosers. And I am pressed for time that I do not have.

Rolling off the pile of shit, I quickly sheath my spent pistols and lope towards the barn with sabre drawn instead.

Emile, the stable hand, had paid back my previous generosity by making me wise to the unsavoury nature of the guests that had descended on the inn. So, instead of hitching Drogon and the new palfrey up in a stall, I've taken the added precaution of hiding the horses out in the gorse.

But where I erred was thinking that the Greencoat patrol had sought the inn out for benign purposes. Because it sure as hell hadn't been me who'd plotted the course for them. In fact, I've always taken care to ensure that my tracks never led directly back to Harper.

Which begs the question... How the fuck did I end up walking into an ambush? With Gale strung up as bait?

My grip tenses on the hilt of my sword.

Someone had let the cat out of the bag. They must've. There's no other explanation.

Who? I have no clue. As there are a grand total of two souls who are privy to the secret that I frequent The Crown, and neither would betray me.

Not willingly, at least...

But, first things first.

Skirting along the shadow of the structure's perimeter, I arrive at the stable doors.

It appears quiet. But after being greeted by gunfire once already this eve, I am loath to take further chances.

Pinching up a handful of peddles, I toss them through the doorway. Only when no shots fire in reply, do I dare slip inside.

"Sir?" comes the hesitant query from within the shadows. "That ye? I heard musket fire an'—"

My sabre slices through the night. "Thought I'd be dead?"

The boy's countenance morphs into a mask of horror as the blade comes to rest 'neath his jaw. "Nay, sir! I'd never! I—"

"Care to swear on that?" I interject with a dangerous edge.

"On a tower of Bibles stacked on my parents' graves, sir!" Emile vouches with a tremble to his voice.

I assess the lad under the pale light of the moon. His face is ashen but his eyes glint with steadfast surety.

I lower my blade. "The 'Coats have Harper..."

The hand emits a gasp of disbelief. "Sacré dieu...!"

"...and I could use your assistance," I add, moving to the closest stall that houses a mount bearing Greencoat livery.

"Anything, sir," he proclaims earnestly. "Yerself an' Mistress Harper ha' always been good t' me!"

"Fetch a bag of oats," I direct as I grab the reins of the bay gelding. "And a length of rope if you have it."

"Right away, sir!"

While Emile sets about his task, I lead the Greencoat mount out onto the gangway. Reaching for the girth, I tighten it back up before slipping the bridle off and tossing it into the straw.

"The things ye requested, sir," huffs Emile, reappearing once more.

"Good," I approve, taking the sack of feed from him. "Now, help me lash this to the saddle."

Working in tandem, we quickly secure the decoy atop the horse. Shrugging out of my justacorps — on top of the retribution for Harper, that cunt of a Beaumont also owes me a new hat and coat — I sling the muck- and bullet hole-ridden covering over the sack to complete the trick.

"Think'll fall for it, sir?" asks Emile as he meets my eye from across the horse's neck.

"Better pray to God they do," I reply, slapping the mount on the rear to send it galloping out into the night. "Else this might very well be our last meeting."

Emile's throat bobs in consternation. "Best o' luck to ye, then, sir."

"Christ knows I'll need it," I accede, grasping his palm to press a gold ducat into it. "Now, make yourself scarce afore the dragoons show up."

With a quick nod, the lad disappears back into the gloom of the barn.

Withdrawing from the stables once more, I skirt 'round the far side of the building, careful to keep to the shadows. Hopping the low fence of the vegetable patch, I make my way towards the low door that leads into the kitchen.

Trying the handle, I find it unlocked. Pulling the heavy wooden door back, I slip warily inside.

The crash of boots above me confirms that the Greencoats have fallen for my ruse. But there is no guarantee that every last one of their dastardly lot plans to depart the inn.

Belvedere Beaumont may be a godless dog, but he is by no means a fool.

Which means I'll need to keep ahold of my wits... and weapons.

Pausing at the bottom of the short set of stone steps that lead up to the main hall, I spare a moment to quickly reload my flintlocks.

Slotting one gun back into my belt, I grasp the hilt of my sabre in one hand, and the second pistol in the other before ascending the stairs.

The hall is dark... and quiet.

Whatever patrons there may have been must've made themselves scarce upon the discharge of the first shot.

Honestly? I cannot blame them. I certainly would not wish to be caught on the wrong side of the dragoon's crossfire.

I clench my eyes shut. Please, let her be safe...

Moving through the hall like a ghost, I arrive at the main staircase.

Cocking my pistol, I proceed onto the first step with as much care as I can muster, even as every fibre of my body is raring to dash upwards as quickly as humanly possible.

Sticking to the wall, I inch my way slowly towards the second floor, flintlock before me, on guard for the faintest sound or movement.

Reaching the landing without incident, I am greeted by the wanton destruction left in the wake of the dragoon besiegement.

My jaw piques in ire.

This had been punition — pure and simple. The setting of a heavy-handed example to put the fear of God into the hearts of all those who may cross paths with Beaumont and his men.

A warning of what will befall those who dare defy the letter of the law.

I shake my head. I should never have involved—

A shadow moves in one of the rooms to my left.

Flattening myself against the wall, I sneak a peek through the doorway...

...and what I see roils my guts.

Robert Gale — the inn-keep — is hunched over the chest standing in front of the large, four-poster bed, his hands bound behind him, his shirt and hair matted with sweat. A dark puddle of blood pools at his feet.

Two 'Coats root through the things in the room, pocketing anything that catches their eye and fancy, sniggering amongst themselves.

A hiss of chagrin escapes me. "Putain de merde..."

