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rcksmith · 1 year

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Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

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

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

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Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

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dreamingnights · 3 months

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Subtle games (part 1)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Author's note: this fic is based on the idea about Larissa and an innocent clumsy adorable Reader. English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy, I hope you like it!!!

Warnings: none.

Y/N couldn't walk. The gray monsters were chasing her through the long passageways of Nevermore and her legs weren't moving fast enough to escape from their shadows. She could even feel the warm breath of the creatures at the nape of her neck just before she fell into an absolute void.

Her own screams woke her up but Y/N quickly realized that she was perfectly safe in her room's comfortable big bed. She had had another nightmare. When she calmed down she turned her head and tried to decipher with half-closed eyes the time her clock showed. Half past seven, she thought. Half past seven! She was going to be late for the staff meeting again. Y/N quickly sat up, cleaned herself up and put on her academy uniform at lightning speed. She left her room slamming the door and went down the stairs -two at a time- until she reached the small kitchen next to the meeting room, where she quickly made herself a strong coffee. At the precise moment when she was about to enter the adjoining room, where the weekly session was held, someone closed the door in front of her and the content of the coffee cup fell down due to the loud bang. When she saw the huge brown stain on her new shirt Y/N cursed outloud. However, she thought it was better to show up like that than to change clothes again, arrive embarrassingly late and make a fool of herself in front of her imposing boss. So, Y/N gathered all her courage and opened the heavy door to the office.

Nine serious faces stared at her from their seats. They were all the teachers of Nevermore, the school for outcasts. Y/N was the newest addition and she taught art and literature classes. She, like all of her students and mates, also had special powers. In her case, she was able to fleetingly give life to her own creations, something that could turn out to be her best dream and also her worst nightmare when her characters returned to their original inert state on the blank page of a book.

Nevermore's headmistress was Larissa Weems, a tall woman with platinum hair who wore a very elegant green suit. As usual she was the one who was in charge of the meeting.

- You're late again, Miss Y/L/N. -Larissa sighed. Later she looked at her stained uniform and drew an incredulous smile. -You have a curious sense of aesthetics. Anyway, take a seat.

- I'm sorry, Miss Weems. It will not happen again. -A blushed and hyperventilated Y/N sat next to Mr. Vlad, the fencing coach.

During the course of the meeting Y/N gradually regained her composure and then explained the challenges posed by the new semester at the academy. Y/N could even see an almost imperceptible smile forming on Larissa's lips as she listened to her attentively. Or maybe she was imagining it again, Y/N thought to herself. She had to get the diligent headmistress out of her mind once and for all because if she didn't her vivid imagination would play tricks on her again. Despite being aware that her crush on Larissa was almost certainly platonic and unrequited, she couldn't help but be enthralled when looking at her. Her incredible height, her silhouette, her cold eyes and her red smile haunted her every day like the monsters in her nightmares. And she couldn't escape from her either.

-Miss Y/L/N. What do you think? I'm very interested to know your opinion on this matter. -Larissa's soft voice brought Y/N out of her fantasies.

Wow, it's time to improvise again, Y/N reflected. She knew that they were still talking about the same topic and used her ingenuity to try to get out of the situation.

- You have a golden beak, Y/N. -Larissa praised her, showing off her perfect pearly teeth. -Your wisdom and inventiveness never cease to amaze me.

Hearing the compliment that came from Larissa's lips, Y/N couldn't help but blush and emit a sincere and wide smile at the same time. This reaction did not go unnoticed by the headmistress, who found it tremendously moving. Larissa suddenly looked at her companions and radically changed the subject. She couldn't be so unprofessional and show that deep down the young teacher Y/N Y/L/N was her little weakness.

After an hour of proposals and debates Larissa ended the meeting. Y/N was about to leave the room when she noticed the shadow of the tall woman closing over her.

- Y/N, could I speak to you in private? -Larissa asked politely as she tilted her head.

The young woman got lost in the woman's blue gaze and once again she had to rid those longing fantasies away from her mind. After all, it was a passing infatuation resulting from her dreamy nature.

When the two women were left alone in the large office, Larissa gently placed one of her long hands on Y/N's shoulder, who seemed to perceive a tender admiration in the headmistress' eyes. Suddenly, Y/N noticed a certain electric tension in the air and thought it was strange that her bodies were so close in such an empty room.

- I always appreciate your original point of view, Y/N. Thank you for helping me make this school a better place for the entire Nevermore family. -Larissa spoke those words lovingly as her hand rested on Y/N's shoulder. - And in case you didn't know, you are wearing your jacket backwards.

Y/N got a goofy smile etched on her face. How was it possible that she had not noticed this detail? She was sure Larissa thought she was a total mess.

Although for Y/N the day had only just begun.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday

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overandundertarot · 6 months

Text

pick a picture; something positive in your life rn!

Hello. There is always something in our lives that we can appreciate more, something that we may not notice but it can brighten our day! This reading aims to shine some light on that and hopefully raise your spirits!

Pick a picture; (1-4)

Pile 1;

Pile 1 you have your culture! I get that your culture is very community based and lively. You just have to go outside to feel the rythym of your nation. Scenes coming to mind are music on the street, public celebrations where the whole neighbourhood comes in to rejoice. If you're not in a place to have direct acces to your culture you can definitely seek it out online! Through videos and popculture content, your mood would definitely improve! The nostalgia and love for your nation shines through. Some of you definitely come from cultures of melanated people; Africa, South America, even the diasporas in america or western countries. You have recently been ruminating on past mistakes and actions. You probably already know by now that your inner thoughts and self talk have a huge impact of your daily reality, constant self deprecation can have adverse effects on your mental health. I',m getting that you really don't need me to tell you this and it's somehting that weighs you down on top of everything else. oouuf. For some in this pile, you are simply feeling nostalgic and thinking about the what could have beens because you've made a big move/change(could be physical relocation) or are about to and are feeling a sense of trepidation. Either way, it's good to forget about your problems for a while right now. Indulge in your culture and nostalgia, reminisce about all your childhood experiences growing up in your community, the quirky habits of your family members. Think about and lean into the times that you were happy in the past!

Pile 2;

Hi pile 2, you need to lean into your fun and crazy friends. People with whom you can be accepted fully. Your individuality! Playful expression of your authentic self especially when you feel like you have to stifle it to produce a more easily digestible persona for other people. They don't understand the genius behind what you do and call it weird, but so what!? Something positive in your life right now is that you have the chance to express yourself and have fun! Don't waste it, go be silly with your friends, make childish art. Be playful and dumb. Distilling every step of your creative process to make it more palatable to other people is robbing you of your joy and doing nothing for your art! You may be working with some people at work or school or whatever aspect it may be in your life. I'm seeing that its specifically on something intended for public viewing/presentatipn and while you may have initially been excited about it you feel suffocated by the other peoples influence now. Release this frustration by allowing yourself to have your own creative release and nurturing time alone. Make sure you are giving to yourself, and producing work that YOU are satisfied with, no matter anyone else's opinion on the matter!