There is punishment, and then there is persecution. And Harper's father is — without a shadow of a doubt — a victim of the latter. The extent of his wounds provides ample proof of Beaumont's abuse of his authority.

And I cannot allow myself to stand idly by in the face of this atrocity.

I step out of the gloom and into the doorway.

A floorboard creaks beneath my boot.

One of the dragoons glances up...

...but by the time his faculties have clocked the fact that I am foe, not friend, I have already splattered his brains onto the wall behind him.

His compatriot meets the same fate half a breath later, as he fumbles ineffectually for his musket, his body thudding to the floor as the second of my bullets also finds sharp and swift retribution.

Robert Gale's voice croaks out from the foot of the bed. "Ye should'a left them alone, lad..."

But even that simple act is too much for his broken body, and he starts to hack violently.

Taking three quick strides 'cross the room, I manage to grab the old man 'fore he keels over. "Easy now..."

He heaves a shuddering breath 'gainst my breast. "Now, we'll be strung up fer sure..."

"Nay," I counter softly, reaching behind him to loosen the bonds that secure his wrists. "You just lay the blame at my feet. Where it belongs."

Robert twists his neck up to regard me with bruised eyes and cracked lips. "Yer him... The Raven Rider..."

"Amongst other things..." I admit, lowering him as gently as I can to the floor.

The inn-keep hacks out a strained laugh. "Aye... I can see why she likes you..."

"Have you seen her?" I demand, shrugging out of my waistcoat to press it to the wound at his side.

"Nay," Robert replies hoarsely. "Not since they found the gold in her room..."

The icy hand of dread grips my heart. "Sweet Jesus...How the bloody hell did they even know where to look?"

"Théo..." comes the raspy confession. "He... He heard—"

I nearly choke on my own breath. "The window..."

We never closed the damn window...

Springing to my feet, I dash from the room, heedless of the sound of wood striking wood as my booted feet pound the length of the hallway.

How could I have let myself be such a careless fool!

Not only have I tarred the woman I love by virtue of our association, but I've unwittingly led the bastards right to her! And if they found out about the gold, then...

I cannot allow myself to even think on that.

Skidding to a stop in front of the last doorway, I throw myself inside...

...and skid to an abrupt halt as I lay eyes on the horror spread out before of me.

"No..."

The dogged denial slips from my tongue in a whisper.

But my lack of acceptance does nothing to assuage the merciless truth of the reality that assaults me like a thousand knives to my chest.

Harper lies prone in the moonlight, bound and gagged, her golden tresses soaked in the slick crimson of her blood.

"No... No..."

My feet carry me unthinkingly to her listless form beneath the casement — the window of which sits still ajar — and I crash to my knees at her side.

Grasping her by the shoulders, I pull her to me with trembling hands, praying under my breath, hoping against hope that it's a mere trick of the night, a cruel misjudgement, a sordid nightmare that I have somehow stumbled into, soon to awake from...

...but even though her skin still feels warm to the touch, no breath issues from her chest and those hazel eyes that once sparkled with magic and love now stare dully out into the night.

My nails dig into her flesh as my body bows over hers. "Oh, God... Please... No..."

But if the Almighty Lord hears my plea, He is either a heartless bastard or an impotent fraud because He ignores my beseeachment. And she remains unmoving 'gainst my heart.

"NO!!!"

The delegation roars forth from my chest with a force that is naked in its brutality. The heathen keen echoes out into the night as the bitter taste of anguish engulfs my throat and my soul shatters 'neath the stars.

I am too late. And she is dead.

Shot in the heart and left to bleed out on the cold floor like a dog. Alone. Without any assurances or prayer.

All because I'd allowed my heart to sway my head. Convincing myself that despite all my prior misdeeds, I could nevertheless steal a future for myself. A future I had no right or claim to. A future that was more akin to the spectre of a mirage than any flesh-and-blood destiny. A future that was doomed from the start.

Yet my covetousness knew no bounds. And blinded as I had been by the promise of the lie I'd weaved not just myself but Harper as well, I'd led us into the mire of disaster.

"It should've been me..." I rasp into her neck as anguish blurs my vision. "It fucking should've been me..."

I hear the floorboards strain behind me. But I care not. I have no words or sentiment left. And if it's one of Beaumont's enterprising men come to shoot me in the back? Well, then at least they'll be doing me the favour of putting me out of my luckless misery.

Because the knowledge that I have doomed the woman I love cuts deeper than any mortal knife could.

And I've lost the right to live anyway.

"Imma sorry, lad..." says Robert Gale, laying a calloused hand on my shoulder, his own voice cracking.

I shrug the gesture off. I don't deserve his pity. Let alone his succour. I am the one holding the body of his dead daughter in my arms. If anything, he should be setting on me to tear limb from limb in payment for my sins.

Yet, he does no such thing.

"Had I know afore tonight 'bout ye..." He heaves a hoarse breath from above me. "But I s'pose we all had our secrets... And I know it inna any consolation as of now, but we'll bury her 'neath the oak tree. Next t' her mother. That way ye can—"

"Them," I bite out through clenched teeth.

The old man shifts. "What do ye—?"

"She was with child," I grit, reaching up to pull the bloodied gag from her face.

Robert falls into deathly silence beside me.

"So, raise your hand," I tell him bluntly as I pull her eyes gently closed. "Beat me. Wring my neck. Kill me, for all I care. For this is the only opportunity I'll afford you to exact your just vengeance upon me."

"Ye must think very little o' me, if ye think I'd strike a grieving man," rebuts the inn-keep with a hint of steel. "Let alone one who loved my daughter so."

"Then you are a better man than me," I reply solemnly, leaning in one last time to lay a kiss on her lifeless lips.

"Imma'n older man," he corrects as I gently return Harper's head to the floor. "Who's stood where yer standin'. So, I can afford some clemency. 'Specially in this bitter hour."

"You might come to regret your choice," I reply, forcing myself back to my feet. "As I bring nothing but death. And our paths will not cross again after tonight."

"Where ye goin'?" comes the flummoxed query as I push past him.

I throw my reply carelessly over my shoulder. "To exact vengeance of my own."

"They'll kill ye, lad!" Robert calls after me as I stride from the room. "They'll hang ye fer murder! And her death will've been fer n—!"

"I'm a dead man anyway."

Without caring to look back, I let my boots carry me back 'cross the corridor to retrieve my weapons from where I'd left them in the master bedroom.

Reloading the pistols on the fly, I stash them in my belt and I beat a determined path back to the lower level of the inn and out into the night.

The crash of the door 'gainst the wall catches unawares the pair of dragoons that had been left to stand watch on the exterior. But by the time they turn towards me, I have already run both of them through.

Leaving the sods to bleed out in the mud, I plunge into the darkness rising before me.

The cold, winter air whips through my hair, stinging my eyes and my lips in sharp contrast to the hot blood slithering between my knuckles.

But I pay it no need. For I have but one goal. One mission.

To take every soul I can into the night.

Because death? It is all but assured for me. As whether I go by my own bullet or a Greencoat's, it is simply a matter of choice at this point. For I have no reason left to live.

My world turned to ash the moment she died. And there is nothing left to salvage.

Coming to a halt some ways off from the inn, I shoot a sharp whistle into the depths of the murk. A shadowy form raises its head from the gorse, and in the next instant, Drogon is trotting eagerly towards me, the new palfrey in tow.

"Change of plans, mon gross," I advise as he comes to a stop in front of me, breath steaming in the moonlight. "And I don't think you're going to like it..."

The Merèns regards me for a moment, as if sensing the shift in my soul, before letting out a world-weary sigh.

"You always were far too opinionated," I tell him dryly, reaching up to untether the palfrey from his saddle.

Turning the bay towards the stables, I give it a slap on the rump to send it on its way. With Harper gone, I have no further use for the horse. And Emile will ensure it is well cared for.

The stallion shakes his head at me as I swing myself onto his back. But I allow him no further opportunity for protest as I gather the reins in one hand, and point him north.

"Hue!"

Upon command, Drogon leaps forward, and the night becomes a blur as we fly across the moor, like an ill wish upon the wind, seeking our quarry 'neath the path of the stars.

I have no clue for how long we ride. The silvery eye of the hunter's moon casts an eerie pall over the land, distorting any earthly sense of time or distance as its lunar magic stretches shadows and swallows minutes.

Eventually, though, from out of the darkness and the mist appears a ghostly glow, bobbing on the brow of the hill.

"Beaumont," I growl, watching the company ride closer.

They must have caught the horse and realised the nature of the ruse they had fallen prey to.

But it matters not. The time for tricks and cons has passed. There is no more running... No more hiding. No more trying to cheat or contrive our fates. The last of the road has run out.

It is judgment hour.

Wrenching the flintlocks from my belt, I press Drogon forward, down into the valley, down into the well of our doom.

Yet a strange sense of calm blankets me as we draw level with the oncoming troop. Perhaps because my heart already stopped beating the moment I laid eyes on her. And this is last, earthly act is merely a formality. Or, I'm so drunk on the potent elixir of grief and bloodlust that swirls through my veins that I've become numb to all else.

Either way, I am a shadow of the man I once was. And welcome the sweet promise of release.

The reins slip from my fingers as I raise the pistols to sight my shot.

The figures of men and horses coalesce from out of the gloom, torches borne aloft.

I reach the edge of the sphere of light...

... and let the first shot fly.

The lead dragoon's eyes widen in surprise as the crack of flint 'gainst frizzen ignites the black powder in the pan, splintering the calm of the night.

The lead round explodes out of the barrel in a flash of smoke and fire, hurtling through the air to imbed itself in the soft flesh of the man's cheek, shattering teeth and bone as it went.

The shock of the impact causes the 'Coat to jerk back on the length of his reins, pulling his horse into the path of its neighbour.

Taking advantage of the confusion, I fire another round into the heaving mess of bodies, catching a horse in the shoulder, causing it to throw its rider from its back.

Cries of horror and surprise rise up as the precisely stacked formation careens into itself, turning both man and beast into a maelstrom of panic.

Slinging the spent weapons into the night, I whirl Drogon back 'round, his hooves rearing into the air as he seeks to redirect the sharpness of his momentum.

Whipping my sabre from its sheath, a hellish howl erupts from my throat as I point the tip of the blade across the narrow divide in vengeful promise.

"BEAUMONT!"

A glint of gold flashes in the middle of the fray as my target snaps his head up at the sound of his name.

"Shoot him, you whelps!" screams the captain, grabbing for his own pistol. "Blast him dead!"

But I am already charging forward.

Shots crack out into the night as I bear down upon my mark...

...and there is but one prayer on my lips.

"I am coming, mon coeur..."

I am almost upon the wall of dragoons when I feel Drogon stumble. Another round pierces my gut a breath later. A third lodges in my shoulder.

But still, I urge the stallion on...

...until his knees give way in the face of the desperate volley of bullets and he careens into the mud, taking me with him, mere steps from my goal.