Pile 3;

Hello lovely pile threes. You have the fruit of your hard work to appreciate in your life right now! You're breaking out of old habits and starting to look on the bright side of things! For some of you, you've recently gotten out of a relationship that was draining you for a while and you're feeling a HEAVYYY sense of relief. For others, its an issue of self worth that you're finally feeling like you're letting go of. Baggage has been released! Life has been good for you lately, you've been going out, having fun, talking with friends long into the night, laughing more. Definitely, you've seen an improvement in your friendships. There's lighter energy. You've stopped taking things so seriously. I feel like this pile has been feeling such a sense of appreciation for seemingly mundane things that you used to gloss over. Your cup of tea in the morning, the food you eat, the trees outisde your house. Everything is beautiful for you right now and carries hope. You're playful and looking to enjoy life, no strings attached!

Pile 4;

Hello Pile 4, you seem so weary. You may have been drawn to pile 3, so check it out if you feel exceptionally drawn to do so! Pile 4, you defer from pile 3 in that you have not yet broken out into the hopeful, joyous state of release. What you have to look forward to is hope. Hope that things will get better for you. It seems at every turn, its just gotten worse. Things only work out for other people and for you its perpetual suffering right? WRONG! Thats not true. You're in a depressive state right now and you may be leaning into self pity heavily from time to time because that feels like the only way you can get release. However, you keep working towards a better future and IT'S COMING! Keep holding on! This pile reminds me of the song Please,Please,Please, Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths. Give it a listen I feel like the people in this pile may resonate with it. There are some difficult things you need to do to get out of this limbo and experience real change. You've been putting them off for so long, but you need to go through with them. There's a concept in psychology known as impact bias.(look into it!)Its basically where we overstimate our reaction to future events. In this case its a perceived negative event in the future. Trust me when you do it you'll feel more glad than sad, you'll find that when you're living through the moment you'll feel much less worse than you expect yourself to do. And don't forget the after, there's a reason you have to go through whatever it is that you're procrastinating and it'll result in a happier you.

*****

That is all :) I loved doing this reading I feel like it lifted my spirits too! If it resonated, don't hesistate to tell me. Feel free to leave any feedback here under this post or in a reblog. If you liked the post please like it and reblog! :) Hope you have a wonderful day and see you in the next reading!

#overandundertarot #pac #tarot #divination #pick a card #intuitive reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pac reading #pick an image

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callofdudes · 11 months

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I'm crazy and this is mainly based off my oc, but yn is prices adopted daughter that works with him, and the read is like 22-24 and price is supposed to be 45, and he kept it a secret because he's want to protect yn. I wanna see how the 141/könig reaction, can be romantic or platonic don't care lol, yes i know it's stupidly specific, but I'm stupidly specific.

You um... You have no idea, I love this. Me and a friend actually have a story plot where y/n is adopted by Price and they are y/n Price. And I will die on that hill. I'm so glad other people are in the same boat.

Let's be honest it was either Ghost or Gaz who found out first. Ghost because he's a lieutenant and he knows everything so what would you expect?? Gaz because he sits in the filing room in the basements and reads other people's files he can get his hands on for a pass time.

Ghost 💀

Wouldn't say anything at first. When you'd insisted on bringing him back home with you he really didn't fight it that much. You'd dragged him out to the airport and he was honestly just tired and annoyed by the people at that point.

But when you got your tickets and Simon saw the name said Y/n Price, he hadn't entirely registered it. It kind of went in one way and shot out the other.

You both had boarded the plane and you were a load of smiles. Roughly halfway through Simon slowly leaned over as casual as ever. "So you're Price's daughter."

Your eyes widened. "I-what!?" You looked over at him but he didn't really seemed fazed by any part of your reaction. "I'm presuming you're adopted, your biological parents names are on your file."

Your jaw dropped. "And how do you supposedly know this!?"

Simon leaned over slowly and pointed down at the ticket you still had in your hand. The top corner said the purchaser was Y/n Price.

"Oh..." You looked back at him.

"Don't tell anyone, ok?"

"Wasn't planning to." Simon shrugs.

It honestly wasn't a huge surprise to him. Considering Price was caring to all of them, but seemed to coddle you more than the average soldier. And Price just wasn't that type of guy usually.

"So... What now?" You ask, not sure why he brought it up.

"We go wherever the hell you're taking us. Misses Price."

"Simon."

"Mhm, fine fine, I'll stop."

Well, his reaction wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. So you relaxed in your seat again.

Simon now knew, but he didn't bring it up often. Sometimes he'd have a small joke about it in private with you, but other than that he didn't bring it up. What was secret was secret.

He did however let Price know he knew, just in case something went astray in the future and he needed someone he could count on with that information.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz went to Price first to confirm before bringing it up to you. You'd accidentally signed one of your assessments as Y/n Price.

Price was slightly mortified when Gaz asked if it was a mistake on your part. He could have said it was a mistake but his second child is probably too smart for that.

"That's correct. Y/n Price."

Gaz hummed. "Is she your child then?? I didn't know."

"Adopted. I kept her biological parents on her file to protect her."

Gaz nodded in understanding. He was low-key jealous. He was BIG jealous. You were Price's kid?? He wanted to be Price's kid.... This was unfair.

He huffed as he walked to your office.

"Hey Gaz, everything alright??" You ask, still working on paperwork.

"Your father has your assessment."

"Oh thanks-" you paused and looked up at him. "What??"

"Your father has your assessment." He said again, somewhat eerily this time. "Make sure to sign your paperwork differently next time." And he slowly backed away to the door.

"Wait, Gaz!" You called after him, scrambling to get up. "don't tell anyone!"

Gaz was slinking our of your office, closing the door just closed enough you could only see his face. "Your father told me everything."

"Kyle Garrick get back here!"

He slammed the door and bolted down the hallway. You opened it again and ran after him. "Gaz!!"

"You won't catch me!"

You chased him around base but ultimately you couldn't catch up to him.

Gaz understands it's a secret and is very professional about it. But sometimes when you're alone he'll sneak by your bedroom door and your office and whisper something that has to do with Price bring your father. It creeps you out so he keeps doing it.

Price thinks it's funny and doesn't get to stop him so long as he tells no one else about what he knows. And Gaz keeps that promise.

Soap 🧼

He's a little slow, give him some time. There are things that have been shoved in his face that are glaringly obvious. Like one time he found you and Price alone in the gym and he was helping you lift, and Price isn't that loving to anyone I'll tell you that.

Encouraging words and everything. He just assumed it was a rough day since all of them needed some encouragement from Price.

Or that time you accidentally signed something as Y/n Price and he looked over it a million times to make sure everything was correct.

It just... It took him a bit is all.

Everyone else knows by this point so it's one day after a long mission and you all come back you hug Price tightly. "You did so amazing kiddo." He praised.