A thousand pounds of horseflesh crashes down on me, pinning my leg 'neath the weight. My sabre clatters from my hand to vanish into the tangles of the gorse beside me.

The back of my head collides with the ground, and I find myself staring up into the black expense above me, my body broken, my senses reeling.

Drogon lifts his head briefly, attempting to pull himself to his feet, before succumbing to the inherent futility of the exercise with a mournful sigh.

"It's alright, mon gross," I whisper, attempting to comfort the wounded beast lying atop me, even as my vision skips and my lungs struggle for breath as a familiar wetness drenches my shirt.

This is not the way I planned to go. But it seems I left what remained of my luck in that cramped room where my love had blossomed and then died.

Fitting, really...

A pistol clicks above me.

With the last of my strength, I reach beneath my shirt, where Harper's talisman lies coiled 'gainst my heart.

Twisting the damp silk 'round my finger, I close my eyes with a final exhale.

Look for me by the moonlight...

They say that in the depths of the dark — when the moon is high and full — that the sound of hooves may be heard, galloping 'cross the moor...

And though you may not glimpse it, a ghostly rider's there. Searching for his love, they say, who gave her life for his...

If he finds her, 'tis not known; but he made a solemn vow to her. And a promise bound in blood and silk, is a promise that must be filled...

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[marcos-scorpion]

the nights - adrian chase x reader

a/n- hi my loves! its been a super long time since i’ve posted on here, though i’ve still been reading an insane amount of fanfic, and watching an insane amount of stuff. uni is ridiculously stressful, but it has helped me find my love for writing again, so there’s that! anyway, Adrian Chase has me in a chokehold and i adore him. this is loosely based off of what happened last summer between me and my ex, with some parts of it rephrased from a letter i sent him recently, almost a year to the day we met. anyway,, hope you enjoy, pls request some stuff and lemme know what you thing xoxo 

Warnings- idk dude it’s really sad ngl, angst no comfort 

Word count- 1.1k

———

Adrian Chase is easy to love. He’s vibrant, glowing from the inside. He’s awkward, he doesn’t always know what to say, how to act. But he cares, oh god does he care. Adrian Chase loves with his whole being, every part of his soul. I tried. I promise, I swear on every god, every superhero, that I tried to love that boy the way he deserved. He deserves sunshine, gentle hands and gentler lips. He deserves kisses in the rain, sharing one milkshake with two straws, and any other cliche he could ever desire. But I wasn’t anything he needed. I was bruised knuckles, split lips and the feeling of flying too close to the sun. I was crying alone in the rain, shattered glass. And he loved me as if I was love itself.

I remember the day we first met, his bright smile as I straightened my brand new Fennel Fields uniform. He was so awkward, so endearing. I remember the days in between, the cold nights, driving windows down in his Sebring. He always let me choose the music, although I could tell he didn’t enjoy it. I remember the nights watching Fargo reruns that he could quote from start to finish, I remember telling him I loved him for the first time, glasses reflecting back the light of the TV. It was so mundane. I’d never felt that before. The safety, the warmth. Adrian Chase felt like home. So I told him I loved him, told him I would stay with him as long as he needed me as he pressed soft kisses against my collar bones. I remember the look in his eyes as I began to crumble in front of him. The pain in his face as I screamed at him, tore at all his weak spots, every insecurity he had entrusted me with. How he still reached out to comfort me the night I lied, the night I told him he wasn’t enough, was never enough, would never be enough. Even then, with tears streaming down his face, he told me it would be ok. That he understood. He didn’t, of course. He would never understand.

I left that night. I couldn’t face him. The boy I had well and truly destroyed. He didn’t deserve any of what I threw at him. Of course, none of it was true. God, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was perfect, my boy, my Adrian. But I could see where it would end. He would realise that the version of me he had in his mind, his heart, wasn’t real. It was never real, and it never would be. So I ran, I destroyed everything he had to offer, and left him to deal with it alone. He hated being alone. I would call him the one who got away, but in reality he would have stayed by my side. I was the coward. I ended up in Gotham, the perfect place to become someone new. And I did. I’m not proud of who I became, but it was much more suited to the type of person I was. I made friends, friends I couldn’t force away the way I did sweet Adrian, Harley and Ivy were good people, in my books at least. And they were so perfect for each other. Two people, so beyond damaged by what life had thrown at them, that they held each other together until the end. It didn’t take long for me to end up on Waller’s radar, and even less time to end up dragged into her world. It suited me. The solo mercenary tasks she would send me on. But this, the job that took me back to the one place I never wanted to, was going to hurt. She wanted me to keep an eye on her daughter, make sure she followed through with the mission.

Going back felt like going home. My heart burned as Leota drove us back into the city. I could feel her sideways glances, questioning eyes. She wouldn’t understand, and although I had grown close to her and her wife, I never wanted to tell them about Adrian. I just had to avoid Fennel Fields. I was lying to myself, of course, this entire city reminded me of him. Maybe he’s gone. Maybe he’s gotten married, happy in a house with a cute wife, maybe a little curly-haired kid running round his ankles. God, I hoped so. All I ever wanted, all I still want, is for him to be happy. I managed to sneak my way out of going to the ‘team meeting’ at Fennel Fields. But nothing would prepare me for when I did see my boy again.

I could see someone behind the bin, watching us. I was more intrigued than anything. It was clear this was the ‘vigilante’ that was running through the streets of Evergreen. My back was to him, hood pulled tight over my hair. When he finally came out, I swear my heart stopped at the sound of his voice. My blood was rushing in my ears, I couldn’t hear the conversation. Leota was staring at me, even Chris had noticed my state of sheer panic.