"Thank you dad."

Loud gasp. Very loud, drawn out gasp.

Soap's jaw drops as he looks at you all wide eyed. "did you just call him dad!???"

You all look at Soap a bit confused and the you nod. "Yeah..? I thought you knew?"

"What!? I never knew this!" Soap exclaims.

"Well... I'm adopted, but it's a bit of a secret so-"

"YOURE ADOPTED BY CAPTAIN-"

Ghost slaps his hand over Soap's mouth and glares at him. "Don't tell the whole base will ya?"

Soap looked over at you when Ghost let's go of him and starts to bounce a little. "This is exciting! I didn't know about it."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Why am I not surprised??"

"Glad we're all in the know now, but it's a secret Soap, so no going around and telling everyone you see, do you understand!?" Price addressed him.

"Me?? Telling secrets- pfft, Price do you even know who you're talking to?? I won't say a word."

Once he learns it is to keep you safe, he will try his hardest not to say anything. Sometimes in meets he's still so stoked he'll just randomly... "woah... Y/n is Price's kid..."

And then you all look at him weirdly. Like, yes Soap, you've known this for six months now.

König 🐙

Didn't think too hard on how this could go at all

König did not know much about you. He didn't know a whole lot considering that was kept under lock and key by the 141.

It was a huge shock. But now that he looks back on it he can kind of see it... Yeah.

"Hey König?" You asked him while the two of you were sitting on a few empty ammo crates in a dusty old compound waiting for your pickup.

"What is it?" He replied, looking at you curiously under the hood.

"Can I tell you a secret?? You can't tell anyone else though, promise?"

He raised an eyebrow, sitting in silence for a moment before nodding. "Deal. What is this secret?"

You sighed. You trusted him a lot, so surely he'd keep this secret to himself right? There wasn't any real harm in telling him.

"My full name is Y/n Price."

König sat on this thought for a moment before he replied. "You're Price's daughter??"

"Adopted."

He hums. "Alright. Thanks for telling me then??"

You shrug. "You're welcome."

König was shocked. He wasn't expected it at all, especially so out of the blue like that. But he was good at hiding it. He was having a mini crisis inside. You were adopted by the Captain John Price!? What was home life like? Probably really fucking good.

You probably got respected a lot. If anyone other than himself knew. And he wouldn't tell anyone. He had to promise himself that. So it was a lot of pressure keeping this secret that you so very well hid.

But he's honored you told him.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty headcanons #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #könig x reader #konig x reader

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daisyblog · 6 months

Text

Hair

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN's reaction to Harry's new hairstyle.

Based on this request

Harry was always known for his curls or his long hair, especially during the band. His hair was just as famous as him. He had gone through a variation of styles.

The overgrown curls, the one that YN remembers trying to mess up when they first started dating. The one that outlined his baby face, despite having to grow up over night.

Next was the slightly trimmed hair style. Harry still had a good amount of hair but it meant his curls were shorter. It made him look more grown up.

The slicked back quiff was Harry’s go to hairstyle during the Take Me Home tour. YN used to spray half a can of hairspray on it each night before a show, to make sure the volume didn’t drop. But she didn’t mind because Harry’s hair matched his personality, sophisticated and playful.

Outgrown and pushed back, YN noticed that Harry no longer wanted his hair trimmed, only styled. Did she complain? No! She liked this new hairstyle, it screamed rockstar vibes and YN was living for it.

Due to not having his haircut for so long, Harry’s hair grew and grew. It was shoulder length for majority of the On The Road Again tour. Harry’s habit was running his fingers through it and flipping it to the side. YN and the fans went feral for this hairstyle, especially when he styled it into a bun. Dreamy!

When Harry got the role of Alex in Dunkirk, after One Direction went on a break, his luscious long locks didn’t suit the 1940’s vibe. So off with a chop they came. YN was seen hiding her face in Anne’s shoulder, repeating “I can’t look” as the hairstylist brushed Harry’s hair into a bobble and cut away his hair.

The shorter curls stayed for a while, and YN could see as they got older the shorter cut with a few curls sticking out suited him. It made Harry look older but some innocence still remained. But to YN’s liking, she still got to run her hand through his hair at any opportunity.

So like the rest of the world when Harry decided one day to shave his precious curls off, YN was absolutely heartbroken, and to some very dramatic.

YN knew Harry was going for a haircut that afternoon, but when he arrived back home later on with lack of hair, rather than his typical trim…you could say she was lost for words.

Harry entered their kitchen, and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. “I’ll make veggie lasagna for dinner, if you fancy it?”.

YN was still stood by the kitchen sink as she had just finished washing some dishes. She just stared at Harry, wondering if he realised that his scalp was visible.

“Babe? Why are you looking at me like that?”. Harry noticed YN hadn’t moved a smidge since he arrived home. Of course he knew why, but there was no harm acting oblivious.

YN looked him directly in the eye. “Please tell me this is a joke?”. She wanted this to be a prank, where Harry said it was all a lie and his curls were actually hidden under a bald cap or something.

Still keeping up the act, Harry pretended to be confused. “What’s a joke?”.

“Where’s your fookin’ hair?”. YN questioned, already scared for the answer. Afraid it was going to be one she didn’t like.

Harry hesitated, before reaching up to touch his head. “AH! Where’s it gone?!”. He couldn’t keep the act up, and a loud chuckle left his mouth.

YN’s hand came up to cover her mouth for a second, as she realised that Harry intentionally asked for this haircut. “Why? Why have you done this?”.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, as though it wasn’t a big change. “Just fancied a change.”.

“A change…a change!”. YN couldn’t believe how calm he was being right now. “Dye your hair fookin’ pink, blue or like fookin’ rainbow if you want a change…don’t shave the whole lot fookin’ off!”. YN’s rant began.

“Is it bad?”. Harry grew nervous for a moment, worried he may have made a huge mistake.

“Well no…that’s what’s annoying..you can still look good even when you shave your fookin’ head!”. YN complimented the fact that there wasn’t a look Harry couldn’t pull off. “But I need to be dramatic right now…oh my..the fans…they’re going to be devastated.”.

“It’ll grow back, no big deal.”. Harry stated like that would solve everything.

“You better have your curls back in time for our wedding.”. YN warned him, to which he only smirked and saluted her playfully.

It was a short while later, when Harry realised that YN had been tucked away in their bedroom for a while. Gently peaking through the gap in the doorway, he wasn’t expecting to see YN sat on the floor, surrounded by multiple photos of himself.

Harry tucked his lips into his mouth, trying to hold his chuckle back. Deciding that this was a moment he wanted to catch, knowing nobody would believe him if he told them, Harry began to discreetly record on his phone.

“Babe? What are you doing?”. Harry asked, entering their bedroom, realising that the photos of himself were of all his variations of hairstyles over the years. But he was shocked when he saw a tear run down her cheek. “Are…are you crying?”.

YN was still sat on the floor, yet to say a word. She closed her eyes and wiped away the tear.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?…it’s like you’ve made a shrine of me.” Harry attempted another joke, still finding the whole thing amusing.

With her eyes still closed, posture still composed, YN explained. “I’m mourning the loss of your precious curls, if you could be respectful of all our loss.”.

Harry masked his giggle with a cough, not wanting to be “disrespectful”. “Babe? This is all a bit much…don’t you think?”.

“I told you I need to be dramatic right now…so please, leave me to grieve.”. YN knew she was being dramatic, she knew it wasn’t the end of the world, she knew it was only hair and it would grow back. But she was weak for his luscious locks.

Adding more fuel to the fire, when fans were quick to notice the lack of hair on Harry’s head after a photo was leaked. YN joined them on airing her feelings. She had made a TikTok of a compilation of photos of Harry over the years with hair covering his head, with Taylor Swift’s song Bigger Than The Whole Sky playing in the background.

YN made another TikTok, where she pretended to cry every time Harry walked passed her and repeating “The precious curls!”.

Fans were highly amused at YN’s video of her recording herself searching for “how to grow your hair quickly?” on Google and also researching rosemary hair oil as she had seen the trend on TikTok for hair growth.

But in all honestly, YN didn’t dislike the change but did she want Harry’s hair back? YES!

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream

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v-o-i-d-e-d · 9 months

Note

May we have a oneshot based on this scene (https://youtube.com/watch?v=BgVJDd5vHfw&feature=share) for Spockxreader?

Omg, I love this scene! Of, course I will do it! I altered some parts just a little bit but the gist is the same. I hope you like it!

Title: Hello Sweetie

Pairing: Spock x fem!reader, implied platonic Jim Kirk x reader, and platonic Bones x reader

Warnings: canon violence, it's implied that Jim meddled for matchmaking purposes, nothing else I think

Word Count: 2924

She really shouldn’t have been here. Pure lunacy had gotten her here in the first place. Doctor (Y/N) (L/N) was never meant for this type of fieldwork and she was willing to bet that her own lack of skill was a huge reason why she was in this particularly dangerous situation. She was stood in the middle of a very ornate room – a sort of banquet hall she surmised – with her hands cuffed in front of her. Her elegant dress was singed at the hem and her hair had fallen out of its elegant updo. She looked around and noticed there were a total of three other people in the room all of whom wore heavy robes with hoods to obscure most of their faces: the alien guard beside her the one behind her and the one standing by the door they just came in through.

“You know when I get invited to parties, normally there’s food,” She said to the guard who stood closely to her right. He did not acknowledge her at all and his large, bug-like eyes stayed focused on the door at the other end of the room. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “So much for small talk.”

As she shifted her weight from foot to foot with impatience she couldn’t help but place partial blame on the genius who thought this plan up in the first place. Captain James T. Kirk. Just a day earlier he had cornered (Y/N) in her office and asked her to take part in a simple recognizance mission.

“I’m telling you this is an easy mission and it will go off without a hitch! You’re in, you’re out, you’re done,” Kirk pleaded as he followed her out into the main area of the medbay. He had just explained how it would be perfect for her because she was sociable and friendly. Of course, he couldn’t help but add in the added benefit of her good looks. “People will be spilling their guts to you! All you gotta do is bat those eyelashes.”

“Captain, this is harassment. I told you: missions like that are not in my job training.” (Y/N) turned to face Kirk and used her hand to apply emphasis to her statement. “I. Am. Not. Going. End of story.”

The door opened after what felt like hours but what was only a few minutes. (Y/N) watched as an alien that looked similar to the guard but larger walked confidently into the room accompanied by a few other guards. The big alien was dressed in fine clothes and had an elaborate and heavy-looking headdress on, signaling to (Y/N) that it would be good for her health to not piss him off. She stayed silent until the alien stood so close to her that she could smell him. He smelled of rotten meat and expensive oils.

“You are Doctor (Y/N) (L/N) of the starship Enterprise.” He said. “I have reason to believe you are a cohort of Commander Spock.”

This took (Y/N) by surprise. Her brows furrowed and her lips tugged into a frown. Sure she had worked with Spock plenty of times but surely not enough to be considered a cohort, or associated with him by name.

“I think there’s been some sort of mistake here. I don’t even know Commander Spock that well!”

“Spock suggested you specifically for the mission.”

(Y/N) paused and dropped her hand down to her side. Kirk could very well be lying just to get her to agree but then why else would he want a surgeon doing a spy’s job.

“No, he didn’t. You just want me to give in,” She huffed and gathered some old patient files that needed to be sorted and brushed passed Kirk and into her office. She couldn’t deny the rush of warmth spreading across her face but she could do her best at hiding it.

“I’m serious! He said you were beautiful and that you would be disarming enough to get people to talk to you about anything,” Kirk once again followed (Y/N) into her office but this time stopped to lean on the door frame. He crossed his arms and smirked as he watched the doctor deadpan at him.

“Commander Spock said that? Those exact words?” She didn’t believe Spock even knew how to actually compliment people, even behind their backs.

The alien huffed and one of his henchmen stepped forward. He was very scrawny and his large eyes darted wildly around the room.

“We have reliable intel that you are close to the Enterprise’s second-in-command and we would like you to divulge his whereabouts. We know that he has been trying to infiltrate our databases and that is a crime that can not go unpunished,” his voice was harsh, like a steaming tea kettle and (Y/N) winced.

“Well, I’m sorry but your intel is wrong. I wouldn’t even classify us as friends. Well, I mean it’s not that I don’t want to be his friend. I actually like him a lot but he spends just about every moment with me in silence or critiquing me so-“

“Enough! Quit your useless rambling and tell us where he is!” The boss alien thundered out so loud that the floor seemed to shake. (Y/N) was officially freaked out.

“Look, I’m telling you, I have no idea where he is! I don’t even know if he’s on this planet!” She pleaded with the aliens and hoped they believed her because it was the truth. She hadn’t seen Spock for a while, even before Kirk made her go on this mission.

“Yeah, he didn’t say those exact words but that’s definitely what he meant to say. I could tell.”

“Kirk, get out of my office.”

Kirk sighed and walked up to the desk, “Just please do this mission. We are so close to our goal we just need a little push. (Y/N)-

“Doctor (L/N).”

“(Y/N). Please.”

If there’s one thing that (Y/N) can’t resist, it’s James being sincere. It just happens so rarely that she caves right away. After a moment of glaring into Kirk’s pleading eyes, she rubbed her eyes and sighed, “Fine!”

“Yes!” Kirk pumped his fist in victory.

“But I want to talk to Spock first.”

Kirk paused and side-glanced before looking back at (Y/N), “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause he’s on the mission.”

“I thought you said he asked for me. How could he have told you that if he’s on mission already?” (Y/N) raised an accusatory eyebrow, she was sure she caught Kirk in his lie but he was quick.