“Ember,” someone grabbed my arm, “(Y/N).”

It was Leota, no one else would use my actual name. Very few people did.

“What’s wrong?”

He came closer, interacting with Peacemaker, who was still glancing at me sideways.

“Adrian..” It was barely a whisper, but he heard. He whipped his head around, immediately going to protest his identity. But when masked face landed on mine, he stopped. I could feel his stare, even through the red visor. No one spoke, everyone watching us stare at each other in silence. He began to speak, my eyes widening.

“(Y/N), I-I,” and he broke into a sob. So I ran. Like a fucking coward, like I did all those years ago. I ran. I avoided the team for days, hoping, praying, that when I did return to our makeshift HQ, he wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t avoid him forever. I had a job to do. I just needed to focus on the job. I could see him, through the glass, laughing with Peacemaker. The smile never quite reached his eyes, his laugh never quite what it used to be. A deep breath, as the pain in my chest twisted tighter. That was me. I ruined him. I walked in, approaching the pair who had stopped laughing when I entered. I wanted to speak, to apologise, to sob and break down and beg for his forgiveness I didn’t deserve. Chris looked between us, before stepping back slightly.

“So,” I started, a watery smile on my face as my lash line pooled with tears, “I see you finally managed the superhero thing?”

He nodded, no words, his mouth set in a straight line. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what I had done. I knew what I turned my sweet Adrian into. And I couldn’t bare to face it properly.

He had flown too close to the sun, and I had left him burning.

[witch-hazels-musings]

🌸 Ask box open WOOOOO, could I ask for Beidou, Diluc and others of your choice, with someone who is exceptionally gifted with animals, and loves nerding out about them🌸

zoology 

Warning -> SFW (Beidou - long hair mentioned) 

Character X GN Reader | anthology 

Includes: Beidou, Diluc, Ganyu

Beidou

She’s already so impressed with you - how could she not be considering how the two of you met

When she saw you fighting a group of smugglers on the docks of Liyue, your hands gripping onto the cages of the animals they were trying to take with them - not caring for your safety in the slightest and taking hit after hit in a desperate attempt to shield the animals inside 

At that moment, she became your shield - your barrier between the harsh reality of the world and promised to keep you safe 

That bright smile behind bruises and cuts as you watched the small creatures find their freedom once again was enough information for her to know what kind of person you were 

Now, every time she returned to Liyue, she was excited to see your face or the sanctuary you had built from the ground up -- you were a human she wished to see more of 

“Y/N? You in here?” She called out to you, her hand pushing past the beads which separated the outside from the in. Animals ran around her feet and, as carefully as she could, she stepped through them. 

“A!H! Beidou??” Your voice called out to her, a crash sounding somewhere in the distance and a small curse following right after. When she found you, the state of your hair - frazzled and half-hazardly placed on top of your head - the long coat you liked to wear pooling beneath your feet as you worked to pick up the items that had fallen, and the reassuring expression you gave to the startled animals around you made her head swim and mouth stretch. 

“Little friends, hold on. That was rather frightful, wasn’t it?” The tone you used was sweet and kind and she watched as a small fox stepped toward you before pressing its nose carefully against yours. “That’s right, see nothing to be worried about.” 

When you caught sight of her, the grin that plastered across your face reached all the way into your eyes. “Need some assistance?” Beidou asked, extending her hand out toward you. 

“I’ll always take some help from my favorite captain.” 

Beidou would often bring you lost or injured animals - it was like you had a knack for helping them recuperate and on the days when she was around to see you release them back into the wild, well the energy that radiated off of you was stronger than a swing of her claymore 

The knowledge that you had about them shocked her, enlightened her, and made her understood why they were so calm when near you -- to have that level of love and compassion for the creatures of the world meant your heart must be as pure as gold 

Ganyu 

Just like you, Ganyu has a high affinity to care for the creatures of this world. She has vowed to protect them just as much as you have, and her spirit feels kindred to your own -- like two wandering souls who found each other in a chaotic world 

It was after a ‘not so eventful’ sparring match with the adeptis Xiao that she found you - quickly, she made her way to offer you assistance and when she found you holding onto an injured animal with tears in your eyes … she wanted to know more, so much more about you 

The two of you raced off to get some aid, the small creatures shook the whole time in your arms, it scratched and bit at you - she could easily see the marks on your skin - but you continued to reassure it of its safety, never once did you react violently or alarmed at its behavior, and after some time it calmed down … it found a home with you and from that point on never left your side 

The apartment which you decorated in the themes of the animals which you took in, or who visited you on a regular day, felt more like home than anything she’d ever seen -- the open windows, the coming and going of beings whose freedom was all their own, and the space you created for them was everything to her kind heart

The items in her hands were getting heavy, but she continued her way over the bridge knowing that the strain would soon be alleviated. The walk to your home was long, but not challenging and soon she found herself strutting down the path only to find you standing outside in the sunlight. 

You were sitting on a small bench, one that you’d find tossed out by some store owner and had worked hard to bring home. Birds flocked to you, some resting on your head, others bouncing around your feet or over your thighs. They were eagerly eating up the crumbs of food that fell to the ground in even intervals. 

“You must have flown so far to reach me.” The way your voice sounded brought comfort to all who heard it. A kind finger brushed against the chest of a bird who had settled onto your shoulder and when you pulled away it preened its feathers and made a soft chirping sound. 

The birds took flight as Ganyu approached, their upset screams sounding as they settled onto the roof of your home. “Pleasant greetings.” Ganyu bowed, her head dipping slightly before returning to its normal place. 