“Because he just left this morning. Now find your hottest dress and meet me in the transport room for your briefing,” Kirk tapped the desk before quickly exiting the room.

“Wait, Now?!”

(Y/N) could honestly say she had not thought of how to get out of a situation like this. All attention was on her – something that she would normally thrive with – but she was at a loss for words for the first time in her life. The big alien grumbled and leaned forward to look closer at her face. She didn’t hide her fear.

“Look, I swear on my life I don’t know what Spock is doing or where he is,” She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice but she tried to be as firm as possible.

“Humans,” the alien spat, “They lie so blithely.”

“I’m not lying!”

“How can you claim to like someone but know nothing about them? You are lying!”

(Y/N) huffed and rolled her eyes, “Just because I like him does not mean he likes me! The guy does not even think that way! He doesn’t talk to me unless it has something to do with my job!” She had stepped forward during her rant but was immediately seized by the guards that were closest to her. They gripped tightly on her upper arms but the guard on her left quickly loosened his grip and she couldn’t help but think that the sensation was familiar. It reminded her of her first meeting with Commander Spock.

She was in a hurry to get to the medbay as she had been sent a 9-1-1 message by Bones. In her hurry she had been completely disregarding the safety of other people in the halls, bumping into several people while shouting an apology over her shoulder. It was while she was giving one of these hurried apologies that she managed to bump into a solid form that barely stumbled while she went tripping toward the ground. With a yelp, she braced for the ground but was stopped by a strong hand taking hold of her upper arm.

“Doctor (L/N), it’s not safe to be running through the halls. The hazard is amplified when one is not paying attention.”

The monotone voice of Commander Spock caused (Y/N) to snap her eyes open and scramble to stand on her own two feet rather than being suspended by her arm.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Commander! You’re totally right, I wasn’t paying attention-“

“Apology accepted, Doctor,” Spock interrupted her rambling and then walked passed her without waiting for a response. (Y/N) huffed and frowned as she too walked away from the scene of the social crime.

“Well, isn’t he a sweetie,” She grumbled before picking up her pace through the halls, this time paying attention to where she was going.

From then on, “sweetie” was (Y/N)’s nickname for Spock. She was careful to never say it to his face since she had worked with him a lot more since the “incident” but in private and amongst friends, the sarcastic endearment rolled easily off the tongue. It got to the point where she even used it with the Captain.

“Why do you call him that, it’s weird,” Kirk questioned one day over drinks in the lounge.

“Because every time I talk to him, he’s an asshole. I think it’s funny.”

Kirk laughed and sipped his whiskey. “Well, I think you might have a crush on our favorite Vulcan.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” (Y/N) was very direct. Kirk choked on his drink in surprise and coughed as (Y/N) continued, “But that’s out of the equation because I don’t even think Spock thinks about anyone unless they’re useful for something he needs doing.”

(Y/N) downed the last of her drink and shook her head to try to rid herself of the floaty state the alcohol put her in. In the morning, she would regret letting James Kirk in on her best-kept secret but she was not worried about that or anything else except for going to bed.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Kirk said with a smirk. Spock walked in with his hands clasped behind his back and his usual blank expression. Upon noticing the state of his friend and his colleague he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh, hello, sweetie!” (Y/N) laughed at her own words and Kirk couldn’t help but laugh as well. Spock was stunned into silence. He let his hands drop to his sides and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He didn’t know exactly how to respond, she had never called him anything other than his name and rank before. He decided to ignore the sudden endearment.

“Captain, you’re needed on the bridge,” He managed to finally say what he needed to say before quickly turning and leaving the room.

When Kirk took the liberty of retelling the story to (Y/N) the next morning, she was mortified.

The large alien hisses to one of his henchmen in a language (Y/N) doesn’t understand and then another one of them steps forward. In a tone that seemed to be unsure of the words he was saying, he started,

“Our studies show that typically when one human likes another, the feeling is reciprocated,”

“Spock is not human,” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh before correcting herself, “Well, not all human.”

“Then you have no reason to protect him.”

“That’s not how feelings even work! Not human ones! I admire him and I will protect him but I do not expect any such action from him. Just as I don't expect a sunset to admire me back or for the stars to gaze back at me! Feelings are not about reciprocity!”

“This does not align with our intel,” The big alien was clearly angry, and (Y/N) had a strong feeling that things would not go well from here but as she said she would do her best to protect Spock.

“Regardless of your intel,” (Y/N) scoffed, “Commander Spock has much more important things to do than worry about me or what I’m doing so. I’m of no use to you. Let me go.”

Why did she never know when to shut up?

The large alien’s face stretched into what (Y/N) had to assume was his version of a grin but looked more like he was preparing to eat her. She wouldn’t doubt it if she was being honest.

“If you are of no use for giving information, you can be put to other uses, Doctor.”

“What? Wait!”

The guard to her right started to lead her back toward the door they came through and (Y/N) began to struggle.

“Take her to the nursery, the larvae must be fed,” The big alien ordered with a loud cracking laugh. Just as (Y/N) yanked harshly away from the guard pulling her, the guard to her left took firm hold of her arm once more but instead of leading her forward, he tugged her back into him. Suddenly, he pulled a phaser and shot the other guard. Crying out in fear, (Y/N) struggled once more to get away from this rogue guard as the henchmen began to make their way over to stop him. The guard removed his hood and revealed his face.

“Commander!” (Y/N) gasped and her cheeks reddened. Everyone paused for a brief moment of shock before the big alien roared for his henchmen and guards to seize the two star fleet officers. Spock shot a few more before looking down at (Y/N) with an almost unnoticeable smirk.

“Hello, Sweetie,” He said before moving his grip from (Y/N)’s arm to her hand and pulling her to a run. (Y/N)’s face was warm and it was not because of the running. She couldn’t help but laugh as they ran through the corridors, dodging phasers and guards. “We have to get to the front entrance. That’s the only place Scotty can beam us up!” Spock shouted over his shoulder.

“Right!”

They ran until they reached the front room. Standing in the middle of the room was not the best option but they were only there for a moment before they both felt the familiar feeling of being beamed up to the transport room. Upon their arrival, Spock immediately ushered (Y/N) toward the awaiting Doctor Bones.

“I’m fine! Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing I haven’t had before,” (Y/N) tried to wave the grouchy Doctor away but he swatted her hands away and then removed the cuffs.

“I’ll be the judge of that, cupcake. You look like you caught on fire.” He was gesturing to the hem of her dress.

“I think for a moment I did,” (Y/N) laughed while Bones shook his head.

“All right, you’re free to go. You too, Spock.”

Bones finally released the two, though he had told Spock that he could leave about twenty minutes ago. The Vulcan had refused. Spock and (Y/N) walked side by side in silence for a while before Spock broke it.

“You have misread me.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at her Commander who was still looking straight ahead. “What do you mean, Commander?”

“My feelings about you. You have misread them.”

Her eyes widened. In the chaos of escape, she had forgotten that Spock was standing right next to her when she basically saying she loved him. Okay, slight exaggeration but she still felt embarrassed.

“Oh.” That was all she said. All she could say. Another time of silence passed.

“I apologize if my actions suggested that I do not enjoy your company,” Spock was deliberate with his words as if he didn’t know if what he was saying was the right thing. The tips of his ears were tinged a faint green when he finally paused in his step to look at (Y/N). She noticed the blush on his ears and couldn’t help the small smile that snuck onto her face.

“So, you like to hang out with me?”

“Well, I’ve never accompanied you in a social setting so it would be illogical for me to say that I like something that I have not tried.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“However, I do enjoy working with you. You are very good at your job, Doctor (L/N),” Spock clasped his hands behind his back so that (Y/N) would not see him picking at his cuticles. He was nervous.

“(Y/N).”

“Pardon?”

“Call me (Y/N). Outside of work obviously,” (Y/N) shrugged and looked away from Spock’s intense gaze.

“(Y/N).” She could’ve melted at the way her name sounded coming from his lips. It was experimental and a bit rigid sounding but it was a start. She finally looked back into Spock’s eyes and smiled brightly.

“Do you want to go get dinner with me, Spock? I’m starving,” (Y/N) resumed her walk, this time in the direction of the cafeteria. She heard Spock’s steps fall in line with hers.

“I highly doubt that you are starving. You always attend normal meal times which means you must have eaten this morning,” Spock said in a matter-of-fact tone. (Y/N) laughed and shook her head.

“It’s an expression, Spock.”

#Spock x reader #AOS Spock #Star Trek #Jim Kirk #Enterprise #xreader #SpockxYou #Doctor who reference #Spock Imagine

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snomoscribbles · 2 months

Text

Nanui x Avatar!reader

Rated: Explicit🔞

Tags: fluff and smut, sass, teasing, cunnilingus, eating out, body differences, size difference AO3 Link

(2nd person pov gender neutral terms used) "Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been."

°•°•°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°•°•°

To be completely fair you never thought you'd end up here.

Here being a Metkayina settlement.

When it had been brought up after the bloodshed and chaos, the Metkayina were in need of aid you weren't really expecting to be first on the list for that flight.

And yet. Here you are on the sandy shores of Awa'atlu.

It had been sometime since you ventured too far from the home base. From the Omatikayan. And when you'd arrived you were not prepared for the absolute units that were waiting to greet you.

Omatikaya we're not small. Avatars and their hybrid genes were not small. But the Metkayina were fucking huge. A whole nother level of too damn big.

It was intimidating and interesting from a scientific perspective. The adaptations and changes made to their bodies to make living here easier.

Flat paddle like tails, finned forearms for swimming, teal gradients dappled on their skin to better suit the waves, and don't even get yourself started on the mass of them.

Larger chest and stockier build for the lung capacity they no doubt needed paired with the muscle to swim against ocean currents.

These were some built navi.

And the cherry on top was ink and swirling tattoos tracing the contours of their bodies. The dark markings contrasting with their lighter colors. It was really breathtaking, even the older clan members whose tattoos started to fade over time looked stunning with the meaningful patterns.

Yet as large and imposing as they could be, you found yourself more at home here than you were expecting.

The salty air and sunshine, the glow under the waves at night, and....maybe the company.

You glance over as you make your way across the woven paths of the village, basket of beads and an odd twine of sorts in your hands.

The tattooed craftsman sat as poised as always, a warm smile on his face and ever clear blue eyes hooded with his gaze focused on his work.

Nanui.

The weaver had definitely become someone you'd consider close. A friend.

Just a friend you swore. No matter how many knowing glances and suggestive grins you got from fellow avatar program survivors and other clansmen.

The friendly and warm hearted Navi had caught your attention when you first landed. Understandably after the war was brought to them, most of the Metkayina were wary of strangers. Especially the avatars. But they swallowed some dignity to get the help they needed and you tried your best to be respectful of that.

The first time you set your gaze on him you had to pointedly look UP to see those large inquisitive crystalline eyes. Even amongst his clan, he was tall. You'd imagine he was at least 10 feet tall, which put him about 12 inches and some change taller than you. Your avatar body wasn't the tallest for the Omatikayan, but you were pretty average.

Nanui had a tired and worn but welcoming smile on his face while he explained he would be your guide for the time you were here. No doubt he'd been working on the recovery of his people.

At first you thought the huge man was a guard of sorts meant to keep an eye on you so you didn't cause trouble in the community. It would make sense. But over the weeks you came to realize he was probably one of the few willing to volunteer to be near you at all.

Soon your large guide became a treasured companion, nudging you gently to correct your mistakes when you misspoke or to fix a task you tried to pick up to help the clan. Making jokes and teasing your differences good naturedly. Encouraging your progress with that loud heartfelt laugh and unabashedly cheering when you succeeded.

He seemed to sense your staring and perked up, meeting your gaze with hum of question and a tilt of his head.

"Ah it is the ungrateful one. How are we feeling today, hm?"

You can't help the small laugh and roll of your eyes, padding over to set down your basket of goodies for the weaving circle as you sat down beside him. Your traitorous tail flicked excitedly behind you, but luckily the teal man seemed to pay no mind.

"Im not ungrateful, just untalented. I told you already, Nanui if I could manage to learn to weave, I would."

"You have so little faith in yourself! Anyone can learn in time and time is everywhere. See? You're wasting it right now. You could be stringing beads!"

He grinned, giving you a gentle shove with that joyous laugh that always made your stomach do flips.

"Just because I have a Fifth finger, does not mean I can suddenly make complex patterns out of grass like you do."

"Who said suddenly, hm? I said you need to put time forward to earn your talents. All of you are the same. Flaunting your gifted fifth finger, but not putting it to use! What good is it just sitting there on a lazy hand, hm?"

He reaches over and wiggles your wrist around childishly with a firm pout, making your hand flop around limply.

You steal your hand back with a laugh, "Excuse you sir, they're not lazy. Just... Not as handy as they should be."

The large Navi paused as the words processed and you watch with rapt attention as a smile grew and soon he lets out a deep rich laugh that shakes his shoulders.

"Because it is your hand! Handy! I understand!"

You crack the sappiest smile at his excitement, shaking your head. The Metkayina had taken some time to understand puns but they delighted him once the learning period had passed.

You scoot in closer to look at what he's working on, eyebrows raised curiously.

"So what's today's project,hm?"

"Oh! I am redoing some beaded cords for the entrance of my sisters Marui. My nephews have torn her previous one down with their play. That I...may or may not have taken part in...."

"So you're fixing the entryway beads you tore down chasing Le'awe and Roxua?"

"That is not what I said." He muttered, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his lips with his ears down turned in effort.

"Uh-huh." You hum knowingly with a chuckled.

"Oh, before I forget!" He perks up, setting his beaded project down gently, "I have something for you. Every time I see you walking around you seem so.... Bare."