“Hiya!” You leaped from your spot and made your way toward her with unbound energy. “I didn’t expect you.” 

“I uh - I brought you some things from the market.” 

“Oh wow! How generous, thank you.” You reached for the extended back and let the straps rest over your arm. “Are you busy?” 

“N-no, I have the day ---!” With gusto, you grabbed her hand and lead her toward the house. When you looked back at her it was like looking into the brightest star and Ganyu wondered how she got so lucky to have met you on that fateful day. 

She learned much from you - like an endless wealth of knowledge you shared with her fact after fact and no matter how unique the animal, you still knew so much about it 

There were many days where the two of you would just sit out on your porch and chat about the world outside 

Nature and all its creations were so fascinating to you that it seemed you had lived much longer than one lifetime 

Diluc 

It's not that he … hated animals it was more that they never seemed to get along well with him. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so well-liked by the creatures that seemed to despise his very existence 

“Just … If you’d only just leave, then we both wouldn’t be in this situation.” He called to the stray cat that had lodged itself in the corner of his bar. How it managed to get onto the upper shelves he would never understand, all that he knew was it wasn’t proper to have a cat as a patron. 

He reached up to grab it but pulled his hands away when it hissed violently at him. “I can handle abyss mages, drunkards, and all manner of situations … yet it seems I am bested by a simple cat.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his next steps. 

There was a ringing at the front entrance and he turned toward the sound only to catch sight of you illuminated by the sunlight. “Hey there.” You smiled at him but he was much too irritated to return the gesture. “Your face is .. worse than normal.” 

“I have a problem I cannot solve.” 

“What is it?” You settled into the barstool, your arms crossing about your chest as you eyed him curiously. 

“There is an unwanted guest here today, I and cannot get them to leave.” Your expression turned to confusion until you tracked the pointed finger to the corner of the bar. 

“OH! A kitty!” Exclaiming, you immediately ran around to his side, not caring in the slightest of the sign that said ‘employee’s only.’ Grabbing the stool under the counter, you carefully stepped your way onto it and extended your hand to the trembling little one. 

“Be careful, it’s quite viole --” In a matter of seconds, the cat had leaped into your arms and was softly purring away. Its face was in utter bliss as you gave it scratches under its chin. Diluc was stunned, nearly gobsmacked at the quickness of its trust toward you. 

“Animals just like me.” 

“So it would seem …” 

There are people in this world that have an unnatural ability to create trust in seconds and you were one of them -- something about the aura you gave off, the energy that spilled from every fiber of your being told those around you there was no need to be distrustful of you -- and Diluc learned that early on 

Not only were you able to tame the animals around you, but you tamed his unsteady heart --- he felt … comfortable, more like himself when you were around and was often drawn to your side when he didn’t expect it 

The only problem was that you also drew animals to you - and most of them were quite protective of the space at your side, if he wanted to stay there, he was going to have to learn to relax a bit 

Though it’s quite fun so see how tense he gets when they land on him … at least he always had you and his trust hawk to keep him company (if he could manage those relationships, he could manage a few more) 

--

tag list: 

@star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @pepperoncinipizza @handswritteeen @lucifucker @beelsdessert @odafashioned @coolcats09 @ninqat @musekala @sufzku @mooshymello  @heavenlyang @plenilunegazes @glazelilyy @justyoureverydayqueer @idunkar @solowmomo @twokissesforamelia @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @goat-mama-breezie @angelmelt @lucacandy @shesleire @mariana @zentoruu @smol-knife @nightlywallows @aoirohi @nitorious-ghost @mguerra11 @maiiikoo @actstfbla @youaskedfurret @nonniechan @evolcahra @tempehlust @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @gultonluvv @shy-specter @liebestraumss @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @anatthesavage

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.” Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.  

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels. 

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”  

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”  

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.  

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.  

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.  

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.  

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.  

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.  

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.  

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.  

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.  

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.  

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.  

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.  

This was different.  

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.  

It was infuriating.  

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.  

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.  

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.  

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.  

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.  

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.  

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.  

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”  

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.  

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.  

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.  

You’d care.  

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.  

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.  

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.  

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.  

“Can I help you, young man?”  

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.  

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…  

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.  

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.  

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side. 

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”  

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.  

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.  

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.  

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.  

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.  

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.  

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.  

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”  

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.  

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.  

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.  

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.  

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”  

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.  

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.   

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.  

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.  

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.  

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.  

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.  

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.  

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.  

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.  

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.  

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.  

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.  

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.  

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.  

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.  

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”  

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.  

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.  

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.  

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?  

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.  

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.  

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.  

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.  

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.  

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.  

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”  

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.  

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.  

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.  

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.  

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.  

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.  

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.  

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.  

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.  

All he knew was that he wanted more.

[jossambird]

The Scent on your coat P4

Summary: You reflect on your life choices, and despite your wants, Life had other plans for you.

Otto Octavius x F!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: NS/FW Subjects, No Doc in this Chapter (or is there) but building to the next part, mentions of emotional Reader, heartbreak, yearning for things you can’t have.

Ao3 Fic Link for previous parts, or on my masterlist!

-

“I've only ever wanted you.” You repeated into the silence of your apartment, barely listening to the news that played on tv. Images of various villains flittered on the screen, your eyes falling on the one face you couldn’t stop seeing behind your eyelids. You shut the tv off with a huff, eyes watering at the whole mess.

Hands slinging your blanket over your back, you bundled yourself up and sat in bed, pulling your other blanket over your legs and feet. You couldn’t even begin to find the correct words for just how much you had missed Otto.

Even after all this time, Otto remained as handsome as he had been the last time you had seen him all those dreadful months ago. His soft brown hair that shined red in the sunlight, his gorgeous brown eyes that used to always seek you out in a crowd.

You sighed, replaying his words in your mind. Did he mean everything he had said? He had never been a liar, that you knew…

For weeks after his accident, you had thought him dead. For months, you had listened to the radio and new outlets, slandering his work and very career once he had emerged, tentacles and all, turning to a life of crime.

How long had you mourned him, mourned the fragile friendship you had had together, mourned his work but most importantly, mourned your love for him? It had taken weeks, months even, to finally be able to step back into this laboratory and work, and not be pitied by every living soul here.

They had all known of your deep and dark secret, the love you had held so dear for the Scientist, but stayed silent.. all except for one.

Peter Parker. Sweet Peter Parker, always there for you no matter, always asking if you needed help or a shoulder to cry on, always asking how you were holding up with everything.

It had been Peter, of all people, who had saved you from the endless internal darkness that had started to consume you slowly but surely, depression sinking its claws into you and pushing you towards dangerous thoughts.

He, who had asked you if you wanted to go see a movie together. He, who had walked you home every night afterwards, only ever smiling and offering his arm whilst you tried to say it was okay.

He, who had tentatively asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend that one summer night after a quiet walk, knowing full well how your heart held a part of itself for another.

It was he, who had kissed your lips, reassuring you that he understood what it felt like, having already lost the love of his life too.

And so, telling yourself that maybe this was what you needed to finally forget Octavius, you had given him a chance; slowly taking your time together and learning about one another, becoming closer and closer by the passing day.

Peter’s secret identity hadn't been kept from you long after you noticed Spiderman arriving at your Oscorp to walk you home, just like Peter did. He had practically fallen off a building when you asked out loud if he was done stalking you like a creep, his laugh echoing softly in the noisy New York streets.

“Aren’t you afraid a villain will come and kidnap me Pe- Spiderman?” You had asked him, grinning even though your heart clenched at the idea of *one* villain kidnapping you. Thoughts like those were burned and shooed away, trying to focus on the good and kind man that loved you.

“Don’t worry, Ill always protect you Y/N.” He assured you with a whisper, bowing his head as you stepped inside your shared apartment complex.

You had come to love him too, in a way, over time.

Your first time together was the moment you realized your heart was irreparable; Peter’s hands were on your hips, holding you softly as he fucked you but in that moment, another man’s name found itself on your lips, a name all too familiar to you, trying to make its way out and into the air between you. You hadn’t let it, swallowing both it and your shame down, sorrow coursing through you as Peter called out your name.

A few days later, on an early September day, as you turned away from the amazing view from your apartment window, the wind blowing your hair from your face, you had felt it; Nervous energy in the air, shudders wracking your body.

Peter Parker asked you to marry him on the same balcony moments after.

No amount of preparation would have ever prepared you for the absolute heartbreak you had felt as the man before you wore bruises shaped like claws, deep cuts and barely fading scars, crooked grin smiling up at you with a ring in hand, waiting.

“I know I’m not him, and you aren’t her, but I'd like to love you for the rest of my life.”

You had sobbed under the loud noise of the shower until the water turned cold, and after.

Though now, sitting here alone in your living room, you wondered why life sought to hurt you so.

Soon you would be married to a sweet man who loved you, adored you, and all fantasies of the tall Doctor Octavius would have to be forgotten and erased.

You sighed again, burying your face into your blanketed hands, trying to will yourself to stop feeling this way. Peter deserved someone who loved him with all their heart, not someone who craved another and had let said man eat them out in their previous work place.

A knock sounded at your front door and you frowned, standing, wrapped in your blankets still, to answer.

Would it be possible… that he would come? Would he knock on the door, or simply open it, hands seeking you out and untying your robe, touching what he had already accidentally claimed?

As you turned the handle and opened the door, your inner shame grew, eyes landing on the smiling face of your best friend Allie.

“Thought Id come see how the bride-to-be was feeling! How- Oh my god Y/N what's wrong?” Allie said in a rush as she saw tears form in your beautiful eyes, stepping inside in a hurry to comfort you. You could barely let out a sob, let alone words, arms wrapping around the woman.

“Y/N, babydoll, what's going on? You can talk to me, you know that right? Nothing leaves this room, only between you and me.” Your best friend whispered, holding you tightly.

She pulled away, arms still wrapped around you but just enough to see your face, and you knew she had figured it out, knew she had pieced it together. “Oh, Y/N… It’ll be okay, it’ll go away.”

What Allie failed to know though, was that you didn’t want it to go away, still feeling his soft but firm fingers holding your thighs and ankles, kisses laid against your skin.

You didn’t want your love for Otto Octavius to disappear, just like the words of love and adoration groaned along your thighs and core, expressive brown eyes seeking yours out in desperation. Desperate for what, you still didn’t know, but it made your heart race, thinking that the renowned Doctor Octavius and villain Doctor Octopus wanted to see you reach ecstasy by his hand and his alone, desperate for only his name to find itself on your tongue.

And you felt even more horrible for it.

*

Allie held you close, blankets wrapped around the both of you as she flicked through channels on TV.

“Want to talk about it?” She whispered, eyes still trailed on the TV but you knew her attention was solely on you.

What was there to say in a situation like this?

“No.” You croaked out, snuggling closer against her in an effort to forget everything, forget the outside world, forget the fact that the very man you wanted most of all was also somewhere out there. You weren’t surprised when Allie sighed, the sound of the TV shutting off. She laid down beside you, worried eyes gazing back at you.