You look down at your standard RDA clothing. You wouldn't say bare, you were more clothed than any Navi you'd met.

T shirt and shorts made for the avatars. They were easy and made you feel a little more comfortable than most of the pieces you'd been offered by the Omatikayan.

Worried he was going to offer you one of the lovely but very sparse clothing pieces often worn by the Metkayina you default to declining.

"Nanui I'm not really-"

"Here see?" He moved around a couple fronds and unfinished weaving projects before finally pulling out a lovely woven circle with pearls and smoothed sea glass of greens and blues dotting between the braided leather.

"I...an arm band? How will that make me less bare...?" Your voice was soft as you took the offered gift, eyes wide and ears standing at attention to reflect your interest.

It was really beautiful.

"You wear more cloth than anyone I've seen, but it lacks history. No sentiment or care in this weaving." He tugs at the edge of your shirt pointedly, "You are bare of soul. And someone who shines as brightly as you, should have some, yeah?"

You choke up a little, lower lip wobbling at the kind words. You can hear your heart in your ears as you timidly offer him the band.

"Can-can you help me put it on?"

"Of course." He smiles warmly, "I hope this helps you feel more at home here. You grow more and more each day. It's been a privilege to teach you."

His touch is cool against your flushed skin, still warm from the heat of the afternoon and the day of work behind you.

He ties the armband tight enough that it won't budge and it sits comfortably on your bicep. Your skin tingles from the contact of his fingertips that you could swear lingered longer then needed.

You swallow thickly, looking at the Metkayina with a fond smile.

You settle yourself with a small breath, the fingers of your free hand tracing idly back and forth across your new accessory. Definitely a new sensory toy for you. The smooth pearls and tight pattern feel nice under your nervous tracing.

C'mon he made an opening, you can nudge this in the right direction with a little honesty. You got this.

"You know....I do feel more at home here. But that's...um. mostly your doing honestly."

"Hm? Well I would hope so. I am your guide after all. I did not think I was doing the worst of jobs."

You recognize an out for what it is, but clear your throat with a shake of your head.

"No...Nanui. I think....Well you've come to mean a lot to me. And I don't know exactly how that works for you guys here, but I just really wanted to say something because well...I..."

The teal Navi stares at you blankly for a moment and you can feel your nerves start to creep in. But soon the darkest flush you've seen on a Metkayina probably ever lights up his face, ears quivering with whatever emotions were going through his head.

The sound of swishing sand drags your eyes away for just a moment to reveal his large tail dragging back and forth behind him.

The project he'd been holding gets cast aside as he moves towards you, the size difference between you two glaringly obvious when he places his large hands on either side of you and leans down enough so his words are soft for just the two of you. You're close enough to see the soft greens and teals streaked through the icy blue of his eyes.

He tilts his head in question, inky black curls and braids spilling over broad shoulders.

"Are you asking about courting?"

"Y-yeah. I guess I am. Or at least the uh...before courting? Just...showing intent?"

He grins big and wide, prominent dimples dipping at either side. He needed to stop that right now. Something that large shouldn't be that cute.

"Ma'Paskalin, just saying so is perfectly acceptable. Grand gestures are appreciated but you do not need to waste such things on me."

You flush, heat staining your cheeks and manage a belligerent pout despite your excitement at the pet name.

"It's not wasted! If it's you. You're worth some grand gestures or gifts at least."

His smile turns soft and he tilts his head the other way in a gooey heartbreaking puppy eyed look that has you weak.

"You are a gift as you are, Ma'Paskalin. I don't think I could ask Eywa for more."

Oh what the fuck. Right through the heart.

You push a hand to his chest, nudging him back with a flustered huff leaving your lips. You don't push him too far, keeping your hand against the cool teal skin as you mutter in response.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Jesus. I just...I want to do something. Or just ... Have a way for others to know that We are...I don't know together?"

He takes your hands in his gently, pulling them from where they rested at his collarbone to hold them between you two.

He has a crooked smile, tone playful.

"You wish to claim me?"

"I....yeah. yes. If that's what you want?"

"Hm...if there is doubt, perhaps I should make a larger effort to be sure you feel wanted, Yawne. Because I want you."

He brings your hand up, lacing his large fingers with yours from behind and placing a gentle kiss to your palm. Your breath hitches, his words flustering you and making you swallow thickly.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been.

Nanui had always been more affectionate. You'd grown accustomed to leaning on him at group gatherings, the way he gently guided you this way and that with those large hands, his affectionate headbutts when you leaned close enough.

But this. This was a whole different level. The was rarely a moment in Nanuis presence that you weren't being swept into a loose hold. His arms at your waist, sliding around your hips to rest with his chin set atop your head or shoulder while you all conversed with whoever that day.

Tender kisses were pushed to your head, your shoulders, your nose, anytime he laid eyes on you, the affection was expected and sought after. Cool smiling lips against sun warmed skin, picking out luminescent freckles between azure stripes. It didn't take you long to start leaning into it, a rumbling of approval from deep in the Navis chest letting you know he was pleased when you did so.

That sounds alone would send a delighted shiver right down your spine.

He grew more bold as you relaxed into his affections, pinching gently at your tail as he passed and making you yelp and swat at him, tugging you to lay on his chest while the two of you swam, floating and propelling you through the water with sluggish kicks, his fingers gently ran through your hair, assistance freely given to help you with styling it in ways that would be less effected by the waters you now traversed in daily.

He now proudly wore a crudely made necklace around his neck. Longer than his normal set with Omatikayan colors and patterns. Even if you were technically not a part of the Omatikaya clan, it was what you knew and you hoped you weren't going to insult anyone with the less than stellar craftsmanship.

But it was a courting token. And one he nearly cried for when you offered it to him, sheepishly holding the long beaded ring up for him to inspect.

He barely looked at it in honesty which you're flattered by and grateful for. You have a feeling you could've offered him anything and he would accept with gusto.

He'd dove into the necklace like he was going to battle, a dimple summoning grin on his face as he gently butted his forehead against yours.

"I see you Ma'Paskalin." He murmured softly, eyes wide with awe and affection.

You could barely breathe with his intensity, letting out a laugh and throwing your arms around those teal dappled shoulders, nuzzling your nose against his with your ears flickering with delight.

"I see you."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The eclipse had past hours ago, the celebration of the night still singing in your veins.

There had been a wonderful feast. With music and dancing into the night. The hunters had brought back an impressive catch and in the warmth of the season a gathering was overdo. And it was the first you'd witnessed since coming here.

Everyone was adorned with elaborate traditional jewelry, hand painted markings, and colorful hair pieces. Including yourself, though you still opted for a little more coverage, the ropes and beads at your hips felt nice and your skin was more open to the cool sea air.It was amazing to see. The colors and shadows dancing off of teal navi around the fire as they danced and laughed. Including yours.

Nanui was laughing loud and joyous, twirling his youngest of three nephews and letting him stand on his feet beside the roaring fire. White and yellow patterns flow down his body, streaks of colored paint dragging across the taut skin of his stomach, swirling on either side of his hips and connecting at his naval.

And as always, clasped firmly around his neck is your courting gift. You can't help the swell of affection in your chest, your fingers coming up to gently trace the shells at your own throat that he'd gifted you in return shortly after agreeing to your courting.

It was surreal and you can't fight your smile when he looks up to locks eyes with you. He's so full of life and wonder and love, it's almost overwhelming. As if he was contagious. And he was yours.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The warmth of the fire had left your skin as you stumbled your way through the sand laughing, hand in hand with the large tattooed man that had come to hold your heart.

Encompassing hands grasp your waist, fingers nearly meeting as they gently lay you down on the comfortable layered bedding in Nanui's darkening mauri.

Heated open mouthed kisses are peppered down your throat, making you arch further into the touch with a shuttered breath past your lips.

"Nnnnanui. Shit."

Teeth nibble at your collarbone, intense blue gaze flickering up as the Metkayina Navi leaves a dark possessive mark on you.

He's been paying attention, dragging his firm grip up with just enough pressure that your skin dips beneath his touch and noting every sigh and twitch you make.

"Precious....look at you Ma'Paskalin..."

He doesn't move his lips from your skin, tongue and teeth tracing the patterns and star scattered freckles as he situates himself between your parted legs. ”Is this okay,Yawne?” He breathes against your navel, intense gaze dragging upwards as he questioned softly, “I'm happy to stop where you see fit. You’ll tell me, yeah?” ”y-yeah. More than okay. Please don’t stop.” you managed to force out with a deep flush staining your face, swallowing thickly as he continues to lavish your body in affection as he descends. He takes his time to press kisses and soft bites to every mark and freckle he passes, a steady rumbling in his chest making you melt into the bedding beneath you. ”Wouldn’t dream of it, If I tasted nothing but your skin from this day forward, I would want for nothing.” That should be weird to hear, but you cant help the small whine that leaves you with the playful bite he leaves at your hip. He tucks his fingers into the corded top of your bottoms, eyes drifting up once again. You give him a nod of encouragement and he smiles big and crooked and awed and it makes your heart hurt with the flux of affection within you.

Dragging the cloth own your thighs slowly, he presses his fingers into the striped skin of your legs as he goes, bringing them back up to grip your thighs firmly once its discarded with his ear perked in interest, pupils blown wide. You part your legs to welcome wide shoulders between, the teal navi sliding his hands to the tops of your thighs to pull you in and you laugh a little at the movement.

A small gasp falls from you as he presses his lips flush against you, wasting no time before they part and soon you’re overwhelmed with the heated wet tongue dragging across you.

Your teeth clench, biting off a desperate whine as you press your hips upward into that devilish tongue. Your ears flatten against your head, the mat beneath your back the only thing grounding you as you reach between your parted thighs to grab hold of the loose curls in a tight grip.

The bluest eyes peer up at you over the beaded belt at your hips gifted by Nanui himself and left on to chime with your movements,a large scarred hand pressed against your stomach to keep you pinned while long curling strokes of that tongue against you makes you squirm against his hold. The heat builds, the air thickening around you as you buck against him fruitlessly and your breathing becomes labored.

Nothing could prepare you for the way he dove in like a man starved, consuming every gasp and whimper and sigh with a focus that had you tilting your head back, unable to handle the eye contact.

“f-fuck. Right there.”

A man on a mission, he obliges,letting his tongue out further to accommodate you. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this.With his sole focus on your pleasure and hellbent on giving you everything.

You could already feel the pressure of an oncoming release, tears not quite spilling from your watery eyes as he doubled down, hands gripping harder at your thighs, large fingers sliding against the sweat slicked skin. You expected a break somewhere between starting and now, to have a moment to breathe while he leaned back to replenish his own air. But it wasn’t happening. He explored you further,fluid drags of tongue and teeth and suction that had your toes curling and your breath stuttering. You grip his hair tighter, the Metkayina groaning lowly against you and giving another stimulant on top of his ministrations. His hair falls over his shoulders in dark waves as you manage to free it from the bun on the back of his head, giving you more to grasp. ”Shit-shit-shit. Nanui. Im gonna…please…” You’re tipping over the edge soon after when he presses in further, his hands spanning over the entirety of your hips and letting you grind into him as you reach your peak with a loud sob and tears finally spilling over.

Your thighs quake at the sides of his head, squeezing him between them as he continues his work though slower.Long languid motions that have you gasping for breath at the sensation.

But he’s not stopping. He still hasn’t run out of that famed Metkayina lung capacity and you feel yourself twisting a little in his grip.

He doesn’t relent, holding you firmly and coaxing more whines and pleas from you with every swallow and flex of his throat. You’re actively crying at this point, gasping for breath and lungs burning as you writhe. Fuck. It was too much. You’re oversensitive and the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop is how slow and warm and gentle the glide of his tongue is, tasting without pushing. Like you were his last meal and he was going to make it last as long as he could.

It wasn’t building into an orgasm like the first, it was a constant pleasure. Oozing into your body like an oil slick and coating every nerve until you were shaking and you nearly ached with it.

Water bubbles on your lashes, breath ragged and stuttered as you finally find the means to speak. ”I-I cant again…please…Nanui.”

Its only then that he pulls back, licking his lips that were shining, slick, and mildly swollen, having the nerve to look not the slightest bit out of breath as a presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, resting his cheek there to look up at you like he didn’t just eat you out until you cried with absolute adoration.

“How do you feel, Ma'Paskalin?” He slides his hands up and down your sides gently, bringing you down from your shaking over-stimulation with gentle touches as he sits up to loom over you. His eyes flicker back and forth, taking in your expression for any discomfort.

You cant help but laugh breathlessly, shaking your head.

“I feel like my bones have been replaced with jelly.”

He smiles so softly, every bit of love and affection he possessed drowning you through his large eyes.

“I will assume that’s a good thing?”

“Baby, its fucking amazing.C’mere.”You pull him down so his weight is pressed against you, firm and comforting,pressing a kiss to his nose.

“I'm not going to lie, I was freaking out when I realized you didn’t need to come up for air.”

“oh?” ”Don’t you ‘oh’ me. You know exactly what I'm talking about you free diving bastard.” ”Yawne…you have come diving with me. And you know very well I could have dived for much longer.”

You flush darkly at the thought. You did know that. You’ve seen some of the reef clan free dive for nearly half an hour. And you didn’t know if that was the longest they could go, or just what they had needed at the time. Jesus. ”Well. I uh- I guess we’ll have to test that.”

There's a mischievous grin on his face as he leaned down to butt his forehead against yours in the sweetest movement, taking your chin in between his fingers. With the size of his hand it was really more like pinching most of your jaw. ”Anytime you’d like, Kalin. Im happy to indulge.” {Kalin: sweet to the taste}

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