“You know, it's not…” Allie paused, breath caught in her throat at the sight of you.

“It's not abnormal for marriages to be cancelled.” She continued, her eyes flickering over your face for a sign that you were understanding her meaning. You could barely breathe as she waited, the implication of her words sounding out.

“Allie thats- Peter, he-“ you tried, heart breaking at the idea of telling Peter you could no longer marry him. Allie, the beautiful thing she was, faked a gag and rose up, sitting beside you.

“Y/N, forget Pete for the moment okay? He doesn’t exist right here, right now.” She started, turning back towards your surprised visage with a finger pointed at you.

“I will always be here for you. I know you aren’t happy… I just want you to know that it’s never too late to cancel anything.”

You cried that night, silently into your pillow, never acknowledging the words she had spoken. Allie remained with you for the next few days, never uttering another word of the subject she had begun, helping you instead prepare for your wedding.

That night, you dreamt of large hands pulling you close and whispers of love pressed against your breast, heartbeat steady as he asked the one thing you could never lie about:

“Do you love me, Y/N? Me, and only me?” He whispered, lips moving against your collarbone, heated kisses following his words.

“I've only ever loved you.” You whispered back and watched the Otto before you smile, his hold turning bruising.

*

New York, even at night, was never silent. Noises could be heard everywhere and anywhere, people out and about, some heading home and some heading out.

Allie liked the hustle and bustle of the town, always eager to find a new Hole-in-the-wall type of bar or restaurant to get drunk in, and tonight, after saying she wanted to make you feel better with sushi, hadn’t been any different. She hummed under her breath and dutifully followed you back to your apartment, the both of you enjoying each other’s presence.

Convenience store bags in hand, you looked back at Allie as she wobbled, her steps mismatched, a half empty beer can in hand.

“Come on Al, we're almost there!” You laughed, watching her try to Hopscotch along the street. She stopped, eyes wide and smile even wider, throwing the beer can into the air and away from the both of you, making you cringe as it hit the ground.

“Oh my god- Was that a laugh!?” She yelled happily, the smell of beer and sake wafting off of her as she ran up beside you and held you close, arms trapped in her hold. You couldn’t help but smile at your best friend, mouth opening to chastise her for littering but you didn’t have the time; a faint melody met both your ears and Allie beamed, disentangling herself from you. You barely had time to register what song it was before she leaned away, breathing in sharply and letting loose.

“You should have bought her flowers!” She sang out, words echoing in the streets around you. Sang was perhaps too kind of a word though, as she scratchily belted out Bruno Mars lyrics.

“Shh! Oh my god Allie, shhhhhhh! Shut up!” You tried, running after her as she continued back to your apartment complex, uncaring of the people passing you by.

“You should’ve held her hand! Should’ve given her all your hours!” You barely made it in time to her, free hand rising to try and quiet her, heart racing as you imagined someone hearing-

“But now she’s marrying another man!”

Her words felt like a bath of freezing cold water, any remnants of alcohol in your system instantly evaporating.

She was right. You were, and no matter what fantasies and dreams you liked to imagine, you knew that life couldn’t continue like this, childishly hoping and wishing for another man to come sweep you up.

[anincorrectpetunia]

"How could you be so sure, all those years, that Lois would come back to you? Or that you would be here or feel the same? Or that what you had was even real? You were so young. Life was so volatile back then and constantly changing."

Rose nodded her head as Olivia spoke. "Lois and I…what can I say? We belong. As simple then as it is now that she's gone. You see, love doesn't change; people do. Love has a shape. And yes, it shifts and molds itself to different conditions and circumstances. When it's good and when it's hard. But the soul of love doesn't change. It's in your or it's not. I kept that love until I had a chance to show up for Lois. Now I couldn't know that day would come but I just hoped that it would."

Rose watched a rotund Dachshund waddle by awkwardly in little dog shoes, muttering under her breath, "That's a dog, not a toddler."

Olivia heard all of this but was still stuck in one place. "You were a baby. Sixteen? That is such a tender age to go through such an intense connection, and then to have it ripped away. You must have been heartbroken."

"This heart of mine has been cracked in a few places, but never broken. Lois never left me. Physically, sure. My heart was too full of her to feel deserted. It took several years, but she started writing to me. And you know I wrote back." Rose turned to look at Olivia, a sparkle in her eye. "So, in that way, I still had her. You know?"

That knowing part left Olivia curious. She thought about being sixteen-year-old self. So convinced of how much she knew about the world. Her lens was fixed in some ways that would endure, whilst other perspectives evolved to be less embarrassing. She was full of information back then, but very little wisdom. A thing that would only come with time and doing more living.

"But Lois had a whole life without you. Met a man that she married and had children, grandchildren even. All while you waited...to show up, or waited in hopes that she would do so."

At this Rose scoffed, just a little. "Wasn't no waiting about it. Not as I saw it. I was living just as Lois was living. We shared our separate lives with each other. Maybe not as frequently as I would've liked, but I understood. There were things I missed—like seeing her face or holding her hand. But I still had my friend. I lived for myself, but also to have something to share with her when those letters showed up. You can only write 'I miss you' and 'I love you' but so many times. So I dreamed. We dreamed in those letters. Lois was like a window in that way. One of those big picture ones. And it didn't matter if those dreams ever came to anything (sometimes they did), we were still creating something together."

"What's that?"

"Life! We were each a witness to the other's life. We filled suitcases of memories that way. There's nothing more satisfying than creating life with someone after being plopped down on this planet with all this time on your hands."

Olivia looked down at her glove covered hands. Her body was...

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